#i really do still love everything about this damn dumb series

[broresteia]

more tfc doodles from my reread

[seokgyuu]

→ PAIRING: Seokmin x Afab!Reader. → GENRE: College!Au, kinda comedy, small bit of angst if you look hard enough, teeny tiny fluff, smut MDNI. → SYNOPSIS: After having a crush on Lee Seokmin for three years, he somehow ends up wanting to be your roommate. Instead of rejecting him, you decide to give him the vacant room - right after confessing your feelings for him.

→ WARNINGS: roommate!seok, wet dreams, coming untouched (f), degradation, usage of the words slut, baby, angel, masturbation (m), making out, like really so much kissing, fingering, finger-sucking, she loves his fingers lol, unprotected sex (don't.. just don't), creampie.

→  WORDCOUNT: 11.5k

A/N: hi guys!! here it is (for some of you even on the date it was scheduled to be posted!), my first ever stand-alone svt fic! no part 2, no whole ass series, just this cute 11.5k baby I wrote after being deep inside my seokmin shaped hole (i am always in a seokmin shaped hole actually). i want to thank my bestie @honeykyeom for making the amazing header as well for being my inspiration for writing this <3 ily!! now, i hope you enjoy and as always please reblog & comment, these things are what makes writing worth while <3

You had a crush. A big fat stupid crush. And it was starting to get extremely annoying. You really tried to stop liking him because a.) he didn’t even know you existed and b.) even if he did he would never ever like you back because what are the odds for that to actually happen?

“People get together all the time, Y/N, stop being dumb,” Seungkwan, your best friend, would say on the regular since the topic came up basically every other day. Yet, you still didn’t believe the Lee Seokmin would ever give you so much as a second glance. He was too perfect. Perfect grades, perfect friend group, perfect face, perfect everything. You had first laid eyes on him on your first day of classes - he had started the same year as you, smile on his face, shiny new MacBook propped in front of him. He wore an adorable baby blue sweater and black rimmed glasses, his hair falling into his forehead and, god, you were gone the second you heard his honey dripping voice. 

That had been three years ago and now, both of you in your senior years, you still hadn’t talked to him even once. Or well, no, you had, when he had asked you for a phone charger which you had given him in exactly three seconds. You were still proud of that. 

*

“Hey, I heard you’re looking for a roommate?” 

“Are you- are you talking to me?” Your index finger was pointing at yourself while you blinked a few times at the person in front of you. 

“Uh, I mean, you are Y/N, right?” Kim Mingyu seemed just as confused as you. Probably because you were in fact Y/N and you were, in fact, looking for a roommate, but how on earth did he know that?

“No, I mean, yes, yes I am, but, uh, how do you- how do you know I’m looking for a roommate?”

“Oh, Seungkwan told me!” 

“You know Seungkwan?!”

Mingyu seems a little startled by your sudden outburst. You cleared your throat before chuckling nervously.

“S-sorry, I just didn’t know Seungkwan and you knew each other.”

“We go to the same gym, actually, and I told him my friend is desperately looking for a place and he told me you are in search of a roommate so…,” his smile was bright and pretty and you felt like you were about to wake up from a dream because why the hell was Seokmin’s bestie talking to you as if he had done it thousand of times before?

“I see, uh, I mean, I am definitely desperate for a roommate, rent you know, like, uh, I need to pay it soon and… well, I am short half of it and that’s what I would… need the roommate for,” you scratched your ear. Smooth.

“No, I understand! And my friend is just as desperate. See, he just broke up with his long-term girlfriend, she cheated on him, and now he just really needs to move out.”

“Oh, damn, sorry about that. You can tell him he can come by, eh, does tomorrow work? Like afternoon-ish? I have classes until four.”

“Awesome! I’ll let him know, thank you Y/N!”

Mingyu beamed at you, his hand up in the air as he waved, walking away and out of the building. Letting out a sigh you hadn’t even known you were holding, you grabbed your phone from your bag and unlocked it, quickly moving your fingers over the display to call Seungkwan. Walking out the opposite direction Mingyu had, you waited for your best friend to pick up, pushing open the door into the hot air of the early evening. 

“What’s up?” Seungkwan finally picked up and you rolled your eyes at the greeting.

“Hello to you too, Kwannie,” you said in a sweet voice, hearing Seungkwan scoff as a response.

“I’m in the middle of something, Y/N. So, what’s up?” 

“Kim Mingyu just asked me if a friend of his can move in with me,” you raised your brows as you walked over the campus to the parking lot, the keys to your car already dangling from your fingers, “care to tell me why you didn’t mention that?”

“Ah, that, well, I actually met Mingyu at the gym earlier today, like super early morning, and heard him talk to his friend on the phone and well, since I do have a few classes with him, I thought I should offer.”

“You should offer? Pretty sure it’s still my apartment you were selling off to a stranger.”

“Now, now. Mingyu isn’t a stranger now, is he? How many times have you stalked his insta now to look at that one specific gym picture of Seokm-,”

“Whatever, just- just please, for the future, let me know when you tell someone about my living situation, alright?”

“Sure thing, bestie. Now, can I get back to what I was doing?”

“Of course. Tell Hansol I said hi.” Before he could either protest or deny, you hung up and shoved your phone into your pocket. 

*

You dreamt of him again. It was a rare occasion, but it happened. Most of the time the dreams were innocent enough, just him touching your face, him laughing at your jokes, him simply acknowledging your existence. 

But this one was different. 

Seokmin was right above you, his body hot and sweaty. His eyes said so much more than words ever could and yet you longed to hear his voice. Longed to hear him say your name. He was buried deep inside you, his hips still, eyes never leaving yours. He throbbed, his whole body seemingly vibrated at how much he wanted you, your legs wrapped around his waist, wanting nothing more than for him to take you, mark you, fill you. 

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered, his hand caressing your face and you moved your head, your mouth sucking in his thumb, feeling him twitch inside of you.

“You can’t really talk with that in your mouth, can you, Y/N?” Fuck, his voice was so low so deep and when he finally moved down to kiss your neck, stuffing his thumb even further down your mouth, his hips now beginning to thrust, all of you began to shake. 

Then, suddenly, you were in your living room, right there on that windowsill that connected the kitchen and the living room, his hips drilling into you. He was wearing a dress shirt and a black tie, but both of it was loosened around his neck, your hands on his broad shoulders as he seemed to have made it his goal to fuck you senseless. You were a moaning mess, his lips sucking harshly on your skin, you yourself being completely naked. His mouth was everywhere: your neck, your stiff nipple, your lips. He took all of you in and you breathed in every bit he gave you. 

“You’re so fucking good for me, baby, so good, such a good little slut, letting me fuck her like this.”

“Mhm, y-yes, I l-love the way you f-fuck me, Seok!” His grip on you got stronger, hands digging harshly into your hips as he threw his head back now, your eyes taking in all of his beauty. The droplets of sweat, the bopping Adam’s apple as he swallowed, the way his vein popped out right there on his neck…

“Gonna make me cum, baby,” he moaned and you nodded strongly, feeling your own climax so close.

“Please, want your cum so bad!” you whined and as if those had been the magic words, Seokmin emptied inside of you, the feeling of his cum hitting you so deep-

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

You screamed, while your back hit the floor. You had fallen out of bed, your alarm blasting on the other side of your bed. 

“Fuck,” you groaned, sitting up slowly, your hand rubbing the back of your head. Funnily enough, that wasn’t the only part of you that throbbed. Just for a completely different reason. 

-

“You came in your sleep?” Seungkwan was impressed with you. You just wanted to punch him because why did he have to say that this loud right in the line for lunch?

“Shut up!” you said through gritted teeth and Seungkwan snorted, before grabbing the big spoon for the Kimchi.

“Don’t worry, no one is listening.” Instead of arguing with him you rolled your eyes and grabbed some Japchae before heading to the drinks. 

“But to answer your question: yes, I did. And no, that has never happened before. Like, I never ever had a dream like that, Seungkwan, never!”

“Aw, I can’t believe my best friend lost her wet dream virginity at the ripe age of 24!” He grinned as the two of you sat down at an empty table. You ignored him.

“It was so real. I honestly feel sick to my stomach. How could it have been so real?” 

It was truly astonishing to you. Hours had passed and the dream was still there, playing in your head over and over again, making you squeeze your thighs together more than not in the worst moments. Statistic class wasn’t supposed to make you horny and yet, you couldn’t say it hadn’t.

“I’m jealous. I never had an actual wet dream make me cum before, like yeah, I woke up with cum in my underwear before, but then again that’s kind of normal I guess?”

“Dude! You don’t need wet dreams to make you orgasm, you have a literal boyfriend!”

“He is not my boyfriend!” Seungkwan protested and you grabbed your juice box to take a dramatic sip from it. 

“Well, sounds like a you problem. Doesn’t change the fact you’re getting laid, though.” Seungkwan scoffed, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair. He apparently didn’t have a comeback. Served him right.

“It’s not like you are trying to change that,” nevermind. You sigh, putting the drink down again.

“What am I supposed to do? Just hook up with a random guy and act like I’m not madly in love with someone who doesn’t know I exist?”

“He knows you exist, you god damn drama queen. You had every class together first semester!”

You ignored him. Instead, you decided that your Japchae is the most interesting thing you had ever seen. Seungkwan shook his head and clicked his tongue.

“You’re an idiot, Y/N. Like the biggest idiot I have ever met.”

“Takes one to know one,” you muttered as a response, feeling a piece of kimchi hitting your cheek the next second. 

*

You were home at four forty-five and hoped there would still be time to clean up the place at least a little bit before the potential-new-roommate-slash-friend-of-Kim-Mingyu showed up. In record time you found yourself standing in a semi-clean living room (meaning: maybe the floor showed some signs of needing to be vacuumed, but at least everything looked tidy) with all the windows open in hope for some cool air because you sure as hell weren’t going to turn on the AC without another person to cover the costs. 

Just as you finished changing into some clothes not sweated through, the doorbell rang. Quickly, you made your way to the door, buzzing them up, only to hear a knock on the door next. Oh, so he had been let in already. Putting on your most charming smile, you pulled the door open, only for the smile to fade the second you saw who stood there right in front of your door. 

“Y/N?” 

Lee Seokmin had just said your name. And he was standing in front of your apartment.

“Seokmin, what- what are you doing here?” You asked, oblivious to the situation. 

“I- uh, I- Mingyu said he told you I was coming?”

“Mingyu? No he said that-,” you lost your ability to speak just then. The friend Mingyu had been talking about-

“Wait, you- you’re the potential new roommate?!” Your voice was barely anything but a squeak. Seokmin looked a little lost, his fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of his oversized yellow jumper.

“Yeah, did he not mention that?” 

Nope, seems like he forgot that part. You swallowed, pressing your lips together for a second while your brain tried to fully grasp the situation. This was Seokmin. Aka the guy you have been in love with for three years. And he wanted to move in with you. 

“Uh, no. Sorry, please come in!” You took a step back and Seokmin smiled at you (HE smiled at YOU!!!), walking into your apartment and looking around as you closed the door, hoping your racing heart would calm down. You wouldn’t exactly bet on it though. 

Seokmin took his shoes off and you watched him, already beginning to chew on your lip like you always did when you were nervous. He turned around and you quickly smiled, walking into the living space.

“So, this is the living room, it uh-,” you stopped speaking, your eyes now on the window connecting the kitchen and living room, on the windowsill you had just dreamt about last night. Your face suddenly got very hot. 

“It connects to the kitchen through that window, which I thought was really cool, big selling point,” you watched as Seokmin walked over to the kitchen, his eyes roaming through the room and when he stopped in front of the window, hand touching the sill you nearly felt yourself loose footing. Why the fuck did he have to do this? For a second you were convinced this was just another dream. 

“It definitely is unique,” he said, nodding and walking into the small but modern kitchen.

“Uhm, there is a dishwasher in the kitchen and a microwave. We don’t have an oven, but I am pretty sure I have like a small one in the attic. I am more of a take-out or quick meal kind of gal, so I don’t really use it much. But if you were interested in baking something, I could definitely get it down,” Jesus, why on earth were you talking so much? But Seokmin seemed to appreciate it, nodding understandingly as he looked around with a small pout on his lips. Maybe this wasn’t the right moment (or maybe it was the perfect moment) to stare at him, but you did. You watched his every move, how he checked out the cupboards, how he asked before he opened the fridge, how he pulled a hand through his hair as he asked a question. 

Oh! 

“Sorry?” You crossed your arms, the hotness of your cheeks only increasing. Seokmin chuckled.

“I asked if you had a certain system in your fridge with your old roommate.”

“Oh, well, not really. We kind of always planned what we were going to eat, she was a big cook actually. Enjoyed it a lot. I store my Ramen right here, wait,” you walked into the kitchen fully now too, to the cupboard next to where Seokmin was standing and got on your tiptoes to reach for the door, opening it in a swing.

“There,” you explained, looking over at Seokmin - only to see him look at you instead of the food. You blinked a few times. He blushed.

“Ah, yes, I see. Cool. So, uh, no system. That’s fine with me! I wouldn’t say I’m a cook per sé, but I can hook up some simple dishes,” he turned away, your whole body suddenly feeling a lot hotter than a second before. Nodding, you closed the cupboard again and walked back outside. Seokmin followed you.

You showed him the rest of the apartment (except for your room) and finally the two of you ended up in the living room again where you sat down on the couch. 

“I, uh, I would love to take the room, Y/N. But it’s obviously up to you.” His smile was so… you gulped down whatever response you had in your mind. Now wasn’t the time to eat right out of his hands, no, you had to think about this. On the one hand, you really needed a roommate. There was no chance you could hold this apartment by yourself and you really didn’t want to move. But on the other hand, this was Seokmin. You couldn’t just let him move in with you when you liked him this much, could you? At least not without him knowing. An idea popped into your head. It was risky and stupid and you would probably regret this. But then again - if he wanted to move in, and apparently he was just as desperate as you to get this room, it would only be fair to let him know what the situation was. 

“Look, Seokmin,” you started, your hands in your lap, your heart racing again (or still). You looked up at him, your cheeks still bright red. Seokmin watched you, unsure what to make of your current behavior. He decided to just let you talk.

“I really need a roommate. And you really need a place to live. Mingyu, uh, he told me about the break-up and I’m really sorry about that,” - you were also happy you hadn’t tried to make a move considering he had a girlfriend -, “but I would feel horrible to let you take this room without knowing the full truth.” 

Now, Seokmin got a little spooked. The full truth? Were you going to confess that you were a drug dealer? Part of some gang? But then you probably wouldn’t need a roommate considering you’d make good money. 

“I, uh, okay,” Seokmin swallowed hard. You took a deep breath.

“I like you. As in, I like you. I have for years now. I didn’t know you had a girlfriend, and to be honest, even if I had, I probably wouldn’t have succeeded in getting over this crush. I’m not telling you because I am expecting anything from you, I promise, hell, I never planned on telling you ever. But you want the room and I would be happy to give it to you, I would just feel weird having you live here with this big secret to keep.”

There were approximately three minutes of silence in which you were sure Seokmin would get up and leave. He stared at you, his mouth slightly dropped and you could have kicked yourself for finding him endearing. Starting to shift on your seat once the third minute started, Seokmin realized he had been staring instead of answering. But then again, he really had not expected this sudden confession. 

“I, uh, I am flattered, Y/N, really, I just, I- I just got out of a relationship and-,”

“I know that! As I said, I didn’t tell you because I want anything from you. I have been happy liking you from afar, Seokmin. And who knows, maybe having you close by all the time will actually make me stop liking you. I mean, what if you’re like a total slob or listen to super weird historical podcasts?” 

“What do you have against historical podcasts?” Seokmin asked, eyebrows raised in surprise. You chuckled.

“Nothing in particular. But my last roommate listened to them on like full blast. Just got annoying at some point.” 

He nodded now, understanding. Yeah, he could see why that would be annoying at some point. Still, that wasn’t the real issue here. Or, well, was it really an issue? He cleared his throat. 

“I- I don’t take you as someone who would let her feelings get the best of her. And, to be honest, I’m not really the type of guy you should have a crush on, Y/N. But, uh, I’m still very flattered. And I don’t think this would stop me from moving in, as you said, we are both desperate.”

You were surprised and it showed. Seokmin chuckled.

“Or do you not want me here?”

“No! I do, I really need you to move in,” you said, tugging a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Seokmin nodded again. 

“Then it’s settled. I’ll get my stuff asap and then we’ll be roomies.”

“Can’t wait!”

*

Seungkwan thought you were insane. He hadn’t known it was Seokmin when Mingyu had approached him and now he regretted ever offering it. 

“What do you mean you told him?!” He was sitting at your small dinner table in the living room. You shrugged. 

“What was I supposed to do? Just let him move in and carry this huge ass secret with me all the time? I don’t think so.”

“You could have just told him no, Y/N.”

“Right, and then what? I see him in class every other day? How awkward would that be?”

“You mean as awkward as living with a guy who knows you have a crush on him?!” When you shrugged again, Seungkwan groaned, pulling his hands over his face.

“You’re seriously insane, I can’t believe you did this!”

And about a week after Seokmin had officially moved in, you couldn’t believe it either. 

Living with Seokmin proved to do the exact opposite of what you had mentioned in your chat with him. He wasn’t a slob. And he also didn’t listen to any podcast on full volume. He cleaned, cooked, gave you space. Every morning he got up earlier than you and prepared coffee, before going out for a jog - only to come back while you were having breakfast, looking all sweaty and sexy. The first time this had happened you had choked on your toast, drinking what felt like one whole liter of orange juice before finally being able to stop coughing. Seokmin had hit your back a few times, apologizing for startling you. And yet, he didn’t stop doing it, which made you used to it after a while (it didn’t).  

Instead of falling out of love with him, you found yourself drawn to him even more, craving his presence. When he was gone, you missed him, and when he was home you wanted to hear everything about his day, wanted to eat dinner with him, watch a new episode of that show you had started together. 

*

Seokmin was outside in the living room, his laptop placed on his lap, an essay he needed to proof read opened as he sipped on a can of beer. He was on his favorite spot on the floor, right in front of the couch, leaning his back against it. Actually, he had wanted to go to sleep an hour ago, but then he had talked with his sister on the phone and now he was back to this. It had been two months since he had moved in with you despite knowing you had feelings for him. Back when you had originally told him, he had felt like he should probably run because the last thing he needed right now was complicated. Things with Hyorin had been complicated enough. But, as he now knew, you weren’t complicated in the slightest. More so the opposite. It didn’t take long for Seokmin to begin to understand you and your patterns. It also didn’t take long for him to figure out how much you actually liked him. If he had been anyone else he might have taken advantage of that. Flirt with you, get you into his bed. But he was Seokmin, he wasn’t a guy who would do that. Not that he hadn’t… thought about it. Seeing the way you looked at him, especially after his morning runs or when he came back from the gym in the evening… it took everything in him not to imagine you looking at him that way when he was fucking you. 

Seokmin wasn’t a sex-hungry person, normally. Maybe because he had been in a long-term relationship for five years. But now, with his relationship being over for two months and the periods before that being dry in the sex department… he was starting to miss it. Dearly. 

So, when he sat there on the floor, his head focusing on the contents of this essay he wrote a day earlier in the library, he couldn’t really help getting distracted by the sounds coming from your room. His ears perked up and his head turned sideways, throat already drying up. Were you crying? Maybe you were-

“O-oh.”

His laptop slipped from his lap when he got up. His heart speed rose and sweat was starting to form on his hairline. That certainly wasn’t the type of crying he had meant. Slowly, he walked over to the door of your room that he only now realized wasn’t properly shut. He felt bad, guilty even, when he peeked through the small opening, seeing you apparently asleep. A dream? He licked his lips. Were you dreaming? 

“S-Seokmin.” 

Something inside him switched over. His whole body started to heat up, his cock desperately beginning to twitch in his briefs. Fuck, he hadn’t ever expected that hearing you moan his name would do so much. You were dreaming, yes, about him. And he heard you, heard you moaning, the whimpers. And god, did you sound perfect. He leaned against the wall next to your room, letting his dick get harder with every second, waiting for your noises like an addict. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t get himself to move away and mind his own business. He was intoxicated by you. He took everything he could, every breath, as small as they might be. The sighs following the moan of his name. 

For now, he only listened. He didn’t want to touch himself here, didn’t want to be that type of person. But then again, he had already parked himself right outside your room, listening to you having a wet dream, it wasn’t like beginning to jerk off would make much of a difference. So, he slowly moved his hand, palming himself over his sweats, feeling how hard he was because of you. He closed his eyes, ears concentrating only on you. He wondered what you were dreaming about. What was he doing to you right now? Was he holding you down as he fucked you? Was he going down on you, tasting you? God, he really wanted to taste you. 

For a second he contemplated going in and waking you up - making your dream reality. But he couldn’t. Not knowing what he did. 

Opening his eyes, he suddenly felt guilt rushing over him and he was quick to close your door, making his way over to where he had sat earlier and grabbing his laptop. 

Once he was in his own room, door locked and all, he tried to clear his head of the sounds you had made, of the way it was him you were dreaming about. But with his cock this hard and you so close… it was no use. He put his laptop on his desk and laid down on his bed after, taking a deep breath. He couldn’t hear you from his room and, god, was he relieved. Not hearing you did not equal not remembering you, though. And so, knowing he was going to lose to his conscience anyways, he opened the drawer in his bedside table and got out the package of lube, squeezing a bit on his right hand, while the left shoved down his sweats and briefs, letting his erection hit the cool air of his room. 

He sighed in relief when his right hand began squeezing him, head leaned back into the pillows, hand now moving up and down slowly. You were right there in front of his inner eye, the way you sounded, but also the image of how you would look underneath him. Moaning his name, begging him to go faster. Then, he imagined your cheek stuffed with his cock, imagined your teary eyes when he began fucking down your throat. 

“F-fuck,” he couldn’t help but go faster, his hips lifting up his bed as he fucked his fist, wishing it was your pussy or your mouth, any of your holes would do. How badly he wanted to hear you beg, wanted you to be on your knees, mouth open and tongue out, ready to take whatever he was willing to give. Pouty lips and round eyes, wishing for nothing more than Seokmin’s cock filling you up. 

“God, just like that, Y/N, f-fuck,” he couldn’t help but moan as he came, his load landing on his clothed chest. 

Coming down from his high, Seokmin opened his eyes, blinking a few times before he really understood what had happened. Groaning, he let his left hand rub over his face, before he shook his head and sat up. He got rid of his shirt and threw it in the laundry bin, walking to the door unlocking and opening it to go to the bathroom - only to run into you who just came out of the bathroom. Your eyes grew wide when you spotted Seokmin - shirtless and sweaty and with this certain look in his eyes that made your legs grow weaker. 

Not knowing what he was doing, Seokmin walked straight over to you, his hands finding the sides of your neck, his lips crashing into yours a second later. You didn’t know what was happening, didn’t know what to do - but you kissed him back, your hands on his broad back, as he pushed you against the wall, his meaty perfect thigh shoved between your legs now, pressing against your still sensitive core. You gasped into the kiss, his tongue now devouring yours, one of his hands moving down and underneath your shirt, grabbing your breast and squeezing it harshly. Your arms locked around his neck, moans getting caught by his skillful mouth. Were you still dreaming? 

“Seokmin,” you moaned when his hand squeezed your nipple and only then did he realize what was happening. Immediately, he parted from you, causing you to miss his kiss and touch the second he left. 

“What-,” you began, but before you could even finish the question, he had already turned around and walked back into his room, closing the door behind him. And locking it. 

*

He acted like nothing happened. You were anxiously waiting in the kitchen the next morning, but once he came back from his run he just showed you his normal goofy self, excusing himself to go take a  shower. The way you had stood there, fully ready (not really) to talk about the night before, still in your pjs, still dizzy from the dream you had had as well as the very real kiss afterward. Why had he done that? Had he suddenly turned into a sleepwalker? A sleepwalker that kissed his roommate as if he had been starving? 

You sure as hell weren’t going to bring it up first. So, you played along, pretending like it didn’t happen. 

“I am declaring you clinically insane, Y/N,” Seungkwan was munching away on his corndog, while you and his (not) boyfriend Hansol sat opposite him at one of the smaller booths of the diner.

“He started it,” you shrugged, grabbing your own corndog now to take a bite from it.

“Okay, and? You could have started the conversation. For example: “Hey roomie, so about that night where you came out of your room clearly just done with getting yourself off and then kissed me? Like really hard? Against a wall?” See, that would have been a great conversation starter.”

You deadpanned at him.

“You’re an idiot,” shaking your head, you leaned back in your seat, “what if he really like, I don’t know, was in a delirious state? Maybe he drank alone before bed and just had a black out?”

“Or maybe he is an asshole who can’t own up to his actions,” Seungkwan shrugged, “but sure, yours sounds way more likely.”

“Seungkwan is right, Y/N. You should just bring it up,” Hansol looked at you and you sighed, letting your head drop onto the table.

“I don’t think I can. I’m too mortified. What if he totally regrets kissing me and that’s why he is pretending like it didn’t happen?”

“That still doesn’t give him permission to act this way. I don’t care if he is deeply in love with you or hates you, I just want him to be humane enough to tell you.”

It stung, the way he was right. Whatever Seokmin was feeling, he had to share it with you. He couldn’t just- 

“Am I going crazy or is Seokmin standing outside?” You raised your head again, eyes wide when you realized you were, in fact, not going crazy. Seokmin was right there outside the diner, on the other side of the street, his phone in his hand, an anxious look on his face.

“Did you tell him you were coming here?” Hansol asked and you shook your head.

“No, we barely saw each other this morning.”

What was he doing here? And why did he look like he would rather be anywhere else? Your eyes scanned the surroundings, a sour feeling suddenly spreading in your guts. You were only a few streets down from your apartment, the street wasn’t exactly busy but had some really good places to eat. This was the perfect meeting spot for-

“Who’s that?” Seungkwan shifted closer to the window next to you, his eyes squeezed together as if he was trying harder to recognise whoever had just shown up next to Seokmin. You didn’t have to know her to… know her. Hyorin. His ex-girlfriend that had cheated on him. He had mentioned her to you only a few times, you being a little reluctant to ask considering he knew how you felt about him. But from what you had gathered he hated her, never wanted to see her again. So why was he here now? With her?

“Is that…?” Seungkwan looked over at you, worry displayed on his face and you pressed your lips together as you nodded. 

She was beautiful. Tall, long silky black hair. Her skin glowing even from here. She was the girl Seokmin should be kissing in his delirious state, in any state, really. You swallowed down the tears that threatened to spill out and averted your gaze. Your appetite had left you and you wanted nothing more than to flee the scene, go home and never think of this moment again.

“Should we leave?” Hansol asked, looking over at Seungkwan a little helplessly. Seungkwan nodded quickly and his (not) boyfriend grabbed your arm and helped you get out of the booth. As much as you felt like yelling at him that you didn’t need this help, as much did you appreciate the gesture. Seungkwan paid at the front desk and you left the diner, your heart in desperate need for some distraction. 

*

When Seokmin got home that evening, you weren’t there. A part of him was relieved while another one already missed your presence. Sighing, he kicked off his shoes and finally slipped down onto the couch, hands rubbing over his face. This whole thing was a mess. Today was a mess. Hyorin had called him and asked him to meet up and because he was who he was he had said yes. He should have known she would just try to apologize for the nth time, telling him it had only happened once and that he was the only one for her. Little did she know that he gave zero fucks at this point. He didn’t want her anymore, he didn’t love her anymore. She had broken his heart and stomped on it, had lied and cheated, had done all these horrible things to him. And yet, he was somewhat grateful because now he was right here. In your apartment. 

It was silly, really, because he had been dating Hyorin for two years already when he saw you the first time. You and your cute gray sweatshirt and the high ponytail. You, who had been the cutest person in every single one of your classes together. You, who he couldn’t develop feelings for because he had a girlfriend. Unlike Hyorin, he wasn’t a cheater. He had loved her, truly loved her. And he had been shattered when he found out about the other guy, feeling like he could never be fixed again. He had to get out of the shared apartment, had to leave it all behind as soon as he possibly could - and he had somehow ended up on your doorstep. It was crazy how the universe worked. 

And as if that hadn’t been enough, you suddenly confessed to him, turning all of his feelings upside down. Because what was he supposed to say? Supposed to do? God, he was heartbroken over Hyorin and yet there was this ray of light in the shape of a girl that loved to spend her evenings watching trashy teen drama and cry over a bucket of Ben & Jerry’s when a character you didn’t even particularly like died on screen. 

Seokmin didn’t want to allow him to like you. He was scared that maybe you liking him altered his brain chemistry, that perhaps he would want to be with you only as a rebound and you were too good, too perfect to be anything of that kind. And so, when that night had happened and he had lost his composure, he knew he messed up. He knew you had feelings for him, god, he probably would have figured it out even if you hadn’t told him. Not just because of the dream he had overheard but because of the way you looked at him. The way you smiled, the way you laughed. He didn’t want you to look at anyone else like that. 

The sound of a door unlocking filled the quiet room now and was soon joined by the giggles of a girl and the nervous laugh of a guy - and both of these voices were familiar to Seokmin. He immediately got up and walked over to the entry way - only to see Mingyu holding your waist as you, obviously drunk, tried to get out of your shoes.

“Mingyu?” Seokmin asked confusedly.

“Oh, hey Seok,” Mingyu said, holding you steady as you felt your knees giving in. 

“What- what is going on?” 

“We met at a bar, she was with Seungkwan and his boyfriend-,”

“He is not his boyfriend!” you interrupted him with a giggle.

“Uh, right, Seungkwan and his not-boyfriend were also super drunk and I called them a cab, but I really didn’t want to send Y/N home on her own so-,”

“Why didn’t you call me?” Seokmin now came closer, his eyes set on his best friend’s hand around your waist, his insides slowly but surely heating up with something he could only recognize as jealousy.

“Uh, I thought you were busy with… you know.”

Seokmin’s jaw tensed, his eyes fixed on Mingyu who had successfully held you down as you stepped out of your shoes.

“That has been resolved hours ago, Mingyu.”

“And how was he supposed to know that, hm?” The sudden sound of your voice made both men look over at you. Your hand was raised, finger pointed at Seokmin accusingly. 

“Y/N-“, Mingyu started, but you shook your head and finally freed yourself from Mingyu’s grasp.

“No! No, I’m tired of this! Was it nice? Seeing your perfect ex again? Do you want to go back to her now? Move out and act like I don’t exist? Like you didn’t kiss me?”

Mingyu held his breath. You had told him all this in the bar earlier, where he had met you and Seungkwan and Hansol and where he had realized that you were madly in love with his best friend. He felt bad about you having seen Seokmin with Hyorin, but even more did he feel bad because it was also so painfully obvious that Seokmin liked you, too. 

“I think you’re drunk,” Seokmin noted and you laughed, throwing your hands in the air. Mingyu stayed quiet.

“Do you, now? How observant of you, Seokmin.”

The two of you were staring at each other now, fury in both your eyes. Honestly, you didn’t know what he was angry about. After all you weren’t the one running back to her ex after kissing him the way he had you. 

“I, uh, I guess I should go now,” Mingyu pointed at the door with his thumb over his shoulder, “you seem to… well, have a lot to talk about.” 

The normally so cheerful and kind Seokmin didn’t wish his best friend a good night, nor did he even look at him when he left. Instead he kept looking at you, saw the way you waved at Mingyu and thanked him, your hand squeezing his arm. Lightning was shooting through him. Jealousy was about to eat him up, was about to make him grab you and yell that you shouldn’t touch Mingyu like that. It was dumb and he knew it. You made him crazy, you made him dumb. Like a teenager who was in love for the first time, unsure what to make of it. 

Once the door had fallen shut, you stormed past your roommate, ready to enter your room and not leave it until the next day. Just that you didn’t get far. Seokmin ended up grabbing your arm after all, his touch burning on your skin. 

“Mingyu is right, we do have a lot to talk about,” he said in a hushed voice, making you scoff. 

“Fine, then talk.” With whatever willpower you had left, you looked at him. Saw the way his eyes were full of an emotion you couldn’t pinpoint - the fury from before still slightly visible but not alone. Perhaps it was anger for you speaking to him the way you had. Or maybe he was just annoyed at you for being drunk and loud and stupid. 

“Look, Y/N. What happened between us was… it shouldn’t have happened, alright?”

“Why? Because you’re back together with your cheating ex?”

“No! God, no, I would never get back with Hyorin. And I can’t believe Mingyu told you about this and-,”

“He didn’t!” You freed yourself out of his grip, your eyes dangerously beginning to prickle, “I saw you. With her.” 

He inhaled audibly - he hadn’t expected this. You saw him? With Hyorin? No wonder you were this upset. He pulled his hand through his hair.

“She wanted to talk things out. And because I’m too nice of a person I told her yes. Y/N, I don’t want to be with her anymore. She broke my heart, she hasn’t been the girl I fell in love with for ages now.” 

“Why did you kiss me?” If you were honest, you didn’t really care about when Hyorin had stopped being the girl Seokmin loved. You were more interested in whether you were. 

“I shouldn’t have done that.” 

Pang. Your face flinched before your jaw tensed. 

“Right,” your voice was smaller than you had wanted it to be, and the tears were even closer to spilling now. Of course he regretted it. Regretted kissing you, regretted making you feel the way you had. Because why would it be any different? Perhaps you should have tried to hook up with Mingyu tonight just to feel something different than this ache inside of you. 

“I just- fuck, I just don’t want to take advantage of you. Of what you feel for me.”

Now, the tears of hurt were quickly changing to tears of anger. This man really had a talent in making you switch emotions in seconds. 

“Excuse me? You- what?” You laughed bitterly, shaking your head, “don’t do this. Don’t make yourself look like a hero because you stepped back from kissing me. You did that because you wanted to. I didn’t come onto you even once in all the time you’ve been living here. So don’t you dare pin this on me or my feelings.” You hated that you began to shake and that your voice was higher than anticipated. You hated that the way he looked at you made you feel small and idiotic, made you feel as if you were the dumbest person on this earth. Instead of waiting for his response, you turned around on your heel, walking into your room and slamming the door shut behind you.

*

No one wanted to be in Seokmin’s shoes right now. After your fight he had also retreated back to his room, not exactly sure how to ever face you again. A day later he was at lunch with Mingyu, Cheol and Joshua and they all looked at him like he had suddenly grown three heads. 

“I can’t believe you said that,” Joshua judged, shaking his head. Seokmin sighed, throwing his napkin on the table. 

“Come on, was it really that bad?”

“Yes,” all three of his friends said in union, all their eyes on him, no sign of humor. Seokmin swallowed. 

“I really thought I was doing the right thing,” he mumbled now, letting his head fall, eyes studying the pattern of the wooden table.

“By doing what? Pushing away a girl that’s absolutely crazy about you? That has been nothing but kind and wonderful towards you? That you very obviously have feelings for?” Mingyu snorted, crossing his arms, “no, that most certainly wasn’t the right thing to do, Seokmin.”

While Seokmin stayed silent, Seungcheol and Joshua nodded, telling Seokmin, once again, that he was an idiot. It was no use, though. He already knew he was! He knew he had messed up and even though a part of him still thought that, maybe, his intention had been noble, the part was slowly but surely getting kicked out. 

“And what do you expect me to do? I can’t just go up to her and tell her that I was wrong for saying that. She doesn’t even talk to me!”

“Can’t really blame her, can you?” Seungcheol took a sip from his iced tea.

“Look, it’s only been a day. Let her calm down, give her space. Give yourself some more time to come up with the right thing to say. I’m sure it will be fine, you and Y/N will be fine.”

And as much as Seokmin appreciated the tough love followed by Joshua’s words of affirmation, he wasn’t sure it was really helping him. In fact, he wasn’t sure what could help him considering you started ignoring him from then on, even avoiding your shared space to either stay at Seungkwan’s place or just come home once Seokmin was already in bed. Every class you had together, you would sit right by one of the doors, arriving at the latest and leaving as soon as possible. Whilst Seokmin was trying his hardest to come up with a way to apologize to you, to win you back, you were trying your best to forget about your feelings for him. And for the most part it was even successful - you being mad at him and feeling like an idiot whenever you thought about the kiss you two had shared. But then again, only for the most part. 

“You can’t just force yourself out of love with someone,” Seungkwan said on the nth night you’ve been sitting on his couch, a bucket of ice cream in your arms, the AC on the highest setting because, holy hell, was it hot outside. 

“I can try,” you shrugged, staring at the TV screen. Seungkwan sighed, letting his eyes wander over your frame. You didn’t look your best, the hurt definitely coming through with bags under your eyes, your hair looking frizzy, the shirt you were wearing a stain right in the middle and when he had asked you about it, you couldn’t even tell him where that had come from. 

So, when he got a call from Kim Mingyu two days later, he was eager as ever to meet up and hopefully get you off his couch. 

The setting was in a small coffee shop, Seokmin seated nervously next to Mingyu who had ordered an iced americano for each of them. Seungkwan looked from one handsome guy to the other, clearing his throat.

“So, I’m guessing this is about Y/N?” he raised a brow and Mingyu quickly nodded, while Seokmin shifted on his seat, hands clasped around his plastic cup. 

“Yup. Do you have any idea what Seok over here can do to, you know, get her to speak to him again?” Mingyu pointed at Seokmin with his thumb and Seungkwan chuckled as he watched Seokmin slap the thumb away, his cheeks a bright red.

“I’m sorry, I would’ve never come to you about this, but I’m desperate at this point. She is never home and when she is, she makes it her mission to not even acknowledge my existence.”

“Yeah, when she’s not home she is at my place. And let me tell you, it’s getting incredibly annoying, considering I have a “not-boyfriend” that I’d really like to invite over,” clicking his tongue, Seungkwan leaned back and grabbed his own beverage, taking a sip from the bright blue straw, “so, I am more than happy to help.”

For a few minutes they brainstormed, Mingyu suggesting that maybe Seokmin should just ambush her, maybe get a pair of handcuffs and- yeah, he was shut down by both Seokmin and Seungkwan rather quickly. Seokmin said that maybe he should just continue texting her and that perhaps she’d come around, but Seungkwan shook his head, telling him there was no use, he had never met anyone worse at texting and reading texts than his best friend. 

After a moment of silence in which they all seemed a bit defeated, Seungkwan watched Mingyu take out his phone and open a message he had received on instagram. The only blonde at the table had never been quicker to sit up and almost knock over his drink.

“I know what you have to do.” 

-

It had been two weeks since you had last talked to Seokmin and for once you were inside your apartment, knowing that he was at class while yours had been canceled. It was nice to be back home during day time for a change, your feet propped up on the small coffee table in front of the sofa. A book in your lap that you had discarded for a bit to check your phone, only to be hit in the face by a cruel, cruel reality. The book slipped off your lap as you withdrew your legs from the table and instead kneeled on the couch, both hands gripping your phone tightly. 

“He has got to be joking,” you mumbled, feeling dizzy as you stared at the mirror pic Seokmin had posted half an hour ago. He hadn’t posted in months. Basically since he and Hyerin had broken up. His insta was mainly blank except for a few pictures he had taken of pretty sceneries. Never had he ever posted gym selfies. No. That had been Mingyu, showing off Seokmin’s body in his pictures as well as his own. 

To be fair, there wasn’t much body to see on the selfie. It was him in the gym, his long sleeved shirt rolled up above his elbows, showing enough arm to make you head feel crazy. His left hand was holding his phone, his fingers spread over it and, fuck, his hand. His hair was just slightly messy, his jaw and neck on full display and you forgot how to breathe. Arousal pooled in between your legs now and you honestly couldn’t even understand why. Perhaps, you thought, because this was the first time you had seen his face in almost two weeks and this picture just fed into all of your small kinks about him. Swallowing hard, you licked your lips and continued to bury your teeth into the bottom one, your pussy already throbbing. How pathetic. Little did you know you were about to become even more pathetic. Only now did your eyes spot the small symbol on the right side of the post, signaling you that there wasn’t just one picture. With a throat as dry as the desert, you clicked back on the post, a shaking index finger swiping to the left, only to be met by what could only be described as worse. There you had the body you had so desperately wished for. Leaned back on what you assumed to be a bench press, his legs adjourned in baggy jeans you had seen him wear a handful of times. Back then you had been happy to not see them on him this much because for whatever reason he was even more sexy in them. They weren’t even tight (as baggy jeans already suggested), but they still seemed to fit him perfectly. And now, with him manspreading over a bench in the gym, the red-white shirt with a car race theme, sleeves still rolled up, one arm hanging over his right thigh, holding onto the black leather beneath him, showing off a pretty vein you could literally already feel underneath your tongue. He was crazy. Crazy and mean and horrible and you knew all of this on purpose. His fingers on display, his thighs looking so big in those god forsaken jeans. Hair messy, jawline looking so sharp you were sure it could cut glass.

And as if all of this wasn’t bad enough, you suddenly heard the door clicking open. Your head jerked up, your eyes wide and your cheeks flushed burgundy. When you saw Seokmin walk through the door and finally into the living room, you felt your phone slip from your hand and onto the couch. He was carrying a gym bag, his hair still slightly damp. His skin was glowing and his eyes were widened in surprise. He most definitely hadn’t expected to see you.

“I thought you had class?” He said, his gym bag dropping onto the floor next to him. You slowly got up from the couch.

“Got canceled. Yours?” 

“Same.”

Nodding, you came to a stop in front of him, his tall figure towering over you, your chest heaving, head clouded by the smell of his cologne, of the knowledge he had posted that picture most definitely to get to you. With a heartbeat the speed of light, you looked into his eyes.

“Did Seungkwan tell you to post those pictures?” you whispered. Seokmin hesitated. Then he nodded. 

“Did it work?” he asked, head slightly tilted to the side. 

Instead of answering, your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down to crash your lips against his. Seokmin immediately reacted, hands on the small of your back, pushing you closer. This kiss was different from the first, not less exciting or dizzying, but you felt more in control, felt more like this was it, this was what you had craved for so long. 

Seokmin, meanwhile, was on cloud nine, your lips feeling so incredible on his. For him this was all he had wanted for the last weeks and while he had gotten that small taste back then, nothing could have prepared him for what he was feeling right now. All sense of self control left his body as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding over your bottom lip, asking to be let in. Once your tongues touched, there was no way in hell this was going to end. You moaned into his mouth, your nails digging into his skin while he moved his hands down, wrapping around your thighs to lift you up. Instinctively your legs swung around him, his hands leaving burns where he touched you. 

He moved over to the couch where you had sat before, sitting down with you now straddling him, both of your hands roaming around the other’s body. You let your fingers slide under his shirt and together you took it off, lips parting momentarily and letting you admire his toned chest, his abs and shoulders. You took your sweet time, fingers caressing his skin while your lips latched onto his neck, sucking harshly. Seokmin moaned, one hand on the back of your head, while the other laid on your thigh. 

With every passing second you felt yourself grow wetter, your hips beginning to grind down, both of your clothed crotches meeting, making both of you even more desperate. Seokmin grabbed your face, kissing you passionately once more, thumbs on either side of your cheeks. You whimpered when you felt him buck up, his erection already making your head spin. Never had you ever wanted anyone as bad. Finally, his hands moved to take off your shirt, leaving you in shorts and nothing else. A groan escaped him, hands all over your breasts, lips sucking your hard nipple inside his mouth, your head falling back, hands digging into his scalp. He was devouring your tits one at a time, hands squeezing them harshly as you couldn’t help but move your hips against him.

“S-Seokmin, please,” you whined, the arousal literally audible. Hearing you say his name like this… Seokmin parted from your chest and instead looked up at you. 

“Seungkwan told me something,” he whispered, one hand now moving down, while the other was back on your face, “he told me you take a… certain liking to my fingers.” The smirk on his face made you forget to kill Seungkwan later. You licked over your lips, biting down on it after, only to let out a small gasp when his right hand slipped into your shorts, pressing down on the wet spot between your legs. He sucked in a breath.

“Fuck, arren’t you wet for me, angel?” He whispered, while his other hand moved to your lips now, his eyebrows shooting up as he held eye contact. You knew what he wanted and you were more than eager to oblige. Parting your lips and stretching out your tongue, Seokmin felt himself twitch as he laid his index and middle finger on top of your tongue.

“Suck,” he then ordered you and without thinking twice, you did as asked. The fingers were long and thin and perfect and your eyes rolled back when you felt him press down on your tongue, his eyes becoming a little crazier with every passing second. 

“Both your holes stuffed with my fingers, what do you think?” his voice made goosebumps erupt all over your body, moaning around his digits while nodding wildly. Seokmin chuckled, not saying anything as he shoved your panties to the side, your hips almost automatically lifting so he could coat himself in your juice, his cock growing harder with every inch of him that got blessed with your arousal. 

“Think you can take two already?” when you nodded again, he immediately let his pretty fingers sink into you, both of you moaning at the contact. He sank in as deep as he could, until every bit was inside of you, knuckles deep, making him feel like he was either going to cum in his pants or simply explode. 

“God, you feel so fucking good, angel. Common, fuck yourself on my fingers and don’t forget to suck.” 

Your body began moving right away. Your mouth was sucking his fingers as if they were his cock, tongue pressing, tongue flicking against them. Head bobbing back and forth as your hips moved up and down on his other hand, his fingers feeling heavenly inside your walls. And when he put his thumb on your clit, you were sure the heavenly feeling would soon get you to cum all over him. 

“Good girl, doing so well for me, fuck,” Seokmin felt his throat dry up, sweat forming on the top of his head. How badly he wanted to fuck you right now, just get his fingers out and replace them with his throbbing cock - but he wanted to take his time with you. He wanted to see you live out your dream with his fingers buried inside of you, with your saliva coating his one hand and your perfect, sweet arousal the other. He wanted to see you come undone like this, fucking yourself on his fingers, before he took you the way he wanted, making you scream his name and beg him to make you cum with his cock. 

You felt your orgasm closing in on you, your movements becoming sloppier, eyes rolled back and the fingers in your mouth almost forgotten. Once Seokmin noticed, he grinned, beginning to fuck them inside your mouth himself, a high pitched moan escaping you and making another bit of precum shoot out of Seokmin’s cock. 

“Yeah, are you close, baby? Come on, I know you want to cum for me.” He leaned forward, the angle of his fingers changing slightly, hitting you right where you needed him and when his lips began kissing and licking at your neck, you couldn’t help but cum hard, your pussy clenching around his fingers over and over again, milking yourself for all you had. 

“Fuck,” he was in a daze, pulling both sets of fingers outside your holes, eyes searching for yours, before closing his lips around the fingers that had just made you cum so beautifully. You whimpered, pussy throbbing at the sight of him licking your arousal from his own digits. 

“Seokmin…,” you cried out and he pulled his fingers back, instead shooting forward now to kiss you again. You could taste yourself on his lips, hands now back around his neck, eyes closed shut as he kissed you with delicious desperation. 

“Fuck me on the windowsill, Seok, please.” 

He parted from you only for a second, before nodding and kissing you again, getting up with your legs wrapped around him, finally placing you on the narrow sill, hands gripping your shorts and panties and pulling them off your legs. You watched as he opened his own jeans next, letting them fall to the floor before finally revealing what you had only imagined so far. You couldn’t help but stare, your mouth watering at the sight of his big cock, all red at the tip and veiny, thick and a little bent to the left. Oh, how much you wanted him to ruin you. 

“I can’t wait to fuck you, baby,” he purred now, arms back around your body, lips closing around yours again. Every inch of you was on fire, your hands immediately finding his cock, one grabbing his balls, while the other was around his girth, moving up to let your thumb slide over his slit. He twitched in your hand, a beautiful moan coming out his mouth that had you shivering. Spreading your legs further, you brought his leaking cock to your lips, letting the tip circle your clit for a bit, both of you moaning into the other's mouth, before finally lining him up with your sopping core.

“Please, fuck me, I need you so bad,” your voice was muffled against his lips and he nodded, replacing your hand with his to push inside you, the stretch having your nails dig into his shoulders, whimpers escaping your pink lips as he lowered himself into you until he bottomed out, his forehead now pressing against yours.

“You feel so good, so perfect around me, baby,” he kissed you softly, hands sliding over your sides up to your tits, and once he began squeezing them again, his lips finding yours, he began thrusting, first deep and hard, before he quickened, your legs pulling him even closer. He was perfect. The way he held you, the way his thumb was on your nipple, lips now sucking on the sensitive skin on your neck, cock fucking you deep and hard and quick, leaving no room for complaints. You didn’t know how to ever stop moaning his name, how to be quiet, how to not have your body already signal another climax. 

“A-am close,” you whined and Seokmin nodded, head now in between your neck and shoulder, kissing every inch of your skin. Nothing had ever felt this good, no sex with anyone had ever made him feel as if  he was going to cum within seconds, while also wanting it to never end. He sped up once more, hands back on your face as he wanted to cum with your tongue inside his mouth, with your lips claimed as his. You tried to match his pace, desperate and breathy moans filling the air that already smelled like nothing but sex. There was nothing you could do to prevent the orgasm rushing over you, your walls clenching around his cock over and over again, his movements getting sloppier with every second, your and his salivas mixing, running over both your chins when he finally sucked your tongue into his mouth as he came, hot white cum spreading in your pussy that now milked him for all he had, every little drop as precious as the other. 

“Fuck, oh my god,” Seokmin breathed into your mouth, his hands caressing your hair as he kissed your neck, both of you slowly getting down from your highs. You two stayed like this for a while. Him, kissing your neck, your shoulders, your chin and finally your lips. It suddenly feels like everything has fallen into place perfectly, like this is what should have happened the first time he ever stepped into place, maybe even when you first laid eyes on him three years ago. He stays inside you, your combined releases only slowly dripping out of you. How could he make you feel this precious? This fragile in the best way?

“Y/N…”, he then whispers after a while, his hands next to you on the sill, his eyes so soft and yet full of guilt. For a second you think he regrets having done this but then you hear his next words.

“I’m so sorry I pushed you away. I never should have done that. I was scared of my own feelings and of taking advantage of you, and I get now that I should have just talked to you about this instead of acting like I was protecting you when in reality I was just protecting myself,” he caressed your face, a stray lock of hair finds it’s way behind your ear by his finger.

“I get it. And I’m sorry too, for, you know, completely shutting you out.” You smile weakly and Seokmin chuckles, kissing your cheek again.

“I would have done the same. So, you forgive me?”

“Isn’t you coming inside me enough reason to believe I have?” You tease him with a slight grin and he turns red, looking down at him still buried inside your warmth. 

“Thank you. For forgiving me,” he looks up at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “and also for letting me cum inside you.” 

You start laughing, pushing him away slightly by the shoulder and your heart seems to jump out of your chest when he kisses you again. You were sure  that you’ll never get tired of doing this. 

-

“So, if i want you to get turned on I’ll just need to post more gym pics?” Seokmin’s arm was around you, both of you freshly out of the shower seated on the couch. You scoffed, but felt your cheeks heat up.

“Shut up,” you couldn’t help but smile though, the fact he was so close to you, holding you. It was all too much but in the best way possible. You never wanted to let this man go again. 

“You’re so cute when you’re flustered”, he giggled now, and god, had you ever heard a more adorable sound? You doubted it. Just when you were about to respond (mainly to tell him to shut up again), you heard your phone ring. Looking over Seokmin’s lap, you saw your phone where you’d left it. He followed your gaze and grabbed your phone for you, a knowing smile on his lips.

“If we were to unlock this now, what would we find, hm?”

Ignoring him, you finally picked up. It was Seungkwan.

“Hi traitor,” you said, eyebrows raised. Seungkwan scoffed on the other side.

“Oh please, you can’t tell me y’all didn’t fuck.”

Seokmin, who was very obnoxiously leaning in closer to hear the conversation, giggled again, his cheeks turning rosy. You rolled your eyes.

“Doesn’t mean I appreciate you spilling my kinks to people you barely know.”

“You know you do kind of love me for it though. So, you two together now?” You froze in place, while your eyes moved very slowly to look at Seokmin. What you saw made your stomach turn and twist and tumble and millions of butterflies suddenly started dancing Gangnam Style. His eyes were so fond, his features soft, the rose on his cheeks now accented by his bright perfect smile. When he nodded, his hand coming to caress your head, you couldn’t help but smile the brightest you ever had.

“As a matter of fact, yes. Yes, we are.”

[ch4osworld]

THE PASSENGER

A Lucifer x fem!reader ff

This is my first time writing a fanfiction, or writing in general plus my native language isn't english so sorry for any mistake! Critiques are welcome as long as they are respectful and reblogs and comments are well liked! I am planning to make this a series so tell me if you like it!

Words:1509

You were in the garden of Eden, long (h/c) hair flowing behind you. That's when you were created, when you begun living. You were made to be the first wife of the man Adam. You truly loved him, at least you thought you did, you did everything he told you, always being good...then why were you taken and put into heaven?Why did you have to be taken away by your one true love?You stood there, confused, scared even, with only your long hair covering your nudity. That's when you met him, an oh so wonderful and stunning angel, Lucifer was his name. He dressed you, took care of you, cared about you. It didn't take long for you to catch feelings for him. What was a lady supposed to do when some handsome was so caring to you, so touchy even. You still remember the times he took you flying with him, the look of adoration he gave you, it was just you two, flying in the sky peacefully. The comfort he would give you, his touch always lingered on your skin, oh how you wanted him to hold you like that forever.

You stood there, high in heaven, observing Adam, the one that was supposed to be you husband, with another woman. Lilith was her name, how could he do this to you? Did he not love you? No you were sure he did. But if you were so sure then why did tears start falling from your eyes? Why did you start crying like that? You felt horrible. If the man that was supposed to love you for eternity didn't want you, who would have? You hear rustling behind you, and that's when he came: "Y/n? Are you ok?" You didn't respond to him, you didn't have the strength to, you felt so embarassed, you were so vulnerable,what would he think of you now: "Oh sweetheart what happened to you? Who hurt you? Please don't cry I hate seeing you like this. I know that whatever the problem is we can deal with this togheter" and there again, the usual hold he would give you in those moments. He treated you with such a care, you felt bad for him. You used all your strength to mutter some shaky words: "Why is he with another woman, who is she?"  He answered, holding you closer to him: "Dear, is this really the problem that's taunting you every day? Don't be sad, please, trust me he doesn't deserve your love. He doesn't deserve you! You are the most wonderful woman I have ever laid my eyes upon, it's not your fault he doesn't see your beauty. It's not your fault he doesn't love you". You sobbed back: "No, no he does love me. I was made for him he surely dose. He just doesn't understand it yet". He watched you with compassion as he kept comforting you.

Lucifer, or Luci, as you would always call him, always talked to you about all his plans and ideas. You never understood them much, you were too naive, too dumb and stupid to understand, but you would always support him through it no matter what. You always encouraged him to expose his ideas, you were his number 1 supporter. You loved him oh so much, you always did and you always will. Nothing would have prepared you to the day he got casted down from heaven, and with Lilith too. Not only have you lost the one you REALLY loved, he loved someone else too, the same one that stole Adam away from you. Damn Lilith, if only you were as pretty, if only you were so captivating maybe it would have been you who got casted down with him. After that you came back to the life at Eden, becoming Adam's wife again, but you couldn't be happy, not when Lucifer was gone for good, you longed for his grasp once again, and so, you did the unimaginable, you decided to fall down for him. You always liked to explore places, you saw a lot of heaven, it was bound that you eventually found the entrance to hell. You were afraid, but your love for him guided you into the pits of that horrendous place. You did it for him, and him only. you jumped and fell for who knows how long. You landed in a place full of Sakura trees, it was beautiful, absolutely stunning. The petals on the ground where as soft as snow and it was so calm you could easily fall asleep in there. You didn't have the time to savor the space you were in at the time. Too focused on the pain all over your naked body. You couldn't give up yet, you had to find him, you had to find Lucifer. You were trying to move from the ground, to get up peraphs, that's when he found you.

Lucifer was relaxing among the trees when he heard a loud thud. Startled, he went checking what the source of the sound was, and that's when he saw you: "What the- Y/n? Is that really you? Oh god what have you done! Why are you in here? Are you hurt? Here let me help you dear" he got you dressed and picked you up, you could hear the hurt in his voice as he murmured you comforting words and whys: "I am sorry, I didn't know what I was thinking. I missed you Luci, I missed you so much I just wanted to see you again" you cried to him. He replied: "Please don't apologize, there is nothing for you to be sorry about. I am just glad you are with me again, I missed you so much, you know?Don't worry sweetheart, me and my wife will take care of you, we will teach you all about this place. Oh there is so many things I have to tell you! Lilith will be super happy knowing she can finally put a face to the name, she always wanted to know you!"

Right....Lilith

It took you a lot to adjust to the situation, and Lucifer and Lilith being all lovey dovey didn't help you one bit. You were forced to see them togheter, you lived with them after all. It isn't that you had any place to go other then his castle. You enjoyed living in there, and you savored all the alone moments you had with him, but oh it hurt you so much, but if you really loved him, you'd let him go, so you kept staying with them as your heart broke and shatteted more, the longer you were with them. The thing you didn't know though is that you weren't the only one suffering from all of this .

Lucifer's pov

As he brought his friends to his castle, his heart was flooded with a torrent of emotions, absorbing his every being. The flames of love once felt for her burnt with a passion he never felt before in his life, peraphs that flame never extinguished. As y/n lived there, his life had changed in an unimaginable way, as he lived in a never ending desperation. A desperation born from the knowing that his heart belonged eternally to his wife, but every quick glances, every alone time spent with y/n, served as a poignant reminder of his unceasing adoration for you. Yet, in the depths of his agony, he found solace in the the devotion and trust he vowed to always give to his wife, that he would never betray her, not when she lived an oh so happy life with him by his side. There was no other choice, he must let you go.

Y/n's pov

The more you learnt about hell the more you felt confident navigating it's depths of your own. You began forming a sense of identity, you started to know yourself, something you were never permitted to do in Eden, you even dared to cut your beautiful, long hair. You didn't like them, they held too many harrowing memories you needed to let go of. Your free spirit was finally able to show itself, the decisive step happened when you decided to leave his castle for good. The agony you felt seeing them togheter becoming unbearable to you. You ventured into the steppes of hell, explored all you had to see, seeked every secret of it. Your hunting never stopping, as the inferno kept increasing in size. The more it got bigger, the more you wanted more, you soon got hungry for it, and you ate all your discoveries. You didn't have a home, you'd rather sleep and get food from the people of this place, also making the usual visit to Lucifer and Lilith. It didn't take long for the demons to get used to you, you also managed to make a few friends. Only a select few knew your real name, the majority of people simply called you

The Passenger.

[thedeliverygod]

The Final Chapter of Noragami

I'll start off by saying no matter what, this is my favorite manga/anime series. It'll always be near and dear to my heart. And thank you again to @fast-moon who has put so much time in effort into this series so that we would be able to read it in English ASAP.

But here are my honest thoughts, below the cut

There are far too many open ends. As a writer and a fan, I get that it's good to leave things pretty open ended and give fans a chance to explore possibilities. But there was too much here.

Something that struck me during my read of the translation (as I read the raws about an hour beforehand) was the absence of Nana. Arahabaki and Shiho are at the hanami, why not her? Especially since she's got a bond with Bishamon as well.

Is Nora just a free agent, doing whatever she wants? We see that Yukine still has his Hagusa name, so clearly she would still have Mizuchi. And we know Yato can't re-name her. Does she spend time with Yato and Yukine at Kofuku's house? Is she Yato's secret agent in watching over Hiyori? lol

Kazuma is the only one (aside from Nana) who survived the God's Greatest Secret without being named with the koto no ha. How is he dealing with it? Is he also having nightmares like Yukine?

Yato being 'saved' by going viral is a bit dumb especially because the posts are like "wow this guy is doing like a 10 year old meme lame" etc so it didn't seem like it should have blown up much anyway? and he also says no one actually remembers 'him'/uses his name just Teke-Teke so how does that... actually help Yato? Granted he didn't die and he has a smartphone now but I feel like he would... actually have to really be acknowledged to get money and have a shrine other than Hiyori's shrine (which btw what happened to THE DAMN SHRINE??? its on the cover but the chapter??? absent)

"I'll give you all of me" and dramatic crying/kiss but then Yato just seems so... detached. granted I KNOW it's because of the near shore/far shore and he doesn't want to endanger her again and just looks over her and it's a trope that's been in a million fanfics including mine but it just feels so off and bluh to NOT GET ANY RESOLUTION OTHER THAN HIYORI JUST RECOGNIZING HIM and then a line in the journal about how he tried to play it off.

I can't even think of everything tbh there's just a lot I want answered that wasn't...

I would say the best part of this chapter was the stuff about Fujisaki. It finally answered that he was 'born' with Father present inside of him and they kind of switched back and forth. Although again that leaves the question of how much was Fujisaki and how much was Father in terms of hitting on Hiyori/how much did Fujisaki know about Father's antics. I also love that Yato still hates him anyway even without Father LOL

lastly father was this giant cataclysmic force in Yato's life for literally over a thousand years and he's finally free. and we really get no reaction in regards to that. And that is especially disappointing when it's a major theme of the manga as a whole, you know?

idk that's my piece for now. I'm sure I'll have more to say in the coming days/weeks/months/etc but I hope and pray there's maybe any sort of small addition to the tankobon release.

it did mention "please look forward to adachitoka's next work" but I think that was just like a publishing nicety. I think noragami's ending was rushed due to their ongoing health problem and/or pressure from the publishers and I honestly don't see them coming out with a new series any time soon.

[zozo-01]

"you’ve learned a long time ago to stop thinking things would change. (it didn't stop you from hoping anyways.)"

So, it's that time of year again, and I don't have the Raptors to distract me. It's the NHL playoffs and I am a Leafs fan. If you know, you know. I wrote this a year ago for myself and @thatlesbeanjew because being a hockey fan is not the faint of heart, and I completely forgot to post it to Tumblr ;-;. The title is from Jason's Spezza's retirement article and I think it applies well here.

For my sports (specifically hockey) fans who're in an toxic relationship with your favourite team, here's some southern comfort for you.

CW: author is being sentimental about grown men playing a game, i wrote this with the last years Bruins' collapse in mind (sorry tay), but no team is mentioned!!, city wolf darlin makes a comeback, Fluff, Comfort, so much comfort, someone send me to therapy

--

There’s never an easy way to say goodbye.

No one wants to say goodbye, and even if it has to be said, let it be said with finality, with a sense of accomplishment. That even if this is the end, the journey was enjoyable. That the blood, sweat, tears (and really dumb questions) were worth it. That the years, your childhood, spent hoping were worth it.

No one wants to end on a whimper, especially if it’s broadcasted on national TV.

They still can’t believe that final goal went in.

Darlin’ stared at the TV, watching the series-winning goal over and over again. Their eyes tried to rewrite history, using what magic they have to will the puck to not cross the red line. Go wide right, hit the post, or even knock a player's teeth out for all they care! All their efforts were for naught. The goal still goes in, the building goes silent save for the cheers from the opposing team, and the season was over.

It was hard to believe that just a moment ago, their body was buzzing with anxiety, every sensation was cranked up to an eleven. Only for all that excitement collapsing inside their body, creating a black hole within their heart, numbing them to the result of the game in front of them.

All of that emotional investment just to get the same result. They felt silly for letting themselves dream, believe, with nothing to prove their faith. Everyone around them had been right, but they insisted on their foolish delusion, stubborn to the very end for this hockey team that has brought them nothing but pain.

Darlin’ had always preferred the painful route, embodying the sentiment that ‘love is pain’. It just so happened that it applied to more than the people in their life.

Their legs lost all their strength, causing them to fall backwards onto the couch. Their eyes stayed glued to the screen, ears ringing louder than any goal horn they’d heard in their life. Part of them wished they had never decided to care for this stupid team that only does stupid things and makes them cheer like a stupid idiot.

Ok, maybe this seems like an exaggerated reaction to a hockey team losing a game, but truly, this is how Darlin’ felt at this moment.

And Sam knew it.

They barely registered the soft blanket wrapping around their shoulders, but the warmth helped ground them a little bit. Sam always knew how to bring them out of their daze, with gentle pressure and plenty of space. Always giving them the choice of when to ask for help, a choice they’ve found themselves making more often.

They heard the faint clink of a plate on the coffee table in front of them. But what had knocked them out of their trance was Sam finally turning off the damn TV. It didn’t stop the goal horn from ringing in their ears, but at least they didn’t have to see that fucking rat’s shit-eating grin again. Who the fuck does he think he is? Fuck that guy, fuck that team, fuck everything-

They blinked repeatedly, feeling Sam’s hand playing with their hair. “I can feel your rage from here,” he chuckled. “Can’t imagine what you’re plannin’ to do to the other team in that pretty brain of yours.” Slowly, he shifted his arm to wrap around their shoulder to pull them closer to his chest. The tension that built up in their forehead had finally gone away when they heard his heartbeat. “Knowin’ you, you’re plannin’ something nefarious.”

“...I know where they’re stayin’,” they mumbled, nuzzling their face deeper into Sam’s chest. “That’s all I’ll say about that.”

He kissed their hair line and pulled them closer. “For the record, I will not be an accessory to your murderous rampage.” The small smile on their face prompted him to continue. “But I promise I won’t tell no one about your little scheme.” Leave it to Sam to make them smile when all they want to do is curl under a blanket and bleach the game from their mind.

They huffed in his chest. “I appreciate you not snitchin’ on me, but come on? You ain’t gonna help your mate with the body? Fake ass bitch.” Darlin’ let out a quiet giggle. Seeing the southern man deadpan at them is a surefire way to make them smile.

He pinched their nose and scoffed, “forgive me if I don’t want to see my mate in jail because a hockey team decided to beat your team.”

They pout at his statement, not appreciating the blunt tone he used. Come to think of it, when he puts it like that, their reaction to the ending of this game seems ridiculous. Wanting to kill grown men for doing their job? Because they just happen to beat their team? They’re a grown adult damn it! They’re better than being emotional over a team!

Sam flicked their forehead, knocking them out of their spiral. He pulled his wolf closer to him, letting their head rest on his shoulder. “No self-deprecatin’ spiral for you, Darlin’. You’re allowed to feel shitty over a game.” He continued to pet their hair, content with sitting in silence until they were ready to speak.

Darlin’ kissed his cheek and sighed. “I know, I know, I’m valid with my feelins’, it’s just…” They trailed off, biting their bottom lip while trying to articulate their thoughts into words. If only incoherent screaming was enough for Sam to understand their emotions. “When I say this team has sucked for my entire life… there hasn’t been a year where shit has gone right for us.”

Their vision blurred as they continued. “And I’m so fuckin’ tired of- of having hope that things will end different and then they never do!” The more words that poured out of them, the more anger bled into their voice. “It’s like, come on! They’ve had decades and so many different fuckin’ players and management to get their shit together and they never do! How much longer do they think people are gonna blindly follow them until…” A sob crept up their throat. “...Until we all decide to just… not care.”

They sighed in frustration. “I know it’s so stupid to fuckin’ care about a stupid team this much… I don’t know… They were the only good thing from my childhood.” Darlin’ chuckled at their last statement. “God, how has mt life been if this fuckin’ team was the best part?”

He rubbed their arm to comfort them. “Well on the bright side, it led you to my arms, so could it have been that bad?” Darlin’ pinched his chest, but that only caused their vampire to laugh harder. “Am I wrong, Darlin’? You seem to be enjoyin’ my arms a little too much,” he teased, acting as if it was a complaint against them. They both knew that Sam would rather die again than see his wolf in another person’s arms.

He held their face in his hands. Sam knew every little habit and quirk that Darlin’ had, and he knew that they wouldn’t look him in the eyes whenever they got emotional like this. “Darlin’, I need you to look at me please.”

They did as he asked them to, lifting their gaze and getting lost in his silver eyes. He kissed their forehead, whispering a soft ‘thank you’ against their skin. They don’t know if he’ll ever understand how fucking terrifying it was to have someone know them so well. But they wouldn’t trade that blissful feeling for anything else.

“It’s not stupid to care about this team, Darlin’. They were a huge part of your best memories as a kid. And maybe you will get tired of them one day and it will suck. But there’s no shame in lovin’ unconditionally.”

Darlin’s vision blurred again and cleared their throat to stop themselves from sobbing. “Even if they hurt me over and over again?”

Sam smirked, “well if they hurt you again, I’ll have to pay a visit down to their office and make sure they win.” Darlin’ scoffed at his cockiness but didn’t stop him from continuing. “‘Sides, like you always say.”

“Oh God, don’t say it-”

“There’s always next year.”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you.”

[questionableratatouille00]

𝓜𝓸𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓞𝓷 12

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Wanda and Y/n have decided to move in together, in Wanda’s house. Though Y/n is sad to say goodbye to her apartment, especially considering who used to live there with her, her friends help her say goodbye. Life goes on, even though bad things happen. And it’s true, bad things do happen. The most important thing is how you deal with them.

Warnings (Entire Series): This series deals with mature topics, including, but not limited to: death, mental health issues, physical, emotional, and sexual abuse, grief, trauma, general unwellness, illness (both mental and physical), and a most likely inaccurate portrayal of group therapy (though it’s much better than whatever was going on in TFATWS.) Please mind the warnings below.

Warnings: fluff and the end. If you spot all the references to previous chapters I’ll kiss you on the mouth.

🌻Series Masterlist 🌻

𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐎𝐧

You walked down the aisle, your dress making you feel confident in every decision you’ve made thus far.

You felt beautiful as you glanced at the woman you love.

Looking at her made everything worth it. You continued to walk down the aisle as the music played.

The beautiful decorations still managing to catch your eye even though you’d obviously been there when they were picked out. Everything was perfect about this day, down to every second.

You were so excited to go home tonight with your favorite redheaded woman, who was wearing her own fancy dress. She looked beautiful and she smiled at you as you walked.

You hadn’t been to a wedding in a long time, especially one you were participating in.

You considered your role to be pretty damn important, considering where you were and what you were doing.

Even though your shoes were somewhat uncomfortable and didn’t fit exactly right, none of it mattered because you were happy.

As you reached the end of the aisle, you stood next to Bucky as he married the love of his life.

At the reception, you met up with Wanda again. She was wearing a beautiful dress, with a sunflower pendant necklace to match her sunflower earrings.

“They look so happy,” she smiles. “I’m glad.”

“Me too,” you smile warmly. “I’m glad we’re happy. All of us.”

She grinned, looking up at you. “We really are.”

“You look a lot better.” Sharon said as she took a sip of her vanilla latte.

“I feel a lot better.” You took a sip of your own drink. “Thanks. For everything. I don’t think I would’ve made it out if not for your texts every once in a while.”

She rested her hand on top of yours. “I’m glad I sent them. And I’m proud of you for signing up for therapy in the first place.”

“Thanks, Sharon. That means a lot to me. It does.” You smiled.

“I’m sorry. For ghosting you all. It was dumb of me, and I shouldn’t have just ran like that, and I’m sorry I hurt you, and—“ You were cut off by Melina wrapping you in a tight hug.

“We do not care, sweetheart.” She murmured affectionately in your ear. She then pulled away.

“We are just glad to have you back.” Alexei said, clapping his hand on your shoulder in an almost-painful way. You knew it was his way of being deeply emotional.

“I’m only kind of sorry for breaking in.” Yelena said after a moment. “But I am glad to see you again.�� She hugged you.

“Yeah. It’s good to see you too.” You felt a sense of pure love fill you.

You’d developed a new routine with Wanda.

You get up. You get ready. You eat breakfast with Wanda. You go to work. You drive home. You make dinner with Wanda and eat together. You end the night by turning on the TV to watch your favorite shows together.

You didn’t need to divide your life into two parts anymore. The world felt whole, you felt whole. Things were okay.

Life was going good.

“Considering this is our last meeting,” Coulson began. “I’d like to talk about something special.”

“Oh, don’t do that, you’ll make me cry.” Clint laughed.

The whole group chuckled.

“Alright, alright.” Coulson grinned slightly. “In one of our earliest meetings, we played the secrets game. If you don’t remember, that’s when I had you all write down a vulnerable thought or secret down on a piece of paper and we read them aloud. I think now’s a good time to claim our papers.” He set out each piece of paper down on the small table in the center of the circle of chairs.

You found yours immediately and picked it up as the rest of the group picked up theirs.

“How about we go in a circle and read them aloud? To see how much we’ve changed as people.” Coulson guided.

When it was your turn, you read your statement out loud. “I wonder if they regret being with me,” you read from the paper. When Coulson asked how you thought you’d changed since writing the words, you smiled gently.

“I’m more sure of myself. And..I have faith in my relationships and connections now.” You explained. Everyone smiled at that.

Then it was Wanda’s turn.

“Everyone I care about gets hurt.” She reads.

You freeze. “That one—I read that one. That was yours?”

She nods, a sheepish grin on her face. “I know I’ve changed a lot since then. I’m not afraid of losing people I love. Well, I mean, of course I am, but I’m never terrified the world will just suddenly end. Not anymore.” She holds your hand as she says it.

You walk out of therapy with your hand tightly held in hers.

Maybe there had been a point to all of it. Just maybe.

“Anyone up to grab lunch?” Tony called out as he was hopping into his car, Bruce getting into the passenger side.

You chuckled and flashed him a thumbs up.

As you and Wanda hopped into the truck, you turned on the radio. As you pulled out of the therapy center, the soft song filled the car.

Then you're left in the dust Unless I stuck by ya You're the sunflower I think your love would be too much Or you'll be left in the dust Unless I stuck by ya You're the sunflower You're my sunflower.

A/n: hoping I got somebody in the beginning. I have been thinking about that part since ch. 4 lmao.

Anyways I’m gonna start rambling about this series because it means a lot to me. I started this series in the summer (I think??), and I was in a completely different mental state. I love this series and I hope the people who read it do too. I’m glad I got to finish it.

In conclusion, it’s okay to move on. It will take a long time, it won’t be easy, and it’ll be hard. Maybe the things you deal with don’t ever go away, but they can improve.

Love you all. 💕🌻

[astroprompts]

✧ —𝐁𝐎𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 [𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝟸]

“Why do we even have saucers? We don't drink tea!”

“Do you have a thousand dollars? Because each minute I spend talking to you, that's how much money I'm wasting.”

“You're the only one in this building who isn't a total snooze-cooze.”

“No one watches this show to feel feelings. Life is depressing enough already!”

“All this time, I assumed there was more to me than everyone thought. But maybe there isn't.”

“I don't care if you are happy or not. You have a job to do.”

“Look who finally decided to pick up the phone.”

“You must think I'm a real monster.”

“You were born broken, that's your birthright.”

“Can't say I'll miss it, but we did have some crazy adventures together these last few weeks.”

“Sometimes you wanna go where no one knows your name.”

“Is that name supposed to mean something to me?”

“I want to do things with you. Fully clothed, sober, in daylight hours.”

“Look, you obviously really care about this girl and that scares you, so you sabotage yourself.”

“How about you just stop sulking and go win her back, dummy?”

“I'm cynical, and I'm possessive, and I can sometimes fly off the handle. I'm not always the best at being not terrible. But I want to be better, I'm trying to be better.”

“Why do I always do this? I push away everyone I care about.”

“No matter what, we're going to stick together.”

“I'm no good with funerals. When I cry, it messes up my makeup and then I get really bummed out.”

“Okay, you're clearly in one of your moods.”

“Why serve dates and not have a place to put the pits? You know, some people just have no class.”

“There's so much to hate about what you just said.”

“Shove it up your ass with a spoonful of sugar, you supercalifragilisticexpiali-bitch!”

“You know, maybe it's for the best we don't get together that often. We'd most likely drive each other mad.”

“No one knows how to get under your skin like family.”

“You wanna check out this cool new game I got?”

“I know there's no accounting for taste, but come on.”

“There is no shame in dying for nothing. That's why most people die.”

“Quick, jump out the window, shimmy down the drainpipe and wait in the car.”

“When you don't regret the tattoo in the morning, that's how you know it's love.”

“I guess I was just foolish enough to believe this dumb world still had a little spark of romance in it.”

“Look, what happened back there is not your fault.”

“If you wanna go for a walk in the woods at night, go crazy, but I'm not going anywhere.”

“Look, pal, I'll pay the bill, just-- Just let us get you to a damn hospital.”

“Um, do you wanna talk about what happened?”

“Any time someone tries to love you, you shove them away.”

“I was this badass overachiever that had these big plans to change the world.”

“So, now you're just gonna do whatever a teenage girl says?”

“I don't need you to like me. It would be fun if you liked me, because I'd prove my parents were wrong to never support me, because I earned the admiration of an authority figure, proving I have intrinsic worth, but it's not a big deal or anything. Jeez.”

“You know, sometimes I feel like my whole life is just a series of loosely-related wacky misadventures.”

“When you think something isn't about you, you find a way to save the day and realize that it was, all along, all about you.”

“Oh, is that that thing where you strangle yourself in an attempt to heighten sexual arousal?”

“So, noose-wise, what are we talking? You use a standard sailor's knot or more like your average birthday-present bow?”

“I don't know if I want your jack-off kit at my house.”

“This is the part of the movie where you get your heart broken. Where the world tests you, and people treat you like shit. But it has to happen this way. Otherwise, the end of the movie, when you get everything you want, won't feel as rewarding.”

“Jesus, why does cantaloupe think every time it gets invited to a party, it can bring along its dumb friend honeydew?”

“When we know what we know about a monster like that and we still put him on TV every week, we're teaching a generation of young boys and girls that a man's reputation is more important than the lives of the women he's ruined.”

“I don't understand why you can't be on my side about this.”

“I asked you, really nicely, not to make a big thing out of this.”

“Why does it suddenly matter what I want?”

“All I ever wanted was to be your friend.”

“Stop kidding yourself. If you really wanted the simple life, you'd have a simple life.”

“Love is an illusion, and happiness is fleeting, no such thing as God, and all your favorite musicians beat their wives.”

“Well, I'm sorry that things have been so hard for you, but that doesn't give you the right to be shitty to me.”

“I can't be around someone who's just fueled by bitterness and negativity.”

“You know, it's funny. When you look at someone through rose-colored glasses, all the red flags just look like flags.”

“I wish I could just go home right now and crawl into bed and not have to talk about anything or explain anything.”

“I'm sorry I'm not the person I thought I was.”

“Hey, you wanna climb up on the water tower?”

“I'm really glad we left that stupid prom, but I'm kind of bummed we didn't get to dance.”

“Look, sometimes when you're an adult, the right thing isn't always the best thing.”

“You're the first grown-up I've ever met who actually treats me like... You know, a person.”

“I said so many things when I was young. I thought I was so deep.”

“It doesn't matter where you are, it's who you are.”

“So many times in my life I've done the wrong thing, but this is the right thing, and I have never been more sure of anything.”

“I've wasted so much time sitting on my hands and imagining what could have been.”

“If you are not out of my driveway in 30 minutes, I will call the police.”

“If you ever try to contact me or my family again, I will fucking kill you.”

“Wake up, captain dumbshit.”

“Now let's get out there and tell all those garbage rat bastard sons of bastards what we really think of them, once and for all.”

“If you're holding out for something better, well, I hate to break it to you, but you're gonna be alone for a long time.”

“Every day, it gets a little easier. But you gotta do it every day, that's the hard part.”

[candycane969]

✨🎧🌆ROTTMNT DONATELLO HEADCANONS🌆🎧✨

made by me! candy! :3 no major spoilers

A quick guide!✨

💜 - Supported by canon (things that are pretty sure out there, maybe not confirmed 100% but yeah)

❤ - Kind of supported by canon (things that happened in the series that miiiight lead to some other stuff)

🧡 - My source is that I made it the fuck up (still trying to fit it into the character tho)

⭐ - Not sure if I'm taking this headcanon or not, but I do think It's pretty neat

💋 - Kinky! DISCLAIMER: Ive always seen the rottmnt boys (and April) in the age group from 17 to 19 and thats what I headcanon them as (as it is my own age group!). Ive seen the show and was fucking sure theyre my age and then a month or two later I was slapped in the face with thier actual age lol. I dont support any pedo shit, I also dont think minors can consent. Just putting it out there

Lets go!🌆💜🎧⭐✨

The 'Tism

• 💜 I think Its pretty fucking obvious that this boy is autistic, pretty much everything in the show supports this.

• ❤ Donny's headgear also works as noise cancelling headphones! He's often overwhelmed by background sounds and his gear makes it easier for him to live his life (either on missions or just spending time with his brothers and/or April). He still loves blasting his music on the highest volume tho. It's different when you consent to hearing your jams then when several people are talking at once and youre going crazy.

Tagging as kind of canon because he might have audio sensory issues because of his autism and you can reraly see him without the damn googles.

Different stims

❤ Foot stomping

❤ Hand flapping

🧡 Repeating a song/part of song over and over (yes, even if it has no words)

❤ Spinning on chairs

🧡 Pacing around the lab/the lair

• 💜 He knows ASL! Though It's never said in the show why he learned it, I believe that because he goes nonverbal often. Everyone in the lair can sign a bit because of that, but not everybody is too good at it. Donatello can communicate in ASL fluently.

Gender

• 🧡 Donatello never really felt connected to being "a men" and categorising things as "for boys" and "for girls" always seemed dumb to him. Shortly after Leo's coming out as a trans men (SURPRISE LEO HEADCANON) he went to talk to him about his gender experience. After some thinking and digging, Don came to the conclusion that he is in fact nonbinary. He still uses mostly male pronounces but always appreciates gender neutral pronounces coming his way.

Sexuality

• 🧡 While realising his own gender he also figured out that he doesn't really sees gender that seriously in others either. Men or women, its pretty much whatever to him. He doesn't like to label himself much when it comes to his sexuality, he accepts reffering to him as a pansexual or bisexual.

• 🧡 When it comes to dating Donatello doesn't imagine himself with anyone, really. He finds himself attractive, but doesn't think anyone would fancy him in a romantic way. He's not interessted much in dating either way. But he doesn't exclude dating someone in the future. It's just he won't go out of his way to look for love.

• ❤/🧡 Its obvious Don is a men of science, he's a genius when it comes to coding, math, engineering, I would say chemistry as well. Thats the field he feels the most comfortable in, but he loves learning new things in general. As long as there is interesting knowledge he can obtain, he will be there, soaking it like a sponge. He likes listening to info dumps, and probably listens to long ass video essays and/or podcasts.

• 🧡 Don likes to learn about others people hobbys and takes interest in learning about it. He likes showing others that he cares about something, even though Its something totally indifferent to him. For example, he knows lot about art making process from Mikey (Angelo even made him paint with him a couple of times!) even tho he doesn't really likes drawing and/or famous artists. No many people appreciate his work so he wants to show his appreciation to others.

• 💜 He is pretty low empathy most of the time. It's hard for him to relate to others, and can often feel like someone is overreacting. It's also challenging for him to put his feelings "out there". Which often makes him look unloving or unfriendly. And it couldn't be farther from the truth. He loves his brothers even though they bother him most of the time. And he loves April as well (though she never really troubled him much). He never really thinks that his low empathy is a flaw (more often he thinks about it as a blessing) but there rare are moment when he feels helpless because of it. He is glad that his family knows that he truly cares about them (and accepts any effort he puts in to express his feelings, even if it seems small).

• 🧡⭐ I've seen people headcanoning Donny as a baker and honestly I like it a lot. Cooking is Mikeys domain, and it suits him well, as it allows a lot of freestyling and just overall feeling. Baking and pastry making is very calculated and one miatake can ruin the whole thing. It reminds Don of engineering in a sense. Also baking is an easy way to get love and appreciation from his family because, cmon, he just made the most angelic fruit tarts in the whole universe, of course they're going to praise him. It also works as a stress relief. When feeling stumped and/or overwhelmed over a project or a situation he'll make something easy like brownies to get his mind of it.

• 🧡 He's very sentimental. He loves receiving gifts and will cherish and use them (even if he doesn't like it). He still has every "gamers dont die they respawn" Tshirt and every "dont fuck with my brother he was born in october and has autism" mug. Sometimes he REALLY wants to throw something away but god damn it this is painting Mikey did when he was ten and is just five splats of paint and thinking about him somehow finding out and crying about it might destroy him forever.

• 🧡⭐ This bitch reads fanfics, thats it. It started when he was around 13 or smth with Atomic Lass x Reader and now he knows all the fanfic lingo. He still might read something from time to time and writes very long and well written comments (with constructive criticism).

• 🧡 Speaking of which, Don writes perfect sentences while texting. All the correct spelling and punctuation. He also communicates with emojis and gifs like a millenial.

Food, TW: drinking!

• 🧡 He has a rather strong head, you cant make him drunk that easily. But when it finally happens, youre in for a ride. Shutting him up is near impossible, he will talk non-stop but with much less eloquence then while sober. Its extremely easy to make him laugh, so Leo absolutely loves it. He often looses track of what hes saying and starts completely different rant. Overall a chaotic mess. Really fun to witness it at least once. His beverage of choice is either fun cocktails or beer (tho rarely and/or only with some kind of juice because he doesn't like the fizziness on his tongue).

• 🧡 And that takes us to Donatello that hates fizzy drinks. He hates carbonated beverages, no matter if its cola or champagne. The feeling on his tongue and in his mouth makes him really uncomfortable. When there is no other choice but to drink up some bubbless, he leaves it open for as long as he can to get rid of them. His brothers despise him for that.

• 🧡 He doesn't like weird food combos either and is rather picky. When ordering food Don sticks to what he knows not to risk an uncomfortable texture touching his mouth. Texture is the most often reason for him not liking a specific food. Donnys pretty strict to preparing food as well (the way he does a thing is The Correct Way and no other exception is acceptable). Also he puts milk first so his cereal doesn't get soggy.

• 🧡 I feel like he likes fruit juices in boxes and fruit mousses but this is pretty random 🤷

• ❤/🧡 He wears contacts! We've seen little Donny with glassess, so I assumed he wears contacts now. When he knows he will be spending all day in the lair (for example because of an injury) he still has a pair of glassess he uses. And yes, he tapes them to the head. Because he rarely ever wears them, he never came up with a solution for not having ears and needing glassess.

• 🧡 ABSOLUTELY hates smoking. Will go on a rant if he sees someone he knows smoking. He absolutely despises the smell and WILL take it out of someones mouth/hand and throw it away. Appreciates the fun smells of vapes but still hates them. Will call vapers losers (maybe not exacly in these words but he will for sure).

• 🧡 Really good at makeup, but not as good as Leo is (ANOTHER SURPRISE LEO HEADCANON). He spend years perfecting his eyebrows of course. He also wears eyeliner because serving cunt is important even on the battlefield. From time to time you can see his nails painted as well.

• 🧡⭐ While being flustered or simply distracted he stutters a lot, mostly in a way of repeating whole words or parts of a sentence ("Its good because- Its good- Its good because I um- Its good-")

• 🧡 Enjoys taking very long baths, and actually prefers them much more then showers. Can stay underwater for a rather long time as well!! Being fully submerged calms him down a lot and its overall very relaxing for him.

• 🧡⭐ Ive seen a lot of takes that without his battle shell, he is really flexible (due to having a soft shell). And I like the idea. I think, that before sitting infront of a screen (or a desk in general) to do his work for several hours he stretches deeply so his back won't be so sore later. Also a reason to draw Donny in yoga poses and thats always cool.

• ❤ Makes up shit to fuck with his brothers. Like just spreading misinformation and gaslighting them for shit and giggles. Or to get them to leave him alone for a while. Also will gaslight them if they somehow find out that he was lying ("what? you must have heard me wrong then 🙄💅")

• 💜/❤ Loves singing and dancing!!! Aint the best singer (tho I love his songs in the show Im kissing him as we speak) but is a gorgeous dancer! He finds it incredibly fun and feels fabulous while doing it. Also Im pretty sure dancing counts as stimming so add it to the list. Dances solo like 90% of the time but really enjoys dancing in pairs (dances with April a whole lot when they get the chance!).

• ❤ He rarely laughs out loud, but when he does it is loud and messy. A good joke can make him think about it all day and continue laughing for a long time. Not my og take, Ive seen this headcanon before and I love it so so much :3

• 🧡 From all his brothers, he kind of wishes to be human the most of them all. Its not a big big wish, he does think of himself as very unique individual and takes pride of being a mutant. But sometimes while hanging out with April he can get lost in his thoughts of "what ifs". Maybe in the process of making a cloaking accessory.

• 🧡 His handwriting is god-awful. All scribly and fucked up like Doctors writing. Unfamiliar eye would not decipher a word out of it, but Don knows exactly what everything means. But he mostly writes digitally.

• ❤ Dons dislike of hugging is canon, but I do believe he likes being touched on his head and face (head pats, cheek rubs, scratches). He enjoys hand holding when it's appropriate as well.

• 💋 Im headcanoning the boys to go through mating season once a year (except mikey cuz he small) everyone at a different time. It would be similiar to an ovulation but much more horny (with also fever symptoms). Don would be the second after Raph to get it. While in heat he doesn't go feral or anything, but after a few days stops working because he cant focus on his craft. Waves of sudden temperature changes (mostly high heat) with really horny thoughts and hypersensitivity to pretty much everything...yeah not the best work environment. He spends his  most intensive days closed off in his lab or room because he really doesn't want his family to see him like this (the rest of the turtles are in thier rooms during thier mating time as well for the same reason). Also add being possessive while having a SO, and also veeery easy to irritate.

• 💋 Donny takes on a more submissive role while being intimate, even though he loves to be in charge all the time. But he isn't a bottom either, I would put him perfectly in the middle as a switch (more leaning on that sub part tho).

• 💋 His biggest turn on is smell. Like someones natural smell, no perfumes and all. He likes to snuggle in the crook of the neck and take it all in. This becomes cranked up to eleven during mating season, as he absolutely cannot stop sniffing. Would love his significant other to leave him clothes with thier smell on it and sleep and/or snuggle with it.

Might add more later but thats all for now :3💜

Hope you enjoyed it⭐✨

[intheorangebedroom]

Pleased to meet you, chapter 17

Summary: You're going back to Paris. There's only one thing left for you to do, here: break up with Benny. Meanwhile, Frankie tries to find a way to love you that doesn't mean letting you go.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x French fem!Reader (OFC)

Rating: Explicit 🔞

A/N: Ok orange besties, we're in the endgame (yes I've always wanted to say that). Thank you to everyone who's still here 🧡 It's been a hot minute, and I'm so very sorry. Some wonderful, brilliant, beautiful human beings helped me. I want to humbly thank them. @frannyzooey beta read this chapter, which is a very dull and formal way to express how much she's improved (my entire life) it with her kindness, goddess's brain and generosity. Kelli my love, you know, you know everything 🧡 (I adore you). @the-ginger-hedge-witch immediately "unblocked" me when I couldn't even make out my own characters' thoughts because I'm dumb and she's a genius... Ren ma Reine, you are truly my Queen, I love you and admire you so damn much and I miss your voice and your hugs like a ghost limb 🧡 @dreamymyrrh made sure I wouldn't give up. You brilliant little devil you, I love you to pieces, you make my life brighter every day, I'm just the luckiest. You deserve the world and you will get it 🧡

Word count: 6.9k

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Chapter 17: Auf Achse

“This is a Brooklyn bound L train. Stand clear of the closing doors, please.”

Frankie exits the train on the Union Square platform in a brooding rush. He barely falters when his left shoulder collides with another passenger. The man steps into the car hurling incoherent slurs that don't reach his ears, the giant overhead rotor fan annihilating all surrounding noises and Frankie remains unfazed, trapped within the din of his own mind. 

Ducking his head to avoid the stale air fanned into his face, and under the familiar shelter provided by the brim of his cap, he moves his body forward amid the roiling motion of his thoughts. 

He has seldom known peace, never experienced quiet, and when he has, it was only too briefly. In the orange, in the ocean. But the storm has picked up speed since April, hitting the walls of his skull, and the same vision resurfaces above the mess, relentless and without mercy: you, disappearing inside your red brick building without a look back for him.

As you laid naked on top of him, your sweet face resting in the palm of his hand, he had wanted to believe it. That the disrupted promise for a bright future together had been restored. Yet you all but ran away from him. 

It’s Thursday again, the middle of the afternoon. The connection to the 6 train is already crowded, tourists and kids in uniform teeming around him in tight clusters, but he doesn’t register any of it, walking on autopilot, with the looming threat of your resentment hovering in and out of focus in his overworked brain. 

Should he have told you back in his car, when you had questioned him about that damn 15 year gap, about the true meaning of his scar? In Will’s kitchen? Back in the bar? When is the start? 

Striding down the tiled corridors is downright brutal, each and every muscle in his sore body battling his will to turn around and hurry back to you, to tuck your body away against his chest underneath his clothes and your face into the crook of his neck and explain. Explain in words that are not his because his words have failed him. And you. 

No te vayas por una hora porque entonces… 

Borrowed words he struggles to remember, would they make any difference?

Truth is, he betrayed you long ago. When he doubted you, when he gave way to anger and rage and easy, degrading escapes. 

I never stopped waiting, this you have to understand. 

You never ran away from him, not really. You ran away for him. 

Beyond his pain, yours claws at his heart, threatening his precarious balance, like a hindered scream catching at his throat and constricting his chest. He can’t think of you alone, emptily gazing out your window like a desolate figure in a Hopper painting. Can’t live with the fact that he’s the reason you finally stopped waiting. 

What could have he said? Were there any words that would have held the power to bend your mind and turn you around, erase your guilt and keep you to him? Why didn’t he try harder?

I don’t fucking care.

Tilting up his head, he finds himself sitting on the hard plastic bench of the 6 train. Across the central aisle, a small boy propped on his father’s lap is staring at him, the bottom half of his face smeared in apple sauce. The dried flakes of yellow compote shape a beard around his plump lips, and his wide, intrigued eyes make him look old beyond his years.

Frankie’s eyes flick upward to the map, where the blinking dot reminds him to get out at the next stop.

He resurfaces on Bleecker St, to an unexpected cool breeze, and tries to let it clear his mind so he will be able to present his sister with an intelligible account of the situation.

Growing up in the Morales household meant evolving in a crowded, shape-shifting space ; the small two-bedroom apartment serving as a workshop for Eva’s sewing business. In the cramped living-room, numerous piles of seemingly orderless clothes and fabric laid in what felt like an endless rotation, on top of beaten pieces of furniture that was bought at garage sales or found on the curb. For the two siblings, lounging on the couch to watch a movie or sitting at the table to do their homework meant having to move a heap of clothes that would invariably crumble to the floor a few minutes later. Only Eva seemed able to balance the precarious stacks that earned her a living and provided for her children.

Frankie rapidly became skilled at fixing just about anything, from a chest drawer to a toaster, because it was in his answer-seeking nature and because it gave him a sense of purpose. Izzy began bringing money home when she was fifteen, tutoring kids and baby-sitting young children from posh neighbourhoods, but both her and Eva denied Frankie when he expressed his intention to get an after-school part-time job. It had little or nothing to do with the fact that he was a boy, but rather the two Morales women were determined to clear the path that would lead him to an airport runway. 

Having been brought up in a space intended for two people and shared by four, as they alternately navigated and evaded their father’s ghost, as a result, Izzy and Frankie curated sparsely furnished, minimally decorated homes. 

The transient soldier’s path Frankie walked for most of his life made his relative material asceticism a practical choice and still, two years after settling down, it’s reflected in his utilitarian interior, where the only items in surplus are books. 

Similarly, Izzy’s place, on the top floor of a Mott Street brick building, doesn’t reflect the social status to which she has risen. Childless by choice and conviction, Izzy is rarely single, but prefers to live alone, and her comfortable income could afford her much more than the pricey location she has chosen to live in, the only luxury she indulges in. 

Throughout the years, her place has become as close to a family home as Frankie’s fragmented life could have had him hope for. The tastefully arranged apartment is where he spent his leaves and tended to his wounds, both tangible and the ones that wouldn’t heal. The walls, adorned with modern and old black and white prints, watched over his restless nights as he laid curled up on the opening sofa, fresh off the Army, sleep eluding him. Where his sister admonished his excesses without ever speaking a word, and forgave him everything speaking too many, always providing practical ways out along with unwavering love and support. 

So, quite naturally, it is where his steps take him now, because a phone conversation wouldn’t cut through the fog. 

When she opens her door, Izzy’s taken aback by her brother’s drawn features, even though the tension in his voice earlier on the phone had cued her in as to what to expect. 

“Damn, you look like shit, hermanito,” she whispers. “¿Qué te pasa?”

Frankie sighs as deeply as his constricted chest will allow, fails to look her in the eyes and snaps, “Yea, can I get in, first?”

She steps to the side and lets him in, and as Frankie walks past her and into the bright living-room, she scrunches her nose. 

“When was the last time you showered?”

The comment earns her a roguish look but he doesn’t argue with it. He has yet to wash you off his skin, or change the denim shirt he put on to drive you back.

Standing by the door, her left hand still grasping the doorknob, she surveys his tall, dark frame standing out in the centre of the white room, and before he can sit, she says with unusual softness, “The hat.”

Pausing imperceptibly, he removes his cap and swivels around to place it on the nearby oak dining table. They stand still in the afternoon light, with distant street noises from the world that exists outside the narrow windows dwarfing time and space. 

“¿Querés un mate?”

 “Sure.” 

Speaking feels physically insurmountable. He has to engage all his muscles, reach for air at the very end of his lungs. 

When Izzy comes out of the small kitchen, Frankie’s in a leather armchair with tubular iron armrests, and rubbing his clammy palms over his jeans. She places two round cups with metallic straws on the dark kidney coffee table and sits on the edge of the off-white couch, doing her very best to conceal the concern that reads plainly on her open face. 

“You haven’t been using ag-“ she starts, but stops short when her brother looks her straight in the eyes with a warning on his face, lips pinched, jaw clenched. 

“I’m clean, Izzy,” he grumbles.

“No because if you are-” she trails off, and her uncharacteristic hesitancy drums on his nerves.

Frankie knows his sister can listen. She’s been his sole confidant for over forty years. The only living soul who knows of what happened to you and him in the orange bedroom. She just needs a little reminder.

“I’m gonna tell you everything, Izzy. Just let me talk, alright?” he tries, his neck strained around the words to keep his tone down.

She nods and smooths down the wrinkles of her blouse. 

“Ok,” he starts, and the waver in his voice surprises them both, “I don’t know if you remember… the girl…“

How the hell does he explain that? Is he supposed to say your name?

“The French girl?” she asks. “The one who got away?”

The one who got away. 

Izzy’s eyes have grown as wide as her glasses, but her demeanour has shifted, no longer wary. Frankie’s jaw unclenches for the first time since you’ve left him yesterday, surprise untangling his brow for a fleeting second. Arms crossed on his chest, he leans back into the leather back of the chair, searching her dark eyes. 

“Go ahead, hermanito,” she encourages, “I’m listening.”

He unfolds his arms. Sits up straight. Draws in one last breath. 

Then, he jumps. 

The first words are the most difficult, the ones that define your relationship to his friend, but once he spits them out, the rest freely flows, and he talks. He talks more than he ever has, with Izzy or Santiago or William, using words he can’t recall ever pronouncing before, like longing and certainty and craving and peacefulness, “her skin, Izzy, her fucking skin,” and to his attentive sister, he bares it all. 

The years spent losing himself when he couldn’t find you, regrets, remorse, errors and shame. The blind wildfire of his hatred when you walked back into his life with another man, with this other man. How you gently extinguished the blaze without so much as a word. How it only took five encounters, stretched over the course of three months, before you found yourselves coming apart around each other again. How you ran from him, in the end, and how he’d been powerless to hold you back. 

How he didn’t even try. 

That you were going home and how far away that meant, just so you could protect a friendship he wasn’t even sure could be saved. 

What he sees play across Izzy’s face doesn’t reflect any of the ugly feelings throbbing in his chest. There’s understanding in her eyes, and hope in her smile; relief in her posture. For Isolda Morales remembers what Francisco Jr cannot: the ashen neon light of a military hospital room, and the lean, lifeless figure of her brother lying under a coarse sheet that looked like a shroud. She remembers the blood-stained dressing wrapped around his waist. She remembers his face, gleaming a waxy yellow as the morphine flooded his system, and his wistful realisation, spoken around a drug-heavy tongue, “if I die now, she will never even know.”

Izzy could have cursed your name, then, Gabrielle, but for the second time in her lifetime, and for her baby brother’s sake, she walked her mother’s path, and formulated a silent prayer. 

For the lost lovers to be reunited. 

When her brother falls silent, Izzy feels like herself again. 

“I knew you to be more persistent, Francisco,” she says sternly.

The statement hits him square in the chest with lethal precision. The soft leather creaks in protest when he leans back into the armchair, scrutinizing his sister’s face. 

“I don’t have much latitude, here,” he argues. “If she wants to go–”

“You’re not really considering letting her go?” she cuts him with ill-concealed impatience.

“I can’t hold her back, Izzy. She’s a free woman,” he says, and he hates that it sounds like an apology.

Izzy lunges forward, reaching for her untouched cup of mate. She takes a long, slow sip, mulling over her next words while Frankie waits, running his hand over his mouth, bracing himself.

“Why are you here?” she asks eventually, replacing the cup on its glass coaster. When he doesn’t answer, she presses further. “You’ve never been one to seek comfort, and I can’t imagine you coming here so I can give you a sisterly pat on the back and tell you everything’s gonna be alright. Nothing will, by the way. So what is it that you want from me? Why did you come?”

He can see it. See it so clearly. The shame on your face the first time he touched your breasts and then your relieved abandon when he came on your skin after only one night together. He remembers how this victory made him feel, the single most meaningful thing he could ever achieve. How you kept saying “sorry,” how you still say “please,” consistently moving through life as if you take up too much space. 

“I want her, Izzy. I want to be with her. Take care of her,” he says, a nod punctuating each affirmation. “But I can’t coerce her into choosing me, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” he continues, his blood brought to a simmering level by the uncomfortable truth in her words, by the paralysing contradiction in his. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Frankie! She is choosing you. It’s herself she’s not choosing, here.”

Frankie flinches, trying to swallow the handful of pins and needles she just shoved down his throat. 

“Is that what it is?” she asks in a softer tone. “You think getting her to stay would make you, what, selfish? A bad man? Because it would fuck things up with the guys? Are you afraid that she would despise you for that?”

Bending forward, he rests his elbows on his lap, his fingernail worrying at the little tattoo on his left thumb. Izzy’s eyes rapidly flick down from his hands to his tense face, in time to see him mutely nod his agreement, his gaze floorward.  

“I know,” he starts, his voice hoarse and so quiet she has to lean forward not to miss a word, “I know that if I’m with her… if she’s mine… I could fix it.”

“Are you talking about yourself or the group’s dynamics?” Izzy asks without malice.   

Her. I’m talking about her. She’s the only one that matters. 

The look on his face is one of pleading and pain, eyes strained on his hands where he presses a finger onto the green mark, seeking focus through the discomfort.

“Frankie, look at me.”

Frankie finally lifts his head and finds her dark, lively eyes. They’re the same as his. Identical, yet so different. 

“I think that’s what you came for. To hear me tell you to fight for yourself, for once.” She pauses to let it sink in. “It’s ok to fight for what you want. I know you’ve always put everyone else’s needs first, because you’re a good man, Francisco. But you can’t miss that shot. You’ve been so lucky. Twice over. I can’t say I’ve ever felt the way you do.”

“You had it pretty bad for Paula,” he mutters.

“True,” she agrees. “But I left, in the end.”

“What happened with that?”

“I think I was too independent. And she wanted kids. Listen, we’re not talking about me, here,” she shrugs away the topic with the back of her hand. “Hermanito, you’ll never be happy without her. You are right. You know you are. Go get your girl. The way you talk about her, it sounds like she needs you just as bad as you need her. You can make everything right after, later. Do whatever it takes to convince her. You’ve loved her forever.”

His mouth is parched but he’s still denying himself the drink that would soothe his throat, and it’s a hard swallow before he can articulate his next words. 

“Fuck, Izzy, that’s all I ever want. To keep her safe.” 

In the breast pocket of his shirt, a muffled buzzing signals an incoming text.

He pulls his phone out hastily, hoping to see your name lighting up the screen. What he reads instead draws a hissed curse from his tight lips and they dip downward, pulled by his corded neck. 

“Fuck.”

“¿Quién es?” 

“Ben. Wants to meet at the bar. Now.”

—

Pope arrives first, and when he steps into the bar, it’s as though the dim lights instantly grow brighter. 

A thoughtful, personal greeting to everyone, from the regulars to the bartender, and their faces lighten up too, under the glow of his attention. 

He orders beers for the five of them and leisurely struts over to their usual table, securing the spot before larger parties of the early evening start pouring in. Taking his favourite seat on the left, he waits for the bartender to bring over their drinks. Service at the table is a preferential treatment only Tom and him are ever granted. 

The Millers come in shortly after, and Pope’s easy smile drops at the sight of the youngest man, who’s clearly missing more than a couple hours of sleep. Who, on closer observation, might have been crying. 

He stands up to welcome them with a brotherly embrace, but he has to wait to ask his many questions. The glasses and ice-cold pitcher are brought in, and when Fish arrives next, Pope straightens up in his seat. His gaze intensifies, strained on the two men sitting side by side to his right around the large wooden table. The blond and the dark-haired. There’s something at play here, something he’s been missing, and his increased attention darkens his handsome features.  

“Damn, when I got your text I thought we would be celebrating something. What’s going on, guys?” The corner of his lips curls up with a charming smile, but his stare is cold, his eyes working on reading the scene. 

So far unusually quiet, Benny’s about to speak when his brother lays a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s wait for Redfly,” he suggests in a firm tone, “I don’t think you wanna have to repeat that twice.”

Frankie slowly downs half his glass in long, uninterrupted gulps. He knows his quietness to be suspicious. If Benny has news that requires to be delivered in such an exceptional setting, and that he hasn’t heard of already, he should at least express concern or curiosity. But Benny's blotched face and his fraternal handshake told him everything he needs to know. 

You carried out your plan and took the blow so he could walk out of this unscathed. 

It’s going to take more than a beer to take off the edge. 

Alone yet undeterred in his attempt to maintain the illusion of a friendly gathering, Pope proceeds to fill the uneasy silence with innocuous small talk.

Frankie’s eyes meet Will’s steely gaze for the briefest moment and gratitude flares in his chest for his sensible advice. The feeling doesn’t last, however, taken down by guilt, and shame. The man dropped you on his threshold, knowing enough about the history between you to figure out what could ensue.  

When Redfly eventually shows up and takes his seat, the overhanging tension cranks up until Benny’s baritone breaks like thunder over the five of them. Unable to contain himself any longer, his account of your breakup, that he never names as such, spills out of him in an endless, vivacious stream with that larger than life petulance that’s always tugged at Frankie’s heartstrings. Only today, everything bites at his nerves and erodes his restraint, from the emotion brimming under the surface of Benny’s messy narrative to Pope’s genuine look of surprise and Redfly’s unfazed reaction.

Exhaustion comes in waves, and he has just enough control left in him to maintain a white knuckled grasp around his glass and not resort to the telling rubbing of the little target inked on his skin. 

Looking at his friend’s hunched posture and wet eyes proves itself impossible, but more than once his gaze lingers on Will’s face, in a vain attempt to read the man’s thoughts. There’s nothing to see there, nothing to grasp, and suddenly an alarming doubt has him uncomfortably shifting in his seat: what does he let on? Ducking his head, he finds the shelter of his cap brim. 

His heart thumps louder than Benny’s voice at what’s missing from his story. What did you feel? What did you look like? What were you wearing? Did you cry? Did you brush a strand of hair off his forehead like he watched you doing once? Did you cup his face, give him one last kiss? Did you fuck one last time?

Benny marks a pause, which leaves space for Pope and Redfly to express their sympathy. Frankie registers plainly the lack of sincerity in Redfly’s short sentence, and he’s reminded of that very first night, when you were introduced to the group and had the audacity to tell him off. He had wondered, no, hoped, truly, that you had done so on his account. He has his answer now. Most of the things you’ve ever done have been either because or for him. 

Why hadn’t he said something, then? Anything. “We’ve met before,” simple, non-committal. In retrospect, this had been the biggest mistake of all. There might have been a chance to salvage something from this wreck if he had spoken there and then, instead of letting his friend proudly parade you in front of everyone. But he’d been too consumed by anger to think straight. Anger and jealousy. And something else. Your skin. The mad beating of your heart under the pulse point of your neck. Had you shown him that piece of paper then, he might have fucked you on the table. 

You hadn’t said anything either. You looked as if you’d seen death itself, which he mistook for an admission of guilt. In truth you had instantly fathomed the depth of the mess you two were in. Clever, clever girl.

In the end, your tacit, instinctual agreement over your conjoint secret spoke of the intensity of your feelings. Unescapable. And everlasting. 

“Shit Benny, I’m really sorry. That’s tough,” Pope says for the third time. “When did she say she was leaving?”

“I don’t know, man, and I don’t care cause it’s not happening,” Benny shoots back, shaking his head left and right like a scared kid. 

Will tuts and when he speaks, his tone suggests they’ve already been over that a hundred times. “Come on buddy, you know she does what she—“ 

“The hell she does!” he all but shouts. 

Under the brim of his cap, Frankie clenches his eyes, your voice on loop in his mind, “he’s your best friend…” He’s painfully aware that he has yet to say something, anything. 

“Did she explain why she’s going back to Paris?” he eventually asks under his breath. 

“I don’t know, something about her boss offering back her former position,” Benny answers dismissively.

“That boss a man, by any chance?” Redfly snarls. 

“Jesus, man,” Will breathes out. 

All of a sudden, the situation feels uncomfortably familiar. The stench of gasoline fills up his nostrils and cold sweat breaks out along his spine. Questionable orders and deflected responsibility. Frankie’s gaze moves up to focus on Tom and it’s as though he sees the man, their undisputed leader, for the very first time. Flawed, sad, and bitter.

“Look,” Pope starts, another attempt to ease the heavy atmosphere, “Yovanna likes her, and she has a pretty good bullshit radar. Maybe it’s just that. Maybe she’s really just homesick, maybe she does need to go back.“

“Yeah, maybe it’s this, or maybe it’s that,” Tom persists.

Pope raises an eyebrow at the comment. Crossing his arms over his chest, he tilts his chin up to address Will. “You know her the best. After Benny, I mean. She didn’t tell you anything?”

Will sits up straight, unfurling his sturdy frame. “Talks about Paris all the time. She’s homesick, alright,” he confirms. 

“She is,” Frankie whispers. 

The words slip out of him before he can hold them. All eyes turn to him, save for Tom’s, who slaps his palm on the table and starts rambling. 

“And that’s just the French for you, guys. A bunch of double-faced, unreliable people. Lazy, always fucking protesting something, never falling in line…”

“Ok, we get it,” Will grunts.

“No I mean, let that be a lesson to you, Benny. Because she really just said ‘it’s not you it’s me’ and dumped you for–”

“Hey, here’s an idea for you, Tom.”

The air stills around the five men, wrapped around the anger in Frankie’s commanding tone. 

“Fish, easy, man,” Will warns with a tilt of his head, but Frankie’s already raising up to his feet, right fist resting knuckle down on top of the table, squaring up with his former commanding officer who’s staring back at him, dumbfounded.

“Why don’t you shut the fuck up?” 

Hushed conversations fade around them; most of the room turning its attention to their group. 

His voice picks up in intensity as he speaks. “You don’t know anything about her, or where she’s from, or why she did what she did– in fact, you know jack shit, so why don’t you shut your mouth, for once, because if you don’t I swear I’ll make you.”

Tom is about to answer when Pope lifts his hands in the air, palms outward. 

“Alright, what the hell is going on, here, guys?”

“Yeah, what the hell is going on, Fish?” Benny asks, standing up. 

Frankie turns to face his friend and something flickers in his eyes. Almost regret, though not quite an apology, but rather a suppressed threat that twists his lips. In his peripheral vision, Will drops his head with a heavy sigh. 

“Did you fuck my girl, Fish?” Benny quietly asks, a lingering doubt in his tone. 

Frankie’s lived long enough to know this is the pivotal point of his adult life, and in his head, an image surfaces. The waves of the Pacific Ocean. 

Raising a pointing index at the tall man, he licks his lips and slowly answers. 

“She is not your girl.”

He only has time to register Tom’s sniggering snort before Ben’s fist collides with his face. A sharp pain blurs his vision and the violence of the blow sends his cap flying across the room. The back of his knees hit the chair and he topples backward in a loud clatter. 

An instant uproar bursts around them. Frankie tries to sit up but Ben is on him before he can move, pinning him down to the floor in a straddle, his shirt clutched in his fist. Frankie tries shoving him back but there’s no fighting his strength and he takes the second punch; the back of his head hitting the hardwood floor with an ominous thud and the skin over his cheekbone breaking under the impact of Ben’s knuckles.

A piercing, ringing noise fills his ears, drowning out the other men’s voices along with Ben’s curses, and a surge of blind rage washes over him. He strikes Ben once, twice in rapid succession under the sternum, the sound of his own grunts splitting his skull and Ben collapses on top of him with a groan, warm breath fanning the side of his face. Frankie can’t breathe, crushed under the weight, but it’s lifted off his chest immediately.

Clutching his brother by the collar of his t-shirt and the waist of his jeans, Will pulls him off Frankie and away before he has a chance to dive in again. Frankie’s ready, getting up off the floor, Pope sliding both hands under his arms to hold him back, but Frankie’s voice is heavy with unreleased anger when he shouts, “It’s fine! I’m fine!” 

In the dim bar, several people have stood up to get a better view of the commotion. 

Shoulders heaving, he pushes Pope away, ready to counter or attack, but Will has both hands on his brother’s chest and is holding him back. 

“Get him out of here!” he commands Pope, his words barely audible under Ben’s string of insults. 

It’s a beat before Pope is able to snap out of it, his deep frown and curled lips betraying his horror. He turns to Frankie, who is still standing a few feet from the two brothers with his fists clenched and bared teeth, feet planted firmly on the ground and seemingly ready to launch his body forward. Pope comes closer to drag him toward the exit, a splayed hand on his shoulders forcing him backwards, a low rumble of “Come on, man, let’s go,” as if he were attempting to tame a wild beast.

Frankie catches sight of Tom, who hasn’t moved from his seat, beer in hand, staring him down with contempt. 

“Go fuck yourself, Tom,” he coldly throws in his direction, but it’s Ben who answers. 

“You go fuck yourself, man! I fucking trusted you!”

“Pope! Out!” Will shouts.

Before Pope has time to react, Frankie shrugs off his hands and takes a step forward. Ben stills under his brother’s hold, observing his moves, slow and deliberate as he bends down to pick his hat off the floor. 

He stands up, and the two men glare at each other one last time.

“She was never yours,” he quietly states, before Pope gives him a hard push and they both disappear through the door. 

Out in the street, the brutal daylight has him squinting. He winces at the pain in his cheek, letting Pope usher him toward his car, with a hand on his back to make sure he complies. 

Once in the car, Pope doesn’t wait to start the ignition, forcing his way into the rush hour traffic, and they drive in silence for a while. Frankie’s eyes are trained on the windshield, his breathing evening out slowly, both hands braced on his knees. Adrenaline still pumping high through his system, he can’t bring himself to risk a glance at his friend’s face, knowing he can’t confront the disappointment he knows he’ll find there. 

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck, man? ¿Qué pasó? ¿Qué has hecho?” Pope bursts out vehemently. 

Frankie sighs in frustration; he’s not telling this story again, not today, not now. 

“I haven’t done anything wrong, Santiago, ok? It’s fucking bad luck if–”

“Bad luck? Really, Frankie, bad luck? Your fucking face is bleeding! You served together for ten years! The man saved your life!”

“You think I don’t know that? You think I haven’t thought about it?” his voice raises to a near breaking point. “Gabrielle and I, we met– fifteen fucking years ago, ok? She was never his. To me, she’s everything. I lost her once, I’m not losing her again. That’s it, that’s what’s happening.”

The cab falls quiet again. The car stops at a red light and Santiago pivots in his seat, trying to catch Frankie’s distant gaze, and his dark eyes soften. 

“Why did you never tell me? I would have listened,” he says. 

“I know.” 

He wants to explain. And he hopes that one day he will get the chance. His silence didn’t spring from lack of trust, but from lack of faith. From the unexplainable absence that left him broken. But right now his jaw is too tightly clenched to articulate the intricate feeling, and his tongue too heavy with the bitter taste of loss that is only too familiar to him. 

“Makes sense, though,” Santiago continues. 

“What?” he asks with a dry mouth, eyes to his knees. 

“You. Missing someone. All these years. I think I always assumed it was your parents, but with all the compulsive fucking I should have guessed it was a girl.” 

Frankie doesn’t answer. Santi’s offering open-minded understanding, just like he always has. It might be just who he is. Or it might be that Frankie is right in his gut feeling: he can fix it. 

The grey sedan in front of them starts moving, and Santiago activates the right-turn signal.

“Where are you going?” Frankie asks.

“Your place, where you wanna go?” 

“No, leave me at the corner of Seaview and County. You need to turn around.” 

“What’s there?” Santi frowns. “Her place? You really serious about this?” he asks kindly.

“Yea I'm fucking serious. I'm not going back,” Frankie mutters.

“Well, you’re going back to her,” Santi quips with a grin. 

Frankie finally looks at his friend, who’s flashing him his most radiant smile. “Ok, Pablo Neruda, calla y conduce.” 

—

You called in sick, and then you simply gave up. What’s the point anyway? For what purpose? To whose benefit?

Countless times you reached for your phone to dial up Rosie, missing her so much you could have screamed, but even for that sort of relief you were too exhausted. 

You drafted an email to your boss in Paris, enquiring about the modalities of a possible reinstatement, and failed to send it. 

You sat under the shower until the water ran cold, until your eyes ran dry, until your whole body began shivering from the loss of his scent on your skin.  

You stared at your ashen reflection in the bathroom mirror, setting a mental countdown to the disappearance of the purple flecks he had left on your neck, your shoulders, your breasts, the swell of your ass. They’ll be gone in a few days. Then your life will reverse to being contained into a memory. 

You crossed your arms over your belly and clasped your hips in the same way he had on the fire escape and in his kitchen. 

Underwear, socks, high collar T-shirt, jeans. You dressed methodically and remembered to take your Metrocard and to lock your door and walked over to Walgreens to buy some cheap concealer you weren’t sure how to use, applying it in the pharmacy aisle to cover the stubborn marks your clothes wouldn’t hide.

All this, so you could finally, finally ride the bus one last time to Benny’s place. 

The conversation didn’t go down easy. That’s one hell of an understatement. He wouldn’t hear, wouldn’t even let you speak. He followed you around his house as you gathered your belongings, (they were everywhere, fuck, what had you been thinking), and kept tugging at your arm for you to face him, trying to cup your face but you wouldn’t let him. Imploring eyes and vows to give you anything you ever needed, and you would have given ten years of your useless life to get out of there, to stop wanting to take him in your arms and thread your fingers through his hair. 

You were going to miss him. You missed him already. The realisation struck you like lightning and brought a foul taste to your mouth. 

In the end, you still kissed him. Or, you let him kiss you. 

“You’ll be fine,” you breathed into his mouth and his hold on you was bruising but it was not the same. Nothing ever was. 

Your best friend’s words rang in your ears, true and prophetic. 

Rosie, Will, Benny. You were, you are, throwing away the best relationships you’ve ever had over a one-night stand. 

Only there’s this space, between his jaw and his collarbone, along the strong line of his neck, where your face fits perfectly. Where you’re important, primordial. Where you’re protected and safe. And free to be what you can or want to be. That space was made just for you, along the strong line of Frankie’s neck, and that space is worth everything. Even if you can only know of it in your most valuable memory. 

You’ll choose him, again and again and again: over yourself and over everything. 

You wish Rosie had chosen you. You’ll be lost without her. You are, already. 

You’re confident you’ve taken the best possible decision. You couldn’t live with the guilt, nor the threat of his eventual resentment. 

Back in your apartment, you wiped the concealer off your skin and undressed to your panties. You put on a threadbare red T-shirt, flocked with the name “Chamonix” and a skiing figure that belonged to your grandfather. 

Then you drew the curtains. You crawled into bed and pulled the blue sheet over your head. 

You'll think about everything later. Rosie, work, packing, moving –for now you just need to sleep, because you’re too tired to hurt, too tired to weep. Heavy heart, heavy lids, heavy limbs. 

Time passes, and then a strong, repetitive banging rattles your front door, slowly penetrating the dazed limbo your mind has slipped into. It might be the morning, or the middle of the night. Your body is curled up and sore and you scramble out of bed, hitting your shoulder on the door frame as you step into the living-room. It doesn’t even occur to you to put on some pants before you open the door. 

He’s here. 

His broad silhouette backlit against the neon lit corridor, the left side of his face bruised and bloodied. 

He’s here. 

He steps into the dark apartment and closes the door behind him. His hands find your hips, and he pulls you in. 

He’s here. 

“Who did that to you?” you whisper. “Frankie, what did you do?”

Everyone he’s ever known has asked him a variation of this question, today. What has he done. What did he do. And for each version, there’s only one answer: he’s come back to you. 

“It’s fine,” he tells you, his heart painfully pulsating under the cut on his skin but you take his hands off your hips and instruct him to sit. 

In the bathroom, your numb fingers fumble noisily in the cabinet for a cotton pad and some alcohol. When you close the mirrored door, you’re met with your reflection again. You might be on the brink of tears or the verge of laughter.

When you come out, something feels different. It’s a minute before you realise he’s opened the curtains he came in to install with his friend less than a week ago. The setting sun casts a golden hue in your small living-room. He hasn’t sat, but he's taken off his cap and he’s pacing the small room. 

“It’s over, Gabrielle. I told him. Ben knows. So that’s that, he knows everything.” 

It’s a half-truth but the details can wait. Frankie stills when you approach him, knee popped to the side and hands on his hips, but his eyes betray his nervousness. 

They follow your trembling hands as they soak the rectangular pad with the yellow liquid. They search your face for a reaction, an emotion, but you give him nothing, focused on your task. 

You bring your hand to his face and start wiping his cheek before you stop, hesitant, your fingers releasing their grasp on the cotton pad that falls onto the carpet without a sound. Raising to your tiptoes, you peck an open-mouthed kiss to his wound. 

His skin quivers under your lips. You look up at him when you lick your lips clean of his blood, it tastes of copper and salt, and his eyebrows go so high, the crease between them nearly disappears. His shoulders ease down, almost unwillingly, there’s a twitch in his arm, and he sighs heavily. His hands go back to your hips, where they belong, and his heart is pounding. 

“You’re staying,” he says, his voice coarse and urgent. “I need to hear you say it, baby. With words. Say you’re staying.”

The fabric of your T-shirt paints your vision red when you slide it off above your head. One by one, you unfasten the press-stud of his shirt and open it wide. There’s a large bruise on the right side of his chest, under his collarbone. You brush your fingers over the purple mark, all the way down to the scar on his side. 

Your hands skate up along his sides and find their way around his waist to splay over his back and you press your breasts to the warmth of his solid body. You tuck your face into the crook of his neck, and you tell him. 

“I’ll stay. I’ll stay right here.”

You still can’t describe it, and you probably never will, but it’s fine, you won’t have to anymore. His scent. Ever present. Unforgotten. It surrounds you, now. And as Frankie takes the sides of his shirt and wraps them around you in a tight embrace, you both smile with relief. 

It’s been a long journey, but you made it home in the end. 

****

Bonus (because I had a hard time choosing between the two and I love @nicolethered 🧡):

Additional note: I HC that Santi and Frankie, and especially Izzy and Frankie, would speak a lot more in Spanish, between them. Unfortunately, I don't. So this is what it is 😔 A (French) friend who speaks Spanish kindly helped me with the translations. If you're a native speaker and I've messed it up, please slap me over the back of the head.

Taglist (thank you 🧡): @elegantduckturtle @mashomasho @lola766 @flowersandpotplantsandsunshine @nicolethered @littleone65 @bands-tv-movies-is-me @the-rambling-nerd @saintbedelia @pedrostories @trickstersp8 @all-the-way-down-here @deadmantis @hbc8 @princessdjarin @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos @gracie7209 @mrsparknuts @mylostloversbookmarks

[ginger-snap-talkin-nonsense]

Iron Man 3 as best Phase 2 movie? Ooh, that's an intriguing take. I remember everybody hating it when it came out for the Mandarin twist (which is moot now thanks to Shang-Chi and that one short film) and Tony telling a terrorist his address on live TV with no plan after that. I can still remember Honest Trailers ripping into it. But admittedly I haven't seen it since 2013, so is it actually a great movie and I just didn't realise?

I can’t believe people have a problem with Iron Man 3. It’s some of the best Marvel has to offer period.

“Tony doxxing himself on live tv with no plan was really dumb” yeah no shit! It’s hard to remember this in a post “everyone acts like cinemasins” world but not every characters actions are logically justifiable. You know who else tells Tony that was the dumbest shit they’ve ever seen? Literally everyone around him!

The crux of the movie is that Tony is being dangerously self destructive because he has severe PTSD from the EVERYTHING he’s been through and also feels as though the entire world rests squarely on his shoulders. Tony believes he owes the world his life as penance for being blind to the horrors Stark Industries contributed to the world while he went off and partied. The whole movie is a character piece about Tony realizing that he is metaphorically and literally letting Iron Man kill him, and that it’s not fair to the people who love him to keep doing that.

It’s also just extremely solid as a movie. The villain is fun and his plan is diabolical, the mandarin twist was fucking cool and literally circumvented the movie having mega racist undertones and instead made a point about using the War on Terror and the racism of the American people for militaristic and political gain (which is something Iron Man loves to do), and there’s some great scenes and characters!

The team of Iron Man suits all showing up to help save the president at the end? Peak cinema. Happy watching Downton Abbey in the hospital because Tony remembers it’s his favorite show while he visits him in his coma and so he asks for it to be turned on? I may cry. Pepper finally getting to have cool scenes that don’t amount to bickering with Tony because we remembered she’s a person? About damn time!

Dude I am still so fuckin bummed that Harley never showed up past being at Tony’s funeral-he’s such a reflection of Tony and also a plucky young science boy who throws snowballs at walking bombs to save people like holy shit that’s Spider-Man before Spider-Man was out get that little shitster a mini series where he and Tom Holland fight crime together.

I love Tony Stark, I think he’s the most nuanced character in The Avengers lineup and Iron Man 3 is the perfect culmination of everything Tony is, was, and will be. Having a problem with it because “Tony makes bad choices” is to have a problem with most of the movies starring Tony, which is hilarious considering Tony is the most popular character in The Avengers lineup pre Civil War and it’s not even close.

[maithefluffychicken]

Lavender fields forever (Hazelnuts series part 2)

Part 1 / Part 2

Omegaverse Steddie, alpha Eddie Munson, omega Steve Harrington, established relationship, mating, biting.

Chapter 1

The first time Eddie had to buy condoms, when he presented as an alpha and reached maturity, he was shaking and dying inside because, well. It’s a fucking nightmare, to ask for them and then everyone knows that you’re getting ready to have sex. Or that you want to, at least. And fuck, isn’t that mortifying.

Before Steve, Eddie never really cared that much about it, if he’s honest. He bought one box of condoms years ago that basically expired, untouched, still there in Eddie’s desk, getting dust on it. But the whole affair of buying the condoms was a fucking nightmare, anyway, and he was thankful that the few omegas and the bunch of betas he slept with from time to time had their own condoms.

But now he has an omega to protect, to cherish, and he has to be an adult alpha and buy condoms because he doesn’t want to ruin Steve’s life.

“Next customer, here, please!” The lovely old woman who runs the pharmacy at Starcourt calls for him, weaving her hand. Great. Eddie swallows and reaches the counter, blushing already. “What do you need, pup?”

Ok, it’s ok, everything is alright. Eddie is an adult, his boyfriend is another adult, and buying condoms is something a responsible adult does, right? It’s positive, even! It means they both care and work on their relationship, and that they’re not playing dumb.

“I… Ehm, hi, miss, uh… I want to buy a box of condoms,” Eddie stutters, his voice hitching at the last word. Fucking great. His face is burning and he hates this. “Please.”

The old woman, a beta, just hums.

“For an alpha or a beta?” She asks. Fuck, Eddie forgot about this part.

“Alpha.”

“Size?”

Fuck.

“B-big, please.”

“Do you need them extra tight at the knot?”

Eddie wants to die. He can’t do this. And his omega, Eddie has discovered, is insatiable. Even out of his heat, Steve has a sex drive that rivals Eddie’s. The alpha can’t go over this process every two weeks.

He doesn’t complain about Steve wanting him, fuck no, he just hates to buy the damn condoms and this happens every two weeks. Two weeks. Yeah, yeah, they take turns to buy them and last time was Steve’s, but, still. Eddie can’t express how much he hates this.

“N-no, normal it’s ok, thanks.”

Yeah, better not think now about how slick and tight his omega is, how he milks his knot so fucking good every time, how makes Eddie howl, throwing his head back and shaking, cock twitching inside Steve, joined together… Fuck, no, stop, stop!

“Extra lubed?”

“Just normal, please,” Eddie grits, his face engine red and his armpits stinging. This is a new whole kind of torture, designed specifically for young, horny alphas. Fuck everything, the next time he’ll ask Joe, his boss, to buy the condoms for him. The older alpha owes Eddie a lot of favors now that he and his omega are expecting their own pup and Eddie is taking more responsibility for his boss’ sake at Divinyl Records.

“Very well, sweetie, give me a second,” the woman says at last, turning to grab one box behind her. Eddie uses the few seconds of peace to look around, and he can feel his eyes widening when he sees it. Right there, on the upper shelf.

Eddie opens his wallet and makes a quick mental sum. He knows it’s expensive, very expensive, but fuck it. He’s buying it too, he doesn’t even think about how awkward it is to buy it along with the condoms. Or the implications this will have in the nearest future. He can’t think about what it means for him and for Steve to buy it. It’s just wishful thinking.

“And one of those, please,” Eddie rushes to say, pointing at the expensive new need, taking the money from his wallet and placing it on the counter.

The old lady does give him an odd look now, but dutifully reaches for the item and puts it on a paper bag, with the condoms.

“Remember to clean it with water and neutral ph soap before applying it,” the woman starts talking while she takes Eddie’s money from the counter. “And it’s better if you help your omega during the whole process, it heals faster.”

“O-ok, thank you, I’ll do that, of course,” Eddie promises, but he doesn’t have to. It’s never a hardship to take care of his omega, his sweet, playful Steve.

“And brush your teeth before, you hear me?” The old woman adds, but her eyes soften when she looks at Eddie again. The alpha wonders if it’s too obvious how smitten he is for his boyfriend, if he has written it all over his face. “It’s a beautiful thing if you do it right, pup, and it’s lovely that you care for your omega this much.”

“He deserves it,” Eddie says fondly, and he means it. “I just… want that, want to do it right.”

The old lady hands him the paperbag and some cash in return, and motherly pats Eddie’s hand.

“You’re a good alpha, go with your omega, and have a good day, sweetie.”

Eddie smiles at her and rushes out the store, the rush of awkwardness leaving his body the moment he leaves the pharmacy behind, holding the paperbag against his heaving chest.

-

Quiet and peace is never an option for Eddie, now.

The moment Eddie stepped out of the pharmacy with his loot, a voice called his name, yelled his name quite insistently, obnoxiously, even. Dustin was suddenly by his side, demanding to know what was Eddie doing at Starcourt on his day off. The pup himself was looking for a new set of dice to buy for the next campaign, and before Eddie could react, Dustin had snatched the paperbag from Eddie’s cold hands and was looking inside. Because, of fucking course, these pups never learnt about damn boundaries.

Eddie wasn’t ready to give him the well known talk about the bees and the birds, and that to avoid it, one responsible alpha has to buy these things…

“Claiming bite care lotion, antiseptic lotion for the correct healing of…” Dustin started reading out loud, ignoring the other box that was still on the paperbag. “Eddie, are you going to claim Steve?”

So, of course, Eddie took Dustin to his trailer, where Wayne was cooking his famous stew, and had to confess his impulsive shopping: the most expensive lotion to take care of the claiming bite after.

“I’m impressed, son,” Wayne tells him once he has confessed and the three of them have a steamy bowl of spicy, savory stew in front of them. “This brand is expensive, I thought you were planning…”

Eddie is quick to kick his uncle under the table, making strange faces at him, eyes wide open, pleading him to shut up. The last thing Eddie wants right now is to let Dustin know that he’s planning to ask Steve to move in together, somewhere. Eddie has been saving money, but it’s not enough yet, and he’s scared to ask Steve yet.

“Very fancy, Munson,” Dustin snorts, ignoring Eddie and Wayne's silent conversation, while shoving a spoonful of stew into his mouth with no finesse at all. “You know, that’s like, buying him a diamond ring or something, you know that, right? Hey, Eds, do you want to marry him? Eddie, Eddie, dude, are you going to marry Steve? That would be fucking amazing, man, can I be your best man? Don’t pick Mike, dude, he’s an ass most of the time, I know he’s my friend but”

“Oh my god, Henderson, you’re going to choke, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Eddie reprimands the not-so-pup while his uncle laughs at them, his eyes locked in Eddie with a glint of something like pride.

Steve would chastise them both if they ever see how much Eddie allows Dustin, but come on, it’s his favorite pup - ok, ok, the alpha shouldn’t have a favorite pup, but he can’t help it. Eddie loves every one of the kids that his omega managed to adopt before they even met, but Dustin… Eddie sees so much of himself in the young boy, there’s always this strange feeling that tugs at Eddie, as if he needs to teach him everything he knows. The same with Erica, the sassiest little girl he has ever known.

Eddie wonders if it’s because they both are going to present as alpha, maybe his instinct can smell it on them, hence this odd need to be an alpha figure for them.

Dustin, of course, simply grunts at him playfully, smiling and munching, making Eddie shake his head.

“The pup is right, son,” Wayne adds, unhelpfully.

“I know.”

“Are ye planning to claim yer omega, son?” His uncle asks, his tone grave and serious, now. Dustin’s eyes are glued on him, frowning now, and Eddie is sure he can hear a soft rumble from the pup’s chest. A rumble that could become a snarl or even a threatening growl, and Eddie understands the message: do not hurt our omega, do not hurt Steve.

Eddie feels so fucking proud right now just because of this. Steve was the one who took care of them all first, Steve is their pack omega first, even if they accepted Eddie happily, Henderson and the rest won’t tolerate it if Eddie was playing with Steve. Friends don’t lie. The pack stays together.

Thankfully, Eddie is completely sure about his answer.

“Yeah,” he smiles shyly. “Yeah, I’m going to claim him, if he’ll have me.”

Wayne pats at his shoulder and Dustin’s rumble stops, the pup beaming at him, now.

“And yes, Henderson, I’ll ask him to marry me, too, so I trust you’ll keep the secret for yourself, capicci?”

“Oh god, oh fuck, Eddie, I promise, I’m not telling anyone!” Dustin rushes to promise, and Eddie reaches to tug playfully at his curls. He knows that, by night, everyone in the pack will already know Eddie’s plans.

-

They’ve been together for almost a whole year, now.

It’s easy to forget how it was everything before they got together, before they weren’t even friends. Before Robin and the pups. Eddie had his band and his DnD club, but his life improved so much since he met Steve Harrington.

Well, since he became his friend. And the rest is history.

Their mating cycles are synchronized, now. Like a fucking clock, every four months. Eddie had never bothered to care about his rut, it happened when it happened, surprise! But after spending together Steve’s heat that first time, triggering his own rut, their cycle synchronized. It’s cool, firstly because they don’t have to leave their work in a rush, and secondly, because they can prepare their nest with time, together, even if it elicits the same reactions every time.

The nest has never enough of Eddie’s scent, even if most of it is made with Eddie’s faded, softest shirts. Steve gets needy and emotional during his pre-heat days, crying because the nest doesn’t smell like Eddie, because he can’t smell the chocolate and ripe blackberries anymore. Of course, Eddie has the immediate reaction to toss all his clothes to the nest, even the clean ones he keeps at Steve’s wardrobe, and lunges to scent his omega, to kiss his tears away.

During his rut, Eddie gets stupidly possessive and aggressive. Not towards Steve, never. But against whatever that makes Steve feel bad. He growled at the fucking TV because of this, for fucks sake. The joys of having synchronized cycles. When he was alone he just fucked his fist again and again until his cock was sore and raw, no feelings involved, not the added instinct of protect, cherish, fight, breed. Now he’s just stupid and in love. Joe told him that, once, he growled at a rose in their garden because his omega wanted it to bloom. Ah, yes, that’s love.

Also, he gets even more handsy than usual, and fuck, he’s always handsy. But during his rut it’s absurd, he needs to touch Steve, every inch of him, all the fucking time. More than, he needs to be pressed against Steve, inside him. And to scent him, fuck, like it’s a fucking drug. If his omega wants his scent, he’s fucking determined to give it to him, until their scents are just one.

One memorable time, Eddie ripped Steve’s uniform tee, from the collar to the hem, because he needed to squish his face against his omega’s chest hair and, fuck, he needed to see if Steve was still wearing the blackberry pendant. There it was, smooth and warm because Steve never took it off, just as Eddie never took it off the silver hazelnut, hanging from his neck along his guitar pick. Their courting gifts. To have to ask for a new tee at Scoops Ahoy for his omega after wasn’t as funny.

Now, they still have a whole month before their next mating cycle, and it's been a week since Eddie bought the lotion to heal a claiming bite. Eddie keeps it safe in the only place he knows Steve would never look: in one of his amps, among a bunch of wires and, as Steve calls them fondly, guitar stuff.

But whenever is alone, Eddie picks the box that contains the tube of lotion and reads it again and again.

‘Omegacare is an antiseptic lotion for the correct healing of the claiming bite.

Clean the bite with warm water and ph neutral soap before applying this product. Dry gently with a towel.

Keep the bite moist, allowing it to dry will result in thick scabs that will crack or bleed.

This will cause the wound of the bite to have patches and crack lines when it is healed up. It slows the healing process and will possibly damage the future scar.

Apply a thin layer of antiseptic cream to use for the first three to seven days or up until the area starts drying up. Then you should cease to use this antiseptic cream and switch to an aftercare product.’

The alpha wants to ask Steve. Properly. He feels like an idiot for not doing it already, he has plenty of opportunities to ask him, and he's optimistic about Steve's answer.

But then Eddie remembers that Steve wants to study. Steve wants to become a high school counselor, to help students to find their way. Or even a teacher. Steve is still unsure about what path to choose, but he wants to do something with his life, and Eddie is determined to help him to achieve it, no matter how hard it is, how much it costs.

That’s why Eddie is taking more responsibility at work. That’s why he’s saving money. At first, he was going to ask Steve to move in together, he even saw a few small houses, something cozy and close to their jobs and Robin and the pups… But now? Now Eddie isn’t sure if they should talk about something like that.

Steve doesn’t need to leave his house, his parents work a lot and they spend an awful amount of time traveling, to the point that Steve is more used to living alone now. They’ll help Steve afford his studies. And Steve doesn’t need the added stress of looking for a house, he has enough with work, the pups and planning his future.

Eddie knows that Steve wants him, that they’re in love, that’s not in doubt, not for a moment. Maybe that’s why he impulsively bought the stupid lotion, because for a second his hindbrain sang to him and made him imagine Steve showing off a brand new claiming bite, Eddie’s teeth imprinted forever in his beautiful, pale skin, surrounded by lovely moles. Fuck, he wants that, so badly. But he can wait. He can be a better alpha, he can show Steve that he can provide for them both.

Eddie can and will wait. He’ll ask Steve, he’ll talk with him, make sure his omega is safe and happy, and together they’ll find their way.

He sighs in his bed, playing with the box in his hand. His sheets still have the fading aroma of lavender and hazelnuts from the last time Steve spent the night in his house. Eddie grabs the yellow sweater that belongs to Steve but that now is Eddie's comfort sweater and raises it to his nose, inhaling deeply the soothing scent of his omega.

Just one month before their next mating cycle. Eddie decides he’ll keep the lotion hidden for now, until they’ve talked about it.

-

They don’t talk about it for at least two weeks more.

And Eddie doesn’t plan to talk with Steve about this, not until their incoming mating cycle is finished, to avoid making Steve feel pressured or forced to be claimed. Eddie wants to throw up just thinking about that, head spinning.

What Eddie does, though, is talk with Joe. His boss is barely at the store nowadays, the pregnancy of his omega more important than the store, and Eddie understands that. If Steve were expecting, Eddie would have a terrible time being far from him, working instead of being scenting his omega and taking care of him. That would kill him, and he suspects it’s killing Joe now.

“I’ve been working here for almost two years,” Eddie says, hands shaking but his voice is firm and earnest. “You’ve taught me how to take care of every little detail of the store, even the countability, and I’m ready to do it.”

“You want a promotion, pup?” Joe teases him. His eyes have deep bags underneath, he looks tired and restless, ready to snarl. “It’s yours, you don’t have to beg for it or to try to convince me, but this store needs at least two people to keep it .”

“I know, that’s why I’m asking you for my promotion and to hire someone else,” Eddie smiles wolfishly, feeling absurdly proud. “I know someone who would like to work here, he can start immediately, and you can be at home with Tess, take care of her.”

Eddie knows he has won this assault when Joe’s eyes widen and the older alpha lets out a long sigh, shaking his head slowly.

“You’re a menace, Munson,” Joe smiles tiredly. “When can this guy start, you say?”

“Let me make a call,” Eddie grins.

Gareth does need the money, uni is really expensive, and he has been pestering Eddie for finding such a nice job since Eddie was hired. Eddie knew his best friend would accept the offer.

That same evening Gareth received Joe’s ok and the older alpha left early, leaving Eddie to teach the new employee.

“So what, you’re my boss now?” Gareth asks. His voice is a constant snarl since he presented and Eddie can’t help but laugh at it. His best friend looks already at home, with his customized tartan vest clinking every time he moves through the corridors. “I don’t know if I like it.”

“You can bet, Gare-bear,” Eddie grins at him. “You have less than a month to learn everything, I’ll take my sick leave soon, and I need you, man.”

“Rut?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, I love to work under pressure, you know how to motivate me, boss,” Gareth snarls a laugh and Eddie follows him. Eddie loves Gareth, loves that the alpha gives as much as he takes, smart little motherfucker; Eddie wonders if having a brother feels like this.

-

Eddie takes Steve on a date to celebrate his immediate promotion. Wayne is not at home, so they claim Eddie’s bedroom, knowing they can be as loud as they want.

They barely step into the house and Eddie can’t help but press Steve against the door, locking it blindly while he devours his omega’s plush lips.

“Ah, Eddie, alpha…” Steve moans against Eddie’s lips, his hands shoving the leather jacket down the alpha’s shoulders and arms.

Eddie fights his jacket until it falls onto the floor, still kissing Steve even if clumsy and sloppy. Who cares. He needs this, he needs to feel his omega, flushes their bodies together until he’s but a hard line pressed tight against Steve from head to toe.

“Take me to the bed, Eds, please,” Steve pleads, hands under Eddie’s t-shirt, fumbling with his alpha’s nipple, making him gasp.

Eddie’s hips buck forward at the sensation, his cock hard since they were heading towards his trailer in his van. Steve has that effect on him. No matter how many times they do this, every single one of Eddie’s nerves is lit with burning desire for the omega.

“Fuck, yes, of course, sweetheart,” Eddie mumbles between kisses.

They part, breaking the kiss, groaning as if it hurts them physically. Eddie grabs Steve’s hand and rushes to lead him to his bedroom, the omega chirping and chuckling behind him, almost running in their need to get to the bed.

They kiss again, tongues sliding, exploring each other's mouths, and Eddie feels like he could do this forever. His arousal burns him from the inside slowly, there’s no rush, just the need to be close to Steve, even if he can already smell the slick pooling in Steve’s underwear, mixing with the peaking scent of him. Lavender fills Eddie’s nostrils when the alpha noses along the column of Steve’s neck.

“Next week,” Eddie mumbles against Steve’s neck, lapping at the moles that crown his gland, smiling when the omega shivers in his arms. “Next week, we have a gig, please, tell me you’ll come, I want to see you in the crowd.”

Steve chirps loudly, hands scrapping at Eddie’s back.

“I haven’t missed any of your gigs since we’re together, love,” Steve says, kisses him deep and slow, making Eddie rumble and his cock throbbing with interest. “Of course I’ll be there, and I’ll drag Robin too.”

“I’ll tell Gareth to bring his cousin Chrissy, then,” Eddie says, biting his boyfriend’s lip, enjoying the way Steve’s back arches, pressing their bodies together.

Steve laughs weakly. “Robin will love you for that.” The omega, stronger than he seems, wraps his arms around Eddie’s middle and turns them in the bed, getting on top of him in a fluid motion that leaves Eddie breathless and leaking into his boxers desperately. “Can we please make out now?”

Eddie barks a laugh and lunges to claim Steve’s mouth. “Whatever you want, my omega.”

-

Eddie forgets about the whole claiming lotion thing until he has to pack his guitar and amps in his van for the gig. He takes the box and studies it carefully, again, even if he knows what it says by heart now, hoping he finds his answer there.

He can’t spend too much time wondering and fantasizing about a future where Steve wears his bite proudly. The boys are waiting for him and they have to set their equipment. Eddie rushes to hide the offending box on the drawer where he keeps the condoms and a half emptied bottle of lube - for lonely nights when he has to fist his knot, growling Steve’s name in the darkness - and forgets about it, again.

The gig goes smoothly, even better now that more people come to see them. Gareth and the boys really work better under pressure, no matter what they say. It’s fun to keep doing this, even if it’s from time to time.

In the crowd, cheering and singing along, Eddie can see Robin, with an arm around Chrissy’s shoulders, the both girls yelling the lyrics and grinning wide. It’s good to see Robin happy. But Eddie’s eyes focus on Steve, his omega is wearing Eddie’s battle vest, bathing himself in his scent.

It’s fucking great. Eddie always loved to play and sing, but to do it in front of his omega… He feels invincible- Fuck, he has been feeling like that since the moment Steve asked him to spend his heat with him.

-

Better than the gig, it’s what comes after.

Steve is spending the night with Eddie, both of them horny and needy, devouring themselves as if they can’t survive a second without kissing each other.

They’re again in Eddie’s bed, Steve always manages to transform it into a cozy, improvised nest, grabbing Eddie’s bandanas and smearing his scent all over the sheets. Eddie loves to see him doing it, loves how his room starts smelling like lavender and ripe blackberries, hazelnuts and bouquets of sun-dried lavender.

He wishes he could do this every night. Barely dressed, just in boxers and t-shirt, Steve atop of him, holding his hands over his head, pinning him in place. As if the alpha, his alpha, would run away. No, Eddie is exactly where he belongs, with his omega straddling him and kissing him leisurely. They’re not in a rush, not tonight.

Eddie bucks his hips, grinding against his omega’s ass, feeling how warm and slick he’s getting just from this. The alpha is not in a better state, sometimes Eddie can even pop his knot just from making out with Steve, and if his omega keeps rutting against him like it’s his fucking job, that’s exactly what is going to happen. They’re always hornier when their mating cycle is close.

“S-Steve, ah, shit, baby,” Eddie whines, desperate, cock twitching. “You’re driving me crazy, sweetheart, please.”

“Please, what, alpha?” Steve teases him, nosing Eddie’s jaw, his scent gland underneath his ear. The alpha growls and bucks his hips.

“This is going to be over embarrassingly fast if you keep doing this,” Eddie pants.

“Well, you can eat me out now so you can relax a bit, hm?”

“Fuck, Stevie,” Eddie guffaws half a laugh, half a moan. “You think that I won’t come licking at your cunt and sucking your cocklet? I’m happy you have so much trust in me, baby, but I’m almost there already.”

“Ok, ok, love, don’t cream your pants, hm?” Steve teases him, pushing him towards the edge by grinding one more time. Eddie’s clothed cock sliding between Steve’s folds, his omega’s slick wetting their underwear. The alpha wants to mouth at him, fuck, wants to eat him out so badly, wants to choke on Steve’s thighs. “Stay still, I’m gonna grab a condom.”

Eddie groans when Steve leaves him, the cold air of the night making him shiver. He props on his elbows and tilts his head to see how his omega puts it on a show. Lets his boxers fall down his legs to the floor, dripping slick, and the alpha whines pathetically, licking his lips. Steve’s hands roam over his own plain belly, rolling his t-shirt upwards, revealing his blond happy trail and a constellation of moles that Eddie loves to trace with the tip of his tongue.

“Please, Stevie, babe,” Eddie begs, palming himself through his boxers, squeezing tight the base of his leaking cock, already swelling. “Please, come here with me.”

“Don’t you want me to get rid of this?” Steve asks sensually, tugging at his t-shirt. Eddie swallows and nods sharply, making his omega chuckle. “Now?”

Eddie nods again, whimpering. He’s helpless under Steve’s spell. Fuck, he loves him so much.

“Please,” Eddie manages to say, wishing Steve will ride him before his knot is fully swelled.

“Of course, alpha, my love,” Steve smiles, chirping joyfully. He loves to tease Eddie, but Eddie loves it even more, feeling like putty in his omega’s hands.

Finally, fucking finally, Steve takes off his t-shirt and Eddie revels in all his bare glory, loving him so much, every inch of his body. Wants to swallow him whole, to hold him and cradle him softly.

Eddie’s hindbrain howls, begging him to claim, claim, claim the wonderful omega in front of him.

“You’re perfect,” Eddie whispers in awe, eyes taking in every detail of his omega. His soft skin, every freckle and mole, his soft hair, his droopy eyes looking lovingly at him. How fucking lucky Eddie is. “Steve, you’re so amazing.”

Steve’s cocklet twitches at the praise, his cheeks blushing deliciously. “Alpha…”

“Come here, baby, I need you, I swear,” Eddie gasps, kneeling on the bed and shoving his boxers down his thighs just enough so he can free himself, his cock hanging between his legs, heavy and long, leaking over the sheets. Eddie curls his fingers tight around his length and doesn’t even bother to take off his own t-shirt, pumping his cock slowly, up and down, knowing he’s not going to last.

“So needy, my alpha,” Steve chuckles, but rushes towards the nightstand’s drawer where they keep the condoms.

Shit. Shit.

“Stevie, baby, wait!” Eddie exclaims, but it’s late. He knows it’s late.

Steve freezes in the spot, eyes bulging and mouth slack.

“Eddie, what’s this?”

Fuck.

“Steve…” Eddie stutters.

“Is this for… me?” Steve asks, naked and flushed, hazel eyes bright in the dim light of Eddie’s bedroom.

“Steve, please, it’s not what you think!” Eddie rushes to say, fucking cliché, he knows, but he doesn’t know what else to say to win some time to put his thoughts in order.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

[whinlatter]

Hello, I was hoping you could provide some of your brilliant insight to this ask: How many people knew about the horcruxes in the end? Dumbledore told Harry not to tell anyone, but Harry kind of announced it during his battle with Voldemort, and everyone knew he sacrificed himself. Hagrid witnessed it, and so did the DE. I’m sure this started rumours about how the Potter boy cannot be killed by the AK curse. Hagrid must have wanted answers too, because watching Harry sacrifice himself and then come back alive after he watched the AK curse kill him would have been detrimental. So besides Ron and Hermione, who else knew about the Horcruxes and the reason Harry sacrificed himself? Did the Order know? Did he tell the DA? Did he tell Ginny?

Damn, I wish I had brilliant insight - alas, all I have is a pathological inability to stop running my mouth and a crippling hyperfixation. To that end... loved this question, so thoughts about whether or not Harry ran his mouth about the Horcruxes after the war (and to whom) below the cut!

This is such an interesting question and one I think about alllll the time and am desperate to have a stab at writing about at some point (like everyone, lol). On Horcruxes - I think Harry (and the trio, to a lesser extent) would feel less beholden to Dumbledore's instruction not to tell anyone after Voldemort has gone. I think it would be more a case of the trio trying to decide how much is safe for the public at large to know, in case they embolden lesser, weaker copycats. (There's that great conversation between Harry and Hermione in chapter one of Castles by @pebblysand about the Harry/Voldemort showdown honestly makes me laugh every time - Hermione basically being like, why did you have to publicly confirm the existence of an Elder Wand? Just how dumb are you? Harry like sorry it was obviously improv???)

I imagine Harry will tell the public a small amount (a much simpler story that does broad outline, light on detail, the focus of which is exonerating Snape and rehabilitating Dumbledore). I think he tells the Order and the DA - so all of those loyal to him who both deserve information and who witnessed the Harry/Voldemort conversation - a much fuller but still incomplete story in a private address at the Burrow where the trio share it between them and their comrades can ask questions. I think this version would cover Dumbledore's plan, the Horcruxes, details about the Horcrux hunt, the context of the Elder Wand, the Snape story, the Regulus arc, etc. I like to think Ron would choose to tell his family what really happened that last Christmas during this session (though Harry and Hermione would insist he doesn't need to), and talks about how and why he messed up in a way that shows how far he's come (and also lets Bill off the hook for snubbing his mother's Christmas in the middle of a war lmao). I think this conversation wouldn't cover the Hallows and that Harry would decline to talk in to much detail about what happened in the Forest, which I think all three of the trio would agree was both too personal and too dangerous (given the Stone) to share, especially to a room of grief-stricken friends and family who may well be drawn to an object that allows them to reach out to the dead.

I do think, though, that he tells Ginny everything. I don't think he'd ask permission from Ron and Hermione, per se, but he'd give them the heads up that he intends to let one more person in on this secret between them and Dumbledore. I think Ginny gets the whole truth: Horcruxes, Hallows, what happened in the Forest - and I think he tells her over the course of that summer. Canonically, that's his intent and priority at the end of the series: she deserves to know, and he needs her to know. The would he tell her question for me is less tricky to think about than the how. These would be very difficult conversations: I actually think they'd be unbearable for Ginny to hear, in many many different ways: what happened in the Forest, of course, but also just how horrific it would be for her to discover a part of Riddle's soul, the same thing that was in the Diary, was living inside the person she loves the whole time. (I think a lot about that OotP 'lucky you' scene. What's crazy about that scene in retrospect is that Harry comes out of it reassured by Ginny that he isn't being possessed - but of course, the truth is neither of them should be reassured. Harry feels better thinking this is different to what happened to Ginny, but actually their experiences have more in common than they realise (though are still ofc distinct): Harry's got a bit of Voldemort's soul in him, the same thing that controlled and terrorised little Gin. It's a classic example of the series' many ironies: characters coming so close to the truth but getting it (understandably but terribly) wrong. Even the thought of living alongside the locket at Grimmauld in the OotP summer - I think Ginny would find the thought of that, in retrospect, absolutely sickening).

All this is to say: I think the trio deliberately cultivate public silence over certain very volatile aspects of the Horcrux/Hallows story (in ways that probably does incur a certain degree of public speculation and resentment). But I think Gin gets the whole picture. I can't imagine Harry ever wanting to keep it from her (or even managing to - the man let slip their plan at the dinner table in DH. He's not keeping secrets from that girl. Man canonically sees those big brown eyes and starts running his damn mouth)

PS. Obsessed with the idea of rumours that AK can't kill Harry. I'm sure it would be in his professional interest when hunting the last of the Death Eaters to keep that particular myth going lol. Avada Kedavra? Can't kill me, mate. Good luck to ya

[spideyanakin]

10 Things I Hate about you - Chapter 4

Eddie Munson x Harrington!reader

synopsis - A new rule strikes the Harrington household: if Steve wishes to date ever again, his sister needs to find a boyfriend first. As Steve becomes desperate and thinks of everything in his power to set her up, only one guy comes to mind that will take up a challenge such as that: Eddie Munson.

warnings - reader flashing a classroom, Steve being annoying, fluff <3. Lotr refs and a really big Hobbit ref (sry if you haven't read or seen it)

word count - 11k

proof read by the amazing @inknopewetrust

series masterlist 🌻

"Y/n/n, babe, what do we owe you for the table dance?" Tommy's loud welcome broke your train of thought. Your eyes darted up from the white floor tiles to his stupid, ugly face. Tommy Hagan grinned ear to ear as he moved his hands from side to side as if he was dancing–mimicking a caricature of your movements as if it were a joke.

"You want my fist in your mouth, Hagan?" Your grip on your backpack straps only got stronger as you glared daggers at him.

"Feisty," he laughed to himself and you rushed into the classroom, bumping his shoulder as you passed; fully ignoring his gaze that was burning holes in the back of your head by the doorway until his attention was stolen away by Steve arriving.

You could barely make out the words they swapped. Some dumb stuff about the party or whatever Tommy had done over the weekend. You knew Tommy was finally done with his stories and had left when Steve sat beside you with a big sigh and the class’s starting bell echoed throughout the school. 

You had been so busy fidgeting with your pencil case that you hadn't noticed Eddie actually showed up.

Steve had never seen you get your book out with such an aggressive force before. He swore your copy of Romeo and Juliet bounced back when you slammed it on the table, and that you were about to break your pencil from the number of knocks between the wood and the desktop.

Mr. Arnold greeted the class as he did every Monday morning. It was only when your gaze shot up to look at him that you noticed the familiar head of brown curls with his face stuffed into his book. Your knuckles went white by how tight the grip on your pencil became––Eddie had enraged you.

It did not help that you were also mad at Steve. 

Surrounded by a plague of anger and frustrated feelings, it had become all about the men in your life rather than you. You, here as the center of attention but still pushed to the back, felt like a pariah being served on a silver platter for a feast; a bad feast, terrible, where everyone turned their knives toward the good rather than the evil. 

Eddie appeared to be in his own little world. His hair was tied up in a ponytail as he carefully scanned the text in front of him. It was a look. A good look that he never took up often but when he did, it caught eyes that weren’t looking before. 

You felt stuck in the middle of the two people you wanted to avoid. Steve sat to the left of you while Eddie sat a few desks up to the right. You frowned. 

Eddie never came to advanced English. The few times he had were because of you or because he wanted to play a sadistic version of Go Fish with Mr. Arnold and the other teachers. 

Was this just a cruel way to mock you after the stunt he pulled?

This wasn't fair on you. You had never been a Juliet. Never been the shy girl that would do anything for love and let Romeo steal her heart at the speed of sound. You had always compared yourself to Viola. A strong-willed young woman who did everything in her power to survive. 

But you cursed every word written in that damn book when the feelings Juliet was poetically screeching became too close to ones held in your own heart.  

Was this the cruel turn of the situation? 

Had Eddie doomed you to become Juliet? 

Why had Eddie pestered you to take you on dates just to leave you hanging? Was this just a cruel joke? Or did he wait until you finally caved in just to realize this wasn't what he wanted?

You felt misled. Misled into finally letting Eddie tear your walls down brick by brick until there was nothing left standing. But instead of using that free space, taking a step into your previously protected world, he rebuilt the walls for himself and used the ruins of yours to fortify a new wall unwilling to be torn down.

That wasn't fair. This wasn’t fair. 

But nothing felt fair.

"So!" Mr. Arnold clapped his hands together. "How did you all find Act 1?" 

"Hey! Y/n-" Steve poked your shoulder as you were looking towards the board. "Psstt," he poked again, frowning when you didn't answer. "Yyyy/nnn," he dragged your name in a whisper, "what happened in Act 1?"

"Leave me alone!" You swatted his hand away and straightened your back, shooting him a burning glare before bringing your eyes back to Mr. Arnold.

"That's not nice! You've been ignoring me since Friday!" He whined, still in a whisper. 

You dodged his attempts at getting you to talk, focusing on Lisa who was giving her thoughts about the play. Going on and on about how she thought the romance went too fast but with the way it was written, it wasn't overwhelming to the reader. 

Steve frowned and gave up. Strange of him. Steve Harrington wasn’t a quitter.

"Very good," Mr. Arnold fixed his round glasses before clearing his throat, something he did every time he wanted to change the subject. "I'm going to give you a new assignment, in addition to reading until scene five for next Monday-" Some people whined, Steve joining that chorus. Some stayed quiet, you included. "It's a very exciting project!" He raised his eyebrows, a big smile over his lips. He seemed so happy with his idea, eyes sparkling as he thought of it.

"You'll have to write your own Shakespearian sonnet!" His excitement hung in the air. A mix of dislike, surprise, and excitement could be read on the faces of his students. Connor had his jaw dropped to the floor - he hated writing and the idea of having to write his own sonnet made him shiver. Lisa seemed happy with it, a short smile could be read on her features as she immediately wrote down the assignment in her planner.

Eddie was surprised, but he didn't think too much of it. He liked writing, and if he was going to show up in Advanced English he might as well do the given assignment.

Steve looked like his world was about to collapse. Like he would have rather been in a zombie apocalypse. Somewhere fighting the undead than writing something for school, let alone something with the word Shakespearian in the title. It wasn’t his style. It wasn’t the way he rolled. 

"If I pay you ten bucks will you do it for me?" He turned to you the second the plague of potential left him.  

"No." Your word was sharp and strict, wrapped in a chill that nearly scared him.

He backed away with wide eyes, shrugging his shoulders and slightly lifting his hands in innocence. "Don't need to be rude," he whispered, mainly to himself before getting his agenda out and writing down the assignment. 

As you were focusing on doing that yourself, head bowed to your table as you scribbled the assignment in blue ink - a small ball of paper went flying to your desk, rolling onto your pages. 

Your glare shot up to the direction it had come from - eyes directly meeting with the brown ones you wished to forget. He had an expectant look, eyebrows raised as if to tell you 'read it, please.' You looked at it, contemplating your next move before grabbing it in between your fingers. 

You unfolded the note, locking eyes with Eddie as you did. You didn't read it, but kept eye contact with him, slowly nudging the note towards him as if to tell him 'look what I'm about to do'. Eddie’s hope faded as he watched the scene unravel in front of him. Both your hands wrapped on either side of the paper, a serious look on your face, and the slight sound of the paper ripping filled the quiet room as the rest of the students filled out their planners or wrote the assignment on a Post-It. 

His heart sank as the paper remained unread. He could hear the way his heart beat loudly in his ears - all the blood rushing to his face in a thinly laced idealization of shame and hurt washed over him. 

You crumpled up the pieces of paper before pocketing them. 

"What was that about?" Steve murmured.

"Nothing." 

And for a brief moment, you thought it was through. Everything was done and the rest of the period could go on without a hitch; you’d listen to Mr. Arnold drone on about the intentionality of Shakespeare’s language or work silently on the analysis of movement throughout the Act, but nothing was easy as it was not fair. 

Another ball of paper skyrocketed like a flaming ball of fire headed toward the Roman Army that was your desk. It landed smack in the middle of your desk between the pencil you nearly cracked and the notebook that had carved doodles on its cover. 

He didn’t take the hint. 

Eddie thought you might finally open it, read it, and maybe take the time to write back, but that never had been Eddie’s luck. You only repeated your movements.

"What did you do?" Gareth who had been staring at the whole situation had a large frown on his face. He was clicking his pen as he stared at Eddie, almost absorbing his anxiety–maybe he was a bit too invested in his friend’s life.

"Nothing." 

"Then why is she looking at you with crazy mad eyes?" 

"Because I didn’t do anything!" Eddie harshly whispered. He rested his chin on his hand, sighing.

Gareth frowned, silently asking for more information.

"I should have kissed her..."

"Ah."

"I didn't want to! Well- I sort of did but- agh!”  Eddie lifted his head and dropped his hand back on the table with a thud that thankfully didn’t get the teacher’s attention. "Anyways, now she's mad at me."

"Can't help you on that one, man." Gareth sighed for himself before bringing his eyes back to his notebook.

"I know..."

~

The second the bell rang to symbolize the end of class, you cleaned your books and pencils at lighting speed–you didn't need Eddie or Steve to try and get you to talk. You'd heard enough from them already.

You locked eyes with Eddie as you passed by the front of the classroom, unpacking the pieces of paper from your pocket before dumping them all in the trash. Eddie's face was blank, undecipherable, as he sat next to Gareth. Watching as you turned your head forward, took out your Walkman, and walked straight out the door. 

Steve looked between the door and Eddie with a frown. Last time he checked, Eddie's plan was working but now you were giving him the cold shoulder.

Steve narrowed his eyes as he watched the long-haired outcast pack his bag. The bell had signaled a free period for the both of them. It meant that Eddie would probably be on the throne in the drama room, writing and planning whatever he thought was next for his party.

Your bag hung low on your shoulder as you darted across the hall. Your Walkman was tight in your hand with no reason as to why the headphones were not secured over your head with music playing.

But your mind was swarming with too many thoughts that you had not even bothered with them. 

You fumbled with the lock a bit harsher than intended; books flying out as the rough movements had caused a rumble inside your locker. You dropped your walkman on the floor of it, zipping up your bag, and fishing around for what you needed. 

"So, did he call?" Barb's voice fluttered to your ears, making your head shoot up like a cat.

"Keep your voice down!" You couldn't see the look on Nancy's face but from her tone, you could tell she was giving her a stern look.

"Did he?" Barb said, her voice now a tone lower.

"I told you, it's not like that," Nancy said and you rolled your eyes. "Okay, I mean, yes, he likes me, but not like that. We just... made out a couple times." Nancy arrived at her locker and you pretended to be busy, shuffling with your books. 

'Not like that'. 

The words echoed in your mind and you wanted to laugh to yourself. If Nancy heard the way Steve would talk about her and bugged you to find a guy - she wouldn't say the same thing.

Or if she also knew all the struggle Steve had gone through to get you a boyfriend.

"We just... made out a couple times'” Barb mimicked her. "Nance seriously!" She argued, the rest of her sentence fading as you closed your locker and placed your headphones on. Led Zeppelin now blasting through your ears, drowning out the swarming thoughts that previously overwhelmed you.

Love. A putrid thing. Nancy’s lovestruck gaze, Steve’s childish giddiness… you didn’t need it. Or, at least you thought you didn’t.

~

"What in the world is going on, Munson?" Steve flung the door of the drama room open, making big movements with his hands as he walked the few steps towards Eddie. 

Eddie's eyes lifted from the figurine he was holding. "What?" 

In his chair as Steve predicted, the guy was casual and cool. Not a worry on his shoulder through the eyes of Steve and by the look of it, Eddie played the “I don’t know what you’re talking about” role quite well. 

But all Steve had to do was say your name and the façade dropped. 

"What's going on with my sister!?" Eddie's face fell. "I thought you were on good terms!?" 

"I'm sorry!” Eddie tossed the figurine across the table. “I know! I messed up!"

"The plan was working!" Steve lamented in distress. 

"I know it was." That was the whole reason why Eddie had chickened out and hadn't actually kissed you. "Maybe I can fix this." He thought through, his eyes landing on the lonely D20 in the middle of the table. 

"You have to fix this!" Steve pointed a finger at Eddie. "I've got a date planned!"

"Right," Eddie blinked, remembering this whole situation ran around Steve.

It wasn’t about Eddie’s feelings or the fact that this entire mess was wrong in the first place. It had been about this ‘Golden Boy’ the entire time. It always had been and would always be. Whatever Steve the King wanted, he would get at the detriment of others because he was lucky. He was lucky to get the girl with a little more than a smile and a smirk, he was lucky to fall in love and not feel like an animal in a zoo being watched by everyone because society had deemed it unnatural. 

But Eddie was trapped now. He was stuck. 

 "I'll think of something."

"Well,” Steve scoffed, “good luck because she said she hated you with the fire of a thousand suns. "

"Thank you… that's very comforting."

"Maybe she could just need a day to cool off?" 

"You tell me. That's your sister."

"Just- figure something out ok?" Steve removed another fifty from his back pocket and handed it to Eddie. Words couldn't come out of Eddie's mouth. He didn't want this money.

He really, really didn't want this money.

But before he could even react, Steve had turned around on his heels and the door of the drama room closed behind him with a loud thud, the sides of posters that missed tape flying as it did. 

Eddie blankly stared at the door. He knew he had hurt you. It was so far from his intention but it was all he could do to save himself. All he could do to give him the time to process his feelings and attempt to cope with the way everything pulled at his heartstrings.

He took the money, smoothing the bill out with his thumb. Ulysses S. Grant's face almost mocked him. Even if the lines didn't make a move - they stayed still and would forever be - but his eyes still seemed to be peering into Eddie's soul.

Eddie leaned back on his throne, a sigh coming deep from the bottom of his throat as his back hit the comfortable material. He looked up to the ceiling that was painted black and littered with spitballs still glued in various corners. 

He had to think about something.

Eddie wanted an excuse to spend more time with you even if his mind was screaming at him that this was wrong. You shouldn't be treated this way and if he really loved you like he thought he did, he should just let you go. Because he couldn't deal with the consequences of you figuring out this was all just a deal with Steve.

You had already gone through too much. Already gone through so much hate and pain caused by Steve and his friends. You deserve a break, you deserved better than this. 

Yet Eddie felt selfish at the same time. Because as his eyes stayed closed and he breathed out through his nose, he couldn't stop imagining your smile. The way your eyes shone when he cracked a joke, or the way you became flustered when your hands brushed up against each other. He couldn’t ignore that his heart was screaming at him to be with you. 

In the few moments spent together, he saw the way you opened up to him, the way your shell melted to reveal the person of Eddie's dreams. He wanted to keep being with you. He wanted to hold your hand and be able to call you his. He wanted to kiss you like you were the only two people in this entire world. 

Maybe he could forget that this was fake. 

He could play pretend and let his heart cave into its wants.

After all, he was paid to make you like him again. 

Paid to repair the cracks he created.

~

"I need your help," Eddie dropped his tray onto his spot, making Oliver and Gareth lift their heads up from their meals. They watched as their friend heavily sat on the plastic chair and placed his hands on each side of his tray.

"What's up?" Oliver ripped open his milk carton and brought it to his lips. 

"I messed up with Y/n. I want to sing her a song so she'll forgive me." Oliver choked on his milk at Eddie's words. 

"And why do you need our help?" Gareth frowned side-eying Oliver who was coughing his lungs out. Some people looked, giving a sneer and not caring if Oliver would choke and die from a school milk carton. 

"Because I need my band!"

"Wait,” Oliver swallowed his coughs, “How do you want to sing her a song?" 

"Tomorrow on the bleachers, right as she finishes soccer."

"Sorry, what?" Oliver blinked. "Are you mad?"

"Maybe," Eddie shrugged, looking down at his meal with a smile. This seemed like the perfect idea. It was bold and very metal. Everything Eddie stood for in life and if it could help you forgive him, then he would gladly take this opportunity and make a scene in front of the whole school.

Across the lunchroom, Nancy and Barb began to eat lunch with an empty spot at their table. 

"Where's Y/n?" Nancy wondered as she lifted her head up to scan the room. You were nowhere to be found. It wasn't unusual but it didn't happen as often lately.

"I'm not sure," Barb shrugged before poking at her dish. "She seemed mad about something." If Barb recalled correctly, she sensed your state when she saw you that morning was tense and distracted. You hadn’t made any effort to listen into Nancy’s gossip or support the growing relationship between Steve and herself. 

"I hope she's alright," Nancy frowned, jabbing at her food before a thought came to her mind. "Oh! I saw her at the party on Friday! I was so surprised!"

"What?" Barb's eyes went wide. The fork dropped into her lunch box in the process. 

"Yeah!" Nancy nodded. "I was surprised too. She got really drunk and made a whole scene."

Barb flattened at Nancy’s recollection. This wasn't like you. First of all, stepping one foot at that party wasn't something that had ever been in your plans let alone getting drunk and doing something crazy.  

She thought back to everything that had happened within these past two weeks. Steve had been victim of a no dating rule, and apparently, a fresh new 'no going out rule'. Was this all related? The thought nudged her mind as she blankly stared at her water bottle. 

Steve seemed to be bugging you more than usual. You were complaining about him even more too. Maybe he had gotten to you? Had you caved in and went to the party to appease him or were they missing something?

~

"How's my favorite troublemaker?" Your hand slithered into Dustin's curls as he approached your car later that afternoon. He had a solemn look on his face–like an animal had died in front of him. 

"Could be better..." you watched as his eyes went down to his shoes and the crease between his eyebrows became prominent.

"What happened?"

There was little that could prepare you for the words that came tumbling from his lips. He failed a test, he isn’t allowed to ride his bike anymore, he lost a campaign… something menial or harmless for a boy his age. His shoulders barred a heavier weight. The world was collapsing on him in a different way than it was you. 

When he looked at you, there was an immense worry etched onto his face. 

It was chilling. It wasn’t something you had ever sensed before. 

"Will's missing."

"What?" Your hand paused on the door handle to your car. 

"Yeah,” Dustin gripped the string on his backpack. “Will wasn't home this morning, didn't show up to school, and during lunch we were brought to the police station and they just brought us back like nothing was wrong."

"Well, do you know where he could be?" You frowned, finally making a move to open the door.

"No," Dustin furrowed his brows as he made his way around the hood and slipped into the passenger seat. "But I think he will be alright, I mean it's Will. He has to be ok."

"Yeah, I'm sure he’s fine" you spoke but your words were unsure, a scowl of your own forming deeper as you turned on the car and exited the lot.

Kids didn’t go missing in Hawkins. Everyone knew everyone and there were good relationships between the police and the people. A part of you thought that if the police, likely Chief Hopper, said that there was nothing to worry about, maybe you should believe it. 

But that look on Dustin’s face… it stuck. It stuck because no one disappeared in the night and were never seen again. It just didn’t happen. 

"Yeah..." He looked out the window and sighed, shaking the thought away as the houses and trees invaded his view.

"How was AV club? Or was it canceled?" You changed the subject trying to get the worry out of Dustin's face.

"It was insane!" His eyes sparkled for a brief second. For a moment he was a kid again and he was safe. "You'll never guess how far his new radio can communicate too!"

"New York?"

"Further."

"England?"

"Think bigger."

"Australia? There's no way it can reach that far. That’s way too far."

"IT CAN!"

"No way!” You laughed to amuse him. “That's crazy."

And you drove him home and pretended everything was ok for a minute. Will wasn’t missing, Steve and Tommy weren’t assholes, and Eddie Munson wasn’t the one breaking your heart. 

~

"This is a bad idea," Oliver secured his guitar, eyeing the speakers on each side of the court. Gareth, who had set up his drum set hidden behind the bleachers, gulped at the thought of playing in front of the entire team and the other scattered students that filled the spaces beyond the field.

"No, it's not!" Eddie flashed them a smile. Jeff wasn't looking sure of himself either and nervously eyed all the students that were peacefully settled on the bleachers. They were either working or chatting–far from expecting what was about to happen. Eddie narrowed his eyes as he spotted you in the crowd of players as your team was ending the game. 

Eddie eyed his band mates. Is this really the same band who want to become rockstars and whose dream is to sell out the Garden?  Eddie thought to himself before looking back down.

You clapped dirt off of your hands and fixed your shirt as you eyed your teammates, pondering at your next move, a move that you had never gotten the chance to do because the teacher blew his whistle.

This marked their cue. 

Eddie looked at Jeff and one glance was all it took for him to start on the bass. 

The notes filled the air around the field and like a wave, students lifted their heads. Some dropped pencils, some clamped their books closed in fright, and the young ninth grader holding all the soccer balls dropped the bag and let them scatter.

Music wasn’t something they heard on the fields of Hawkins High School late in the afternoon. 

Oliver joined on the guitar, Gareth on the drums. Their instruments mixed together to create the perfect harmony that had been written and played a thousand times before.

You knew this. 

You knew this song by heart even.

Your eyes lifted up the bleachers. First landing on Oliver who was head down on his guitar, doing the famous notes with ease and nerves circulating around him. Jeff was standing not far behind, handling his bass with perfection. Your eyes traveled to their left, to be met with Eddie's mischievous gaze already set on you. 

Oh my god.

What was happening registered.

He was apologizing… In the most Eddie way possible. 

You had to bite back a smile as he brought the mic to his lips, and started humming the familiar tune.If you weren't sure what this song was before, now you surely did. 

"Tonight," his voice echoed in the field, all eyes becoming fixed on him.

"What the fuck?" Carol's eyes went wide from her spot at the bottom of the bleachers. Steve had his jaw already dropped to the floor.

"Is this his way of apologizing?" Tommy laughed in disbelief. He wished he had a camcorder. He would record this and send it across the country so people could laugh in disbelief of what happens in small-town Hawkins, Indiana. 

"I want to give it all to you," his hand pointed right towards you and you didn't know if you wanted to smile or disappear into the grass. "In the darkness, there's so much I want to do-"

Your heart pounded too loudly in your chest. Heat threatening to climb up to your face as the lyrics registered. It was just the song. You had to remind yourself that as you bit the inside of your cheek. 

"And tonight, I want to lay it at your feet," Eddie moved down a few steps, walking further towards the center. 

"Cause girl I was made for you, and girl you were made for me-" Eddie screamed into the mic, shaking his hair before the beat dropped. This time, you couldn't help the smile creep up to your lips. You even had to place a hand on top of your mouth to prevent yourself from smiling too much at the absurdity of the scene.

"I was made for lovin' you baby! You were meant for lovin' me!" If the situation had been different you would have danced and sang your heart out to this song. 

But it wasn't. No amount of music could make you forget that you were standing on the field with Eddie singing I Was Made for Lovin' You on full blast with half of the school watching. 

Eddie's gaze had to snap away from yours when the gym teacher started to climb up the rough wooden steps of the bleachers with a determined face. Eddie tried not to laugh and keep his calm as he continued beautifully singing the words. 

You giggled when you watched the poor teacher chase him around. Eddie jumped from step to step in an attempt to ditch him. He made big movements, trying to dance as well and still looking at you with those damn Romeo eyes.

"Oh my god," You muttered under your breath when Eddie dodged the teacher and gave his butt a slap. The teacher’s eyes widened before he turned around and continued the wild goose chase.

Most of the students who wouldn't believe what they were witnessing were laughing and giggling at the scene while Steve and Carol still had their jaws dropped to the floor. Tommy continued to laugh, crunching into himself as his stomach began to hurt in amusement. 

You winced when the teacher’s hand finally wrapped around Eddie's shoulder and he was dragged out of the bleachers. Oliver and Jeff stopped playing and tried to melt into the scenery in order to not get caught too which had appeared to work. 

It wasn't news that Eddie had a target on his back when it came to receiving detention. He'd always been target number one and most of the time, he would be the only one to be blamed for crazy stunts like these.

Which meant that by the end of the day, you knew exactly where to find him. 

All anger dissipated from your system as your only thoughts were to get to him, all potential focus that you could have had in class disappearing with it. You wanted to see the smug look on his face when you confronted him about it and maybe even ask him what the hell was wrong with him. 

You didn't even bother knocking when you opened the classroom door.

The detention room was small. Located on the ground floor where it previously held Mrs.Click's history class, but sadly no timelines or bright maps were on the walls. It was a gloomy classroom and would have almost looked like Gollum's cave if not for the large glass door behind the teacher's desk. You took note that it was opened and letting in the warming spring breeze. 

Eddie and the other few students snapped their heads towards you as the door creaked open. You were surprised to see Connor and his fluffy red hair who was leaning over his desk, half asleep and doodling random things on his notebook. 

Mr. Callum was running detention that afternoon. 

"Mr. Callum?" Your soft voice made Eddie's heart leap in his chest. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"What can I do for you, Harrington?" Mr. Callum looked up from the papers on his desk. He was wearing a white shirt and formal pants, which seemed far off from his element. 

In truth, you had never seen him teach anything else than volleyball or swimming, and it was weird seeing him dressed any other way than with sports clothes and without his usual green whistle around his neck. 

"I have some ideas on how we can improve the girl's volleyball team!"

"Great! Let's talk about it later." He nodded, a tight smile on his lips before he turned back to his desk. When he wasn't looking, you locked eyes with Eddie. He had a dumb smile on his lips as he watched you, and your frantic movements snapped him back to reality.

You were waving your hand towards the glass door, and mouthing the word 'door' as best you could. Eddie frowned when he didn't understand, and it wasn't until the movements you were making caught the teacher's attention which made him snap his head towards you again that he understood what you meant. 

You came here to get him out of detention - brilliant.

You gave your best smile towards Mr. Callum. "As you know, we have a really big game coming up!" Your voice wavered as he was about to turn his head back around, you grabbed his arm and squealed "Oh my god! Your bicep is huge!" Mr. Callum barely saw the wrongness in your words and nodded along. You winced when his reaction was nothing but agreement. 

"You don't take steroids do you, because I've heard steroids can severely disintegrate your-" you didn't want to say it, you didn't even know why you were rambling but this seemed to be the only way you could keep him from turning back around and busting Eddie. "Package!" you squeaked and every single student present started chuckling. "Not that I'm thinking about your package, that's not the point-" 

"Let's hope not," Mr. Callum crossed his arms.

Eddie's eyes went wide and he had to put his hand over his mouth to stop his laughter from becoming audible--his muffled noises still caused Mr. Callum to want to turn back around.

"The point is, they kick our butts every year. And I was thinking, I devised a plan that will enable us to finally defeat them."

"Which is?" Mr. Callum raised an eyebrow, his attention back to you.

"That thing that you taught us!" He looked expectant to know the rest. "Misdirection!"

"I taught you that?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah," your voice wavered again, just like it always did when you lie. 

The floorboards under Eddie's feet groaned as he almost reached the door, Mr. Callum made a move to turn his head around but you grabbed his shoulders.

"Think about it!" Your eyes were wide as your brain worked a hundred miles per hour. "They're looking left, and we're throwing right! Bang they drop the ball, we win!"

"Okay, but how do we get them to look left?" You eyed from behind Mr. Callum's shoulder as Eddie slightly pushed the door more open so he could get through, the door making a tiny squeak.

You panicked. This was going to be it, and both you and Eddie were going to get a hundred hours of detention.

"Like this!" You grabbed the hem of your shirt with both your hands and lifted it up just over your chest, you didn't know why you hadn't decided on wearing a bra today but this has turned out to be very helpful. There was a pause that felt like minutes before the whole class cheered and clapped, Mr. Callum blankly staring from your chest to your eyes. 

Behind him, Eddie's jaw dropped at the sight and gulped. He was frozen between the door and outside, unable to speak or move. Your gaze flickered towards him and you had to give him your best glare so he could snap out of it and realize this was his cue to run away. 

He reluctantly moved his gaze away, shaking the shock out before running off towards the familiar clearing in the woods.

"Okay, well." You cleared your throat and fixed your shirt. "Now that you've seen 'The plan', I'm going to go and show 'the plan' to someone else!" You turned around on your heels to be met with a whole class of grinning students, they clapped as you walked down an aisle before disappearing behind the door again.

~

"Are you mad?" Eddie chuckled in disbelief as you walked into the clearing. He was sitting at the mossy picnic table, still chuckling to himself, disbelief present in the air.

"What?" You lifted your eyebrows with a matching smile dancing on your lips.

"You flashed the teacher?" Eddie expressed. His eyebrows raised as he stared at you. He was still shell-shocked by 1. seeing your chest bare and 2. the fact that you did that just to get him out of detention.

"He's leaving at the end of the year anyways!" 

"Still!" He stood up. "You don't do that just to help someone get out of detention!"

"You know a thank you would suffice," you looked at him, using the same line he had used on you. 

He smiled, solemnly nodding, "thank you."

"You're welcome," you proudly lifted your chin up.

"What can I do to return the favor?"

"I don't know..." You bit the inside of your cheek, lifting your eyes to the sky as if you were thinking. "Maybe... finally take me on that date?" You lifted an eyebrow and as if it was even possible, Eddie's smile became wider.

"It's a deal." He offered his hand. "Shall we?" 

You were glad the Hawkins High parking was on the other side of the building from the detention room. Sneaking out the school grounds became easier than planned and before you knew it you were wrapping your knuckles around the white handle of Eddie's van.

The dragon's head moved up and down as you threw your backpack on the floor and closed the van's door behind you. Eddie was still smiling to himself when he turned the van on, his hair going wild and his shirt definitely needed to be fixed, but he looked high on excitement, eyes sparkling as he started driving out of the hell that was this place.

"Where are you taking me?" 

The second he was out of the High School grounds, the sunlight peered into the car, his eyes almost turning gold when it did. He blinked from it and it made you reach over, putting your other hand on his knee for support as you pulled down the sun visor for him. You didn't want to--his eyes looked so beautiful in this light, but you knew he was struggling to keep his eyes open. You pulled your own down and he couldn't help but smile at you before answering.

"It's a surprise," his tone was playful and it made you all the more curious.

"Surprise?" 

"You'll see."

When the familiar buildings and houses of Hawkins became nothing but forest, you really wondered where he was taking you. There seemed to be nothing but lush and wild different shades of green for miles away.

Twenty minutes later, the familiar welcoming sign of another city came into view. You knew this place. You had been there to go apple picking when you were a child and your parents had brought you there for their famous corn maze on Halloween two years ago.

Steve had made a tantrum over the fact that he was there and not at Tommy's Halloween bash. He even got your hair stuck in a candy apple and you had to get a haircut because the red sugar wouldn't come off. 

The town came into view. Low gray buildings, a mall with a big parking lot, a garage that looked bigger and fancier than the one Eddie worked at. You even drove past a flea market with kids running around. You spotted a teen about your age trying out a bike that an old woman was selling. 

You knew this town was slightly bigger than Hawkins and held more activities for the younger community. It wasn't a town you were used to going to, but you could clearly remember each visit like yesterday. 

Eddie drove right to the edge of it, and towards the familiar farm. A big apple-picking sign stood at the entrance, and right on top of it was the huge CORN MAZE sign you remembered. With the same drawing of a big corn with eyes and legs with a speech bubble that said 'Welcome'. The only difference is that this time the corn was decorated with creepy drawings and spiders to make it Halloween-themed. 

Eddie drove right through an arch with Jerry's Farm written in big red letters on top. 

"You're taking me to Jerry's farm?" 

"What? You don't like it?" He side-eyed you, smiling but deep inside still hoping this was a good idea.

"I do," you nodded and took a look around as he parked. A new activity had been added that you hadn't seen before–Paintball. 

You eyed the sign right in front of it; splashes of colors with yellow writing. The Paintball area wasn't too big nor too small. Blocks of hay had been reorganized to create hiding places, and wooden installations with ladders were placed to act as obstacles or lookout spots.

People were already playing, throwing paint-filled balloons at each other and giggling as the paint splashed all over their coats and even covered the lab glasses the farm had provided before the game. Some even had paint on their hair, but they all looked so happy it warmed your heart.

"You want to go paintballing?" Eddie broke the silence as he watched you stare at the poster.

"I've never done it before," you turned your stare to him. The want to try it evident across your face.

"Then we have to!"

"Alright!" you beamed back, a smile so bright your cheeks were hurting. 

Eddie turned off the van and pocketed the key. You followed him out and passed right under a new arch that separated the parking from the farm itself. 

Immediately, the air was filled with the smell of hay and apple cider. Children were running across the earth paths and freshly cut grass, their parents following close behind with a cup of apple cider and a basket full of apples. A group of teenagers were giggling as they walked back to the parking lot, their hair full of paint as they made their way back. You didn't recognize any of them from Hawkins High and you were kind of happy about it. 

For the first time in a long time, you felt like you could be somewhere and not feel dirty glances every now and there. You didn't know if that was Eddie's intention but this place felt like an escape from Hawkins even though it was right there. A bit like The Hideout. So close, yet feeling so far.

"What are you thinking about?" Eddie smiled as you made your way towards the Paintball counter.

"Hawkins," you blinked your thoughts away to look at him. 

"Ah.”

"This feels like it's 100 miles away when it doesn’t take even 30 minutes to get here.” 

"Yeah… I get that."

"You come here often?"

"My uncle used to take me every Halloween until I got older," Eddie smiled, his shoulder grazing yours as you walked. "And we usually come here to get our Christmas tree because Wayne knows the guy so he gives us one for free," he chuckled as he said that, looking down at his shoes as if it were something to be embarrassed about. "Then I also came with the band last October. Gareth got lost in the maze and Oliver got a date with one of the zombies."

"What?" You laughed.

"Oliver met her after the maze and then they just got along, I guess? He must have really liked her personality because she was aging really badly.” 

Eddie nudged his elbow at you with a smile on his face. He got a kick out of his own jokes. 

"Well maybe that’s just it then," you chuckled at the idea, “personalities mean a lot more than looks.” 

“I’m sure that’s part of it,” he agreed. 

“How did you know this was here?” 

"I saw their advertisement in the newspaper yesterday. Saw they opened some new stuff and that's why I thought of here."

"You read the newspaper, Munson?" You raised a teasing eyebrow.

"No,” he shook his head in a lie. “I do not, but Wayne does." He picked it up… sometimes. 

You took your eyes off of Eddie when the counter came into view. An elderly man was standing behind it and behind him were wooden shelves with a collection of already paint-stained shirts and lab glasses. To his left was a younger girl, about fifteen who was most likely his granddaughter. She was sitting on a wooden stool, with a pack of empty balloons on her lap. Her auburn hair was tied into braids and she blew away the few strands that were tickling her forehead when her gloved hands reached for a tube of paint. You couldn't help but watch as she skillfully filled up a balloon and tied it up before gently placing it in a yellow bucket. 

At her feet were a dozen of different-colored buckets--all filled with multicolored balloons. There were so many buckets that they fully filled the space between her and her grandfather.

"How can I help you kids?"

Eddie eyed the chalkboard on the counter, scanning through the words before looking back at him. 

"We'd like two buckets, please."

"Perfect," the man nodded with a smile. First, turning around to hand both of your shirts and glasses. He placed them on the counter and you grabbed yours with a smile in return. The shirt was already filled with spots of paint--thankfully dried up. You slipped both your arms through the sleeves before gently putting each white button into their designated holes to close it up.

You were about to reach for your wallet in the back pocket of your jeans to pay for your bucket and maybe even Eddie's but when you lifted your gaze from the plastic white buttons Eddie had already slipped the six dollars to the man.

"You need to stop doing that," you said as you grabbed your glasses.

"Doing what?" Eddie turned his head to you, grinning when he was met with your new look. Big lab glasses and a shirt that more resembled a coat that was already ruined by paint and weirdly suited you. Your hair tied back as much as possible and Eddie couldn't help but love the sight.

"Paying for me."

"Oh,” he shrugged, “it's no biggie."

"No biggie? Eds–"

"–Y/n, it's only six dollars, it's fine." He really tried to pretend like you hadn't just called him Eds for the first time. Only his close friends called him by this nickname, and the fact that you were also catching onto it made his heart jump in his chest.

"No, it's not fine," you glared at him while he placed his own vest and tied his hair back in a ponytail. You watched him the same way he had watched you seconds prior, he looked really handsome like this, and a bit funny once the big lab glasses that were dotted with green and blue paint were secured around his head.

"Have fun!" The elderly man dropped two buckets on the wood of the counter, a blue and a green one filled with balloons of all colors. You grabbed the green one and Eddie the blue before he followed you into the mess of paint and hay.

You hit first. Grabbing a pink balloon that cracked open with a splash of blue on Eddie's lab coat. The paint smeared right up to his face and almost landed in his mouth. His cheeks now held freckles of blue and his eyes wide and mouth open in shock as he lifted a finger to wipe the paint from his cheek. You giggled like a kid in front of a cartoon show as you admired his reaction.

But you didn't have much time to because he was already hitting back. Sending a neon yellow balloon that turned out to have the exact same color inside. It hit you right in the stomach, its color reaching up to your chin. 

Eddie had to resist the urge to take just one step closer and reach out to wipe the paint from your face. 

But this wasn't a romantic moment. It was a fierce battle that you declared when you sent the pink plastic bomb his way. 

He saw something shift in your eyes, a competitive glare Eddie had never seen on you before and before he could even comprehend what he was doing, Eddie was running behind a haystack in a poor attempt to dodge one of your attacks. 

Eddie threw blindly, still hidden in fear that he would get hit in the face again. He waited for the right moment; right when he knew you wouldn't expect him, he jumped out from behind his hiding place. You half giggled, half screamed, the balloon in your hand throwing itself onto him with so much force he winced a bit but the second the throw registered he sent the balloon still in his grip right to you. 

The roles changed and now it was Eddie chasing you around the different obstacles. You were both giggling like idiots and only knew Eddie had succeeded at his throw when you felt a balloon hit you in the middle of your back, the green paint going up to your hair. 

You hid behind a big wooden pillar. Your back resting against it as you waited for Eddie to hit again, you heard the paint hit the wood and Eddie approaching it right after. You abruptly turned around when he was close enough, dropping the balloon right on his head. His whole face lit up with surprise but then his eyes became full of playful revenge, making you dart off again.

You blindly shot one from behind and it missed, hitting the ground beside his feet and landing in a puddle of mud. You were just about to sprint off again when Eddie called out to you, making a time-out sign with his hand and dropping his bucket on the floor. Of course, you believed him, foolishly falling for his doe eyes and stopping in your tracks. He made a movement to reach for you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders when you were close enough. 

You let yourself melt into his touch, unknowing that Eddie held a small green balloon in his other hand. He smiled, letting you enjoy the embrace before planting the balloon on the crown of your head the way you had done minutes prior.

You gasped, reaching for a balloon of your own before throwing it into his chest. You pushed him away and made your run. Eddie laughed as he attempted to follow you. 

There was a carefree nature about everything. No one knew who you were. No one cared what your status was or who you were when you woke up that morning. You felt free, as did Eddie, when all that filled your ears was the sound of laughter and joy and your hearts were healing all the same. 

The wild chase went on. Balloons were thrown everywhere and you both became multicolored messes until only 2 balloons were left in your bucket and one lonely one at the bottom of Eddie's. 

You were hiding behind a weird wooden sculpture. He could clearly see the toe of your shoes poking out on the ground next to the pillar. Eddie carefully walked towards it, as softly as he could not to raise suspicion that he had found you.

"Boo!" This time you were expecting it–not like the time he had scared you back at the music store.

You threw your last balloon at him, but when the plastic cracked as it hit his chest, Eddie had already reached for you and wrapped his arm around your torso, making the pink paint smear all over the both of you. With you in his arms, he let himself fall into the big haystack.

The hit of the fall nonexistent as the hay cushioned any fear of hurt.

You both giggled like idiots as Eddie threw his glasses away and removed yours too, throwing them in the same direction as he had thrown his. 

He was leaning over you, his big beautiful eyes piercing at your soul. Loose strands of his hair were coming to tickle your face but you didn't care. From so close, you could see the small freckles that had appeared from being exposed to sunlight mixed in with green and pink paint. 

"Do you have a map?" You whispered and Eddie raised an eyebrow. "I'm getting lost in your eyes."

"Stop!" He giggled. "You just ruined the moment!" 

"I'm sorry!" You chuckled with him. "I just thought this was a good one."

"Well, it was." His voice lowered as he spoke, chills running down your spine. 

You didn't know if it was the smell of hay mixed with paint or the way he was looking at you, but you found it hard to catch your breath.

Your hand reached up to his cheek. Your thumb wiped away a stain of yellow and as you did, Eddie moved his thumb across your lips, wiping away a stain of blue that had made its mark during the battle.

His eyes were darting between attempting to keep eye contact and starting at your lips. Your heart beat faster the closer he got. His breath fanned over you as he leaned down. He was so close that even over the paint and hay, you could smell him. Every piece of him had intoxicated you to the point where you lost your train of thought. 

It was only Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. 

He paused the moment your noses touched. A fragment of air between you, Eddie’s heart stopped as the world paused around you both. Two people, an unsuspected Romeo and an unwilling-to-be Juliet without an inkling of space between them. Only a heart with reaching strings threatening to combine lingered in the air. 

In that pause, Eddie questioned silently the thought he had circled around the last time he should have kissed you. 

Did you want this?

And yes, you did. 

Eddie didn’t have to answer the question himself. Your hand gilded against his cheek and brought his lips to yours. 

And like a fire racing through a waiting town, it erupted your body in flames. 

Vanished were the problems of the world as Eddie held you tightly, cupping your face as your hands wrapped around his neck to bring him closer. You felt his body, on fire like your own, cooling the worries that had captivated hours of life. It washed and cleared the path of ruin to one of salvation in hope. The hay a protector against his palms as Eddie shifted, the needles of Steve’s money piercing but never penetrating. 

The bargain and the green monsters of the chances he had wasted a small fragment of his mind in the moment. The problems were fleeting; sailing away on a ship as the heart found a home in you.  

You didn't know how long you laid like this, making out in the middle of a paintball field in Jerry's Farm and it wasn't that you weren't enjoying this, the moment couldn't be more perfect, but the idea latched on your mind and you couldn't pass up that opportunity. 

One of your hands moved away from Eddie's neck and fished for the last balloon that had fallen in the hay beside you. You pulled away and Eddie looked at you with the most adorable smile you had ever seen.

You were almost feeling guilty for what you were about to do.

Almost.

You lifted your hand up and smashed the green balloon right on his forehead, the blue insides of it smeared all over his hair and almost in his eyes. His mouth went wide in shock but then he had to smile when your beautiful laughter invaded his ears.

"You sneaky little-" before he could finish his sentence you pulled him down back to you, locking your lips with his once again. The kiss was messier and broken as he couldn't keep the grin away from his lips. Before you knew it he pulled away and rubbed his forehead on your cheek and neck as a way to get back to you, the paint rubbing off and painting your entire side blue.

"Eddie! Stop!" You giggled as his hair started tickling you, peppering kisses on the side of your neck in the process.

He lifted himself up, his arms straight on each side of you and his body casting a perfect shadow. 

You looked at him, no, admired him in all his glory. He looked so beautiful like this. His entire face lit up in happiness. His hair was messy; full of paint and you wondered how he was going to get that out which made your thoughts spiral to your own hair that was probably now also covered in hay in addition to the multicolored paint.

"We could be Star Wars characters," you giggled, thinking back to the colored aliens that appeared in the film. The ones that were all blue with the long head tails.

"Yeah, we could," he chuckled at the reference before pecking your lips again. "I think we should go," he whispered.

"Before they kick us out for making out or something."

"Yeah…” You smiled at him. “Definitely"

~

The van's dark seats are a mess by the end of the ride. Blue, green, yellow, and pink paint ended up getting smeared all over the headrests and on the wheel when Eddie accidentally scratched his hair and placed his hand back on the wheel. 

The shoulders of Eddie's white shirt had been repainted when his hair tie snapped, his curls going wild and letting paint loose all over the sides. On the passenger side, you had tried to be as careful as you could. Thanking the lab coat for making your clothes stay clean and you also thanked the grass where you had rubbed the paint out of your shoes back at Jerry's farm--but it was really hard not to get the paint from your hair to smear all over the top of your seat.

Eddie didn't know what to do when he got to the door of the trailer as his hand was stained in pink paint. He didn't mind getting paint on his keys but he winced when his fingers wrapped around the door handle, leaving a pink trail behind him. 

It was like painting a crime scene with his fingerprints. If anything ever went wrong, the police would surely catch him pink-handed. 

The second he stepped in, he removed his shoes by fear of them still sheltering paint, and you followed his actions. You both scurried off to the kitchen sink, only taking Eddie's trailer in when you dried off your hands with a red grid-patterned towel. 

The collections of various teacups made you smile. The whole inside was cluttered and felt homey–you could tell he and his uncle had lived here for years and it somehow warmed your heart. It felt messy but in the best way possible. 

Only when Eddie saw you look around did he realize the mess and tried his best to clean the wrappers off the table in a haste as if you hadn't already noticed them.

"Sorry for the mess," he winced as he opened the trash can and dumped empty wrappers and some soda cans.

"Don't worry about it," you shook your head and if the locks of your hair weren't stuck to your cheekbones because of the paint, they would have moved with you. "The whole place looks really nice," you smiled to yourself. "It's very you." 

"Thanks? " He tilted his head as he took the words in. You said it in such a way that it sounded like a compliment and even if Eddie was still unsure, it made heat creep up his cheeks. 

It was him. This whole place was his heart and soul bleeding from the worn linoleum and mugs on the wall. 

You chuckled at his blushing. The way he looked away as he tried to remember what he wanted to say next made your heart flutter in your chest. The nerves of romance, you supposed. 

"Um,” Eddie cleared his throat. “You can take a shower if you want. I don't think I have very good shampoo but I'm sure it's better than anything if you don’t want to have to cut your hair–" he scratched the back of his neck as he tried to not make his offer sound weird.

"I'd like that, thank you," you cut him off before he could continue rambling. "But only if I get to wear one of your shirts after because my shoulders are definitely as stained as yours."

He gave a small smile at your offer. "Of course you can."

You picked Eddie's favorite Metallica shirt. You didn't know it was his favorite and he would never tell you because the sparks in your eyes when you spotted it was enough for him to agree that he never needed to see it ever again. It was a large dark gray shirt, with a white logo that was a little washed out from the number of times Eddie had worn it but you seemed to love it nonetheless. 

And when you walked out of his bathroom, hair wrapped around the light blue towel he had given you and wearing that damn Metallica shirt that he now swore it looked a hundred times better on you and he knew he was a goner. 

The little smile you gave him when you sat beside him on the couch almost sent him to heaven. He was so in love with you for the short time you had actually given him a chance that he wasn’t sure he’d ever recover. 

This was the end game. You were his perfect person. 

"Stop staring at me like that,” you scoffed a laugh, biting on your lip at the look he was giving you, practically melting beside him.

"Sorry," he looked away and raised his hands in innocence. "You just look very pretty, that's all." Eddie looked down at his hands and picked at his nails so he would focus on something else than you.

"You should go take a shower before the paint fully dries," you noticed.

"Right," Eddie shook his head as remembered that his hair still looked like a parrot had shit the rainbow of his feathers on him. "I'll be right back."

By the time he was back, you were sitting down by the kitchen counter, a cup of warm tea in between your hands and a second one right by it. Eddie smiled at the sight and your look became a bit embarrassed when you felt his stare wouldn't leave you.

"I- I hope it's ok, I made myself some tea, and um... a cup for you too."

"That's more than ok, thank you, sweetheart," he smiled, making his way towards you and sitting on the stool beside you, kissing your cheek before grabbing the warm cup for himself. 

You looked at him as he brought the cup to his lips. His eyes looked at a random spot by the kitchen, while his ringed hands were securely wrapped around the cup. A dot of pink was still lodged in the creases of one of his skull rings, and you almost smiled at the absurdity. Smiled at the look of a ring that was supposed to be scary being now decorated in pink. When you went back up to his face, you noticed the faded smear of blue was faintly present in between his temple and his ear.

You reached for it with your hand, delicately wiping the blue out with your thumb for good. The color disappeared easily with the water still dripping from his hair. Eddie's gaze fell back to you as he watched your movements with intent. Your fingers climb up to tangle with the top of his hair, gently tugging down to untangle his damp locks.

"You've got a hairbrush?" He nodded, not saying a word before climbing out of his seat and leaving for his room. 

He went through a few of his things before he finally found it. A big black hairbrush which he had just cleaned out this morning.

He came back into the living space and he saw that you had removed the towel from your head and your hair fell loose again. Clean and fresh in his space.

"Here," he handed it to you, still watching, thinking you would use it on yourself.

"Turn around."

"Huh?" 

"Turn around!" You made a circle with the brush and Eddie felt all words die in the back of his throat as he obeyed.

He stayed baffled as he felt the hairbrush cling to the ends of his hair and slowly moved down. Your hand came next, preparing the brush's journey before it came to grasp at his hair a second time.

"Tell me if I accidentally hurt you"

You could never, he thought to himself, but nodded instead. And just by the simple start of your movements, he could tell it was true.

All the tension Eddie might have held in his shoulders disappeared with your gentle movements. His eyes closed by themselves as you started to bring the brush higher on his scalp, your fingers always coming up first to trace the road of the brush and almost making him hum with content but never in the world would he let that slip past his lips that early in the relationship.

Even if he felt the world he knew was drastically different now, he’d never voice them in such a way. He didn’t want to scare you away. He didn’t want to give you cause to run and hide because he couldn’t reel himself in. 

"All done," he didn't know how long it had been–maybe hours, minutes or seconds, but he felt like he had just been sent to space and back. He felt sleepy, dazed and more relaxed than he had ever felt in years.

And it might have definitely shown on his features because of the short laugh you let out when he turned back around to face you.

"By your lack of words and the look on your face, I think I've been gentle enough with your hair," 

"Um- yeah," he cleared his throat in a poor attempt to come back to reality, to make his feet touch the ground again. 

You smiled as you looked at it, raising your hand towards him to thread through his bangs in an attempt to correctly place them, a happy look on your lips. "All nice now!"

Eddie watched as you hooked your fingers in the brush and balled up all the hair that had accumulated in its bristles before making your way around the counter and dumping it in the trash. When it was all clean you started with your own hair.

"Give me that!" He reached for you with his hand, "my turn"

"Alright," you smiled and sat back on your previous spot, handing the back brush to Eddie before turning around.

Eddie started with the ends, just like you had done for him. Your eyes closed as he brushed through the knots and reached your scalp. You let yourself become content. It felt so nice and comforting.

“Did you hear about that kid going missing?” You opened your eyes again as the words left your lips. The idea of Will being missing is still nudging at your mind on repeat.

“The Byers kid?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I think everyone has heard of it by now,” Eddie sighs a bit as he says it, his focus still set on your hair.

“They’re doing a search party for him tonight…” You looked down at your hands, noticing some paint still lodged in your fingernail. “Are you going?”

“I can’t unfortunately… Wayne needs me. You?”

“I am. I have too. It’s Dustin’s best friend… I have to show my support.” Eddie nodded in understanding.

“Well, be careful,” Eddie gave you a small smile that you couldn’t see as he dropped the hair brush on the counter. “Where are they going to start the search?”

“Around Mirkwood. That’s where he disappeared…”

"Mirkwood? Like in the Hobbit?"

"Oh, sorry, yeah, um Dustin calls it that. I sort of caught on."

"I love that."

"He calls the school Mordor."

"He does?" He raised his eyebrows with a big smile.

"Yeah," you nodded. "I do too now. No one understands when I say it"

"I do now."

"Good. Then I'll start saying it around you,” you nodded proudly. "The misty mountains are the hills after Mirkwood. Dustin lives around there. And the shire is the area with all the white picket fence houses, one of his friends lives there that's why he's named it that. They have the whole of Middle Earth mapped out in Hawkins."

"What's the mainstreet with all the shops called?"

"You're going to laugh."

"Say it."

"Rivendell."

"Rivendell?" He made a face. "Why would they call that Rivendell?"

"Because it's their favorite location in all the books. So they say that going to the main street is like going to Rivendell. You've got the arcade up the road and shops where you can get toys and comics," he looked at you weirdly. "Their words not mine," you raised your hands in innocence.

"What's your favorite place in Middle Earth?"

"Lothlorien"

"Oh,” Eddie nodded his head, “that's such a good one."

"I know right!? I was obsessed with Galadriel as a child.” You exclaimed and the joy that emitted from you was contagious. “And the way it's described, it's so beautiful. That’s why Dustin named where I live that and plus he says he makes sense because it’s in the forest,” you smiled as you remembered all the times Dustin called your place Lothlorien.

 “What’s your favorite place?"

"Mine is so boring," he sighed in defeat.

"I'm sure it's not!"

"The Shire."

"It's not boring!"

"It is! But I love it just because it is. My life has been such a chaotic mess, I would always imagine what it would be like to just be a hobbit in the Shire. Not have a care in the world and just cultivate your potatoes. Lives of hobbits are just so... quiet."

"You're forgetting noisy neighbors and family members."

"I think I could deal with that."

“Really?” You scrunched up your nose. “Have Steve as your brother and you would think twice. He would have sold my house and my stuff earlier than it took Bilbo’s family too. If I were Bilbo, I would have come back to the Shire to find my house already sold, with all my stuff gone!”

“I could totally see him doing that,” Eddie chuckled with you.

“Definitely,” your eyes lifted up to the clock behind him, Eddie noticed the look in your eyes as you read the time and held out his hand.

"Shall I take you back to Lothlorien, My Lady?" Your eyes lit up as your gaze shifted from the clock to Eddie.

“Gladly.”

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[aprillikesthings]

can I finish this before I gotta get ready and leave for the Maundy Thursday service let's find out lol

(Edit: Nope.)

THREE MORE EPISODES LEFT

*cries*

s5 ep11 Failsafe

someone hold me

I have to actively suppress the urge to read the synopses of the episodes at this point

oh also lol this is just funny to me, I saw a post Elsewhere Online where someone watched all of spop the first time and they HATED the dumb names everyone has, and I think they mentioned Castaspella specifically.

And like FIFTY PEOPLE responded with "dude they had to use the original names from the 1980's series" and I was the only one there old enough to have watched the original series and I had to point out: the original series was made to sell toys. The vast majority of cartoons in 1985 were only made to sell toys. They gave everyone those dumbass names because it was easy for kids to remember and beg for the toys."

That's also why all the female characters in the original series have the exact same body type. Yeah the body shape itself was due to 1980's-era sexism, but also? It was so much cheaper to animate the show AND make the toys that way!

But also, it's hella ironic to me that the 2018 show has so little official merch!

And now, back to crying over cartoon lesbians:

good question

ugh I hate her

Shadow Weaver: "While you were traipsing around in space,"

OH MY GOD they were saving a few people's LIVES and it was kind of IMPORTANT but WHATEVER

"--some of us have been working to stop the Heart of Etheria from falling into Prime's hands. And we discovered the same thing you did. Rumors of a Failsafe that will break the restraints the First Ones built and set the stolen magic free." Glimmer: "Are you kidding? After everything that happened last time, you're still going after the Heart of Etheria? And you're helping her?" Castaspella: "We're trying to free the magic for all of Etheria so we can be strong enough to fight Prime. I'm doing this for your father and for you. Shadow Weaver is the lesser of two evils."

I love that she says this right in front of Shadow Weaver. Like "girl I hate her too"

nice

okay ngl I have mixed feelings about this one because unfortunately she's not entirely wrong here but also, shut the fuck up

(something something people are responsible for their own actions but also she wouldn't have done all that godawful shit if Shadow Weaver hadn't been such a shitty parent)

but yeah Catra gets up like she's about to fucking throw some hands and Adora's like It's okay bb

;_;

but also they do need the information Shadow Weaver and Castaspella have

so it turns out Mystacor was built on top of a First Ones' citadel? huh

Castaspella: "Beneath Mystacor, there are many secret tunnels and rooms, forgotten and sealed off. No one has been able to access them in centuries, but there are whispers of what they contain." Shadow Weaver: "An artifact known as the Crystal of Arxia, hidden there by a group of traitorous First Ones." Castaspella: "You said I could do it!"

lol they bicker like old marrieds

Adora: "If you figured it out on your own, why come back here? Why do you need us at all?" Shadow Weaver: "Because Mystacor is controlled by Micah, who, you may recall, is controlled by Horde Prime."

they've been TRYING

"If he seizes the Heart, it will all be over."

Stop toUCHING HER

oh god Adora turns around to ask Catra to help out--and she's gone

YOU'RE THE REASON SHE'S FUCKING "SULKING" and you fucking know it, why are abusers always so god damned surprised to find out their kids don't want to be anywhere near them

(I mean I know why, they think they should be able to control you forever)

aaahahaha Adora's just like Nah I'mma go look for her tho

anyway roll intro!

omg look at Netossa and Spinny on the bottom left awwwww

she looks so sad

well okay sad and angry

their conversation here is so good, because Catra's fully aware of why Adora's doing this, but is really struggling to push past how much she (justifiably!) hates Shadow Weaver and hates being around her

I actually do kinda wish I'd kept a list of all the times Adora does the self-sacrificial thing, separated into "someone asked her to do it" vs "nobody asked her to do it" lol

BUT ADORA EXPRESSES A NEED oh nice that's progress

Adora: "Hey, she can't do anything to us anymore. Please, come. We--I-could really use your help."

two things I really love about this: One, she doesn't say that she doesn't like Adora, just that it's not the reason she's going. Two, I feel like Adora knows damn well Catra's not being 100% honest here.

Like, to some extent Catra's saying this as a way of attempting to protect herself a little. She's taking baby steps towards vulnerability, and it's terrifying! And I think Adora can see that and is fine with it--not JUST because she's like "any crumbs are better than nothing" but ALSO because she doesn't want to push Catra.

Because yeah, if there was any actual doubt that Catra does like Adora--

WELL.

Entrapta was able to get Spinerella's chip out but says it had started fusing with her nervous system and they're running out of time to safely un-chip everyone.

But she's been digging around the network that connects all the chips to Prime, hoping to figure out how to disconnect everyone at once, and Bow gives her a little encouragement, it's really sweet.

OKAY so everyone who can, teleports to Mystacor with Melog making them invisible. (Apparently Catra doesn't get motion sick from it anymore which is nice lol)

I love the way they animated them being invisible

oh GOD okay

Catra turns around and says "looks like there's no sorcerers here" while, unfortunately, a sorcerer walks into the room. Shadow Weaver grabs Catra and puts her hand over her mouth to keep her quiet, and Catra (understandably!! but unfortunately!!) jerks away in fury and yells

And her fury causes Melog to drop the invisibility

And now the chipped sorcerer knows they're all there

they manage to duck the attack but Adora goes to transform into She-Ra--and can't do it

she had this issue last episode aaaugh it's not from being near Shadow Weaver she wasn't there

okay but also Adora runs behind a pillar to hide from an attack with Catra and it's cute

girl help why is this giving me so many emotions

y'know it's funny how often I've bumped into posts of people who are confused as to why Adora starts trusting Catra again so quickly, and I frequently wonder if they forget all the childhood flashback scenes of these two. To varying extents they both spent their entire childhoods seeing the other as their only consistent source of comfort and (something resembling) safety, and with some notable exceptions Adora's spent the last four seasons (which was like three or four years) visibly holding out hope that one day she could trust Catra again. This despite the fact that she now has other sources of safety and comfort and love!!! Being with Glimmer and Bow and everyone else was healing, sure; but it never erased her grief over losing Catra. She always, always held out the tiniest flame of hope that Catra would change sides.

And Catra basically tried lighting her own grief on fire (metaphorically and kinda literally) over and over and it just didn't go away, and I feel like when she saved Glimmer and apologized to Adora she had sort of come to terms with the fact that her grief over losing Adora couldn't be burned away, but of course by then she figured she'd fucked up so bad Adora would never forgive her or trust her again. And rather than take it out on other people or suffer any longer she was willing to just die, instead. She really did think that sending Glimmer to Adora was going to be her last act, and she wanted Adora to know she was sorry before she fucking DIED. And I don't think her saving Glimmer was consciously meant to be proof that she meant her apology, but it was. And that's part of why Adora trusts her again.

The fact is, even after everything that happened, both of them had a hole in their hearts shaped like the other. ;_;

And that's why Adora runs and hides behind the same pillar as Catra. (I mean yes, it was also closer, but that's not tHE POINT)

Anyway, this is all why, as I previously noted, Adora's not being pushy. That failed on her, spectacularly; the couple of times she tried it. Asking Catra to come along on this mission is the closest she's come. And even then, it wasn't "you're a good person deep down and you should change sides because I think I know you better than you know yourself," It was "please do this for me, because I need your help." And Catra is fully aware of how hard that is for Adora.

And these two still have a lot to work out post-canon (like, Catra has still got to deal with her need to not just be seen as Adora's sidekick/shadow, and lbh right now some of the rebellion is like "we're only putting up with you for Adora's sake" as if Catra was Yoko Ono) but that's part of why I'm writing a fic lolol

I have so many feelingssss on a related note I spent like fifteen solid minutes last night in bed having taken an edible and listening to my playlist and staring at this gifset lolol

ANYWAY Castaspella knocks out the chipped dude and they run for it

AAAND lol I gotta get ready to go to church. There's still 17:30 left on this episode. Pfft.

BACK FROM CHURCH I washed someone's feet, they washed mine, they stripped the altar, I go back at one or two in the morning for the overnight vigil

In the meantime: gonna finish this episode

(what is my life sometimes)

Entrapta plans to find a bunch of clones so she can figure out how their signals to Horde Prime work. Swift Wind is like Ugh, fine, I'll go with you, someone's gotta save your ass

Entrapta: "Thanks, bird horse!"

lol how many times have they had that convo

A family can be a sorcerer and her evil ex, a girl and a boy, two traumatized lesbians, and a cat

But also it looks like something out of an episode of Scooby Doo

Shadow Weaver opens a magic door

ngl that's PRETTY. like it's obviously about the Heart of Etheria but wow!

(and there's a dinosaur???)

Adora notices how stressed out Catra is and says "It'll be okay...Trust me." ;_;

Shadow Weaver: "There's no time to waste!"

"...disturbance."

The disturbance was your fault, dumbass. I am reminded of all the times my dad got angry at us for being afraid of him. And would hit us. For being. Afraid of him. Because y'know. That's how you stop a kid from being afraid of you. By hitting them.

In any case Shadow Weaver is still trying to get between them and separate them and I just really need this bitch to stop.

(Yes yes I remember she dies later)

Castaspella: "We're on the right path. The Crystal of Arxia was rumored to be the key to reaching deep magic within Etheria."

"But those who hungered for more power have long sought other ways to obtain the deep magic...with disastrous results."

HIT THE IMAGE LIMIT lemme reblog

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

Intimidation Tactics Oneshot: The Bet

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!Reader x Dave York

Rating: E (smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: multiple orgasms, like a LOT of that, oral sex (f receiving, fingering (f receiving), blow jobs (m receiving), lots of teasing, dumb machismo, references to MMF, banter

Summary: Unbeknownst to you, Marcus and Dave have a bet going...

A/N: idk whose fault this is but it happened in the Dave York discord and I blame @pedropascalsx, my love, my life, my worst enabler. I love this ridiculous community SO FUCKING MUCH. Thanks as always to @leslie-lyman, who I am functionally incapable of writing a fic without.

“What’s this?” Dave frowns down at the pamphlet Marcus hands him in the kitchen.

“For the honeymoon,” Marcus explains, as if that answers everything.

“Sandals, Saint Lucia,” Dave reads. “Fucking Sandals? Really, tiger?”

“It’s all-inclusive,” Marcus says, sounding defensive.

“I’m not going to Sandals,” Dave scoffs. “That’s such a cliche. Besides, I’m sure the three of us will cause quite the scandal with all the little newlyweds, fresh from their big church weddings on their first trip out of the country.”

“Read the damn brochure,” Marcus insists, elbowing Dave in the ribs. “It has private villas. We can enjoy the beach undisturbed.”

“Jesus,” Dave remarks, seeing the price tag on the ‘All-Inclusive Luxury Private Bungalow’ option. “This is obscene.”

“It’s inclusive,” Marcus says again, pouting. “C’mon, think about it–a week in paradise, chef-prepared meals, in our own private villa.” He winds his arms around Dave’s hips playfully. “Our girl, wearing the skimpiest bikini I can find.”

“For that price, she better be fucking naked,” Dave growls. 

“Oh shut up,” Marcus groans. “Think about it,” he croons, pointing at the luxurious daybed on the brochure, “laying her down on the sheets, watching her fucking writhing on the bed while I make her cum over, and over, and over again with my tongue, with your cock buried in my ass.”

Dave snorts. “You’re really trying to sell this, tiger.”

“Yeah? It’s been fucking ages since I’ve been on a real vacation.”

“You really think you could make her cum that many times while I fuck you? The only thing you can do when I’m inside you is whine my name,” Dave says smugly, tossing the pamphlet on the counter.

“I’ve made her cum like, six times in one night,” Marcus protests. “I don’t think you have any room to question–”

“Ha!” Dave barks out a laugh. “When was that?”

“You think you’re so good, huh?” Marcus growls, grabbing Dave’s belt loops and pulling him so that their hips are flush. “God’s gift to women, is that right?”

“God’s gift to anyone, apparently,” Dave smirks.

Marcus dissolves into quiet laughter, finally giving in to Dave’s ridiculous boasting. “Oh, sure–” he presses a gentle kiss to Dave’s lips. “You’re just–” kiss “–the absolute most, is that right?”

“I certainly leave you two satisfied,” Dave rumbles. 

“Maybe,” Marcus teases. “But I’ve still made her cum more times.”

“Maybe you have,” Dave admits, “but whatever you think your record is, I could beat it easily.”

Marcus laughs loudly. “Oh, okay. Fine. How about this–whoever doesn’t make her cum more times in one night buys one week in the ‘All-Inclusive Luxury Private Bungalow.’”

“Fine,” Dave hums. “Enjoy that little charge on your credit card.”

Marcus crows triumphantly, grabbing the pamphlet from the counter. “Yes! We’re going to fucking St. Lucia!”

Dave’s smug smile falls, realizing he’s been played. 

“Dammit,” he mumbles. 

– – – 

You gasp in surprise as Dave walks in the door holding a bouquet of roses. Marcus is the flowers guy, not Dave. Dave shows his affection through quiet acts of service. Marcus's affection is much more… loud. 

"Dave," you squeal, "what's the occasion?"

"Do I need an occasion to dote on my girl?" Dave asks, kissing you on the cheek.

That raises suspicion.

"What are you up to?" you ask, squinting at Dave.

"Nothing," Dave intones. You miss the way Marcus rolls his eyes.

Dave continues his unusual seduction of you all evening–little touches serving to work you up, doting on you, praising you, teasing you, until finally he has you in his lap, your legs spread wide and his hand inside your underwear, both of you still fully clothed while you writhe for him. Marcus watches the two of you intently but doesn’t join in, staring at the way Dave’s hand moves underneath your clothes.

“Show him,” Dave whispers in your ear. “Show him how good I can make you feel just like this.”

His fingers press down harder on your clit, grinding back and forth, and you gasp as you break for him, arching against Dave as he hums in satisfaction.

“Count it, pumpkin.” 

“O-One,” you stammer.

“How many do you think I can give her?” Dave asks Marcus teasingly. 

“Sounds like we’re going to find out,” Marcus says with a smirk. “But what are you going to do for me, hmm?”

“Oh, don’t worry tiger, she’ll be sucking your cock for at least two of them,” Dave remarks lightly, and you moan loudly. “Aww, you like that? You like cumming with a cock down your throat, don’t you?”

“You know I do,” you reply, laughing breathlessly.

“What do you like about it?” Dave asks softly, nipping your earlobe. 

“I-I can’t really breathe,” you answer, “and it makes it… better.”

“She’s so nasty, isn’t she,” Dave murmurs to Marcus. 

“She’s perfect,” Marcus replies with an affectionate smile. 

“Well, pumpkin, since you like it so much, why don’t you get on your knees."

You obey, kneeling down and looking up at Marcus through your eyelashes. 

"You look so pretty like that," Marcus whispers. "On your knees for me." His hands come to his belt buckle, undoing it and slowly sliding the zipper down. 

Dave kneels behind you, caging you between his thighs. "Open your mouth and stick out your tongue, pumpkin," he whispers into your ear, making you shiver. "Feed it to her," he says to Marcus. 

Marcus grips your chin in one hand and fists his cock in the other, sliding it slowly into your mouth. "Gonna take it all like a good girl?" he asks softly. 

You nod around him. 

"Of course she will," Dave rumbles. "Now come on, pumpkin, you're giving me two more before he cums down your throat, aren't you?"

Dave's fingers find your clit again, rubbing small circles into your clit as you choke on Marcus’s cock. 

"She's soaked," Dave teases. "She gets so wet with a cock down her throat. He's always so gentle, isn't he? He won't fuck your face until you cry like I do."

"Fuck," Marcus groans above you. "Shut up."

"Then fuck her," Dave grits out. "I want to feel how wet she gets when you use her like that."

"Can you take that, baby?" Marcus murmurs, softly stroking your cheek while you gag on him. 

When you nod, Marcus strokes the hair back from your forehead. "Good girl," he whispers. "Now be good and cum for him, okay?"

Marcus’s grip around your neck hardens, and he starts to thrust in and out of your mouth. Almost immediately, tears spring to the corners of your eyes and your pussy throbs. 

"Oh, that's it," Dave murmurs. "She's clenching all over my fingers. C'mon, pumpkin, cum for us. Show us how much you love being used."

You sob as Dave brings you over the edge again. Marcus doesn't let up, fucking your face over and over again as the waves of pleasure wash over you. Dave doesn't give you a moment to recover either, rubbing your clit faster and faster until you're arriving at a second peak, barely a few minutes after the first. Your body convulses, but Dave holds you steady from behind, and Marcus’s fingers dig into your neck to keep you impaled on his cock. 

“Cum for her, tiger, she’s worked so hard for it,” Dave croons into your ear. 

It only takes a few more thrusts, and then Marcus is spilling down your throat with a soft groan, and you hear Dave hum in appreciation behind you. Marcus pulls away and you swallow, breathing heavily, drunk on two orgasms and dizzy from the lack of oxygen. 

“Count,” Dave reminds you. 

“Three,” you whisper hoarsely. 

The next two are from Dave’s tongue, lapping at you while Marcus holds you still in his lap. You’re dazed; you have no idea what has gotten into Dave tonight, but you can’t say you mind it. The word ‘five’ has barely passed through your lips, and Dave is pulling you off Marcus’s lap and pushing you onto your belly on the couch before mounting up behind you. This position makes you crazy and he knows it; the way his entire weight presses down on you, taking what he wants while his cock stabs at that perfect place inside of you never fails to make you cum in record time. 

“Again,” Dave growls in your ear. “Give me another one, give me number six. You know it’ll feel so good, cumming around my cock.”

“Jesus, Dave I don’t think I can…” you grunt.

“Yes you can, baby, you’re so close already,” Dave husks. “I can feel how tight you are. Just let go for me,” he urges, his hips snapping down into you. He works his hand underneath you and rubs back and forth on your clit and you keen into the couch cushions. Everything pulls up tight again and you wail as you fall off the edge. 

“Count it,” Dave commands, his own voice rough with pleasure as he takes what he needs from you.

“Six!” you sob. “Six, six, six, fuck–”

Dave’s cock is punching down into you, hitting something deep and devastating, and all you can do is grip the couch cushions and take what he gives you. You’re overly sensitive and each punishing thrust he gives you makes you cry out into the room. Just as you feel Dave’s hips start to stutter, you’re taken off-guard by another crest, and you squeak as you bear down on his cock just as he lets go. 

“Shit,” Dave hisses. “Fuck, baby.”

“Seven,” you murmur, slurring the word tiredly as you slump on the couch.

“That’s my girl,” Dave says with a smirk, smacking your ass playfully as he pulls out of you and sits up. 

Marcus is on you in an instant, one hand gently wiping you clean with a few tissues while the other rubs up and down your back. “Shh, sweetheart,” he whispers to you. “Are you okay?”

“She’s fine,” Dave scoffs. “She’s just cockdumb and drooling on our couch.” 

“Hush,” Marcus scolds him. “Don’t I always take care of you both?” 

You roll over and blink up at the two of them with a dazed smile. Dave is slouched back on the couch, still completely naked, watching Marcus tend to you with an affectionate look. 

“Dave,” you pout, making little ‘grabby hands’ but not otherwise moving.

"Oh, stop," Dave chuckles. "Come here, silly thing."

It's Marcus who picks you up from the couch and deposits you in Dave's lap, where you immediately curl into him with a little sigh. Marcus tucks in beside Dave, his hand still smoothing up and down your spine as he nuzzles the other man's neck playfully. 

Finally, you speak. 

"What the fuck got into you tonight?" you murmur, and Dave chuckles, patting you on the butt affectionately. 

"Just like seeing you like this,” he rumbles. 

You don’t see the smug smile that Dave shoots Marcus over the top of your head.

– – – – 

A week passes, and then another week, and the evening where Dave made you cum seven fucking times get buried in a chaotic sea of ballet lessons, softball games, and many more passionate nights, the three of you wrapped up in each other every night. 

You’ve never had sex this good, and you’re insatiable for the two of them, wanting Marcus’s sensual touches and Dave’s ruthless strokes every time the three of you have a moment to yourselves. You love everything about it: the way the two of them seem to trade off controlling your pleasure, and the way they effortlessly trade dominance back and forth between the two of them. One night, Dave could have Marcus at his mercy, pounding into him while you stroke his hair and murmur sweet praises into his ear, and the next, Marcus could reduce Dave to nothing but whimpers underneath him. The only thing sweeter than their ferocious love for each other is the all-encompassing love the two of them have for you. 

You’ve never felt more spoiled, and not just because the two of them seem to treat giving you pleasure as a sport, at times, but simply because having two people care about you is just overwhelming, after so much time on your own. They both care so deeply, even if they do it in different ways. Not only having Marcus and Dave around, but combined with having Molly and Alice every other week, you sometimes feel completely overcome with love. It’s chaotic in the best of ways, each day challenging and exhilarating in new and different ways. 

And then, one night, after taking the girls out to a very rowdy dinner and dropping them off at Carol’s, Marcus pulls you onto his lap on the couch, facing outward with your legs spread, and murmurs, “Let’s give Dave a little show, hmm?”

You giggle and nod, looking over at Dave, who’s watching the proceedings with obvious interest.  He raises one eyebrow expectantly. 

"Better make it a good one," he drawls.

"Oh, don't worry about it," Marcus shoots back, full of that ridiculous sense of bravado he sometimes gets when the two of them are locked in some silly power struggle.

“Marcus,” you whine, wanting his attention to be on you, the person in his lap. 

“Okay, okay,” he whispers. “Are we feeling needy tonight?”

You help him as he slowly removes your clothes; you glance at Dave as each new inch of skin is revealed. Dave’s eyes are dark as coals as he stares back; his face gives nothing away, but you can tell he’s hardly unaffected by the sight of you, completely naked, on Marcus’s fully clothed lap. 

Marcus’s fingers trail aimlessly down your chest, making you shiver, your nipples pebbling with goosebumps, before he arrives at his destination, gently dipping one finger into your cunt to gather your slick and then starting to rub gentle circles on your clit.

Marcus has an uncanny ability to move exactly how you need him to. While Dave’s fingers are brutal, working you until he pulls your pleasure from you and you have no choice but to follow, Marcus plays you with precision, coaxing your peaks out of you with a gentle ruthlessness.

He can work you up quickly, or he can use that weird sixth sense he has when it comes to your pleasure to edge you mercilessly until you’re begging. He doesn’t do the latter much–you know that Marcus likes to indulge, giving you and Dave everything he has to give–but on the occasion that he’s in the mood, he can reduce you to tears by pulling away at the last second over and over again. 

At first, you think that’s the show you’re giving Dave. After all, Dave takes an almost sadistic pleasure in withholding orgasms and controlling your pleasure. But when Marcus quickly works you up and then throws you over the edge without stopping–commanding you to “Count them” and mimicking Dave’s speech patterns so eerily well that you find it a little disconcerting–you know exactly what he’s going to do with you tonight.

Marcus works you up two more times just like that–with just his fingers, leaving you sprawling and naked on his lap while Dave stares. The third time, you can’t take it any more, you close your eyes and slump against Marcus’s chest.

“No, no–keep looking at him,” Marcus murmurs in your ear. “Keep your eyes on him, keep them open. Let him see you fall apart.”

You try. You really do. But the sensations Marcus is pulling from you are too overwhelming for you to focus on something like eye contact. You can’t concentrate on anything. Before you know it, your head is tipping back and your eyes are pinched shut as you take everything Marcus gives you.

They startle open when you feel fingers gripping your chin and forcing your head back down.

Dave has moved–no longer on the couch, he’s crouching in front of you, his eyes boring into yours. 

“Thank you,” Marcus murmurs. “She’s being a naughty thing tonight, not listening to me.”

You groan in frustration–you love to hate how the two of them gang up on you. 

“I don’t think she can cum again,” Dave murmurs, looking at you with an almost-clinical disinterest that you know is feigned. “Look at her. She’s too fucked out.”

“‘m not,” you argue. “Marcus–”

“I know,” Marcus croons in your ear. “I know you can cum again. It feels so good, doesn’t it? You want to fall apart in my lap again.”

“I need–” you whine. “I need–”

“How is he supposed to know what you need if you can’t use your words, Pumpkin?” Dave teases. 

“Oh, stop,” Marcus tuts at Dave. “It’s okay, sweetheart, you can tell me. What do you need?”

“Can I have your cock?”

“How can I refuse, when you ask so nicely?” Marcus smiles and reaches between the two of you, unbuckling his belt and shucking his pants and underwear down just enough that you can sink down on him. “Don’t move yet,” he instructs. “Just keep it warm–you aren’t done yet.”

“Marcus,” you whine softly as he stretches you open. It’s always a stretch, and you love it. Marcus keeps up the soft, precise circles on your clit, and he’s hardly even buried to the hilt yet before you can feel the next crest approaching. 

“Marcus,” you warn him. “Marcus, it’s gonna–” It’s gonna be too much, it’ll be overwhelming, it’ll–

“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispers. “Let it happen.”

You cry out as you clench around Marcus’s cock for the first time. Your head tips back, but Dave grips your chin harder and forces you back down to his eye level. 

“Count,” Marcus reminds you, a smile coloring his tone.

“F-Four,” you whimper. 

“Good,” Marcus praises you. “More.”

“Marcus,” you protest quietly, but he’s already rubbing your clit again. With his cock spearing you, it’s easier to build you up–it takes a matter of minutes, and you’re doing it again, convulsing in his lap, trying to shy away from the sensations he’s pulling from you. 

“Shh, good job,” Marcus murmurs. “You’re doing so well.” He finally starts to move, fucking up into you with slow, undulating thrusts. “Hey–you forgot to count it again.”

“Ugh! Five,” you groan, and Marcus chuckles. 

Marcus fucks you gently at first, then growing in speed in intensity, never taking his hand off of your clit as he does. He doesn’t stop when you whimper “Six,” fucking you harder and faster until he reaches his own end with a deep groan. 

You’re about to slump against him in relief, when you feel him pulling you off of him and laying you down on the couch. 

“Mmm?” you question wordlessly, but your nonverbal inquiry is answered when you feel Marcus’s tongue lap at your pussy, and you squeak in surprise. 

“One more,” Marcus murmurs, muffled by your clit as he eats you out. “Again for me.”

It takes time, because fuck, you’re fucking tired, but somehow you do, cumming on Marcus’s tongue with a wordless cry.

“Tiger,” Dave cautions softly. “She’s had enough.”

“Mm,” Marcus comments, before slowly thrusting one finger inside you and crooking it upwards, his mouth not leaving your clit. He finds that spongy spot inside you with no hesitation and starts rubbing back and forth, eliciting so much pressure and feeling that you–

“Oh, fuck–” you gasp, and you gush around Marcus’s fingers.

“HA!” Marcus pulls back triumphantly. “Eight!” 

You squint your eyes in your delirium. “Wha–?”

“You fucking cheated, you went after me, so of course you could just beat–”

“Oh, you’re just sore because–”

“Next time it should be a blind test. Your ability to see me go before you gave you a bias that–”

“‘Next time?’ I fucking won!”

“What the fuck!” you cry out, interrupting Dave and Marcus’s bickering. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Do you want to go to Saint Lucia?” Marcus asks nonsensically. 

Your eyes flick to Dave. “What the fuck is he talking about?”

"Pumpkin," Dave starts, but you interrupt. 

"Don't 'pumpkin' me," you snap. "Are you two betting on me?"

Dave's lips part, his mouth forming an 'O' as he apparently debates how to answer. 

"So–" Marcus says, looking chastened, "...yes?"

"What the fuck!" you shout again. "I am not a pawn in your stupid macho games!"

Dave presses his lips together for a few moments. "Did we mention Saint Lucia?"

You blink at him in disbelief. 

"It's all-inclusive," Marcus pipes up helpfully. 

"With a private luxury bungalow," Dave adds. 

"Mmhmm," you mutter, frowning at the two of them. "And are there couches in this luxury bungalow?"

Marcus pulls a brochure from underneath a stack of books on the coffee table and squints at it. "I think so?"

"Good," you say, picking yourself up off the couch and grabbing your underwear with a flourish and walking, hips swaying, to the bathroom. "Because you're both sleeping on one."

– – – –

Two months later…

"This is incredible," you say with a sigh, tipping your head back to feel the sun on your face.

"Mm," Marcus agrees beside you. He kicks his foot, causing ripples in the pristine, clear water. 

"Does that mean you forgive us?" Dave rumbles with a little smirk, not looking up from his book.

The three of you are crammed into an oversize lounge chair that was almost certainly meant for two. You're lying between Marcus’s spread legs, both of you with one foot intermingling in the water of your own private beach. Marcus is resting on Dave's shoulder, alternating between reading over his shoulder and dozing in the gentle sunshine. Dave is the only one fully seated on the lounge chair, book propped up on one knee and his free hand resting on Marcus’s leg but close enough to touch yours as well.

Marcus was right–this place really is paradise. 

"Mm, I dunno," you comment lightly. "I think turnabout is fair play."

"How do you imagine that will go?" Dave asks. "We're not exactly built for multiple–"

"I was thinking the opposite, actually," you say sweetly. "I'll mercilessly tease both of you, and whoever comes first has to bankroll the trip."

"And how do you plan on enforcing that, pumpkin?" Dave murmurs, amused. "What's to stop me from rolling over and taking what I want?"

You boop him playfully on the nose–a gesture he pretends to hate but you know he doesn't–"I'll just tie you up," you inform him in a sing-song voice. "And I'm sure Marcus would agree to help if you're feeling particularly resistant to the idea."

"Mmhmm," Marcus agrees. "I'd pay money to see that." "You'll get your wish," Dave says, "because there's no way you're winning that bet." His hand curls possessively around your leg. "Where do you want to go next, Pumpkin?"

[sisterofficerlucychen]

in this essay i will explore why mastermind fits chenford perfectly. and yes, i have officially lost  my damn mind thanks to them ♡

so this general thought is what threw me down the rabbit hole -- in 5x10 during the montage scene, lucy references the green dress to which tim smiles at. it’s an item that holds a memory for the two of them, perhaps the same type of memory, as tim looked lucy up and down when she walked toward him and asked her to save her a dance. a dance they were both clearly excited for considering ‘the debt’ gets paid at nyla’s wedding and they have their first dance. lucy knew exactly what she was doing when she referred back to it.

Once upon a time, the planets and the fate And all the stars aligned You and I ended up in the same room At the same time

1x01: the planets and fate literally aligned to have both of them at mid-wilshire station. they come from such different backgrounds and just everything they’ve lived through before the start of the series??? like tim serving two tours and the whole rise and fall of his marriage with isabel; lucy not knowing where she’s going in life but knowing she doesn’t want to follow her parents footsteps or wishes so she signs up for the police academy on a whim. also, the fact that percy asked grey to pair jackson with tim and instead of doing that, he paired up lucy and tim together. had lucy and tim not been paired together, their entire relationship would have likely not happened and it would have been a very different outcome for both of them.

And the touch of a hand lit the fuse Of a chain reaction of countermoves To assess the equation of you Checkmate, I couldn't lose

lucy met tim in possibly the worst moment of his life. he had lost himself, losing isabel put him in a really dark path and it was not pretty. he was hurting and it made him mean because tim may be no nonsense but we’ve seen how he is now to what he was then like he still means business but there’s a more playful and patient side to him. which was not the case back at the beginning of the series where he was hurting and was projecting those emotions. like tim’s intro to the series and how he told jackson he was going to make his life a living hell? well, that could have been a tim test tbh, but also felt so out of left field because we know he considers being a training officer something sacred and takes it seriously.

What if I told you none of it was accidental And the first night that you saw me, nothing was gonna stop me? I laid the groundwork and then, just like clockwork The dominoes cascaded in a line

the way the two prank each other has always teetered between being something else. it’s playful and fun but it’s also very much them and even to an extent, intimate? like when lucy filled tim’s lockers with booties when he made sergeant. during angela’s wedding, her attention completely shifted off nyla and grey the moment she saw tim. she clocked him and beelined toward him. why? why? she knows why, he knows why, we all know why. tim wasn’t subtle about taking her in either and they were so flirty with each other in that moment, and then before they walked away from one another, he asked her for a dance and she was pleased by that.

then the prep for going undercover aka chenford’s first kiss. it will never not be funny how these two dumb idiots thought that for going undercover, they needed to practice kissing and i am holding out for the day when nyla finds out and gives them shit for it because it’ll be so funny. but the fact that as they’re working on their cover story, lucy says something she knows will get a reaction from it. it’s completely on purpose. she broke his brain for a second there and as he brought up the suggestion of them having to kiss, she kept playing dumb to make him spell it out.

No one wanted to play with me as a little kid So I've been scheming like a criminal ever since To make them love me and make it seem effortless This this the first time I've felt the need to confess And I swear I'm only cryptic and Machiavellian 'cause I care

lucy is an only chlid and being one myself, i can say that it is extremely lonely not growing up with any siblings and while that may not be the literal definition of that first lyrics, not having any siblings definitely does play into that because you don’t really have anyone to play with as a kid. we also know that lucy craves validation and praise. we saw it so many times while she was a rookie and even nyla says it when tim storms off when lucy goes undercover for the first time as nova.

additionally, lucy caring is key. when ashley broke up with tim and lucy gauged that something was wrong but didn’t know what, she used the opportunity of him leaving his radio behind to send him on a scavenger hunt to places she knew would bring him joy. like it was so devious and cute and she played dumb when he called her on it.

lastly ...

I laid the groundwork and then saw a wide smirk On your face, you knew the entire time You knew that I'm a mastermind And now you're mine

so this is one that i think is coming like when they have the conversation of how and when they fell. tim’s just as perceptive of lucy as lucy is of tim except he’s definitely more subtle about it. like referring back to when she sent him on a scavenger hunt or when jan kept talking about being a minx and how it had “lucy written all over it”. also, the hotel room in vegas when he flat out tells her it didn’t feel like pretend. i could see them coming back to this as well as the fake confession and how tim to a certain extent was aware of her feelings but the fake confession did throw him off because of how he reacted to it when she started laughing.

the end :-))

if you made it this far, ilu???? thanks for coming to my ted talk and entertaining my delusion as i stumbled down the rabbit hole.