#last year around this time i signed up for classes to catch up with my education

[alongtidesoflight]

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[leah-lover]

A person more than an athlete. Nika mühl x reader

Love always had a way of consuming you. Whether it was your friendships, relationships with your parents, your friends, or even your romantic relationships, you felt the love in every part of your body. You loved deeply and wholeheartedly.

You were also a dedicated person. You gave your career all you had which in turn got you a championship in your freshman year.

Women's sports were trending, and you were on top of the pyramid. From sponsorship deals, to ads, interviews, and magazine shoots, you were everywhere. The spotlight didn't mean much to you though. All you cared about was the sleeping body next to you.

Nika was to you the prettiest girl in the world. For her you would absolutely do anything.

“ Good morning.” You whisper into her ear before you kiss her shoulder. “ Morning.” she responds, shifting to lay on her back.

You two start kissing. The kisses were short and sweet which left you needing much more. “ Baby I am gonna be late for class.” She says after pulling out.

“ But…” you start to protest before she cuts you off. “ Babe I still have to go all the way to my room, get ready and go to class. We will finish this later okay?” She says before getting out of bed. You sigh loudly as she wears her shirt and gets her stuff. “ I love you “ you say although what you say isn't clear because your face is hidden by a pillow. “ I love you too. I will see you in practice.” she says before she leaves.

The rest of the day went as usual. You got ready for class, which you attended. You then changed into your huskies' track suit and went to the gym.

You started out training all right. You did your activation, some shooting drills, lifted some weights and got some cardio done.

You didn't talk nika during all of this because coach geno sat you all down in the first session of the year and said. “ You all are UConn players now, you have a big legacy to follow. You need to focus, work hard and train hard, and while you are part of this team relationships with your teammates are absolutely forbidden.” However, you couldn't help but fall in love with the Croatian international, she captured your heart more than basketball everdid.

You thought something was up when the coach asked nika to go to his office for a chat but you didn't give it much thought instead you hung out with Paige and Kk. You didn't see nika leave because you were too busy learning a new dance with Paige.

“ Hey, can you give me a minute?” said the coach to you.

You then enter his office with an unsettling feeling in your stomach.

“What's up coach? “ you say as you dit opposite his desk.

“ Look, I am gonna be as straight with you as I was with nika. You heard what I said the very first time you came to this gym. And you know what is gonna happen now.”

“ Coach with all do respect you can't do this. We are good assets to this team and we have been performing well. We won a whole championship last year while being together.”

“ I'm afraid it is not up for questioning. You will terminate this relationship. You agreed to this when you first signed the contract with us. The contract stated that inter team relationships are forbidden. Plus Nina already agreed to it.”

You didn't know how you got out of that office or how you walked across campus to your dorm. All you knew was that Nika and you were done.

You opened your door, got in and sat on the floor as soon as you closed it. You started to uncontrollably sob. That's when you feel familiar hands wrap around you. Her smell and her touch were comforting.

“ I love you so much.” she whispered in your ear. You could feel her tears on your cheeks.

“ he said you agreed to the bullshit he said.” you say wiping your tears.

“ I couldn't not agree. If he cuts me from the team I am done. I have to go back home and all of this will be for nothing.”

“ We can keep it a secret again. I don't want to live without you.”

“ Baby, if he catches us again we can't come back from it. I love you so much baby but I can't.”

You kiss each other multiple times while holding one another on the floor of your dorm. Nika then leaves and you stay on the floor heartbroken for a long time.

You flipped a switch as soon as she left the door knowing that you aren't gonna wake up next to her, sleep next to her, kiss her, or be inside her.

The next day at training was miserable to say the least. You didn't sleep the night before, you didn't smile, or talk to anybody. Your performance displayed your sadness. You were missing easy shots, and you clearly weren't focused. You didnt talk to nika or look at her. You started like that for 2 weeks you didnt talk to anybody, all you thought about was how much you modded her touch.

“ baby please don't do this.” said nika to you one the way to practice. “ We need to talk.” she says before she pulled you into the medic’s room.

As soon as she closed the door, she pinned you to the wall and started kissing you. You missed the taste of her lips, the weight of her hands on your waist, the way her hands rubbed you sides and her tongue swiped across your.

“ i missed you so fucking much.” she says after pulling out.

“ I am not whole without you. I can't do anything without you. I missed you so much.” you say before kissing her again. You were hungry for her, you needed her more than anything in the world.

“ I don't like this without you. Would you please come back to me?.” she asks while swiping her thumb on your cheek.

“ if it cost me my life to be with you again.” you respond.

'I love you baby.’ she adds.

“ I love you more than you will ever know.” you respond.

[bluenotes75]

Trust

Miles Morales ! 42 x Fem ! Reader Synopsis : ''I messed up princesa, I messed up bad.'' wc : 1,6k Warnings : spoilder for atsv, angst, THEY ARE AROUND 19 YEARS OLD, possessiveness, this is angst but like good one, no proofread, what I could remember from my spanish class 3 years ago. pt.1 - pt.2 - pt.3

You glanced at your phone for the hundredth time this minute.

Still no sign of life from Miles.

You were worried, more than you should as you had seen him for the last time the previous day. Yet, you were used to texting your boyfriend every day. It was now nighttime and he had not answered any of your messages. You scrutinized with a frown the last texts you had sent him. He had left you on read.

Miles never left you on read.

Well, he did but only for two reasons. First, when he was mad at you. Thus the first contradiction because the boy was rarely mad at you. Even if he was, he would always confront you directly and talk things out. He hated being on bad terms with you. Life was already rough without you by his side and he wouldn't let anything strip him of any quality time with his girl.

The other situation was is… street activities with his uncle. He used to disappear for days without telling you why, convincing you to not get concerned about him. However, after that one night when you yelled at him, crying, for worrying to death after he ghosted you for two days straight, he promise to always send a quick message to tell you when he would get really busy.

So as you sat on your bed, plunged in the darkness of your room, you knew that none of these cases applied to the current situation. You two hadn't fought and he hadn't told you anything about his prowler activities. Well, nothing that you knew of, which left you insanely troubled.

Your last words together were when he left for a party the previous night. You were supposed to go with him but dropped at the last minute because your mother felt sick. You preferred staying by her side, making sure she get better. At first, Morales wanted to stay with you and spend the night at yours, but you refused. You couldn't remember the last time he got to catch a breath and just enjoyed life like the young man he was. He was always either hanging out with you - making sure you were safe by the same occasion- or working with his uncle. So like the good girlfriend you were, you convinced him to go to the party without you. You just wanted him to have fun and even though he was reluctant, he couldn't say no to you.

Since then you had heard nothing from his side. It was already far in the night and you should be sleeping, but you couldn't close an eye.

At this point, you were contemplating directly calling his mother or even his friends. But you knew Miles despised you talking to other guys. Even if they were his own friends.

Your train of thought was suddenly interrupted by a bang on your window. You jumped at the sound and gawked when you catch sight of the boy tormenting your thoughts out of the corner of your eyes.

You hurried up and opened the window for him and he stumbled inside your room looking…awful. You could see the dark circles painted under his eyes and the frown settled on his forehead. Before you could say anything, he clenched his jaw and wrapped his arms around your waist, dragging your body to his. He pressed your bodies tightly against each other, leaving no room for anything else and the heat of your skin warmed the iciness of his.

You were left speechless as he leaned down and nestled his face on your chest. This sudden display of physical affection was unusual from your Miles. You were the one initiating the cuddles, the kisses, the hand-holding. So you couldn't help your heart from fluttering at this new attention. However, the feeling quickly vanished as you remembered the context. Your worry came back like a slap on your cheek.

“My love, what's going on ?” you broke the silence and wrapped your arms around his neck to hug him back, sensing that he needed it.

You received the silence treatment.

“Miles,” you frowned and leaned back to look at his face, only for him to stop you by tightening his arms around the low of your back.

“You haven't answered any of my texts since yesterday, what happened? Is it your uncle? You can talk to me. ”

He took a deep breath against your skin but still left you with no explanation, which made you upset.

“Miles, you can't just disappear for a whole day and come back as if it was nothing !”

“Lo siento Mami, I messed up,” his pained voice came out muffled by your shirt. You scowled at his words. ‘uh ?’

“What do you mean ?”

''m' so sorry. I messed up princesa. I messed up bad.''

You moved your hand to his hair to caress it and comfort him.

''What did you do ?''

''I-don't make me say it.''

Whatever he has done had to be really bad for him to be that panicked. You could definitely tell that it had been eating him all day.

''Tell me,''

''….I messed up last night, because of another girl.''

As soon as the words escaped his mouth, your hand froze in his hair. All the worries slipped out of your body as your blood ran cold. This couldn't be what you thought right?

''W-what ?''

''I kissed another girl.''

There it was.

Your hands fell to your side as your heart dropped. This was the last thing you could have ever imagined. You took a shaky breath trying to process the wave of emotions that invaded you, but your stare was already lost in the wall facing you.

Sensing your lack of reaction, Miles leaned back to look at you.

''You don't know how much I regret it-''

''Let go of me.''

The boy tensed in your arm at the unusual coldness of your voice.

“No mami, let me explain-”

“Let me go !” This time you yelled.

You thought back to all his possessiveness. Him not letting you talk to your guy friends. You thought back to these sleepless nights you spend worrying about this safety, just like tonight. To all these efforts you pulled to break the wall he build around him after the loss of his father.

All that for him to fumble and betray you in the end.

You felt your eyes water but you refused to cry in front of him. He couldn't see you weak. He couldn't see how much he had wounded you.

“Get out,”

“I won't, you can't end us.”

“What?'' You scoffed at his nerve. ''You ended us the moment you prioritized having fun over our relationship. Get out !”

Yet, he stayed still.

And that's all it took for you to lose it. He didn't have enough of betraying you, now he had to stay and insensitively watch you break down. He was a mess on the inside. He had never seen you this upset, and he loathed himself for being the cause of it.

“How could you do this to me !” Tears rolled down your cheeks.

There, you had failed to maintain your facade and Miles watched in horror as you fell apart in front of him. Through your blurry sight, you didn't notice that he was also crying. He stood there, towering over you, eaten up by remorse. He was supposed to protect you. He had accepted the prowler job to protect both you and his mother, but he had done the total opposite.

But he couldn't bear to lose you.

He let go of your waist and wrapped his fingers around your wrists to stop you. You tried to escape his hold but he was too strong.

“Querida, mirame por favor. I will make it up to you. I'll buy you everything you want. Tu eres mi mundo and you know-” he tried but you wouldn't hear anything.

“Who do you think I am? You can't buy me with money! Stop being selfish and leave !”

The boy tried to make eye contact with you but you looked sideways, taking deep breaths to calm down. You were overwhelmed with so many emotions that you didn't know what to feel anymore. However, you knew you couldn't bear to see him anymore.

For some reason, Miles seemed to catch the message as he finally let go of your hands and stepped back.

''I hope you can forgive me, mami.''

''Don't. I hate you. I wish I never met you.''

You spat those words purposely to hurt him. You didn't mean them at all. If anything, you still loved him as hard as before. Yet, when you noticed his hurt expression, it brought you a bit of consolation. It was tiny and it only lasted a second, but it was something.

You turned your back to him and eventually, you heard the window open and close behind you. Only then, you tumbled to your knees and let all of your tears fall, becoming a sobering mess in the silence of the room.

You had heard a lot about heartbreak. From your friends to your mother and even your aunt. What you didn't know was how aching it would be. Because even after he betrayed you, even after he made you feel like you weren't enough, you couldn't stop your heart from beating faster for Miles.

[wheeboo]

hi (i love you) | xu minghao

SYNOPSIS. in which you take a trip through random glimpses of your growing relationship with minghao. PAIRING. xu minghao x gn!reader (ft. a mention of jihoon, and gyu and seokmin very briefly) GENRE. fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, established relationship, college au WARNINGS. hao is a year or two older than reader, drinking and reader getting drunk, kissing, terms of endearment at the end, the last scene is a lil suggestive WORD COUNT. 5.5k

notes: yes. this is literally just a compilation fic of them saying hi. ty zanna @slytherinshua for reading this over for me <3 there's like significant time skips between each section - just a lil sum to keep in mind cuz i dont wanna cause confusion or anything 😭😭😭 i find hao the hardest member to write for, so i hope i was able to characterize him well here!

i. "hi." (fallow is the colour of dryness to my mouth when your eyes met mine.)

There's no way in hell you're going to let yourself be lost on the first day of university.

It's embarrassing enough accidentally waking up past your alarm and having barely any time to freshen up as much as you would like, so right now, you couldn't afford another disaster.

Taking a deep breath, you double-check your schedule and the layout of the campus on your phone, trying to match it with the signs around you. The different buildings and hallways of the campus seem like a maze in of itself, and you can feel the slight panic course up your veins. A sea of students rush past you, seemingly confident in their strides towards their own classes. A defeated sigh leaves you.

All you had to do was find the stupid art hallway.

You clench your phone tighter, your iron grip practically burning a hole through the screen. The campus map app wasn't making any more sense now than it did a minute ago. Frustration stings painfully at your eyes, but begging the earth to swallow you whole wouldn't get you to class any faster, so you force yourself to scan the crowd. There's bound to be at least someone who knows where it is and is willing to help you.

And so, your eyes catch sight of the first figure appearing conveniently in your peripheral vision𑁋a boy, dressed in a casual fallow-coloured flannel with a backpack casually slung over one of his shoulders, earphones in his ears, and peering down at something on his phone just like you were doing minutes ago (though he seems to be having a much better time than you)𑁋which was somehow enough for your feet to bolt you towards as if it had a mind of its own.

You feel the root of your nerves creep up your legs and branch up to your neck as you approach him, realising at this point, there's no turning back now. You tap him lightly on the shoulder, bracing yourself for a possible eye roll or annoyed sigh.

His eyes widen in surprise before settling on you, and at that moment, something strikes hard at whatever rehearsed lines you had in your head. It was all gone in a simple snap, from a simple look from him𑁋soft yet sharp brown eyes framed by dark lashes peering at you with a hint of surprise, fluffy dark hair showering down his neck and forehead a little, a dainty pair of silver earrings glinting at his ears. His whole face seems to hold a warmth that somehow eases a bit of the knot in your chest, but certainly not the one in your throat.

You open your mouth, but all the words die on your tongue. The air hangs heavy with a sudden awkwardness, and you can practically feel your cheeks burning. Maybe you should just turn around and pretend this never happened.

But then, you notice the way his lips lift up just slightly, and it makes your stomach do a flip. He glances down at his phone for a second, takes off his earphones, then brings his attention back at you.

"Hi," is all he says, and maybe, just maybe, your heart stops a little bit. It's just a simple word, but the way he says it𑁋all soft, quiet, a tad bit hesitant𑁋makes the fabric of your shirt feel tight on your body.

You didn't notice you were clenching your fists until you force them to relax at your side, clearing your throat in the process.

"Hi," You manage back nervously, surprised at how breathless you sound. "Sorry, I-I don't mean to intrude. It's just... Do you happen to know where the art hallway is? I'm trying to find my photography class."

You watch the way he tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ear, unveiling more of a view of his piercings. He gazes briefly behind you at the clusters of other students gradually spilling into different hallways, hushing the space where the two of you stood. Then he returns his attention back to you, his expression softening slightly.

"You're not that far off," he comments, seemingly amused. "I was just heading there myself too."

"Really? That's a relief. The campus map is awful and confusing, and I swear this place was designed on purpose for you to get lost in, you know? And being lost on the first day is just..." You quickly shut your mouth up from your rambling, letting your voice fade into an embarrassed chuckle instead.

Your gaze falls to the ground for a moment, and when you pick your head back up to look at him, you catch a glimpse of the small curve that he has at his lips, barely a hint of a smile playing there. It's a small detail, but suddenly it feels like the most important thing in the world, and it throws your train of thought completely off track. He doesn't seem bothered by your little habit of rambling (admittedly, because of nerves), thankfully. Instead, he lets out a soft laugh, the sound washing over you like a warm summer breeze.

You can't help but sheepishly grin back, feeling a certain lightness bloom within your chest that probably has nothing to do with the weight of your backpack suddenly seeming lighter as well.

"It's okay," he reassures, voice as quiet and gentle as his gaze. "Everyone gets lost here sometimes. I've been there."

He starts walking, and you hesitate for a second before falling into step beside him. There's a small part of you urging to get to know him, as if this was the only opportunity to do so, but all the words you want to say sound clumsy and loud compared to the easy peacefulness that surrounds him.

And honestly, it feels... nice.

The hallway he leads you in is perhaps more than just a simple art hallway, the intoxicating scent of oil paint and clay blend together in the air. Paintings by students and faculty of every style imaginable line the walls, some bursting with vibrant colours, others muted and contemplative. Sculptures poke out from odd corners, and bulletin boards are overflowed with announcements of upcoming exhibitions and workshops, even though the year just started.

"Welcome to the art hallway," he beckons you casually and welcomingly, as if only this portion of the campus was a separate entity than others.

You let out a breath you didn't realise you were holding in. "Thank you so much. Wow, this place is, um..." You stop yourself from continuing on, zipping your mouth shut. "I owe you. Oh, I'm Y/N, by the way. If there's anything I can𑁋"

"There's no need." He waves a hand dismissively at your offer, and for a second you feel something inside you sink, but the small hint of a smile to his face chases that feeling away just a little. "And it's Minghao... yeah. I'll see you around."

Before you can say anything more, you watch as he turns himself around and swiftly enters inside the room standing right behind him. A painting class.

(You are eight minutes late to class when a near-clear picture on the wall catches your gaze. It looks like a picture of Minghao standing next to a particularly vibrant painting of abstract art, and your heart swells just a little bit more.)

ii. "hi." (laurel is the colour of the grass that you lay on with me, gazing up at the same sky together.)

There was a time during Minghao's first year of college where a friend of his𑁋Lee Jihoon is his name𑁋called him crazy and bonkers for spending majority of his day outdoors rather than inside. Obviously, Minghao didn't exactly care, nor was it insulting in the slightest knowing Jihoon's stubbornness and tendency to stay holed up in his room buried under piles of music textbooks.

But he would be lying if he said he didn't appreciate the outdoors more than anything else, like from the way the sun kisses upon his skin, the gentle breeze that caresses his face, and the colours of nature that found him at his lowest times. Minghao thinks that's how he got into painting and art in the first place, though he didn't dwell on it too much. It all just came natural to him. He likes to think it that way𑁋that it found him instead.

The scenery of the campus is his oasis. He can do his own thing while others are walking through their own lives. He can sit outside for as long as he wants until dusk settles in and paints the sky with hues of orange and pink, or until the stars twinkle above and remind him that he's just an utter speck in the universe.

Today is no different.

Minghao finds himself sprawled out on the grass near the art building, sketchbook propped up against his bent knees, brow furrowed in concentration as he tries to capture the way the afternoon sunlight filters through the leaves of a nearby tree in his line of sight.

A low breeze runs through the air, stirring a few strands of hair across his forehead. He brushes them back absentmindedly, just as a sound cracks into the quietness.

"Hi!"

Minghao shoots his eyes up, slightly startled from the unexpected greeting. He catches sight of you slowly approaching up to him, a hesitant smile gracing your lips as you stop a few feet away.

"Hi," he replies, voice soft as he notices the way you're fiddling with something behind your back. "Vending machine did its ol' thing again?"

"Can you always read my mind?" You murmur, teasing annoyance biting at your words, but you can't contain the smile to your face either way. Maybe he can read your mind, but he's just skimming over it instead. "I can take it if you prefer to die from dehydration."

Minghao chuckles lightly. He glances down at the water bottle in your hand, then back at you, lingering for a beat longer than necessary. There's a flicker of amusement in his dark eyes, but also a hint of something𑁋maybe surprise, mischief, or perhaps a touch of shyness.

(You don't catch the way he subconsciously pushes the other water bottle he had stashed earlier deeper into his backpack.)

"Thanks." He accepts the water bottle from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours for a second, and takes a quick sip to cool his slightly parched throat.

Then he sets the water bottle down beside him, patting the grass next to him invitingly.

Without a word, you take a deep breath and lower yourself down onto the grass next to him. You catch the scent of the fresh paint lingering on his clothes and blending with the earthy aroma of the grass beneath you. The sunlight catches on the side of his face, highlighting some strands of hair flying in the breeze and the silver earrings reflecting in his ears.

There's a small groan that leaves you when you get yourself to lay fully down on the grass, using your backpack as a makeshift pillow. Minghao just peers in your direction curiously, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips as he watches you settle in.

"You know," You sigh, letting out a contented breath as you spread your arms out a little, fixing your eyes up towards the sky. "This is actually really nice, hanging outside and all, but I am so out of shape. You pick the worst spots."

Minghao's smile widens a fraction at your words. He shifts his own gaze to the sky, observing as the clouds drift lazily overhead, fingertips kneading at the laurel-coloured grass below. The soft yet vibrant green reminds him of a new set of paints he recently bought.

"I think you'll survive lying on a patch of grass, Y/N."

"Not if I get up and there's a goddamn earthworm crawling in my ear, Hao."

"Just don't fall asleep, and you'll live."

You let out a giggle, though you wouldn't be lying if you said that the warmth hitting your body was making you feel just the tiniest bit of drowsy. "No promises there."

The silence that lingers between you and Minghao isn't uncomfortable, but it's not exactly filled with chatter either. It's a comfortable silence, with the distant sounds of other students laughing like white noise and the occasional rustle of a breeze flying past your ears.

It's always like this when you're here together, a quiet that feels more familiar than the few months you've known him. Whether it's your little study sessions at the library, or when you hang out with him after hours in his painting class, it's familiar being around him. The thought settles around you like a well-worn blanket, a comfort you didn't know you craved until you found it here.

You glance over back at Minghao, who seems to be focused back on his sketchbook. He taps his pencil against his bottom lip in concentration. There's a small smudge of charcoal on his nose that you pinpoint, just hardly noticeable, but it makes you want to reach out and brush it away with your thumb.

The bold thought makes your stomach churn.

"Lay down with me, Hao."

The words leave you before you can stop them, surprising even yourself. A blush creeps up your neck, warming your cheeks as you continue watching Minghao. He's still focused on his sketchbook, but the tapping of his pencil against his lip has ceased. He looks down at you, eyes widening slightly in surprise before softening into a gentle smile.

"Lay down?" he asks, a teasing lilt in his voice.

"Y-Yeah," You stammer, suddenly wishing you'd phrased it differently. "I mean, if you want. The sky looks better from here, you know?"

Minghao just tilts his head to the side as if in contemplation, before closing his sketchbook and shifting his position. He tosses his backpack right next to yours, laying himself down on the grass and stretching his body in relief. The grass crinkles softly beneath him, his arm briefly brushing against yours, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his body as he settles in, peering up at the sky with you.

He's painted the sky many times, but for some reason, it feels different looking at it right now, and he isn't entirely sure why.

"What's the weirdest colour you've painted with?"

The sudden question makes Minghao sit up slightly, leaning on his elbow to face you better. The corners of his lips are pulled up in the hint of a smirk.

"Goose turd green."

His eyes detail the way your face contorts in slight disgust, before nothing but laughter tumbles out of you, and Minghao thinks he'd never get tired of hearing that sound.

iii. "hi." (vermilion is the colour that seeps through my cheeks when the alcohol beats me and i think about you.)

"Y/N𑁋jeez, how much did they drink tonight?"

"I don't even know𑁋woah, hey! Hold them steady, wait..."

"I'll take them back to their place," Minghao tells the other two boys struggling to keep you from falling over in their hold.

Mingyu and Seokmin stare at him for a second, exchanging a glance with each other before guiding you into Minghao's hold carefully. Minghao secures an arm around your waist, loosely at first, before tightening instantly because you're just about to fall out of his grip. He bids the other guys goodbye, then sets off with you towards your dorm.

"Are you alright?" he asks, even though he knows the answer already. "I told you before that you should know your limits."

You giggle, a wobbly, off-key sound. "Oh, I feel peachy, thank you so much."

Minghao just sighs, shaking his head slightly as he adjusts his hold on you, making sure you're steady on your feet.

The walk back to your dorm is painfully slow. Streetlights cast an orange glow on the sidewalk, painting long shadows that seem to dance alongside you. You lean heavily against Minghao, head hanging down to the ground, your footsteps unsteady. The world seems to tilt and sway with every giggle that escapes you.

Your vision is a bit blurry when your dorm comes into sight. Relief washes over you, and you lean even heavier into Minghao, practically melting into him by the time you reach your door and it swings open.

He steps you inside, moving you past the shoe rack by the entrance and towards your bed, and you flop down on the plush mattress with a low groan, nearly dragging down Minghao on top of you.

He catches himself just in time, a hand landing on the mattress beside you with a soft thud, and suddenly he's hovering above you, his breath catching with the sudden closeness of his body pressed up against yours. However, it just makes a laugh bubble out of your throat from deep within your chest, and with half-lidded eyes, you find yourself staring dazedly up at him.

"Wow, hiiii, you're like..." You drawl your words and tap aimlessly at his shoulder. "You're like... so pretty, you know? Have I told you that before?"

Heat creeps up Minghao's neck. He blinks down at you, eyes trailing over your face and cheeks which were stained a soft shade of vermilion from all the alcohol earlier. A small, surprised airy laugh escapes his lips.

He opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. And even after pulling away from you, you continue, voice thick with inebriation.

"And your smile? Oh, don't even get me started," You slur, a goofy grin plastered on your face. "Those big, cute eyes you have? They, like, make the whole world look... sparkly."

"Y/N, you need𑁋"

"And whenev... whenever you paint," You continue, voice trailing off away. The world seems to be spinning a little slower now, the grin to your face faltering for a moment, replaced by a furrowed brow as you try to focus on the thought. "Yeah, whenever you paint... you get this... this really focused look on your face. Like the world fades away and all that's left is the canvas. It's kind of... hot."

Minghao could simply only stare at you. He knows he should probably get you settled into bed and leave, but his feet seem rooted to the floor below. His gaze flickers up and down your face, then back up to your eyes, searching for any sign of what you just said being a joke. But all he sees is a genuine, albeit slightly hazy and inebriated, fondness.

"You think so?" he finally manages to ask.

"Yeah," You mumble knowingly as if instinctive, eyelids drooping closed a little further. "Makes you look, uh... determined. Like you could𑁋like you could paint the stars out of the sky or something."

Minghao cowers his head down for a second, before looking back up at you, crossing his arms together bemusedly. "Do you want me to paint the stars for you?"

You give a dreamy nod. In your cloudy mind, the idea sounds incredibly romantic, like something out of a dream.

"I think..." You start once again. "that would really make me like you even more."

Minghao feels his lips twitch, somewhat hopeful yet also reluctant, before letting out another sigh.

"You need to go to bed." He walks back over and helps pull the covers over you. "I'll leave you some water and meds to take in the morning, okay?"

A pang of disappointment shoots through you as he pulls away, a sleepy pout crossing over your features. You watch him with heavy eyelids, the room tilting ever so slightly with each passing beat of your heart.

"Wait," You murmur, grabbing weakly at his sleeve.

Minghao turns back around. You're looking at him, eyes a little more focused now, a hint of a playful smile on your lips, and shooting him a look that means business.

"Don't forget the stars, okay, mister?"

iv. "hi." (pewter is the colour of the clouds when the earth can't hold it in much longer, and the words burst all at once.)

It hits you on a random Wednesday near the end of the month during an exam on English Romanticism that you simply can't stand this anymore.

You're avoiding Minghao, purposely attending more study sessions that your classmates offer and taking up more shifts at the small café across from campus that you applied for a while ago to make some extra bucks. You know you're avoiding him, and he probably knows it too, and it's all your fault𑁋you're letting him get away and slip through the cracks between your fingers.

Minghao's art had been selected for a prestigious exhibition out of town, and he was set to leave at the end of the month for this internship just as summer is starting, and the thought of him being gone brings a hollow ache to your chest. It's becoming unbearable each passing day, each millisecond that passes knowing you've been so stupidly immature to push him away when he's quite literally been the best thing that has happened to you.

You may never understand how Xu Minghao𑁋this sophisticated, well-mannered, and endlessly talented artist𑁋had managed to wriggle his way into your heart so effortlessly, but there he was, occupying every crevice and corner with his gentle smiles and soft laughter that seem to flip the world over. He was just this sentient, living breathing form of peace that you can’t seem to let go of.

When another boom of thunder shatters outside, you think, screw this.

Screw avoiding him. This wasn't how this story was supposed to end.

You're quick to shove your belongings back in your bag the moment your class ends. The rain has calmed down a little when you step outside, which only seems to fuel the determination within you.

With a deep breath, you pull your jacket tighter against your body, and start to spring across campus. The rain might be getting heavier with each passing minute, but you don't care. All you care about is getting to Minghao before the storm within you bursts too.

Reaching his dorm building, you're merely a shivering mess, hair damp and plastered to your forehead and clothes clinging uncomfortably to your skin. You barely have the breath to push open the heavy doors, collapsing against them for a moment to catch your breath.

But just as you're about to push open the door, a figure blocks your way, and you peer up to see Minghao standing in front of you. There's an umbrella clutched in his hand, and a puzzled look etches across his features when he takes sight of your disheveled appearance in front of him. You could only gaze at him.

"Hi," You say breathlessly, as if you've been holding on to the singular word for dear life.

Minghao just blinks a few times, unsure if he's looking at you as if you were crazy or if he's just imagining you.

"Hi," he finally responds, voice all gentle and slightly hesitant.

You glance down at the umbrella in his hand. "Are you going somewhere?"

Minghao opens his mouth to respond, also looking down at the umbrella in his hands as if magically appeared there out of thin air, then a bashful look crosses his face.

"I forgot some supplies back in class, so I thought I'd grab them before the storm gets any worse," he explains somewhat lamely, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "But I𑁋Are you... are you okay?"

You give a loose nod, then shake your head dismissively right afterwards. Gosh, you're losing it.

Minghao clears his throat. "What are you doing out here in the rain? You're going to get sick𑁋"

"You know I-I like you, right?" The words stumble clumsily over your tongue, shattering whatever fragile tension was building up between you two. "And you probably knew that already, to be honest, because you always seem to know me better than I know myself. But the thought of you leaving just... scared me, and I panicked and pushed you away."

A lump forms in your throat. Minghao's expression is practically unreadable in front of you. There's a mix of surprise, a hint of something that could be hurt, and something else you can't exactly decipher.

You let out a dry chuckle, embarrassment crawling up your face but you try to ignore it as much as you can.

"I-I know I sound crazy right now," You say, forcing a smile that seems more like a grimace. "But I... I couldn't let you leave without knowing how I feel. So yeah. I like you. A lot. Maybe more than that. I don't know. It sort of scares me, honestly."

You wait a few moments, simply standing there in the falling rain while anticipating just anything from the boy standing in front of you as if the world had come to a pause. His silence stretches suffocatingly long, nothing but a cloud swirling in those beautiful eyes of his.

Then he looks down at the umbrella in his hand for a moment, then back at you, his gaze lingering on your soaked clothes and shivering form. And just before you can spiral into a wave of panic, Minghao steps forward close to you. Without a word, he unfurls the umbrella and holds it over your head, tilting it slightly to ensure you're fully covered from the rain.

"Let's get you out of this rain," he says finally, low and calm. "You're freezing."

"I..." You start, then stop, giving a muted nod. "Okay."

Minghao leads you back inside his dorm building and up to his room, the warmth seeping overwhelmingly into your bones. He ushers you into his space, the door swinging shut with a soft click behind you.

You've been inside Minghao's room before, but it feels different now, more intimate somehow. The air hangs heavy as you awkwardly perch yourself on the edge of his bed, careful not to let the water dripping off you land on his sheets, and you watch as he quietly makes his way to his closet and disappears behind the hanging clothes. A moment later, he emerges with a soft, oversized hoodie and a towel in hand.

"Here." He holds out the towel and hoodie towards you. "Dry yourself off and change out of those clothes."

The softness of the towel against your skin is the equivalent to luxury as you meticulously pat down your hair and face. You shoot glances at Minghao across the room, seeing him busy himself at his desk, back turned to you, a low hum escaping his lips.

You slip on the oversized hoodie, the familiar scent of Minghao washing over you and instantly relaxing your jittery nerves. The sleeves hang past your fingertips, the material engulfing you in a comforting warmth.

"Feeling a little better?" Minghao asks, turning around to face you after a few minutes. You hardly notice the way his gaze sweeps over your form, lingering on the way the hoodie basically swallows you.

A shy, self-conscious look crosses your features. "Yeah, um... Thanks."

Minghao returns the smile, though there's a hint of something else in his eyes𑁋perhaps relief or maybe even a touch of fondness. "Always."

That particular silence passes again as you both sit in his room, the only sound the soft patter of rain against the window. You fidget nervously with the sleeves of his hoodie.

Then, you let out a sigh. "Look, Hao𑁋"

"Do you want anything to drink?"

The offer zips your mouth back up, leaving your unfinished words hanging in the air. Is he... trying to brush away everything that has just happened in the last fifteen minutes? All just like that? You nearly want to scoff at the thought, but you bite at your bottom lip instead, a pang of disappointment settling in your chest.

"Honestly?" You lay your hands flat on your lap. "I'd kill for a hot chocolate right now."

Minghao just chuckles softly. "Okay," Then another long, considerable pause. "Are you working at the café later on?"

The thought of working right now makes you cringe internally. "No, thank goodness. My shift actually got swapped with someone else. Lucky break, I guess."

The corners of Minghao's mouth lift up subtly. He glances back out the window, seeing that the rain had become much lighter and cleared up significantly, revealing the sky in a palette of muted greys. His gaze returns to you, a thoughtful expression painting his features.

"Let's go then," he asserts firmly, rising up to his feet.

You raise an eyebrow at him. "What? Right now? To the café?"

"Mhm."

"But you can't𑁋we can't just𑁋"

"It's a date," Minghao affirms, cutting your words off promptly. "My treat."

His words catch you off-guard, and for a moment, you're at a loss for words. Your mouth hangs down to the ground, warmth crawling up the cheeks just like the hot chocolate you desperately crave right now. You can feel your heart pounding furiously out of your chest and whatever tension coiling in your stomach dissipating away.

"A... date?" You squeak out, voice coming out small and weak.

Minghao's lips purse together in a thin line. "Unless you have other plans𑁋"

"Oh no, no, no," You blurt out, finding yourself already breathless for no reason at all, struggling to keep the giddy grin forming on your face at bay. "A date sounds perfect, actually."

Relief floods over Minghao's features. He lets out a little giggle, the kind that always makes your insides do a little happy flip.

"Good," he responds simply. "I'm glad."

"Do I get to pay next time?" You ask teasingly as you stand up. "If there is a next time, at least."

Nothing but amusement dances in his eyes.

"We'll see about that."

v. "hi." (calamine is the colour staining your cheeks and your lips against my ear.)

Minghao's lips are on yours before you have the opportunity to breathe in the air of relief of the hotel room.

It's not hard for your body to melt into him instinctively, the kiss soft yet desperate, tender yet urgent. You find your fingers kneading at the silky material of the suit that he wore, and his hand coming to rest on your lower back. Both of your feet move in mere unison together before you feel the edge of the bed nudge the back of your knee.

When the two of you pull back for a minute to breathe, all you can do is faintly chuckle.

"You act like you haven't seen me in years," You tease, letting a hand come to toy with his tie. "Did you miss me that much?"

Minghao's gaze only flickers between your eyes, your lips, and down the outfit that seems to hug your body just perfectly, before settling back up to your face. His own face is close enough to yours that you swear you could pinpoint the flecks of stardust in his irises. He's simply staring at you with nothing but adoration, his gaze so intense like he's trying to memorise every little detail etched on your face, even if he's already done so many times. He's painted stars on your skin with his fingertips, lips, whispered words, and his heart.

And then he's kissing you again, more softly and slower this time, the weight of his body following your own as you fall back down on the bed behind.

Missing you is more than just an understatement. Being separated from you felt like this physical piece of him was missing from his chest. His art had been reaching the rightful hands of museums abroad just as he deserves, and you had gotten used to him travelling for days on end to attend exhibitions and workshops.

You jumped on the first opportunity to be able to visit him. And now, with you in his arms and your lips pressed against his, Minghao feels like he's finally whole again.

His mouth pulls away from the sweet spot to your neck, trailing a soft path back up to your lips, giving you a small kiss before pulling back to look at you. You hear the way his breath hitches in his throat, the feeling of his hand coming to interlock with yours at your side, the metal of the ring on his finger meeting your skin.

You peer up at him longingly, lovingly, a tiny smile playing at the corners of your lips.

"Hi," You whisper, a breathless laugh escaping you.

Minghao's gaze softens even further, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand as he leans back down.

"Hi, dearest," he murmurs back affectionately, adjusting himself so that his mouth is near your ear, barely grazing against the shell as he whispers, "You're beautiful."

You could only giggle as he retreats himself away slightly, but you tug him by the tie again to bring him back down. "Yeah? What else?"

There's a thoughtful look that crosses over his features, his cheeks painted an ethereal shade of calamine pink, mirroring the flush of warmth that spreads across your own face. You've always grown accustomed to Minghao's fairly quiet nature, however it doesn't take much to read over even the most imperceptible shifts in his expressions. Whenever words seem to be too shy or hesitant to come out, the stars in his eyes speak for him.

Minghao just lowers himself even more, the ghost of his lips hardly brushing back against yours.

"I love you."

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @phenomenalgirl9 @roziesmei @mirxzii @bookyeom @parkjennykim @melodicrabbit @bewoyewo @honglynights

[resi4skz]

Title: My Nerdy Girl

Pairing: Chan x Reader

Warning: smut, fingering, kissing, hard thoughts, horny chan, all the shebang

MDNI !!!

You know when you're the most popular guy in college and have girls asking for your phone number? And when you politely reject them because you have a huge crush on your good friend who also happens to be one of your classmates in one of your classes?

Yeah. That's me. I'm currently looking at her eat her lunch, sitting across from her best friend, Luna, who happens to be the girlfriend of my best friend, Han. Luna and Han met because of Y/N last year, during Han's birthday. Now, that was a fun day, even if it did end with Han and Luna going at it in a closet. Good thing no one interrupted them.

Right. Back to my point about Y/N. I don't know what it is about her. I feel attracted to her. I find her cute. Endearing. And the clothes, she's always wearing baggy clothes and it has made my mind to not shut up about the filthy images I've had and been having. Now, I'm not going to deny that I have eye fucked her many times because one could only imagine what's behind all those clothes. And those glasses she wears. Something about her being a nerd makes me want to scream her name every night with my hand down my pants. I've lost count of how many times I've jerked off to her.

"Bro, just tell her already," Han says, munching on snacks.

"Remind me why you're here instead of with your girlfriend?"

"Annoyed much?" He gives me a look.

"Much."

He throws a popcorn at me which I catch with my mouth. "I can't tell her."

"Why not?"

"Because. It's Y/N. I don't want to ruin our friendship," I replied, sighing as I sit in my chair. "Fuck, I want her so bad."

"Ugh," Han groans, rolling his eyes. "Why do I have to do everything myself?" I watch as he fishes out his phone and types something.

"What are you doing?"

"Just so you know," he says putting his phone down. "I'm only doing this because you're like my bro but just this once. The rest is on you." He gets up, pats my back and leaves giving me a peace sign.

What just happened?

------------------------------------------------------------

Fuck me. That's her? She follows the waiter to where our table is. Oh my god. She's wearing a black dress that goes to her mid thighs and she paired it up with suede high knee boots and beige cardigan. If it's one thing that makes me turn feral, it's women wearing black.

Correction: it's Y/N wearing black. And no glasses??

Fuck.

How am I going to survive this date?

As she approaches the table, I stand up pulling the chair out for her. "Thank you," she says as she takes a seat.

"My pleasure."

My pleasure indeed.

------------------------------------------------------------

We're both laughing as we walk side by side by the river. "No, you're telling me that Luna is Han's first girlfriend?" She asked, laughing.

"And the only one from the looks of it," I replied.

How I never knew she would be this fun to be with, I would have made a move much sooner. She places her hand on the railing in front of her, leaning against it as she sighs, looking at the river below us. "It's so pretty."

I glance at her, not being able to take it anymore. So I cage her in from the back, putting my hands on either side of her. I feel her stiffen as I lean in near her ear. "Very pretty. Like you."

She turns her head and her cheeks turn pink realizing the sudden close proximity we're in. Her eyes travel down to my lips then to my eyes. "So pretty," I whisper as I lean in towards her parted lips. "May I?" When she nods, I waste no time. I have dreamt of kissing this woman and to finally be able to do it doesn't even compare to my dreams.

I pull back, our breaths heavy. "Fuck, Y/N. Is it safe to say that I like you?"

She chuckles, fully turns around and wraps her arms around my neck. "Yes, because I like you too. Now kiss me."

"Fuck yes," I say and crash my lips on her. She tastes like cherries. But I break the kiss too soon. She chases my lips but I stop her, gazing into her lustful eyes. "Do you wanna come over at my place?"

She blinks at me, and I can see cogs turning in her brain. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe this was too soon. I just want her so bad and I haven't been this fucking hard ever. As I slowly let her go, she fists my shirt yanking me back. I blink down at her, surprised. "Yes."

The ride to my apartment was....let's say it wasn't the best. I had to put all my focus on driving and going above the speed limit was an understatement. The amount of times I just wanted her to climb over and have her way with me.

Fuck.

I'm doomed.

And the fact that my apartment was on the eighth floor. The elevator ride, I couldn't take it anymore. I pushed Y/N against the wall, my face in the crook of her neck, drinking in her scent. I wanted to memorize it. She let out a moan as I sucked on her pulse point, making her whimper. My hands slither around her waist, travelling lower to grip both of her cheeks in my palms, pulling her closer to my body. I felt her arms wrap around my neck, tilted her head to the side for me to gain more access to skin.

I hooked her leg on my hip as my left hand went up her thigh, going beneath her dress to give her ass a tight grip. The material of my jeans rubbed against her clothed clit, and that was enough to set me into overdrive. "Chan..." Y/N whimpered as I sucked on her neck.

I wish I could listen to her whimpers and moans any day of the week. And every night, if she were up to it.

When I finally pulled away, I took a moment to stare at her dead in the eyes before leaning down to smash my lips to hers. She matched my energy as her hands travelled to my hair, her fingers raking through my black locks. Her small whimpers and moans spurred me on, her tongue swirled around mine and my cock grew hard at the sensation.

The dinging of the elevator brought me back to reality as I stepped back and we both walked off the machine. Her giggles are my favorite so far, as I pressed her against the wall, licking and biting along her neck as we tried to walk to my apartment. When we arrived, her hand intertwining with mine, I used my key to unlock the door and allowed Y/N to walk inside first. But as soon as the door closed, she was on me and I moaned into her mouth as I softly slammed her against the nearest wall.

Sliding my hands around her hips, I hoisted Y/N in my arms as her legs wrapped around my torso. Yet again, our lips moved in sync, never leaving, but quickly deepened as I walked over to my room. Upon entering, I head straight for the bed, Y/N’s back hits the soft mattress as I dive right back to her neck as hands fisted my hair giving it a light tug. "Fuck, do that again." She blinks twice before tugging at my hair, making my mind go fuzzy, unable to think straight. In return, I gripped her thigh and pulled it up a bit, lifting her thighs as I grind my hips against hers.

Y/N moaned and grinds her hips back, her covered sensitive clit, giving her the right amount of friction. She squirmed beneath me as the wetness of her panties became uncomfortable. I kissed her deeply, pausing briefly to strip out of her dress, leaving her in her black thong. "No bra?" I asked, blinking at her perky breasts to which her cheeks turns pink. I admired her body, staring at every curve and dip in her skin, running my hands up and down her frame. "Fuck. You're gorgeous."

She had swollen lips as her chest rose and fell with each breath and I trailed my lips down her body. Starting at Y/N's neck, nibbling down her collarbone to the dip of her breasts, making sure to suck her sensitive buds. She moaned, once again running her fingers through my hair and pulling my face closer. Smiling into the kiss, I was starting to love hearing her moan and could listen to them all day. Heck, if it was up to me, I would want to keep her beneath the sheets, under me.

I continued trailing my tongue down the her torso. When I got to her black panties, I look up, and she nods for me to continue. I reached up and peeled the black item of clothing down her legs, throwing it behind me as it joins with the rest of of our clothing.

Pushing her legs open, I run my fingers through her folds before slipping my middle finger into her. “Such a pretty cunt.”

Her cheeks turn pink at the compliment. I watch as her back arches as I thrust my finger inside, knuckle deep, exploring her soft walls.

"Fuck, Channie.” she moaned, closing her eyes in pleasure.

I hovered over her lips as my fingers slowly worked in and out of her. She kept arching and writhing as I continued, mouth wide open as she let out silent moans.

“I can feel you tightening already.” But as I added a second finger, she couldn't contain herself. Her moans spilled out of her like she was a pornstar. Even when I kissed her, nothing stopped the volume she was outputting. “Fuck, I can't wait to fuck you."

Her walls clamp down on my fingers and I silently cursed at myself for not doing this sooner. “Channie…please…” The moans that escaped her mouth as they bounced off my room's walls. If the neighbors complain, I wouldn't give a fuck.

“Please, what?” I smirked watching her come undone at my pleasure. “I can’t hear you, baby.” I started moving my fingers faster in and out of her tight wet cunt that I had been dreaming about. I smile hearing her beg and plead. Gazing up at her lustfully, I smirk before taking her by surprise by leaning down and latching my mouth on her clit. She lets out a muffled moan, making me come up to see her biting the back of her hand.

Something came over me and I swat her ass cheek, making her yelp. "I want to hear you." She draws her hand back as I go back to my first mission and groan at the taste of her juices as they run down my chin. I hear her gasp before her hand grips the back of my head, fisting my hair and then pushes me deeper into her sopping pussy. "You taste so fucking good.”

“Don’t fucking stop,” Y/N moaned, as I run my fingers over her sensitive nub. “I’m so close.”

I couldn't say no to her so I grabbed the back of her knees, pushed her legs towards her chest, and began to devour her. I ran my tongue through her already soaking pussy before sticking it inside of her. Her thighs started shaking as I feel her first orgasm of the night approaching. And it was coming fast. "Cum on my face, baby. Can you do that for me?"

Her walls clenched around my fingers. She moaned my name as her orgasm hit her hard, she closed her thighs around my head as the aftershocks flowed through her body. I trailed kisses up her chest, sucking her sensitive nubs again before smashing my lips to hers.

As I shed my pants and boxers, I felt her watching me and saw her eyes widen at my rock hard cock. I quickly grabbed a condom, teared the corner of the foil with my teeth before putting it on. "Ready?" When she gives me a nod, I hover over her as I aligned myself at her enterance. She cries out as I slide in, all at once. I wanted to move and ruin her under my spell. But the look on her face made me stop. "Are you okay?"

She nods, opening her eyes. "I didn't expect you to be this big."

I laugh. "You've got a smart mouth. I wonder what else it can do."

"Why don't you find out?"

Fuck me. Drawing myself back, I thrust my cock inside her and threw her head back, arching her back as her walls pulsated wildly around me. “So fucking tight…” I hissed as I speed up the pace to the point where I'm hammering into her. Her glistening neck had me going crazy as I licked and nibbled at a spot and mumbled how she felt around me. She felt so tight, so warm, just right. “Babygirl, is this good? Do you want me to go harder, faster?”

I slowed down when she didn't respond, making her whine. I didn't want to pull out because I had wanted to be inside, nice and snug in her warmth. She was stretching well to my size, much to my surprise.

“Channie, if you don't fuck me in the next 5 seconds, I'm leaving you with blue balls,” Y/N stated, eyes glazed over with lust, and her cheek flushed.

"You asked for it," I said as I grabbed her hips and slammed my hips against her at an ungodly speed. She looked so sexy, so good, and willing to take what I had to offer. Fuck, her fucked out appearance was beyond my dreams. My thumb rubbed her sensitive clit making her mewl out loud.

“Oh, are you sensitive?” She nodded at my question. "I'm going to have so much fun with this later on but right now, I need you to come on my cock," I grunted, leaving a hickey on her neck.

“Ahhh…no wait…” She squirmed beneath me, and her hand went to grab my wrist. "Chan, ah, fuck, please." I noticed how she didn’t pull my hand away despite her pleads.

I could feel her walls clenching down around me. “Sorry baby,” I breathed out as the pressure in my balls kept rising. “You’re just too perfect for me."

“Fuck, Channie,” She came with a cry. Her arms wrapped around my neck, her body convulsing as she held me close.

I wasn't far behind. “Oh, fuck. I'm gonna cum. You're gonna make me cum. Fuck, fuck, I'm cumming.” I stilled as the hot sticky cum painted the inside of Y/N's tight cunt.

Our heavy breaths filled the room, bouncing off the walls as I blinked down at her, catching my breath. I pressed my lips to hers as her hands ran down my back. "You okay?"

"Yes," she nods, smiling.

"Wait here," I pull out when I've gone soft and retrieve a small towel from the bathroom. As I cleaned her off, her hand grabs mine and I glance up. "What is it? Are you hurt? Was I too rough?"

She giggles. Oh, I love her giggles. "I'm okay, Channie. In fact, I don't think I can walk." She grins and asks, "So does this mean I'll see you again?"

I smile. "Oh, you'll definitely be seeing me again. Because I intend on seeing you outside of my room." I laugh when she hits my arm playfully. "Y/N. You're mine."

She smiles, beaming at me. "I'm yours."

Settling down in the bed next to her, she snuggles up to me as I wrap my arm around her, kissing her forehead. It doesn't take too long for her to falls asleep, making me smile. "Goodnight, babygirl. Sweet dreams."

A/N: i dont know what to do with myself now.....

[mrsjellymunson]

Candyman, Candyman, Candyman

A Valentine’s Eddie Munson 5+1 fic

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader, Eddie Munson x gn!reader, Eddie Munson x masc!reader, Eddie Munson x you

Summary: The Valentines 5+1 that nobody asked for (not even me 😆) Five times you get to give Eddie a kiss, and one time he kisses you back

W/C: ~2.1k

C/W: SFW, FLUFF. Kissing, a pet name. This is pure fluff, but my blog is generally 18+ so I’d prefer it if you were over 18. Reader wears lipgloss. Reader and Eddie are both over 18. Inspired by this supersweet fic by @hellfirenacht which I hope it’s okay for me to mention! I wasn’t planning to write for Valentine’s, but here we are, so thanks for the inspo. Also, I should probably mention at this point that I have no idea how candygrams actually work 🫣

To anyone looking from the outside, you’re a preppy honours student, but you have a dark and curious side. You’re usually all pressed shirts, woven fabrics and tweed, but you’ve sometimes been known to wear those starched shirts pulled a little too tight, and you occasionally add a chain belt or some chunky boots.

You don’t tell anyone that on the weekends you like to experiment with heavy eyeliner and leather accessories. Or that you’ve been spending a lot of time recently staring at one fellow student in particular a little more than is absolutely polite.

So when you accidentally overhear a private conversation about a certain metalhead, and the opportunity for helping out with the school’s annual Valentine's fundraiser presents itself, you sign up as fast as you can.

Once a year the school allows students to organise cards and candygrams to be sent around for Valentine’s Day. It lasts the full school week, and the premise is fairly simple. The pink and red fliers have been floating around for weeks already, declaring:

MONDAY Send a lipstick kiss on a heart shaped card $1 TUESDAY Add a lollipop $2 WEDNESDAY Send a card and blow them a kiss! $3 THURSDAY Send a card, plus a kiss on the cheek! $4 FRIDAY For when you’re really serious! Send them a card, and a kiss on the lips! $5 Sign Up In The Cafeteria!

Only the week before, Eddie Munson had been on a tirade in the lunchroom about the commercialisation of human affection, and the unrealistic expectations of binary, monogamous relationships.

You think perhaps he shouldn’t be one to talk, given the content of that conversation that you eavesdropped on involves Eddie's band mates knowing he’s never been kissed. They’ve pooled their resources and plan to surprise him during Valentine’s week.

Everything’s anonymously ordered, so no one knows who’s sending things. And you’ve finagled a position on the volunteering committee that allows you to choose which volunteers deliver which messages. Handy.

You’ve also invested in a new red-tinted, strawberry flavour lipgloss. It’s all going well so far. The only thing you can’t predict is whether or not Eddie Munson likes strawberries…

Monday comes around quickly. Kisses on cards day. Quite a few have been ordered and there are lots to get delivered around the various classes, so there’s four of you from the fundraising committee delivering them to his class.

Thanks to your position on the committee, you know it’s your lipgloss on Eddie’s card. When you sidle past his desk to deliver it to him you watch him pull back slightly, his eyes open wide, shocked that anyone would send him anything. You guess he’s more used to pranks and jokes than any genuine affection, and it hurts your heart.

You want to give him a hint as to whose kiss is on his card. Trying to be as subtle as you can, and making sure he’s watching you, you catch his eye and bite the side of your lower lip ever so slightly. It puffs your lips out a bit and you see his attention is drawn to your mouth. Success?

There’s a general clamour in the class as recipients and observers alike wave their cards and ponder the potential senders, but Eddie’s quiet for once. He’s tentatively running his fingers over the edge of the card, not picking it up or pulling it towards him, treating it like it’s a potential threat. Just before your group leaves to attend another class, you see him subtly runs his fingertips over the shiny stain.

You don’t know it but later, when he’s alone, he brings the card up to his face to get a closer look at that lipgloss kiss, and he swears he can smell strawberries…

Tuesday means lollipop day. You and your fellow volunteers have more cards to deliver, this time accompanied by little heart shaped candies on sticks. Again, quite a few get delivered, and again, you make sure you’ve got Eddie’s.

As you enter his classroom for the second day in a row, your face is coy and you give him a little smirk. You make your way around the class, distributing cards and candies.

To Eddie’s ongoing surprise, you stop in front of his desk again. As you hand Eddie his card, there are a couple of whoops and hollers from his friends behind him. It’s not part of the deal, but you can’t resist, and before you pass Eddie’s candy to him you press one flat side of the lollipop to your lips, handing it over quickly afterwards, saying, “Enjoy your candy, Eddie.”

Wednesday - blow a kiss day. There’s fewer orders for this service, so only two of you today. You blow a couple of short kisses to others in the room, making it quick and perfunctory.

Again, Eddie’s shocked when you stop in front of his desk, seeming to look to each side of him in an attempt to work out whether you’ve really chosen him again. You pass him his third card, and when you blow Eddie his kiss, it’s slow and seductive, your lips pursing and smacking against your fingers, and you blow across them long and slow, making sure your breath reaches his face.

His classmates erupt, and Eddie’s certain he smells strawberries again…

Thursday. Kiss on the cheek day.

There are fewer orders today, and you're the only volunteer delivering to Eddie’s class. It’s a little awkward and you feel very ‘on show’, but as soon as you see Eddie is in class your desire to put your plan into action overrides any awkwardness.

You give one girl a peck on the cheek, she’s cute and blushes before saying a quiet, “Thank you.”

A jock on the other side of the room is next. He’s less gallant and tries to turn his head at the last moment, but you’re wise to such tricks and he doesn’t get the lip contact he wants, earning you a scowl from him and a round of applause from his cronies.

You can see Eddie’s friends almost vibrating with excitement as you turn and step towards him.

His cheeks flush and he squirms as he realises you’re stopping next to his desk. Again.

You try to reassure him, and say quietly, so almost no one else can hear, “Don’t worry, Eddie. I’ll be gentle with you.”

You bend at the waist, puckering your lips and slowly bringing them to his soft, milky white skin. You plant a slow, strawberry-scented peck to the side of his face, leaving a shimmering red stain just next to where you know your favourite dimple resides.

He turns almost the colour of your lipgloss, and the cheers of his classmates serenade you as you smile to yourself and leave the class for another day.

Friday - kiss day!

You’re thrilled that you’ve managed to wrangle everything so that you get to do a ‘five dollar’ delivery with Eddie. Your planning couldn’t have gone better.

You’re more excited than you would ever admit, a heat collecting in your belly as you try to walk as calmly as you can to his classroom.

He’s the only recipient today, making this a really big deal in front of the entire class.

There’s a couple of whistles and yelps as you enter, some of his classmates clearly aware of what’s to come.

You decide to tease the rest of the class a little, walking around the desks for effect, as everyone’s wondering who it’s going to be.

Eventually, you stop in front of Eddie’s desk. His friends are yelping the loudest, but the whole class is emitting a low chorus of ‘oooooooh’s.

Eddie holds his hands up, palms out in front of him, and, giving you - and, you suspect, him - an out, he mumbles quietly,

“Whoa. You know you don’t have to do this, right?”

He starts stuttering something about the patriarchy and antiquated societal notions of romantic expectations and subservience, but you’re barely listening, your concentration fully focused on his lips, practically salivating at the thought of finally getting close to those delicious, plump, pink pillows.

You give him what you hope is a reassuring and soft smile as you clasp your hands behind your back and begin to lean forwards.

Eddie leans back as you move. It must look comical to the outside observers as you lean in, eyes closed and lip pursed, as he moves backwards at the same rate, eyes as wide as saucers and doing a great impersonation of a rabbit in headlights.

Eventually, his back against his chair and his chin pulled down as far as it will go, he has nowhere left to run.

You keep leaning forward, the fronts of your thighs connecting with his desk helping to stabilise you.

Feeling your nose gently bump his, you turn your head almost imperceptibly and continue forwards, allowing them to slide past each other.

Your lips finally connect.

A tiny amount at first, barely touching, you feel your lower lip press against his, and then your upper.

His mouth is warm, his lips velvety and soft, not chapped and rough like some others.

It feels so good.

You press forwards a little more, connecting more of your flesh with his.

The whoops, hollers and whistles from the classmates fade from your hearing. You do however hear a tiny whimper from the boy in front of you, and you don’t know it but he’s closed his eyes.

You stay like this for a moment, you enjoying the sensation you’ve been dreaming about for weeks, Eddie sitting stiffly in front of you.

But then, with a soft moan that only you can hear, you feel Eddie’s lips relax and purse, and suddenly he’s kissing you back, gently and subtly, your lips moving in harmony, hot breaths mingling and surrounding you in a warm cloud.

After what feels like a delicious eternity, you hear the teacher loudly clearing their throat behind you, and you realise your time is more than up.

Although it’s probably only been about five seconds, it feels like it was long enough for your whole world to tip on its axis and stop spinning.

Reluctantly, you break the kiss and slowly stand back up, rolling your lower lip inwards a little and feeling your cheeks, and other areas, heating.

Behind him, Eddie gets slapped on the back by Jeff and Dougie, and Gareth is clapping loudly and shouting affirmations.

The room has erupted into a clamouring, yelling mess of applause, but neither you nor Eddie are paying much attention.

His lips roll inwards too, and the very tip of his pink tongue peeps out as if to taste you.

He gifts you an incredulous half smile, that dimple you love so much almost making an appearance.

You back away, bashfully, spinning on your heel before you turn back, almost forgetting the final part of your job, and add,

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Eddie.”

It’s the end of the week, and you’re in the parking lot after school. You’re standing with a gaggle of other volunteers, laughing, giggling, discussing how well the fundraising has gone, exchanging horror stories of some really bad kisses, and one person even trying to shove their tongue in.

Eddie waits until you’re on your own, heading to your car.

He steps beside you just as you reach your door.

“Hey, Candy.”

You turn, leaning back against your car, and you can’t help but smirk at the cheesy nickname.

“Hey, Eddie. Did you have a good Valentine’s Day?”

“Uh, yeah. I did, actually. Thanks to a certain someone. I mean, I know you can’t tell me who sent my gifts, kisser-client confidentiality and all that. But, I just wanted to say thanks.”

Your belly flips. He continues, waving a hand nonchalantly,

“You know, for all your hard work. With the fundraising, I mean.”

“Oh right, of course.”

For a moment you’re disheartened. You thought he might mean something else.

But then he steps closer, into your personal space, one of his large boots slotting between your pumps.

“I’d like to know if I could, uh, make another donation? How many kisses can I get for, say, twenty dollars?”

His warm, broad hands come up to ever so gently cup your cheeks, his thumbs tracing your cheekbones and his eyes flitting between your eyes and your mouth.

Your breathing stops as his face moves towards yours.

He pauses, and looks into your eyes one more time, as if waiting for your permission. When you hold his gaze and smile slightly, he moves his mouth until it’s over yours, slowly, gently connecting your lips again. It’s soft, sweet, delicious.

Unexpectedly, you feel the tip of his tongue gently skimming across your glossed lips, but you willingly part them to allow him access.

His tongue pushes past your lips and enters your mouth, slow, tentative, gentle. You hear him moan slightly again, and feel the vibrations against your lips.

Your tongue comes to meet his, your lips and tongues sliding comfortably and dancing together. It’s in the oh-so-romantic situation of the parking lot, but neither of you care.

You reach to grab at his belt loops, pulling his hips flush against yours, just as he breaks the kiss and looks at you, smiling. His lips are glossy and glittering with your lipgloss, and you both smell of strawberries.

You like it.

Breathily, you smile at him, as your arms come up to hook around the back of his neck, and say, just before he leans down for another kiss,

“For you, Eddie? There's no charge…”

Thank you so much for reading!

Please reblog if you enjoyed this.

A/N & disclaimer: I don't agree that peer or societal pressure should be used to coerce or force anyone into doing anything they don’t want to do. And absolutely no one should have their first (or indeed any) kiss forced upon them in public. But this idea burrowed into my brain and I had to run with it. This is fiction - I cannot stress that enough - and if anyone demands you do anything like this with them, in public or private, without your full and ongoing consent you can and absolutely should refuse.

Also, I have an ‘Everything Taglist’ now, so if you’d like to be on it to see more stuff by me let me know!

Taglist: @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician

[ladykailitha]

Everything I Ever Wanted Part 2/4

Yay! The next chapter is out!! I am really loving all the attention this little story got. Again please read the original.

Pt 1

In this one we have the charity gala for the alpha health care that Eddie suggested in the penultimate chapter. Chrissy is a gem. And Steve and Corroded Coffin boys have a little fun.

****

Steve and Eddie were getting ready for their third annual Alpha Health gala.

Every year since Eddie had suggested it, they had thrown a gala raising money to bring awareness to alpha health issues. Last year they had even managed to get alpha health classes mandated in middle and high school through the national congress and both Eddie and Steve was on hand when the president signed it into law.

Steve pulled on his black, lacy, thigh high stockings, clipping them to the garter belt then came on the black glittering stilettos. He pulled out the dress he was going to wear for the evening.

It was in the same style as the gold dress that had started this all, with the low drape in front and backless, but instead of the slits up to the middle of his thighs, it was a mermaid tail with a glittering train.

Steve was more comfortable with his feminine side now, not shying away from cuts that hid his broad thighs and flat chest. The only reason the drape this time is that Eddie loved his tits.

He giggled as he pulled on the dress, reveling in the silky smoothness of the material against his skin.

He was finishing his makeup when Eddie stepped out of the bathroom where he had been showering.

He looked up at Eddie and smiled at his naked form. His tattoos and piercings on display.

“Like what you see, darlin’?” Eddie said with a smirk.

Steve threw back his head and laughed. “You know I do. I love looking at your tats.”

Eddie squeezed the water from his hair. “Yeah? You got a favorite, big boy?”

Steve stood up from his vanity and stalked over to his very naked fiance. He looked him up and down, the heat of his gaze lingering over his lean frame. “You could say that.”

“if you say your initials on my ass, sweetheart,” Eddie said with a snort, “you and I are going to have words.”

Steve giggled and wrapped his hands around his butt. “As much as I adore that one, it’s not my favorite.”

“Yeah, so which one is your favorite then?”

Steve brought one hand up to trace the serpent on Eddie’s neck, and the other to trace the bats on his right forearm. “All great tattoos, but my favorite...” both of his hands dusted against dragon that curled around his abs, “is this one.”

Eddie’s stomach clenched at the touch. “Yeah? Why is that one your favorite, then?”

Steve leaned forward and whispered into his ear. “Because I love getting on my knees and kissing my way down it to suck your cock.”

Eddie threw back his head and groaned. He ran his fingers through his hair and tried to will his cock not to react.

Steve stepped back and turned with a wink. “Too bad we don’t have time for any fun, guests are set to start arriving any minute now.”

“Baby,” Eddie moaned. “People try and tell me that I’m the menace in this relationship, but I’m pretty sure you just proved that it’s you.”

Steve cackled. “That’s because I’m sweet little omega,” he said clutching his hands and batting his eyelashes, “I couldn’t possibly be as freaky out of the bedroom as I am in it.”

“More fools they, then.”

Eddie got dressed in his favorite designer Jimmy Pantera. The tight leather pants, the knee-high laced boots, the black billowy shirt and the vest that looked like a paisley design but it you looked close enough they were actually dicks.

Steve laughed for a good twenty minutes when he saw it. He was the one that insisted that Eddie wear it.

Then he showed it to his bandmates and they all agreed to have some kind of dick tastefully woven into their clothes tonight and they were going to make a game of it to see who can catch the most.

Steve was sure he was going to win.

Well, Eddie was too, but he wasn’t going to admit that, not when there was a bet of a hundred dollars on the line.

When Steve finished putting on his jewelry, he turned in his seat to see Eddie putting in the last of his accessories. A single black diamond stud in his left ear.

“I still think it’s cheating,” Eddie huffed, walking over and flicking Steve’s earring, “that these are your dicks.”

Steve’s earrings had two diamonds side by side at the lobe and string of three diamonds hanging down, the third one slightly larger than the other two.

He snickered. “It’s tasteful and hilarious. Be grateful I didn’t chose the pink diamonds.”

“Now that would have been hilarious, princess,” Eddie said with a grin. “You ready for this?”

He held out his hand to help Steve to his feet.

Steve took it and pulled in close to his fiance. “Ready when you are, dearest.”

****

Jeff was the last one of the band to arrive.

“All boys,” Steve said with a grin. “Here are the rules. You have until midnight to figure out where everyone’s sneaky dicks are. Eddie even has one you don’t know about. You’ll write them down on a piece of paper when you think you got it and hand it to me. And then whoever has the most correct wins the bet and the absolutely magnificent bottle of red I found as a prize.”

Once he got all their nods of understanding he sent them off to enjoy their evening.

Chrissy was on the guest list, but she had also came with Jeff as his escort for the evening.

Steve privately thought that the Corroded Coffin guitarist was crushing on the omega, but he was going to keep that to himself.

Her princess cut, sleeveless, pink dress had ruffles in the front and Steve tilted his head with an amused smirk on his face.

He excused himself from Eddie’s side and went up to the beautiful omega.

They greeted each other by kissing the other’s cheeks.

Steve held her out at arms length. “Darling, you look stunning!”

Chrissy giggled and did a little spin.

“Do you like it?” she asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“I love it!” he giggled. He raised an eyebrow. “Is this supposed to sneaky or overt?”

Chrissy did another spin with the her dress, making it flare out dramatically. “Overt, of course!” She leaned over and giggled. “I’m bringing awareness to female alphas sexual health, too. Like male omegas, they have both a vulva and a cock and we shouldn’t forget that in the sea of all this knothead fuckery.”

“Chrissy dearest,” Steve said with his voice filled with wonder.

“Yes, Stevie darling?” she asked with a sly grin.

“I adore you!” he wrapped his arms around her waist and swung her around.

She shrieked in delight until he put her down.

Chrissy reached up and flicked his right earring. “But I’m guessing these are covert?”

Steve grinned. “Yes, but don’t you going snitching to Jeff. He has to figure it out on his own.”

She clutched her chest in mock outrage. “I’d never!”

“Good,” he said booping her nose, “see that it stays that way.”

They chatted for a few minutes more before she went back to Jeff’s side.

Steve looked around to see if he could find his smoking hot fiance when he saw two other people he wanted to say hi to, instead.

He grabbed two glasses of champagne on his way over and handed one to each Joyce and Senator Jim Hopper.

“Thank you both for coming,” he said with a sincere smile.

Jim huffed out a laugh. “Son, I’d be a fairly stupid congressman if I didn’t show up to the fundraiser to raise awareness for the law I fucking wrote and got passed last year.”

“Jim!” Joyce protested, but both her and Steve were grinning.

“Still it’s good to see you both,” Steve murmured. “How are you taking to being grandparents?”

Joyce and Jim shared a secret smile.

“We’re doing great,” Joyce said. “Nancy is really taking to parenthood. She’s so protective of Jonathan. It’s really sweet.”

Steve nodded. It was one of Nancy’s greatest fears that she wouldn’t feel anything toward her children should she have any. But to hear that that was a baseless concern was a good thing.

Just then Nancy and Jonathan arrived arm in arm.

“Speak of the devils,” Jim said with gruff pride.

Steve looked over his shoulder to see a smiling, radiant Nancy and a soft and glowing Jonathan, who looked about four months along.

“Well that’s certainly a surprise,” Steve said with a raised eyebrow.

Joyce giggled into her hand. “It was for them, too. But I’ve never seen anyone so excited that she was going to have another baby with the love of her life.”

“I’m happy for her,” he said softly.

Joyce’s expression softened. “It must be so hard for you, watching old friends having children. I remember you told me that you’re infertile.”

Steve opened his mouth to tell her the truth. But decided that he didn’t want anyone to know yet. His body sagged a bit.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “But I’m happy being who I am.”

She squeezed his hand and the couple wandered off.

Steve looked around again and this time spotted Eddie with that omega actress again.

His stomach swooped painfully.

A warm hand touched his elbow and Steve started. He looked over at Chrissy who had a concerned expression on her face.

“Are you okay?” she asked, gently rubbing her hand up and down his arm.

He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “What if I’m not a golden omega? What if all these hoops I’m jumping through are for nothing and he’s stuck with a needy, barren omega?”

Chrissy looked over at the actress who had her hand on Eddie’s arm as they talked.

“Look at her,” Steve whispered harshly. “She’s beautiful, talented, rich, and hasn’t had hundreds of alphas between her legs.”

Chrissy smacked his arm. “And Eddie isn’t the remotest bit interested in her.”

His head whipped around to face her so fast she was afraid of whiplash, the dork.

“She’s not interested him either,” Chrissy insisted. “Look at their body language. You’re good at that. Show off for me. Imagine it’s just two strangers what would you see?”

Steve let out a low shuddering breath and closed his eyes. He opened them slowly.

“She’s touching his arm,” Steve said, “something a lot people will use as a sign of attraction because gets the two them being connected.”

“But...” Chrissy said with a sly smile.

Steve waved at them. “But, she’s staying arm’s length. She’s not leaning into his space. Her smile is genuine, but it’s not flirty.”

She squeezed his arm in encouragement. “Now do him.”

He chewed on his lip. He knew what attraction looked like on Eddie having seen it first hand for years.

He was all heat. Lowered eyelids, smoldering eyes, dimples belying his smirk. He also had to touch. Hand, waist, shoulder, cheek. He would lean into the other person’s space, like he couldn’t bare to be far from them.

Eddie was touching her. But it was a loose hand hold and fond smile. They were clearly just friends.

“He’s being too casual with her,” Steve finally said. “If he was interested in her he would be closer, all heated glances and whispered promises.”

Chrissy grinned and gave his arm one more squeeze before letting go. “Now go get your man.”

Steve took a deep breath and began to walk. He walked right up to Eddie’s side and the actress greeted him by throwing her arms around his neck and talking happily about how excited she is that Eddie found his perfect partner.

Steve looked over Eddie who is blushing, but proud. So he leaned into the touch. He could allow himself this. Being her friend, too.

So he held her hand and started talking happily about the date they set and how they hoped either his heat or Eddie’s rut wouldn’t come early.

“Could you imagine,” Steve huffed, “going into heat at your bonding reception? I don’t think I’d ever come out in public ever again.”

Eddie laughed and drew him in close. “I’d be okay with that.”

The actress, who had now been properly introduced as Nikita Auclair, gasped. Her eyes wide with delighted amusement.

“You hound dog!” she shrieked, hitting his arm.

Eddie just smiled, unrepentant.

“Oh don’t worry,” Steve said, leaning in close to her, “I can make him heel.”

She threw her head back and laughed. She touched her chest as she fought to breath.

“I like you,” Nikita said, “Let’s do lunch before the bonding. I’d love to get to know you better.”

Steve kissed her cheek. “Eddie has my number, call me.”

She squeezed his hand and walked away.

“You are a menace,” Steve growled playfully.

Eddie kissed him deeply. “And you gave as good as you got, darlin’. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

At the end of the night, it was Steve that walked away with the bet and the prize. With only Brian guessing Steve’s dick earrings.

Steve knew that when Eddie and him got home that night they would be making quick work of that wine and spending the rest of the night naked and moaning.

As they walked off, Chrissy just shook her head at the rest of the band and their partners.

“We really should have known better than to bet against the greatest escort of his generation.”

The others could only agree.

****

Part 3 Part 4

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[ahgasegotarmy116]

The Art of Etiquette Part 1 | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: Your Step Father would like to introduce you into high society but you're required to take lessons to learn how to play the part and from your instructor's perspective it seems like you have a lot of catching up to do. Pairing: f!reader x Etiquette instructor Jungkook Word Count: 2.2k Warnings: Explicit Language, not really anything else at this point lol a/n: Planning on turning this into a short series so please let me know what you think <3 p.s. this is horribly edited and was written in one sitting lol

"Why do I have to suffer the consequences of the decisions you made for this family?" I say chasing after my mother as she walks down the main hallway in our new home. "Y/n becoming a debutant is not a consequence" she says, making her way into the main living room.

"To me it is" I complain, dreading this entire ordeal already. "The whole process only lasts about a year so-" "A year? You expect me to be parade around in pretty dresses and entertain people I have absolutely no interest in just because you decided to marry a rich man? Yeah, no I'm not doing it" I say, watching as she takes a seat on the couch waiting for me to tell her my grievances, knowing that I won't back down easily. 

"It's not a huge commitment I promise. You'll have etiquette lessons twice a week, go to a fitting every once in a while and take dance lessons once a week. I'm sure you can sacrifice a few hours out of your week for this. "Your father wa-" "Step father" I cut her off, making my stance on the man known. "Your step father wants to introduce you as his daughter and the best way to do so would be having you come out at a debutant ball" she explains hoping to show me their reasoning behind it. "Oh I'm straight so don't worry I won't be needing a coming out event or anything like that" I say teasing her. 

"Very funny" she says clearly unamused, "I would really appreciate it if you just did this for us, and if you don't want to do it for us then do it for you, for your future. Do you know how pivotal this moment could be for you? A lot of important people go to these balls so if you want to make a name for yourself in this city then that's a great place to start" she says hoping to entice me, showing how this could benefit me as well. "Just think about it, okay?" she says standing up to leave the room and placing a hand on my shoulder as a sign of reassurance, leaving me conflicted. 

A few days later at the breakfast table I finally decide to give them my answer. "Um, dad" I say hoping to get his attention. "Yes honey?" he says putting down the newspaper that he had just been flipping through. "I think I want to go through with the whole debutant thing if you still wanted me to" I say playing with my sleeve, still unsure of the choice I've made but I guess theres no going back now. "That's great! I'll contact the agency and get all of your lessons set up straight away" he says quickly texting his assistant, asking them to get things set in motion.

"Would you prefer private lessons or would you like to take them with some of the other girls that are preparing to come out as well?" he questions, still looking down at his phone. "Oh it's okay don't worry about getting her pri-" "Private lessons would be great" I say cutting my mom off. The less interactions I can have with these spoiled rich kids, the better. I send her a tight lipped smile, telling her to back off before I change my mind and she does just that. 

"Alright, I have Matthew working on it now so we could probably get everything set up by the time your classes end. You finish up at four right?" he asks, catching me off guard, "You know my class schedule?" I question. "Of course I do! What kind of father would I be if I didn't pay attention to my daughter's academics?" he says, giving me a warm smile before taking one last sip of his coffee, standing up to go. 

"I've gotta head off, love you" he says giving my mother a quick peck and then coming over to me to give me a kiss on the top of my head. "Have a good day you two" he says to us as his final adieu, heading out to where his driver is waiting for him. "Thank you" my mother says, happy with the effort I'm putting into assimilating our family. "I'm doing this for you guys, but I'm also doing this for me like you had said, I guess I'll just have to suffer through it for the next year" I say, already questioning myself. 

"I promise you won't regret it!" she reassures me, reaching out for my hand across the table and I mirror her action. 'I sure hope not' I say to myself and give her a pained smile before leaving to head off to class. 

"You're what?" my friend Jesse say, not believing a word I just said. "I'm gonna start taking lessons to become a debutante" I say, repeating myself, hoping he'll just take in the information so we can move past it. "So you're blowing me off so you can go to Barbie school?" he says, still in disbelief. "It's not Barbie school" I say rolling my eyes at him before sitting down at the table we usually hang out at during our breaks. 

"Aren't they going to be dressing you up and making you all girly so you can go to tea parties and balls?" he questions, sitting across from me. "Yes..." I say trailing off not being able to prove him wrong. "Barbie school" he says satisfied with himself, taking a bite out of the apple he had just bought for dramatic affect. "Whatever" I say crossing my arms across my chest. "So when do you start?" he asks, suddenly curious about the topic. "Matthew sent me a text with the address I'm supposed to go to for my first etiquette lesson so I guess I'll be headed there after class. 

"And Matthew is...?" he questions, "My dad's assistant, I've told you this like five times already" I say rolling my eyes at him. "I'm sorry okay, there have been a lot of changes in your life and brand new characters added to the cast so it's hard to keep it all straight" he explains. "Name one other person besides Matthew that I've told you about" I say with a raised brow, curious as to who these 'new characters' might be. "Your step dad" he says proudly, not elaborating further. 

"Anyone else?" I ask, rolling my eyes at the cop out answer he gave me and he decides to sit in silence after putting little to no thought into anyone else I might've told him about. "Do you even know his name?" I scoff, feigning irritation. "Scott? No Thomas!" he says confident in his second answer. "It's James" I say standing up and grabbing my stuff so I can walk towards my next class. 

"I'm sorry, you know I have shit memory" he says throwing his arm around my shoulder after catching up to me, having only been a few steps behind. "I know" I shake my head laughing it off, "It's funny how clueless you are sometimes" I say, shrugging his arm off of me. "Hey!" he whines, semi offended. "It's okay though, I still love you" I say waving him off as we part in different directions and blowing a kiss at him which he bats off to the side, rejecting my love. "Later loser" he says and we head off to our respective classes.

After the lecture is finally over my professor calls me to the front. "Yes?" I question, waiting for what he has to tell me. "I read your paper last night" he starts, "I'm sorry Professor I had some other assignments due at the same time so I wasn't able to put in as much effort as I wanted to" I confess feeling guilty about putting that assignment on the back burner. "Well I was actually going to tell you that I was rather impressed with it" he says looking up at me from his seated position at his desk, fixing his glasses. 

"Really?" I question, surprised that it was good enough for him to even single out. "I wanted to ask if you would be interested in participating in this writing contest at the end of next month" he proposes and hands me the flyer showing all of the details. "You really think my writing is good enough?" I question, not even having considered signing up for something like this. "I wouldn't be speaking to you about it if I didn't think it was" he says laughing at my reactions. 

"This would be amazing thank you!" I say starting to skim through the details real quick. "You can take that with you if you'd like" he offers and at that I nod in thanks and say my goodbyes before walking out and heading out towards my car. 

"Now where exactly is this place?" I ask myself aloud, pulling up the text I got and putting the address into my gps. "45 minutes?" I say in astonishment, now slightly panicked seeing that even if I leave now I'll still be 10 minutes late. "What the hell Matthew?" I curse and put my seatbelt on, speeding out of the parking lot and down the street, praying that I'll be able to somehow shave a few minutes off the eta to make it in time.

"Punctuality is one of the most important aspects of proper etiquette" I hear the man say to me with his back turned as I walk into the area of his home he has dedicated to these lessons. "I'm very sorry I did not realize how far these lessons would be in relation to my University" I apologize hating that I've already made a bad impression which has clearly started us off on the wrong foot. 

"Proper planning is also something you must consider to be able to maintain a certain sense of decorum before arriving to your intended destination" he says still with his back to me. "I apologize again Mr. Jeon it won't happen again" I say using what I hope is the proper way he would like to be addressed. "See that it doesn't" he says finally turning around to face me. I nod my head in acknowledgement and he gives me a sour look showing he's displeased with my response. 

"One must verbally respond to properly communicate with one another" he says, placing his hands behind his back and interlocking his fingers while walking towards me and stalking around me like a predator sizing up his prey. "Understood" I respond and once he finally comes back around facing me he looks me up and down one last time before uttering another word. 

"For your next lesson be sure to come in a dress or skirt that sits at the knee as well as stockings and heels of some sort and a blouse of course to pair with the skirt. If one wants to act like a lady, one must dress like a lady" he says and turns away to grab something in the corner of the room. "Noted" I say under my breath already exasperated, "What was that?" he questions looking over his shoulder at me, sorting through a few books to bring over. "Understood Mr. Jeon" I say, trying to play along and follow his rules.

"Seeing as we need to start from the very beginnings of the art of etiquette I need you to read these books by this time next week" he says handing me five very large books weighing my arms down and requiring me to stumble back to regain my balance. "All of them in a week? That's almost a book a day!" I say surprised by the workload I've been given after not even starting the actual lesson yet.

"I was not aware of the fact I would be required to teach you everything from the very start so let's just say we both have a lot of work to do" he says and motions towards a place I can set my purse down along with my five new headaches for this next week.

"Take a seat here please" he now motions to a chair that he has placed in the middle of the room waiting for me to do as he says. I walk up cautiously and take a seat, sitting on it like I normally would, knowing that he's meant to critique how I sit to change it. "Sit up straight, roll your shoulders back" he says taking in my posture at all angles while I follow along with his orders. "Loosen the tension in your back and shoulders" he says placing his hands on my shoulders from behind making me tense up even more from the unexpected contact. 

"You've done the opposite of what I've asked you to" he says and I can hear how fed up with me he continues to be. "You startled me, I didn't realize you were going to do that" I say under my breath but loud enough for him to hear. "One must never mumble or talk back to anyone no matter the circumstances. Especially aimed to or in front of an authority figure" he says and walks back around to face me again. "So you see yourself as an authority figure to me?" I question, curious to see what his answer might be.

"I see myself as someone who deserves your respect and obedience" he says and tilts my chin up with his pointer finger maintaining purposeful eye contact. "And you will treat me as such". 

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[formosusiniquis]

have your cake

So way back in August 2023 the steddiemicrofic challenge was Cake and 311 words, my head empty brain came up with one thought and it was Steve Munson having a bakery called Mun's Buns and so many months later I finally got around to finishing my vision

Ships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson; Tommy Hagan/Carol Perkins; implied/past Tommy Hagan/Steve Harrington/Carol Perkins WC: 6408 | T | tags: Future Fic, the lightest of post homoerotic friendship breakup angst, fluff, Tommy POV AO3

The bakery has a stupid name, is the first thing Tommy thinks when Carol tells him where he's supposed to meet her on his lunch break. He’s still thinking that, when he sees the place for the first time through his rain speckled windshield. It's a modest storefront, small for what Carol says is a booming business, tucked in next to a used bookstore and a music shop. There's a baby yellow awning hanging from the front just underneath a sign lettered in soft blue that reads Mun's Buns.

He's late, is the second thing he thinks after pulling up. Caught up in some stupid bullshit for his dad he hadn't managed to slip away until 12:30. Even then it had only been because Tommy had told him he was going to be late for their cake tasting. He'd rolled his eyes when his father and Greg, a guy that Tommy only considers a co-worker in the sense that they are technically on the same payroll since Greg in every other aspect is incompetent and an idiot, had winced. Shooing him away like a kid who'd just admitted that he's already twenty minutes past curfew. But catching sight of the way Carol has her arms crossed, tapping her foot fast enough to kickstart a motor, while her hair hangs limp in a way that it hadn’t this morning a third thought crosses his mind: maybe he should have been a little more worried.

Waiting isn’t going to make things any better. So he steps out of the car, let’s the misty damp cling to him in a way that makes his dress pants and button down feel like a poorly tailored second skin, and takes his licks like a man. "Late, thirty minutes late. Christ, it's the only thing I've asked from you Tommy." Her right hook stings just as badly as it did sophomore year when she punched him for asking out Erin Murphy instead of her.

Shit like that is probably why no one expected them to make it this long or this far.

When they went away to college; different schools, hours apart. His parents had been gleeful as they'd warned him that high school relationships didn't always last. That he should keep his options open, he didn't want to miss out on the love of his life just because of comfort. He didn't get offered the family ring when he decided to propose right after graduation. Carol has always been particular. Wanted the house to come back to before the wedding could happen, wanted a long honeymoon. That meant saving, a lot of it. Tommy knew and Carol did too, they'd overheard his mother and aunt gossiping in too loud voices after too much wine that they hoped the long engagement meant they were both trying to figure out a good way to break it off with one another. 

Still, over the course of their now five year engagement no one's asked once if they wanted to trade for it.

Carol thought it was horrendous anyway. She’d had her ring picked out since ‘85, styled her class ring so it would look like the oval cut diamond she wanted. Had him slide it on her finger the second it came in.

Cause in the politest of terms, Carol could be a raging bitch. She was Tommy's favorite person in the entire world.

There’s going to be a bruise on his shoulder tomorrow, even if she’s guiltily smoothing a hand down his arm now. Thrust toward the door first in offering, Carol is sorry she hit him but she’s not apologetic. “I’m serious, Tom, if we lose this appointment and have to go with Sweet Treats for our cake I'll- I'll-"

Whatever threat she was preparing is drowned out and then cut off by the echoing TONG of the door chime. A light in the back shifts color for a second, out of place enough that he wonders if he even really saw it. Head tilting toward Carol, his question catches in his throat when he notices her pinched off appraising. Better not to add to the ammunition she might already be building.

And if Carol is looking he better do it too. She'll want to debrief when they're having dinner tonight, just like they did with the florist, the caterer, the three wedding planners they'd met with, and each of the venues that they'd visited. And it wasnt because she was demanding, fuck you Greg. It wasn't because she was being nitpick-y, alright it was a little bit because she was but he liked being particular with her. He liked being involved in his wedding.

So he looked around.

The way they utilized their space -- a building that big and there's barely enough room to stand, we want someone who knows how to work with limited space for the venues we're looking at -- was the reason their first wedding planner hadn't gotten hired. Small, but not cramped. There are a handful of tables scattered in the open space in front of the counter. It’s the kind of small town cozy that Hawkins had tried for and he doesn’t see very often anymore now that they’ve moved out to Indianapolis.

It’s lunchtime, still too early for people to be seeking out the rows of deserts in their neat glass counter and too late for the breakfast crowd. But one of the tables is occupied by a teenager with long, black braids scribbling in a notebook while a slice of ice cream cake melts on a plate by her elbow. 

Everything was neat, organized, and compliant with health code regulations -- they hadn’t even made it in the door of the first caterer’s when she noticed a trail of ants and roaches marching into the open kitchen door.

Carol had always been quick when she was making up her mind about something. Like those Sherlock Holmes stories they’d had to read in school, in a couple of seconds she could spot everything she needed to make a decision. After a decade Tommy still couldn’t keep up; but he was always best at following someone else’s lead.

The smile she’s got frosted across her face is as sugary and fake as the roses on the cupcakes he can see behind the low topped counters as she approaches the only visible staff member. A girl, young in the way that nebulous way anyone younger than him was now, with thick squared glasses that magnified two distressingly blue eyes. The counters looked like they were designed to sit low enough that she could easily see over the top while in her wheelchair.

“Welcome to,” her customer service tone borders on bored. Two words into a clear script and she sighs, as if saying the name physically pains her, “Mun’s Buns. We’ve got a special series of summer flavors: Strawberry Lemonade, Lavender Mint, Chocolate Fudgsicle, and,” she sighs again, “for the grownups a boozy Blue Moon with orange zest.”

“How about a wedding cake.” He’s impressed. Carol made it through the speech without interrupting.

“Do you have an appointment?” the girl raises her voice, enough to make them both flinch back. Customer service isn’t a requirement for this part of the job necessarily, but Carol had bailed on two venues because the staff hadn’t been polite enough.

Her smile doesn’t crack though, “Yes.”

Even though he’s pretty sure this girl has to be basically blind with the inch thick frames, she levels Carol with a lethal stare. “Not you.”

From the open entryway behind her Tommy had been able to make out what sounded like the highlights of yesterday’s game. He assumed that space had to be the kitchen where these rows of deserts were made. He’s still surprised when a guy’s voice is shouting back, “I don't know, Max, do I? Why don't you check?”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Max shouts back, glowering at then in stand in for her mystery boss.

“With your finger, asshole. It's in braille. When I gave you this job you said you were actually gonna work.”

“Douchebag." Her eyes never leave them, while her hands rummage around in a space beneath the counter where the cash register sits. Max offers no explanation or apology for her shouting or for her boss. A large red appointment book gets slammed down on the nearest counter, making Carol jump but the neat two by twos of chocolate frosted cupcakes don't budge. He watches, a little fascinated by the way her finger scans the page before slowing. "Did you write this or did Dustin?"

Carol has always valued gossip over professionalism, he thinks that’s why she’s done so well as a hairdresser even though she was always awful at chemistry. It’s also why he’s held off from pointing out that they could solve this a lot faster if this guy would come out from the back. "Why?" 

“Cause one of you can't spell and one of you is trying to invent braille shorthand. So I'm not really sure what to do with TomGan Wed.”

“It might be Thomas and Wedding.” Carol leans over the appointment book as she says it, using a tone of voice he has never once heard her use in the entire time he’s known her. He thinks it’s supposed to be helpful.

“Wedding sampler.” The girl calls toward the back, “It's getting late.”

“I’ve got it,” the voice from the back shouts back.There’s an effortless assurance Tommy can hear from where he’s standing. It hits him with a wave of nostalgia so strong he grabs Carol’s arm on instinct.

“Really,” she says, cutting her gaze over to him. He’s not sure what she sees. “If we could hurry this along, it's just we've only got an hour.”

“You're late.” The glare she gets shuts Carol down faster than he’s ever seen.

“Right.”

“Okay I've got it.” The voice from the back is now the voice in the doorway. Hidden for a second by a serving tray loaded with samples of rich looking cake, it’s the first time since arriving that Tommy has actually wanted to be here. Not just because he can make out strong shoulders and a body of a man that’s still very fit but clearly enjoys his work too; the hint of love handles above strong thighs. Only then that tray dips, and for the first time since 1985 Tommy finds himself looking at the shocked hazel eyes of Steve Harrington. “Oh.”

Carol reacts for him, taking in a breath sharp enough she might puncture a lung. They’ll both wind up suffocated on the floor of this stupid bakery with an awful name, because Tommy can’t manage to breathe at all looking at Steve. Still unfairly handsome, faintly pink at the shock of seeing them too he imagined.

His hair is long, is the first real thought his half fried brain manages to put together. Soft looking even where it’s damp at the temples where sweat has pooled. He has it pulled back with a couple of the same butterfly clips that Carol likes to use.

His second, somehow more hysterical thought: this wasn’t how Steve Harrington was supposed to be included in his wedding.

Tommy was six years old and knew he wanted to marry Steve. When he’d told his mom -- to ask for her ring, Steve thought it was romantic like princes and princesses that they had a special ring that they got married with -- she’d grabbed by his arm so hard it’d left finger shaped bruises. So he’d held that certainty quiet in his heart until he was ten, and suddenly it was okay to want to play with girls on the playground -- he thinks it’s because Steve got tired of there never being an even number when they tried to play kickball, he had a way of making everyone want to do the thing he was. Carol wasn’t afraid to tell Tommy C. that he was dumb or to tell Mark L. that he hadn’t actually made it to the base, Steve liked her fast. Too fast, and Tommy had to tell her that one day he was going to be able to keep Steve all to himself. But he knew that it wasn’t right to say that now, even if he wasn’t all the way sure why it wasn’t. He was ten, but he would be eleven soon, and he took this part of him that he’d kept secret for so long and he whispered it to Carol under the slide while Steve tried to convince Brad P. that he could too pick two people for his kickball team first.

He was ten and Carol said they could share. Boys can’t marry boys, but girls can. So they could both marry her and live together forever.

It became a joke when they finally shared it with Steve, thirteen and boys going out with girls wasn’t funny the way it used to be. Sarah Jane asked Carol if she had a chance at going steady with Steve. She told Tommy about it later and they both told Steve that he was too good to date any of the girls in their grade. “Well I’ve got you guys,” his voice cracked when he said it, throwing an arm around both of them. Carol didn’t care as much, but even she’d noticed the way Steve was changing from boyish to handsome.

They were sixteen and disaster was just around the corner, not that he knew that. Steve dated around but he always came back to them. The head, the heart, the body. They don’t feel complete without each other -- at least Tommy doesn’t. Mr. Kripke, who was hungover more often than he wasn't, passed out ten minutes into study hall. Carol didn’t even wait to see if he’d wake back up before she left her assigned table for theirs. She smoothed out a lined piece of notebook paper for them, and Tommy scoffed like he was supposed to. “Aren’t we a little old to be playing MASH?”

“It’s dirty MASH, and I thought you’d think it was funny.”

“I think it’s funny,” Steve had said, “that you’re getting eiffel towered on your wedding night. Who else is joining in, Carrie?”

“We couldn’t agree on who got you for their side of the aisle. So we’re taking you to bed instead.”

He was sixteen and the way that the two of them looked when they shared a joke was the hottest thing in the world. The way their smiles mirror when they turned to him, sharp and ready to flay open the softest parts of him.

Tommy’s two days older when Steve lets him kiss the taste of Carol out of his mouth.

It was three days after he turned seventeen and he had to pretend he didn't want to die when he saw how Steve looked at Nancy Wheeler. Like he didn’t want to rip his hair out because Steve was fucking infatuated with this mousy little teacher’s pet and wouldn’t even look at him anymore.

He still doesn’t like to think about the breakup. He pokes it like a fresh bruise. Less often now, but when he does he digs his fingers in. Baits Carol into fights he doesn’t mean just so he can pretend like he hasn’t lost something that hurts like a limb.

Steve Harrington turns twenty-eight next week, and he’s standing in front of them both holding pieces of what might turn into their wedding cake.

“Wow I can’t believe you’re in Indy!” False excitement grates, but at least Carol has gotten herself together enough to speak. He thought he’d have at least another few months to prepare for the thought of seeing Steve, by their ten year reunion he was going to be married and happy and over it.

“Yeah, this is- Married, wow! I kinda can’t believe you haven’t already.” He says it to Carol, his platitudes had always been for Carol, but his eyes find Tommy. 

While Carol chatters at them and for them both, nervous, he knows she’s nervous. The situation is sudden and strange and fraught. But Tommy just looks at Steve, who looks at him. He’s getting married in three months, one week, and two days from now and for the first time in eleven years Steve is looking at him.

"Takes a while to save up for when you want the best of everything. Dad's still the skinflint he always was, I think he'd pay me less than minimum wage if he could get away with it."

And those soft brown eyes look so sad, looking at him. Sometimes he thinks no one will ever understand him the way that Steve did.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting the best, or having a long engagement." Carol defends. It's the same line she's been giving everyone. Defensive of him and herself and the choices they've been making. He can't believe Steve is someone she thinks they have to defend against.

“I really hope you're happy, man," he says, and the sincerity is a balm on the sting of this conversation. He pushes his hair back from his face, the way he always has when he's uncomfortable and trying not to make it obvious. And there's a fresh new hurt when Tommy catches sight of a plain gold band on Steve's finger, shining bright between the golden highlights of his hair.

“I’m happy about this,” he can say honestly. Carol is one of the only things he’s ever been sure about. She held him steady as she could when his other sure thing left him with a cracked foundation in a convenience store parking lot. “What about you? How long after meeting the future Mrs. Harrington did you wait to put a ring on her finger?”

“Tommy,” Carol chides as the teen in the corner snorts. To anyone else it would sound like a reprimand for being nosy, he, and he suspects Steve, knows she’s telling him to stop worrying a scab that has no hope of healing right.

Married and they didn’t know. Wouldn’t have found out until the reunion. It’s not like he expected an invitation, maybe an engagement announcement sent to their parents’ houses. They’d sent one to Loch Nora when the real ring had finally made it to Carrie’s finger. It was equal parts olive branch and offering. They’d gotten it back return to sender with no forwarding address.

The bell above the door tongs again, loud enough to make Carol jump. The platter of cakes doesn't shift at all in Steve’s hand. His arm shows no sign of fatigue. It’s almost distracting enough that he misses the obvious. The bell signals someone is coming into the store.

“Sorry, Sweetheart. I know I said I wasn't gonna be late but Mike…” There just inside the door is the Freak. Undeniable even with his head down as he digs through his shoulder bag. From the riot of poorly maintained tangles that still hang around his shoulders to the expanded mess of tacky ink on his arms. The only thing that’s changed is the age in his face and the band on his shirt.

“Munson?” Carol has the reflexes and the personal grace to address him first. Shock more than the disgust it might have been when they were still kids.

Tommy feels like a kid still. Looks to Steve in an instinct he’d thought he’d stamped out years ago, only to be met with wide eyes and teeth grit tight enough to draw out the square line of his jaw.

“Christ, I still get nightmares that start like this.” Munson says, eye darting between the three of them. “Max, am I naked?”

“Don't know, don't wanna know.”

“I thought you'd be able to tell by the energy in the room.” He wiggles his fingers, still bedecked in silver, like they can divine the vibrations or some witchy shit.

That’s enough to make Steve break just a little. A soft, exhaling scoff before he finally starts to move out from the counter. Tommy catches, and he doubts Carol misses it either, how Steve passes the closer tables to set his tray down between them and Munson.

“I can tell I don't want to be here for this.” Their redheaded audience member says, “I'm taking my 15.”

“Don't go harass Mike, he's finally working,” Munson says.

“Will and El are on shift on the other side,” Steve calls out, not looking at any of them as he moves cakes from his tray to the table. A deliberate selection he seems to be making.

“Whatever, I’m gonna call Lucas and break up with him so he can play better or whatever.”

“Don’t be too harsh,” Munson calls out, “I’ve only got him on a five point spread.”

If Carol’s nails break from how hard they’re digging into his arm, somehow it’ll be Tommy’s fault. Not the fact that they’ve advanced the worst part of their ten year reunion by months, and also Munson is here and knows shit about basketball.

“Sorry, think my hearing’s going, sounded like you said you want him to lose and he’s getting kicked from the next one shot. I’ll let him know.”

“She gets that from you,” Steve and Munson say in sync. Glaring playfully at one another the way Steve used to with Carol.

“I’ll tell Robin you were-”

“Do not sick Buckley on me, Max made the deaf joke not me.”

“Weird, that’s not what I heard.” Steve has always claimed his hair as his best feature. It isn’t -- Carrie liked his eyes, Tommy his hands -- but it’s hard to deny that it doesn’t look good, flipping over his shoulder. His smile is private, just for Munson, soft the way he got whenever he picked up a new girl. Carrie taps the back of his hand, two sharp smacks, their signal for years that he needed to pay attention and notice something she had. Wide, nervous eyes dart to Steve -- like he hadn’t already been looking at Steve -- so he does his best to assess the way Carol would.

Jealous, viciously, Steve had been theirs in every way that mattered since they were ten years old and Carol had never liked sharing her toys with anyone but them. She watched his face for any sign of unhappiness anytime a new girlfriend came along, and when she found one she passed it along to him. So he could pick and joke until Steve was all theirs again.

So he checked the face. Tried to ignore the way Steve was lit up from the inside out with a joy he could barely remember, and then he saw the hearing aid.

He tapped back, three times. O.M.G.

“The 1985 Homecoming court here to reveal that this has all been a long con, Stevie?”

“Yeah I faked the name change paperwork and picked up a fake ID, sorry I took my business somewhere else.” Steve says it with the sincerity he’s always made those kind of jokes with, his strange sense of humor never coming across when he always sounded so serious. 

Munson gets it though, snorts loud and ugly, before a smile pulls wide across half his face the otherside taught with a gnarly scar. “Now I know why my fake ID business went belly up when we got to the city, not like I only sold three in high school.”  He gestures to the three of them in a wide arc.

Sophomores, they had decided it was time to throw their first real party now that Steve’s parents had moved out of Hawkins in all but name. Steve was a latchkey kid of new proportions and took to self sufficiency in a way that had seemed adult to him then; and in hindsight looked more like a child fighting for his life. Steve bragged how he’d been saving up the weekly checks they’d sent to ‘sustain him’ while they worked in the city during the week. His contribution to Tommy and Carol’s vague plan to throw a kegger by the pool. When they’d floundered, immediately, with the hows, Steve had been the one to suggest going to Munson.

“Love this preview of the reunion,” Carol cuts in, there’s no bite but Munson bristles anyway like she’s being rude for reminding them that there are customers present. “Steve?”

It’s funny, Tommy thinks, the way Steve still straightens his back at Carol’s tone. All this time and he can’t fight the old ingrained instincts either.

“Dustin made the appointment,” Steve apologizes, even as he’s posture perfect and preparing his pastries. The unsaid, ‘I definitely wouldn’t have’ doesn’t go unheard and it doesn’t sting any less even this far from their last interaction.

“Munson could join us,” Tommy offers, a new olive branch since their last one was never seen. Even if it does raise three sets of brows and makes Carrie’s nervous smile tighten even more in the corner of her mouth.

“Well at least one of us has to,” Munson, Eddie, says. Just says, tone like it was meant to be something said under his breath.

He's grown up a lot since high school, they both have. Still, he's only got twenty minutes left on his lunch break and it's been a long day. "God, is that why it's called that?" Growth, he doesn't say that Steve Munson sounds a lot dumber than Steve Harrington.

"It's charming," Carol and Steve both say. Though Carrie is definitely lying and Steve barely gets it out from between his gritted teeth, a sore spot. He's always been good at finding Steve's bruises.

"It's charming," Tommy agrees, like he always did when he was out voted.

Eddie has a smirk spread across his face and a ‘too proud of himself’ look in his eyes. Mouth open to make some quip that Tommy is going to pretend is funny, for Steve’s sake. Now that they’re here, he’s going to do something to show that they could talk to one another again. Steve clicks his tongue, taps his index and middle finger down to his thumb two quick times before he can.

He turns to the girl in the corner, "Erica, scram, go help Robin and the kids with the new donation that just came in."

The teen continues to scribble in the notebook in front of her, bulky headphones over her ears, she makes no sign that Tommy can see that she's heard Steve speak. "Erica, go, or I'll tell your mother you moved out of the dorms. You're 20, it's not child labor, and you've got a timecard."

She sighs and wordlessly packs up her things, she gives Steve a scathing look that takes Tommy back to high school. The withering eyebrow and rolled eyes would have been just at home on Steve’s own face in 1985, but she marches behind the counter, the sound of her dish rattling in the sink before she disappears out the same door that the redhead had gone out.

Now that the room has been cleared, an awkward silence has found the space to squeeze in. Munson, the original, still standing in the doorway and Steve standing between his unlawfully wedded husband and the two people who had lost their chance at him years ago.

The wedding and the reunion both on the horizon had dredged up a nostalgia that Tommy and Carol had been dealing with in their own ways. Dredging up old yearbooks, Carol had found a shoebox of old notes that she’d kept. Conversations written in three different inks by three different hands, nonsensical after all this time. Tommy woke up from dreams that he hadn’t had in years. Always of Steve and Carol, a study in opposites, but similar where it mattered.

“Well,” Steve says, taking charge of the situation like he always would when the other two faltered, “you’re here for a reason. We might as well get started on it.”

Steve’s fingerprints are still on them, just like he’d noticed theirs on him, molded as they were together. They’ve always bowed to his expectations, and his whims. When he ushers them to the table with a spread hand, Tommy and Carol go where they’re beckoned.

And so does Munson.

They keep an empty chair between them, an artificial divide for Tommy’s sanity, but with the sprawl of Munson’s legs their knees still occasionally brush together. Carol had taken the spot closest to Steve, who has stayed standing. He is their gracious host, marking the head of the round table.

“I pulled out the full sampler before I realized it was you,” Steve says. Even with as off balance as the interaction has felt, Tommy doesn’t feel his hackles raising. While it’s possible he’s gotten more subtle with his digs, Steve’s vicious tongue was usually unmistakable. “I can tell you about as many of them as you want though if you want to pretend like we don’t already know what I’ll be making you. I’m sure neither of you have eaten lunch yet.”

“You are going to take us on?” Carol asks. Shock always gives her tone an extra edge, defensive and catty, even if she’s really just waiting to see if another shoe will drop.

“Obviously,” Steve says, placing a faintly orange square of cake in front of her. He slaps Eddie’s hand away from another piece without looking away from either of them. “That’s as far as I’ll be going in participation though.”

He doesn’t miss the way Steve’s mouth twitches up with the joke, a filthy smirk that leaves Tommy flushing hot. Too warm to not be a bright and obvious red at the acknowledgment of that old private in-joke.

It doesn’t get better when Carol moans, “Oh my god, Steve!” Even if it is about the cake.

He laughs, and Tommy suspects the two are actually trying to kill him. He chances a glance over at Munson who looks like he doesn’t care at all that his husband has made Tommy’s fiance moan. He is watching Tommy though, an inquisitive look like the one Carol gets when she happens to catch a nature documentary.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees with Carol, “I’ll do something small with that citrus cake for you and Tom so you’ve got something you’ll actually eat on your wedding, maybe a pineapple buttercream on top like that nasty Juicy Fruit gum you like so much.”

“I mean it’s really crazy how you’re so good at this when you’ve never had any taste,” Carol compliments, she never did learn how to be nice.

He could probably count Steve’s teeth in the answering smile. Tommy can feel it like an ache in his chest how much he missed this. He snatches another cube of cake off the tray just so has something else to focus on.

“That’s the fancy one for the people who hate their guests,” Munson says as the cake has settled on the flat of Tommy’s tongue.

“It’s lavender,” Steve corrects, and the floral flavor is lodged in the back of his throat at least gives him a reason now to feel so choked up. “And it is for a particular sort of bride.”

“Are you saying I’m not fancy and particular, Munson?” Carol asks. 

She’s obviously talking to Eddie Munson, who lifts his hands up in answer. But it’s Steve who says, “If you tried to feed that to Gail she would leave the reception bitching the whole time.”

“Well go on,” Tommy finds himself goading now that he’s swallowed, “finish calling your shot, Stevie. You said you knew what we were walking out of here with.”

Carol reaches across the table, locking eyes with Eddie as she snags the piece closest to him. The one his fingers had been inching toward like he thought Steve wouldn’t notice him trying to take it.

“I’ll make a small citrus cake for you, Carrie, we’ll hide it in the back of the larger cake so you can get the pictures of you cutting it and smashing into each other's faces-”

“We will not be doing that,” she interrupts, the warning for him and also unnecessary. He already knows how she feels about being embarrassed in public.

“Then the big cake for your guests will be a chocolate cake, I can cover it in a buttercream or a fondant icing also chocolate, because it’s the only kind of cake the Hagan family will eat. Even though I’m sure John hasn’t given you a dime for the wedding, he’ll complain until Hannah gets married if he doesn’t like the cake.”

“Really,” Steve continues, “the only thing up in the air is how many people you were able to get away with not inviting, Care.”

The two of them start talking actual wedding logistics, and as Tommy grabs another bite of cake -- this one looks like it might be a normal flavor -- he figures the real show of good faith would be talking to the only other person at the table while he eats what Steve correctly dubbed his lunch.

“Y’know he never actually answered me,” he says in an undertone.

Munson seems surprised at being spoken to, only widens his eyes in response to Tommy’s unasked question.

“I asked Steve how soon after the first date he proposed, he never actually answered.”

Eddie softens at the edges before he can even say anything. Steve had a way of doing that, bringing out the romantic in a person. He loved with a passion that demanded it be matched. “Technically I proposed to him, but he says it doesn’t count because we weren’t together and I was high on morphine after a major surgery and thought he was Apollo, come to whisk me away.” The smile on Munson’s face looks dopey and drugged up now, like the very memory of whatever hospital stay is so ingrained in his mind he can feel the high now.

“But,” he goes on, “he told me we were getting married whether it was legal or not about three months after he got legally married to another woman.”

“Stop,” Steve has always been able to sense when he’s about to be the butt of the joke. He has a finger pointed at Eddie like a teacher delivering a lecture. “You can’t tell people that. It was for tax reasons, I’m not cheating on my wife.”

“You say tomato, I say whichever one of us is your least favorite has to be the extramarital affair.”

“I say, you’re the most obnoxious person I’ve ever met.” Tommy can hear the warm affection behind the insult, the way their picking is a safer way to express their passion for one another.

He thought he would be jealous of whoever finally managed to reel in Steve Harrington for good, and he is. The emotion is there, present in the snarling tangle of emotions that this encounter has left in him. One that he and Carol will have to slowly tease and pick out tonight when they’re home in bed. Trying to make sense of what each thread is and what it means for them. But the one bright pulsing thread he can make sense of is happiness. He’s happy for Steve, happy that he gets to see an old friend so at ease and obviously cared for.

And he’s sad that his time is up, his lunch hour so close to an end he’ll be late getting back to the office. Something he can already hear his Dad and fucking Greg giving him shit for. Which means they have to end their time here.

Steve walks them to the door, flips the sign to mark them closed for lunch.

“Congratulations again, you two,” he says, “I really am happy I can get to be a part of this with you all. Even if it’s a little different than we used to imagine.”

Carol reaches out for the both of them, puts her hand on his arm. Tommy finds that he’s the one who actually says, “We’re glad you found someone who makes you this happy, dude. You deserve it.”

“Yeah, he’s alright most of the time.” It's said with such fondness it becomes a declaration. It’s hard to imagine how they thought they could ever be the something that could make Steve this happy. But maybe in a different life, under different circumstances it could have been.

There’s a minute where they all stand in the doorway. He wonders if they’re all afraid that this might be the last time they see each other, speak to one another, until Steve is delivering the cake on the day of the wedding. Maybe it’s just him, he was the one who pushed back the hardest after things ended.

Someone finally gives in and pushes the door open. It’s TONG a death toll for their current conversation. But it also sends a jolt through Steve, he straightens to his full height like a shock has gone through him. “Here,” he says, “here, um.” He digs around in his apron until he finds a pen and a receipt pad. Jots down something before tearing it off and putting it in Tommy’s hands, “It's our home number, in case you have any cake emergencies or something.”

They really can’t stay any longer.

Carol takes the note, better at keeping track of these things than Tommy is. It’s hard to know if they’ll actually use it, maybe after they talk about it, but if they do she’ll be the one to do it. She’s always been braver than him.

There’s no way of guaranteeing anything but the fact that they’ll have a cake on the table on their wedding day. But he hopes that Steve might stay for the ceremony once he brings it, he can even bring Eddie if that’s what gets him there. 

Alone in his car, Tommy lets himself take a minute to think about Steve Harrington one last time. He isn’t going to get what he wanted as a kid. Doubts that he’ll ever be as close to Steve as he’d been in childhood, too much time has passed and too much has changed.

But there’s an opportunity to get to know Steve Munson, and he isn't going to pass it up. Even if he doesn’t know how to name a bakery.

[xiaq]

Steddie Time Travel Fixit: Pt. 6

Ao3 Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7

Steve wears the Hellfire shirt.

He wears it half tucked in to a pair of tight distressed jeans with black lace-up shitkicker boots, both of which Eddie knows Steve has never worn to school before because he would have fucking remembered.

His hair is just as stupidly teased as usual, but paired with the rest of him it looks a whole lot less preppy and a whole lot more like he should have a cigarette tucked behind his ear and a leather jacket over his shoulder.

And Eddie knows that he should be focused on whatever the hell is happening with the kids and Hopper and the fact that Steve apparently has war flashbacks involving D&D characters but all that mystery falls to the wayside when the former reigning jock king is walking around the hallways like a living breathing wet dream in a shirt Eddie created.

Eddie is but a man.

Distractible.

Fallible.

Horny.

Steve catches him staring from down the hall and gives him a lazy two finger salute, grinning with the kind of ease that comes from being attractive and knowing it.

It should be infuriating.

It is not.

“Is this a dream?” Gareth says, drawing even with Eddie. “This has to be a dream, right? No way is Steve fucking Harrington wearing a Hellfire shirt.”

“I don’t know about you,” Eddie says faintly, “but if this was my dream he wouldn’t be wearing anything at all.”

“Oh, gross.”

“Look at him,” Eddie insists. Ever since that time at Jeff’s last year when the band was all high and Eddie got a little too honest, they’ve all sort of ignored the fact that Eddie is gay. They don’t ask him about girls and he doesn’t talk to them about guys. But this is…a special circumstance. 

And it’s fine. Because Eddie is not the only person looking. Everyone is looking—some with sneers or confusion but most with envy or probably equal amounts of the lust that Eddie is currently trying to subdue. Even the straightest guy in the world has to admit that Steve is—

“Yeah,” Gareth says. “I  mean no, still gross because it’s Harrington,  but yeah I can see how—no. Never mind. I’m going to class.” Gareth pauses. “Wait. Do you think he’s going to sit with us at lunch?”

He sits with them at lunch.

Eddie more or less sleepwalks through his morning classes and leaves History before the bell so he can get to the lunchroom first and he does not save Steve a seat. He has no expectations when he enters the cafeteria. No hopes related to the company he’ll keep while consuming his soggy PB&J. He just has a jacket that ends up on the seat next to him and when Jeff tries to move it he maybe glares at him a little.

When Steve moves the jacket so he can sit down, Eddie does not glare.

“Fucking figures,” Jeff mutters.

Eddie is never going to live this down and he doesn’t even care. 

“Nice shirt, big boy,” he says, because apparently Eddie’s mouth is just saying things.

Steve stills. For a moment, Eddie is reminded of the night before–of terror and gasped breathing. But then, just as quickly, he’s grinning at Eddie like some sort of sunshine creature, like joy incarnate, plucking at the tight fabric straining across his chest.

“I dunno, I don’t think I’m particularly big, it’s not my fault you gave me such a small size.”

“Well, beggars can’t be choosers,” Eddie retorts.“Everyone who signed up at the beginning of the year got one custom made,” he gestures to the guys as proof before drumming his fingers against Steve’s shoulder. “This’s one of mine and the most exercise I get is hauling amps and running from cops.”

Steve reaches over to wrap his hand around Eddie’s bicep and it’s Eddie’s turn to go still under the heat of his palm and the weight of his attention. Steve meets his eyes for a fleeting second before they flick down to his own fingers. Steve squeezes.

“You seem plenty fit to me.”

“Amps,” Eddie repeats. It’s a little breathless. It’s fine.

“Jesus christ,” Jeff mutters.

Steve’s hand is still on his arm when nearly half the basketball team approaches, detouring to stop on their way to their standard table. 

He wouldn’t say that a hush falls over the cafeteria but there are certainly a lot of eyes suddenly on their table. And not much talking.

“What the fuck, Harrington,” one of them––Eddie doesn’t know, nor does he care to know, his name––says. “You ditched us for the freaks?” He looks genuinely baffled, which Eddie has to admit is fair. “Is this some kind of joke? Does Munson have something on you?”

Steve leans away from the table, hand moving from Eddie’s arm to the back of his chair, he hitches his opposite elbow on the back of his own chair. He kicks one foot up to brace on the table leg.  It’s the stereotypical jock position: chest wide, staking a possessive claim, except Eddie isn’t a cheerleader.

“I don’t like what you’re implying,”  Steve says.

“Dude, whatever it is,” the guy’s eyes linger on Eddie in a way that Eddie really does not like, “we can take care of it.”

Steve sighs.

It’s long and loud and purposeful.

“Listen, I feel like maybe Hagan hasn’t held up his end of our bargain, so let me make this as clear as I can and we can all be mature about it. Ah––” he interrupts himself, raising his voice a little, “No, hey. Look at me. All of you.”  His tone is calm and level and patronizing in a way that Eddie knows would be infuriating if it was directed at him.

“I need you to understand,” he says slowly, making eye contact with each of them in turn, “That I’m not joking. I’m not posturing. If you touch Eddie, if you touch anyone at this table, you’re going to have a lot more to worry about than passing your driving test or making the starting lineup. There are people in the world with real problems and if you fuck with any of my new friends, you’re going join them.”

A couple scoff. Tommy, near the back, is distinctly silent. And without their usual ringleader, no one else volunteers to step forward as the aggressor.

“What happened to you, man?” One of the guys says instead.

Steve sighs again. It feels more genuine this time. “I grew up,” he says. “I recommend it.”

And then he just…waves them off, like he’s tired.

And they leave.

The group retreats to their own table in a wake of low murmurs, and everyone lets out a collective exhale.

Except for Steve, who is leaning into Eddie’s space again.

“You were weirdly quiet through that,” Steve murmurs, pushing Eddie’s hair over his shoulder so he can whisper in his ear. It’s an entitled gesture. The heat of his breath, fanned against Eddie’s neck, sends goosebumps down his arms.

“If I’m mouthy, it tends to just piss people off,” Eddie mutters back. “And I’m trying not to cause trouble for you seeing as you seem to create plenty for yourself.”

“Do what you want,” Steve says easily. “I know how to fight.”

Eddie tells his dick to calm the fuck down.

Now is not the time.

“Besides,” Steve whispers, even quieter, lips practically against Eddie’s ear, “I think I prefer you mouthy.”

Fuck.

This is flirting, right? It has to be flirting. 

He makes frantic eye contact with Jeff and––yeah, judging by the expression on Jeff’s face Eddie is not making shit up. Steve Harrington is hitting on him. In the school cafeteria. 

“Oh hey,” Steve says abruptly, turning to pull a Tupperware container out of his stuffed full backpack. “I made cookies last night if you guys want some.”

“Cookies?” Gareth says faintly.

“Yeah, peanut butter chocolate chip. The kids I babysit wanted some so I made a double batch to share. They’re good, I promise. And I substituted applesauce for some of the sugar and oil so they’re not as unhealthy as they could be––but don’t tell the kids that.”

He peels off the lid and Eddie is hit with the second-most heavenly smell he’s ever encountered. The first may or may not be Steve Harrington himself, who is now handing him one of the cookies. Eddie takes it wordlessly, watching as Steve stands to carry the container around to everyone else.

Gareth leans across the table so only Eddie can hear him. “How confused is your boner right now?” Gareth whispers.

Eddie suppresses a slightly hysterical whine. “Oh, are we talking about this? We don’t need to talk about this.”

“I think we’re going to have to if he keeps this shit up.”

“No,” Eddie says. “No, no. I’ll be fine. I just need to…get my head straight.”

“Good luck with that.” Gareth takes a bite of his cookie, “Oh, damn, these are good.”

Eddie eats his own cookie and tries not to moan about it.

He’s fine. Everything is fine. 

••••

Steve Harrington is good at D&D.

Eddie had been worried, at first, that Steve might not take things seriously. That he’d laugh at their silly voices or make fun of the guys who wear costumes or just…make it clear that he thought they were ridiculous. Childish.

Instead, he maybe takes things too seriously––asking detailed questions about terrain and weather patterns and doing so many perception checks that Jeff is about ready to strangle him an hour in, but his overly cautious approach uncovers more than one trap Eddie had set. Steve is excellent at strategy and disconcertingly good at organizing the party when there’s something to fight. Even more disconcerting, most of his strategies appear to involve martyrdom and it’s only through Eddie fudging his combat rolls a little that Steve’s character survives the night. 

He’s not perfect, of course. Steve’s math skills are abysmal and he constantly has to be reminded what his modifiers are, which Eddie does gently and without complaint, because he’d copied down Steve’s stats the night before and he doesn’t want Steve to be embarrassed. The guys will definitely never, ever, let him live it down, but he figures he’s already lost so much credibility with them at this point a little more won’t be the end of the world.

And Steve keeps smiling at him, so.

Worth it.

When Steve’s watch alarm goes off, a minute before 7pm, he makes a hasty exit for the bathroom, bag in hand, and the other guys decide he must have some sort of medication he has to take and he didn’t want to do it in front of them. Eddie doesn’t correct them, doesn’t know how he would even try to correct the assumption because he doesn’t actually understand what Steve is doing. But it does remind him that there is a Mystery afoot and Eddie really should be trying to figure out what the hell is going on instead of just…mooning over Harrington’s pretty face.

Then again, nothing is stopping him from doing both.

The guys warm to Steve by the end of the session, patting his back and calling goodbye as they exit the doors under the external halogen lights.

The night is quiet and cool and when Steve offers to drive Eddie home, Eddie can only say yes. Eddie slides into the passenger seat, tossing his backpack into the back, and decides to take the opportunity to snoop. He opens the glove compartment and pulls out the handful of cassettes inside.

“Oh,” Steve says, “wait, that’s not––”

There’s Dio and Metallica, Iron Maiden and Motorhead, and then the artists Eddie suspected all along: Madonna, A-ha, Donna Summer, ABBA, Journey, The Eagles and—oh.

Fleetwood Mac. With Landslide on the B side. 

It’s shiny and new. No scuffs on the case.

“Shit,” Steve mutters under his breath.

“When did you even have time to get this?” Eddie asks, baffled. And maybe he shouldn’t assume, maybe he’s completely off-base, but Steve looks like he’s been caught doing something illegal so he thinks the assumption is apt. “You left our place at like 10pm last night and you’ve been in school all day.”

“I have a free period before lunch. The record store is a five minute drive from campus.”

“But…why?”

“I don’t know,” Steve says, with the soft resignation of someone lying. It sounds more like, “I can’t tell you,” which makes Eddie want to shake him.

Eddie considers Steve’s shadowed face: his downturned mouth and his stupidly long eyelashes. He looks tired.

Eddie exhales. “Well, we’re listening to it.”

Steve doesn’t argue.

He doesn’t say anything else at all until they get to the trailer and he’s hurrying around to open Eddie’s door for him and get his bag from the backseat like Eddie is some girl he’s dropping off after a date.

“Oh wait,” he says, ducking back to grab his own bag. “I have—hold on, it’s—there we go.”

He emerges with another tupperware container in his hands, this one smaller than the one he passed around at lunch.

“I thought Wayne might want some,” he says shyly, eyes on the cookies in his hands. “As a thank you. For yesterday.”

Eddie is going to scream.

“That’s really nice. I’m sure he’ll love them, and if he doesn’t I’ll eat them because apparently you’ve been possessed by Betty Crocker’s ghost. Or—actually I don’t know if she’s dead or not. Or if she was a real person. Anyway, the point is that—“

Steve is smiling at him. Softly. Like he’d be happy to listen to Eddie ramble as long as he wants.

Eddie clears his throat. “Wayne should be home if you want to give them to him.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll, uh, walk you in.”

So much screaming.

Steve does walk him in, hands over the cookies to a baffled-looking Wayne, and then touches Eddie’s hand—hardly a touch at all really, his first two fingers resting, briefly, on Eddie’s wrist, his thumb tucked just under the meat of Eddie’s palm, almost like he’s checking Eddie’s pulse.

“Goodnight,” he says.

Eddie doesn’t even know if he responds.

He’s still looking down at his wrist when Steve’s car engine starts and the headlights fan over the windows before everything goes dark and still outside.

“So,” Wayne says. “Is he…”

“What?” Eddie asks blankly.

 “...your sweetheart?”

That’s enough to break Eddie out of whatever trance he’d been in. “My–? Jesus. No. You know who you’re talking about, right?”

“I know what I’m seeing,” Wayne mutters. “Not sure I’m happy about it.”

Eddie’s stomach immediately goes sour. They’ve never actually discussed Eddie’s romantic preferences. Wayne knew. He had to know, considering the circumstances in which Wayne became Eddie’s guardian. But they’ve never said anything out loud to each other and Eddie was hoping to continue that tradition potentially for forever.

“Wait,” Wayne says, moving forward to squeeze his shoulder, “I didn’t mean––fuck, you know I’m no good at this shit. Come sit down.”

They move to the couch.

They sit.

Wayne digs the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“I don’t care who you’re sweet on or who you bring home, you hear me? As long as they treat you right and they don’t get you into trouble. But that Harrington boy… I get the feeling he’s trouble. And with his folks being who they are, I just want you to be careful. That boy has a history and I don’t know what it is, but I’d wager it isn’t pretty.”

“I don’t know what it is either,” Eddie murmurs. “He’s not––I don’t think he’s bad trouble, though. He’s trying to protect me. Us. At school. Even though it’s put a giant target on his back. He’s quit basketball and joined Hellfire and he’s. I don’t know. I like him.” It feels like a confession.

“I wonder how his Daddy feels about all that,” Wayne murmurs. “You ever seen him come to school hurt?”

Eddie considers. “I don’t know. Why?”

Wayne just looks at him.

“You think his parents––?”

“I think I know the kind of boy his father was. I can imagine the sort of man he turned into.”

Eddie feels chilled all the sudden. He gets up from the couch to close the open window above the sink. It doesn’t help. He rests his hands, fingers splayed, on the countertop. He taps his nails on the fornica.

Abuse wouldn’t explain the kids or the panic attack or why he suddenly seems obsessed with Eddie. But it would explain some things.

“I’m not going to start avoiding him,” Eddie says.

Wayne sighs. “I didn’t expect you would. Considering.”

Eddie doesn’t ask him to elaborate.

He holds up the container of cookies Wayne had abandoned on the counter, then carries them over to the couch when he nods. 

Wayne selects the largest one from the top. “Did he actually play your dragons game?”

Eddie nearly chokes on a laugh, helping himself to a cookie as well. “He did. Wasn’t half bad, either.”

Wayne takes a bite. His eyebrows go up. “Shit, did he make these?”

“He did,” Eddie says.

“Well. I suppose we can keep him around.”

Pt. 7

[reve-writes]

—look. | chishiya shuntarō x reader.

alice in borderland chishiya shuntarō x reader.

the three times he stares at you and you notice + the one time you stare at him and he notices. | med school!au.

one. first year lecture.

Your hand shoots up as soon as the professor finishes his question. It is the fifth time in a row, and your classmates have already started whispering. Chishiya raises an eyebrow—out of both amusement and curiosity.

"Yes, ___?"

You smile, answering the question correctly. When the next question comes, the professor disregards your raised hand, and calls upon a blond-haired guy, three seats behind you. You whip around, locking eyes with Chishiya. He looks smug as he answers the question.

By the end of the class, you have somewhat of an admiration and annoyance towards Chishiya Shuntarō.

two. college frat party.

Chishiya has his hands in his zipped hoodie, rejecting the nth cup of drink being offered. He leans against the wall, trying to avoid the sweaty, dancing bodies under the obnoxious mirror ball.

"___!" He hears your name being called. "You shouldn't!"

Chishiya pushes himself off of the wall, and ventures into the sea of bodies. What are you up to? He thinks, as he shoulders a guy and slips between two dancing couples. The dancers clear up to the living room. You're grabbing at the bottles of alcoholic beverages placed on top of the living room table.

You're... definitely not sober. He notices your sweaty hair sticking to your skin. There are stains on your clothes. The most telltale sign is probably your puffy red cheeks, and the fact that you are sobbing. Your friend is holding you back around your torso, their hands grabbing at yours, trying to stop you from drinking anymore.

"One more!" You slur, with a high-pitched singsong voice.

He chuckles. So, the model student knows how to party. He is about to turn around when your finger suddenly shot up, pointing at him.

"You!" you yell. Your friends are staring at him now. They are all too shocked, perhaps, to stop you as you trudged forward, barely avoiding tripping over yourself towards him. On the last step, your luck runs out, and you trip over your own shoe. You fall forward, towards him, clinging onto his hoodie.

Instead of apologizing, you smile. Chishiya draws his face back. Too close. He can smell the alcohol on your breath. His hand instinctively grab your arms to steady you.

"You're very smart, Chishiya," you slur out, half-chuckling. You end your sentence with a hiccup. "Keep up the good work."

He stares for a moment, bewildered. When he thinks you've regained your footing, he lets you go, but you immediately sway forward again. He catches you. Again. You're definitely too close now.

"Thanks." he replies.

Your hands come up to his cheeks and squeeze. You're giggling as you say, "You look adorable."

He freezes. Your friends seem to have collected themselves. Two of them swiftly walk forward and pry you away from him.

"I'm sorry for her. She's extremely drunk," One of them says, dragging you to sit on the couch.

Chishiya shrugs and turns to leave. The next morning, he finds a sticky note on his desk—the one where he is seated three seats behind you—with a chocolate bar. Sorry for yesterday.

three. in the library.

From the whole campus, Chishiya's favourite place, despite it being cliché, is the library. It is a magnificent three-storey building with a lot of space for working and studying. He slides into his usual desk in the corner by the second floor window with three thick textbooks in front of him.

He hears hushed voices.

"Sorry, ___. I have family matters to attend to," he hears one of your classmates say. Is it Keiko? He doesn't remember. "Can you cover my part?"

"I need to take care of my grandma. She's unwell and can't walk by herself," he hears another voice say. He can put a face to the voice, but the name escapes him. "I'm really sorry, ___, but will you cover my share of the work, too? Please?

They simultaneously say, "Please?"

He knows they're both lying. He knows you're smart enough to know that as well.

He hears you sigh. For a second, he thinks you are going to yell or tell them off, but you don't. Your voice, when you speak, sounds like those salespeople who have had a really shitty day, but have to fake enthusiasm anyway.

"That's alright."

A chorus of thank yous and some shuffling are heard, and then footsteps leaving. He thinks you've also left, until he hears typing. Chishiya doesn't know why, but he picks up his books and bag, walks past a row of bookshelves, and plops himself down across from your desk.

You don't notice him. Your eyes are skimming through pages and pages of scientific research. He opens his textbook, annotating parts that he considers relevant and jotting things down. He has almost forgotten your presence by the time you sigh, furiously snapping a book shut. You burrow your face in your hands.

He doesn't realize you're crying until you let out a sob. What should he do?

You wipe your face furiously and take a deep breath. You try typing something on your laptop, but barely a couple of words in, you break down again. This time, your entire body shakes with your sobs.

He considers packing up and leaving. Chishiya doesn't need to deal with your group's unprofessionalism or your tears. You share a couple of classes together, but you aren't best buds or anything. At best, the two of you are acquaintances.

While he's considering what to do, you look up, staring straight at him with your tear-streaked cheeks and red eyes. Chishiya's thought of leaving leaves him at that moment.

"I'm sorry," you say, between sobs. "Did I bother you? I'll try to be more quiet."

He chuckles, amused, but you are definitely not amused as more tears start spilling.

"I'm so embarrassing, I'm sorry," you cry.

"No, sorry," he says, gathering his things. He sits next to you, letting his stack of textbooks stay closed as he takes a peek at your laptop screen. "Do you need help?"

"No, it's okay," you wipe your cheeks. "I can do it."

He stares at you with a raised eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest. He tilts his head as if saying go ahead, then.

You sigh. "I can't. Please help me."

He should just up and leave. Chishiya doesn't know why he sticks around, browsing articles and textbooks to help you write up your group project. Hell, he doesn't even take this class!

Despite every logical part of him knowing he gains nothing from this, he stays until you two are told to leave as the library is closing. He even stays as you offer to buy him dinner at a popular café across your campus.

Chishiya thinks he should leave. He thinks he shouldn't get too friendly. But he wolfs down the curry rice and walks you back to your dormitory by the end of the night.

one. after classes.

It's five p.m. when you're dismissed from class. Your friends have hyped you up throughout the day for this very moment, but the thought of it still drains the blood from your face. Your hands are cold and sweaty as you gather up your things into your bag.

It can't hurt to ask.

It will hurt your ego. You pout as you step out into the hallway. You're too caught up in your thoughts, almost bumping into one of your lecturers, but luckily you snap out of it and side-step. You start heading to the next building, where his class has probably just been dismissed.

It doesn't take you long to find the blond-haired man. He has his backpack slung over one of shoulder. His other hand is stuffed inside the pocket of his trousers.

You swallow. Your friends are going to be disappointed today, because there is no way you're going up to him. No way. Not today.

He keeps walking forward, not noticing you, until he does. You know he notices you staring, because his usual deadpan expression melts away. His head tilts to the side as it often does when he's thinking.

No going back now.

You wave at him. He waves back. You step towards him, your knees are jelly under you. Ever since the library shenanigans, the two of you are on friendly terms. You don't talk to each other a lot outside of classes. The problem is you want to talk to him a lot outside of classes.

He doesn't say anything when you stop in front of him. He waits with an eyebrow raised.

Now or never. You repeat it in your head over and over. Your fists are clenched by your side as you swing back and forth on your feet. You should spit it out by now, right? He may think you're weird if you just keep silent.

"Chishiya," you say.

He hummed.

"Do you want to grab coffee together?" You blurt out.

"Okay," he shrugs. "Where?"

He's too nonchalant.

You shake your head no. "I mean, like a date."

There he goes again, tilting his head to the side quizzically. "A date?"

You rush your next few words. "IF you want to. Completely optional. Either yes or no. I thought I would ask. You know? Never hurts to ask, they say. We'll be busy later on so I thought we can try for now. If it's too weird, then we can just not do it. I'm alright. Are you alright?"

He chuckles. You can't read him. Is he amused? Is he annoyed?

"Okay. A date."

bonus. a date?

Chishiya catches you staring at him as he's leisurely walking towards his dormitory. He stops, staring back quizzically. Do you need his help? Did your groupmates ditch you again? He told your professor about it. They won't dare dump all the work on you again, but he can be wrong. University students are as shameless as they come.

When the realization dawns on him, that you've just asked him out on a date, his heart skips a beat.

Say no, he thinks, but he can't. He watches you nervously sway on your feet. He notices how you wring your fingers together nervously. Chishiya chuckles. You're adorable, he thinks.

In that moment, he knows he's absolutely screwed, because there is no way he can ever say no to you.

[ ]

just some fluffy college au ♡ did i go overboard? yes i did. i hope you like it anyway. maybe slight ooc chishiya but college. au.

[oh2z]

roommates. a jebe series

part pre one two three

summary: moving in with your (really attractive) uni friends..nothing too crazy can happen, right?

contents: plenty of suggestive/sexual content ! mdni read and tune in at your own discretion !!

word count: 2.1k (yay^^)

it was your fourth year of uni and you just transferred schools after a little incident happened last year that forced you to move. it was like a fresh start-- except you still had to go to class. (lol no shit)

you were angrily storming toward your first class of the day since you had already taken this class but of course, the credits didn't transfer so you had to retake it. huge waste of time.

you sat down in the closest desk to the door and tossed your bag on top of it, leaning back against the chair and crossing your arms in annoyance. you felt some eyes on you so you glanced over and caught a boy looking at your curiously. you normally would have snapped at him for staring, but he was pretty hot-- his messy brown hair fell over his forehead in his cute, slightly overgrown bowl cut and smiley eyes contrasted nicely with the sharp cut of his jaw and his large hands. you slid your eyes over him top to bottom, letting them linger on the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders. you looked back up at his face to meet his gaze and his eyes widened briefly before he looked away quickly, a little blush creeping onto his cheeks. you turn to front wordlessly, looking away from his with a small smirk on your face.

you had shown up to class hoping that this professor didn't have a strict attendance policy, and to your luck, he does. fuck. you rolled your eyes as your classmates passed the sign-in sheet around, and zoned out for the rest of class.

when the class was over you grabbed your bag, slinging it over your shoulder and headed for the door. you had forgot to get coffee beforehand, so you decided to head to the nearest cafe. you felt like someone was following you as you headed down the sidewalk and you threw a glance over your shoulder to see that same guy from class a few steps behind you. his big eyes widened when you looked at him and he looked away from you but you narrowed your eyes and stopped walking, waiting for him to catch up.

he looked like he was panicking, not sure if he should stop or pass you. "you following me?" you asked, tilting your head.

"no! i just... wanted to go get coffee before my next class," he said quickly.

you hesitated a moment, suddenly feeling silly for being on the offensive. "oh. i was going to get coffee too..i'mm kinda new to town and i get anxious in unfamiliar places-- should we have coffee together?" you offered. he blinked in surprise.

"oh! yeah okay sure!" the two of your began walking again, next to each other this time, and headed toward the coffee shop. you each brought your own drink and then you sat down together at a small table. you couldn't help but judge him a little for getting a fancy blended sweet coffee drink, while you had a black iced americano.

"so are you a music production major too?" he asked, sipping his drink.

"no, i'm taking this class as an elective. i'm kind of annoyed actually-- i already took it but the credits didn't transfer. i mean it'll be easy now, but it's still a bit annoying," you complained.

"oh. that sucks." he replied, frowning. you shrugged.

"it's whatever. you know what would make it better though?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"what?" he asked, sipping from his straw and blinking at you innocently.

"if you would write my name on the sign-in sheet for me if i'm ever not there," you replied sweetly.

"we're not supposed to do that though..."

you pouted, looking at him through your lashes and slipping a hand up to toy with the neckline of your shirt. "oh...i guess you're right. thanks anyway."

"i mean-" he said quickly. "it's just that i would have to know what your name was first before i could write it."

you smirked, then pulled out a small piece of paper and wrote down your full name, jotting your phone number under it. then you stood up and handed it to him. he read your name and then looked up at you when he noticed your number. he tilted his head as he read it again.

"your name is--"

"don't call me that," you cut, pointing at the paper. "i go by y/n."

"okay! y/n it is" he said quickly, his cheeks going pink. you had to stop yourself from continuing the conversation-- you were going to be late to your next class. and so you tore your attention away from him somewhat begrudgingly.

"text me your name," you said as you turned away, flashing him a smile over your shoulder as you left the shop. he watched you go with his lips parted slightly in shock and then quickly pulled out his phone, typing your number in and shooting you a text right away.

unknown: hi :0

me: who is this?

unknown: oh sorry lol

unknown: i was supposed to text u my name

unknown: it's taerae!

me: cool :)

you saved his number and then silenced your phone, not really caring if he had said something else after that at the moment. you shoved your hands in your pockets and headed to your next class.

--

you were sitting in the coffee shop working on an assignment from another class when your phone went off.

taerae: hey u comin to class?

you frowned at your phone. who the hell is taerae? you thought. you glanced at the clock, remembering which class your were skipping. oh! music production boy! a smile crept to your face at the thought of him again.

me: no i can't make it today

taerae: did you want me to sign the paper for you?

me: yes please!

you set your phone down and went back to work. about an hour later you felt someone standing over you and you pulled you headphones off and looked up. there was the boy from that class. you blinked at him.

"yes?" you asked. he sat down, sipping his fancy coffee and frowning his cute, pink lips pouting around his straw.

"you said you couldn't make it to class. i thought you were sick or something," he mumbled.

"yeah...what i meant was...i'm not going back to that class. it's a waste of my time." you mumbled back, returning your gaze to your laptop.

"oh. well...the professor assigned homework." he said, looking at you.

you groaned. "ugh, seriously?" you complained as he opened his backpack and pulled out his notes. he took a picture of where he had written down the assignment and set it to you.

"here you go " he said with a little smile.

"y/n-ie" you replied absentmindedly as you opened your phone to check the picture. he perked up a bit at the thought of calling you in a cuter way.

"i can call you y/n-ie?" he asked cutely. you looked up from your phone at him, unable to keep yourself from smiling a little at his happy face.

"hm? oh yeah. you're my music production class buddy, of course you can" you said. he grinned back.

"okay! well um...i'll see you later y/n-ie"

-

you were lying on your bed at home, tuning out the sound of your roommate slamming doors by cranking up the volume on your headphones. you had just finished up the assignment for your music prod. class and you sighed, thinking you had better go to class and hand it in the next day. unless...

me: hey

taerae: hi y/n-ie!!

me: can we meet up before class tmr? wanna see u :3

taerae: ofc just lmk!!

you were so tired and your roommate was really stressing you out. your really hated this apartment, but it had been the only thing available when you moved to town. you sighed and went to bed.

--

you sat at the cafe sipping your coffee and staring at your laptop, feeling stressed about your course load and your living arrangement. you had no way to get your stresses out these days, considering you knew no one in town and that your favorite stress relief activities were best done...with others.

you eyes slide to the door when taerae came into the shop, accompanied with another boy today. he was the same height as taerae, and something about his perfect skin, messy blonde hair, and sleeper-built body screamed daddy. the smiley brunette boy made you feel dominant, but his handsome friend made you feel small and as the two of them approached you, you shook your head against the warring sides of yourself, trying not to get overwhelmed.

they were talking as they came in and taerae seemed to look at his friend in awe, hanging on every word out of the man's mouth. taerae said something that made the other laugh and it took up his whole face. his huge smile make his eyes scrunch and flush appear in his round cheeks. it was nice to look at, and it seemed contagious as taerae smiled as well. he gave you a little wave and his friend glanced at your curiously before they got drinks. once they both had coffee-- taerae with his usual fancy one and his friend with a plain cup, they came to your table.

"hi y/n-ie! why did you want to meet?" taerae asked cheerily, sitting down next to you. his friend took the seat across from you and you couldn't help but glance at him only to find his dark eyes on your as well. something about the man's cutting gaze made you shy and you looked away quickly. digging in your backpack to avoid looking at him.

"i...wanted to give you this," you said. pulling out your assignment and handing it to taerae.

he looked at it for a second and then undersood. "oh, you want me to hand it in for you?" he seemed like he wasn't thrilled about the idea, so you turned your full attention to him, slipping your hand casually onto the table and placing your fingers lightly over his. he looked up at your in surprise at the tough, and you blinked your eyes at him quickly.

"please?" you asked him sweetly, letting your lips pout into a tiny frown as you did so. he swallowed and looked away.

"y-yeah sure," he murmured, a tiny blush on his soft cheeks as he took the assignment from you and tucked it into his notebook. your eyes glanced to his friend again and you caught him smirking and looking slightly impressed at your actions as you slowly retracted your hand from taerae's, trying to keep yourself from blushing under his gaze.

"thank you" you said, smiling.

"of course y/n-ie"

-

after class, you were still at the cafe, scrolling through your phone and ignoring the paper you were attempting to write. taerae shuffled back into the shop, looking annoyed.

"hey," you greeted him, setting your phone down. "what's up?"

"the professor assigned more work today. and i don't think i did the first one right anyway. i'm not getting this class," he mumbled, pouting.

"let me see." he passed you the notes and you pursed your lips. "i guess i could help." i remember this from last semester."

he perked up. "really?? do you want to come over and go over it with me this evening?"

he was cute. you smiled to yourself. "yeah, sure bub" you said.

he blinked at the affectionate name and then looked down shyl. he suddenly seemed to remember something. "oh yeah- um. i have six roommates so. sometimes my house is a little loud," he told you, cringing.

"well i live in a tiny apartment on campus and my roommate is literally crazy. so whatever you've got can't be that bad." you looked at him for a moment, remembering how flustered his friend had made you earlier. "hey that guy from this afternoon...."

"oh matthew? he's one of my roommates! he said you were cute when we left," he said wiggling his eyebrows at you. you felt yourself blush immediately and taerae burst into giggles at the sight. then he frowned, "i think you're cute too," he pouted.

you scoffed, your blush immediately fading. "you don't get to call me cute, you're the cute one" you told him, winking. now it was his turn to blush.

"w-wait you think i'm cute?" he asked, his eyes wide.

adorable, you thought. "whatever. text me your address." you said, right before trying to refocus on whatever you were just working on.

[evalevaeva]

Strangers | Sieun x reader

; in which Sieun values his academics over his partner.

warning: argument, breaking up, ignoring.

eva notes! : yo this kinda hit home a little.. :] enjoy

The day seemed like the usual days. Youngbin was busy messing with Sieun and you were sitting in the seat next to him. You took the chance to glance at your significant other next to you as his ears were filled with music and the tip of his pen busy on the notebook infront of him.

"Sieun, Sieun, Sieun!" You tried to whisper-shout to get his attention as he finally took off his earpieces and turned to you, his body language calm as he waited for you to continue.

"Isn't Miss Yeon returning the test papers from the weighted assessment tests the other day?" you asked him as he nodded, his eyes still as dull as when you first met him in school.

It definitely did not go unnoticed. His cold demeanour signalled that his stress levels were over the roof once again, and he definitely was not in the mood for Youngbin's shennanigans or anything happening today.

"Everyone, please return to your seats. Let's begin with checking our assessment papers," Ms Yeon began as she walked over to the podium at the front of the class with stacks of papers, marked with red ink and big numbers on the front, the total scores.

"Miss Yeon! Who got the highest score?" A voice questioned as another student scoffed loudly, "God, you're asking that as if Sieun hasn't topped the last 20 exams since we entered this school!".

Miss Yeon took a look at the stack of papers infront of her as she smiled.

"Actually, we have a new top scorer this examination, Y/N achieved the highest score for this assessment!" Miss Yeon said with a smile as a round of applause was heard.

You looked around, ears red as you'd never have expected to be the top scorer, much more against your own boyfriend.

That was until a bang was heard.

You turned to see Sieun, hands in fists as his eyes burned holes into your face. You've never seen him this angry before, even when Youngbin had thrown a sandal at him.

"Sieun, are you alright?" Miss Yeon asked as Sieun turned to her with a blank face, and responded plainly, "Yes Miss Yeon."

You ran up to catch up with your boyfriend after school as you realised he had left without you, walking to the cram school that you both entered back in your first year of high school.

"Sieun!" You shouted as you ran to reach him, but realised he had his earpieces in, causing him to not hear you. You tapped his shoulder but was met with no response as he continued walking as if you were never there, as if you never existed. You grabbed your phone from your skirt pocket and pressed on his contact on your phone.

"Sieun, are you mad? Let's talk it out?" You texted and sent the message as you followed behind him to the bus stop to the Cram School.

Even at Cram School, he blatantly ignored you as his eyes only switched between the notebook and the large blackboard at the front of the room, ignoring any signs of you trying to get his attention. You tapped his arm, tried to move his notebook, and tried to hold his hand, and still he did not respond. It was as if he changed overnight as it was. . . terrifying to say the least.

"Sieun!" You called out to him as he walked down the path from the cram school to the bus stop to go home.

You'd had enough of him ignoring you the whole day and act as if he didn't know you. This needed to stop.

"Sieun! Stop it." You stated as he stopped in his tracks and turned to look at you.

"What do you want?" He asked for the first time in the many hours you've spent together in school and cram school and all the time in between.

"You blatantly ignored me the whole day, and you have the audacity to ask me what I want? What's wrong with you? You ignored my messages, ignored me, ignored my existence, and treating me like trash. God, even trash would have to be picked up and discarded," you spoke as he stared blankly at you, as if he was, bored.

"You did this," He stated as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Did what exactly?" You questioned as his gaze became sharp.

"You knew. You knew that this was everything I had. My studies, my grades, they're all I have. Yet, you take them away from me like you don't even know me," He spat out as your jaw dropped from the absolute audacity he had to say what he said.

"You think I chose to score higher than you? Well, sorry, mister arrogant, but I studied just as hard as you did, and you knew that. Just because I scored higher than you in one assessment, it gives you the right to treat me like garbage? You're insane," you responded as you tried to remove your gaze from the stranger in front of you.

"Let's break up." Sieun stated as your eyes widened.

"Just like that?" You questioned as he turned, not bothering to answer your question at all.

He wasn't worth it anyway, right? That's what you tried to tell yourself for the next 4 weeks as days passed by like hell. You requested Miss Yeon to change your seat, away from Yeon Sieun. You did not want to associate yourself with such a jerk, and your academics shouldn't suffer because of a piece of trash like him.

A new student joined the class, and soon, Sieun was buddies with Sooho and Beomseok. Maybe a month ago, it would hurt seeing him having company with other people other than you, but now you were strangers, nothing more.

[bluenotes75]

Trust (repost)

Repost because the original got labeled even though there's no adult content :(

Miles Morales ! 42 x Fem ! Reader Synopsis : ''I fucked up princesa, I fucked up bad.'' wc : 1,6k Warnings : spoilder for atsv, angst, THEY ARE AROUND 19 YEARS OLD, possessiveness, this is angst but like good one, cheating, no proofread, what I could remember from my spanish class 3 years ago. pt.1 - pt.2 - pt.3

You glanced at your phone for the hundredth time this minute.

Still no sign of life from Miles.

You were worried, more than you should as you had seen him for the last time the previous day. Yet, you were used to texting your boyfriend every day. It was now nighttime and he had not answered any of your messages. You scrutinized with a frown the last texts you had sent him. He had left you on read.

Miles never left you on read.

Well, he did but only for two reasons. First, when he was mad at you. Thus the first contradiction because the boy was rarely mad at you. Even if he was, he would always confront you directly and talk things out. He hated being on bad terms with you. Life was already rough without you by his side and he wouldn't let anything strip him of any quality time with his girl.

The other situation was is… street activities with his uncle. He used to disappear for days without telling you why, convincing you to not get concerned about him. However, after that one night when you yelled at him, crying, for worrying to death after he ghosted you for two days straight, he promise to always send a quick message to tell you when he would get really busy.hhunyn

So as you sat on your bed, plunged in the darkness of your room, you knew that none of these cases applied to the current situation. You two hadn't fought and he hadn't told you anything about his prowler activities. Well, nothing that you knew of, which left you insanely troubled.

Your last words together were when he left for a party the previous night. You were supposed to go with him but dropped at the last minute because your mother felt sick. You preferred staying by her side, making sure she get better. At first, Morales wanted to stay with you and spend the night at yours, but you refused. You couldn't remember the last time he got to catch a breath and just enjoyed life like the young man he was. He was always either hanging out with you - making sure you were safe by the same occasion- or working with his uncle. So like the good girlfriend you were, you convinced him to go to the party without you. You just wanted him to have fun and even though he was reluctant, he couldn't say no to you.

Since then you had heard nothing from his side. It was already far in the night and you should be sleeping, but you couldn't close an eye.

At this point, you were contemplating directly calling his mother or even his friends. But you knew Miles despised you talking to other guys. Even if they were his own friends.

Your train of thought was suddenly interrupted by a bang on your window. You jumped at the sound and gawked when you catch sight of the boy tormenting your thoughts out of the corner of your eyes.

You hurried up and opened the window for him and he stumbled inside your room looking…awful. You could see the dark circles painted under his eyes and the frown settled on his forehead. Before you could say anything, he clenched his jaw and wrapped his arms around your waist, dragging your body to his. He pressed your bodies tightly against each other, leaving no room for anything else and the heat of your skin warmed the iciness of his.

You were left speechless as he leaned down and nestled his face on your chest, right over your breast. This sudden display of physical affection was unusual from your Miles. You were the one initiating the cuddles, the kisses, the hand-holding. So you couldn't help your heart from fluttering at this new attention. However, the feeling quickly vanished as you remembered the context. Your worry came back like a slap on your cheek.

“My love, what's going on ?” you broke the silence and wrapped your arms around his neck to hug him back, sensing that he needed it.

You received the silence treatment.

“Miles,” you frowned and leaned back to look at his face, only for him to stop you by tightening his arms around the low of your back.

“You haven't answered any of my texts since yesterday, what happened? Is it your uncle? You can talk to me. ”

He took a deep breath against your skin but still left you with no explanation, which made you upset.

“Miles, you can't just disappear for a whole day and come back as if it was nothing !”

“Lo siento Mami, I messed up,” his pained voice came out muffled by your shirt. You scowled at his words. ‘uh ?’

“What do you mean ?”

''m' so sorry. I fucked up Princesa. I fucked up bad.''

You moved your hand to his hair to caress it and comfort him.

''What did you do ?''

''I-fuck, don't make me say it.''

Whatever he has done had to be really bad for him to be that panicked. You could definitely tell that it had been eating him all day.

''Tell me,''

''….I messed up last night. I touched another girl.''

As soon as the words escaped his mouth, your hand froze in his hair. All the worries slipped out of your body as your blood ran cold. This couldn't be what you thought right?

''W-what ?''

''I spent the night with another girl.''

There it was.

Your hands fell to your side as your heart dropped. This was the last thing you could have ever imagined. You took a shaky breath trying to process the wave of emotions that invaded you, but your stare was already lost in the wall facing you.

Sensing your lack of reaction, Miles leaned back to look at you.

''You don't know how much I regret it-''

''Let go of me.''

The boy tensed in your arm at the unusual coldness of your voice.

“No mami, let me explain-”

“Let me go !” This time you yelled.

You thought back to all his possessiveness. Him not letting you talk to your guy friends. You thought back to these sleepless nights you spend worrying about this safety, just like tonight. To all these efforts you pulled to break the wall he build around him after the loss of his father.

All that for him to fumble and cheat on you in the end.

You felt your eyes water but you refused to cry in front of him. He couldn't see you weak. He couldn't see how much he had wounded you.

“Get out,”

“I won't, you can't end us.”

“What?'' You scoffed at his nerve. ''You ended us the moment you prioritized your pleasure over our relationship. Get out !”

Yet, he stayed still.

And that's all it took for you to lose it. He didn't have enough of betraying you, now he had to stay and insensitively watch you break down. Before you could control yourself, you landed a punch on his chest. Then another, and another one. Soon they rained. They didn't do anything to him. Miles was barely affected by it, and you weren't surprised. He was the prowler, after all, he was not weak.

While he was not affected physically, he was a mess on the inside. He had never seen you this upset, and he loathed himself for being the cause of it.

“How could you do this to me !” Tears rolled down your cheeks.

There, you had failed to maintain your facade and Miles watched in horror as you fell apart in front of him. Through your blurry sight, you didn't notice that he was also crying. He stood there, towering over you, eaten up by remorse. He was supposed to protect you. He had accepted the prowler job to protect both you and his mother, but he had done the total opposite.

But he couldn't bear to lose you.

He let go of your waist and wrapped his fingers around your wrists to stop your punches. You tried to escape his hold but he was too strong.

“Querida, mirame por favor. I will make it up to you. I'll buy you everything you want. Tu eres mi mundo and you know-” he tried but you wouldn't hear anything.

“Who do you think I am? You can't buy me with money! Stop being selfish and leave !”

The boy tried to make eye contact with you but you looked sideways, taking deep breaths to calm down. You were overwhelmed with so many emotions that you didn't know what to feel anymore. However, you knew you couldn't bear to see him anymore.

For some reason, Miles seemed to catch the message as he finally let go of your hands and stepped back.

''I hope you can forgive me, mami.''

''Don't. I hate you. I wish I never met you.''

You spat those words purposely to hurt him. You didn't mean them at all. If anything, you still loved him as hard as before. Yet, when you noticed his hurt expression, it brought you a bit of consolation. It was tiny and it only lasted a second, but it was something.

You turned your back to him and eventually, you heard the window open and close behind you. Only then, you tumbled to your knees and let all of your tears fall, becoming a sobering mess in the silence of the room.

You had heard a lot about heartbreak. From your friends to your mother and even your aunt. What you didn't know was how aching it would be. Because even after he betrayed you, even after he made you feel like you weren't enough, you couldn't stop your heart from beating faster for Miles.

[blorbocedes]

fernando/guanyu, hero worship, movie star fernando au

Guanyu justifies spending his sizeable allowance on booking a Saturday night private booth at Flavio Briatore's club with: if he wasn't spending it here, he would've been using it to buy Balenciaga to wear to class. Well, he does wear Balenciaga in the halls of UCLA, but still.

Zhou Guanyu would like everyone to know he is not a stalker.

All of this is publicly available information, such as Fernando's jet landing in LA on Friday, and Guanyu's bookmarked gossip boards confirming Fernando and his girlfriend are well and truly over.

And the Michelin star sushi bar Fernando posted on Instagram story that is impossible to get a booking into, and Guanyu had to beg his father's secretary to use his name.

It's just a hobby, LA is full of celebrity sighting.

Guanyu was five when he first saw Fernando, on a Chinese dubbed telenovela playing a young heartthrob. He was instantly a fan. Over the years, he followed Fernando's career diligently watching him break into Hollywood, and then critically acclaimed movies. Those movies taught him English better than the expensive tutors his parents hired. He remembers staying up late to watch the Oscar's, only to go on a very angry rant on Weibo when Fernando was brutally snubbed. He had posters of Fernando on his wall, followed his career even as it careened to a few disappointing cash-grabs the last few years after a successful stint at directing a one man play. Word on the street is Fernando's producer, Flavio, was using his production company for illegal tax writeoffs.

Guanyu waits, sparkling water in hand and a keen eye scanning the floor; the music slightly muted in his private room with an unopened champagne bottle on melting ice, glittering square table and uncomfortable lounge seats. Maybe Fernando isn't coming, maybe Guanyu's in the club all alone. Maybe he can invite Logan and Oscar next time, and opt out of the private booth in case they're uncomfortable with that. He still remembers the look on their face when they found out he has a personal cleaner come to his dorm.

Just as Guanyu was about to call it quits around midnight, a celebrity entourage with the DJ announcing his welcome -- Fernando walked in.

Even after all this time, Guanyu still feels a little starstruck, like the wind knocked out of him. It's not even the first time he's seen him in person, but the feeling is still the same. Fernando is so handsome, and whatever cosmetic work he's done is tasteful, looking older but striking. Guanyu waits at the bar on the upper floor and sneaks glances at Fernando when he can get away with it, watching him hug Flavio.

Fernando seems to catch his eye, and Guanyu looks away fast - fast, ears burning hot. He knows he's well dressed in his Chanel boots, two older ladies try to approach him and he politely declines, and when he turns around this time Fernando is gone from his seat.

Guanyu tries not to feel disappointment. He stares at his melting ice sparkling water.

"You are my favourite type of fan." The Spanish lilt of the voice by his ear makes Guanyu jump, Fernando Alonso right there beside him. "Beautiful, rich, groupie. Makes the experience rewarding for both of us, no?"

Guanyu wants to protest he's not a groupie but he's stuck on the beautiful, a blush rising from his neck, and Fernando is grinning wolfishly at him. This close, Guanyu feels a little dizzy. He can see his pores, like an HD Getty Image. He actually had a 10 step plan of how Fernando would fall in slowburn romance with him eventually after a carefully planned coffee shop meetcute but this was jumping several steps.

"I keep seeing you, and I don't forget pretty face. What's your name?" Fernando's arm goes around Guanyu's shoulder.

"Zhou Guanyu--Joe, my friends here call me Joe."

"Guanyu," Fernando butchers the pronunciation. "Zodiac sign?" He must've picked it up when he starred in Dragon Warrior: Unleashed in Beijing.

"Bunny." Guanyu momentarily forgets the English word for rabbit.

"Ah. Year of the Rabbit. I remember, from my time filming in Beijing. You are old enough, I will buy you a drink."

Guanyu finds himself being led to Fernando's table, legs walking on autopilot, heart throbbing out of his chest.

"Tell me, bunny, have you ever had a flaming whiskey shot?"

Fernando's grin is shark-like, hand on his shoulder sliding down to Guanyu's waist when he shakes his head no, signalling to his private server.

The rest of the night goes like this: Guanyu's lips close around the rim of his glass, and then it closes around the rim of Fernando's cock.

The sex is an out of body experience. Guanyu is going to compare it to Fernando's sex scenes he has bookmarked when he gets home.

"So, what are you, big Mclaren Heroes fan?" Fernando asks after, referencing his most popular movie that most people know him from, mostly because it was also the film that launched 7x Oscar winner Lewis Hamilton onto the scene. Otherwise, Fernando has just been on the film scene forever, but without the huge blockbuster hits. Guanyu actually thinks the first one is a little overrated, and then the decline in quality in the cashgrab sequels years later that never quite caught the charm of the first one.

Guanyu shakes his head. "I loved you in Minardi. I had a poster. I was 5."

"Jesus, don't remind me, kid." Fernando shudders, getting up. "It was a good run."

Guanyu has a million photos saved of it, but Fernando's back tattoo is still immaculate in person stretching from his nape all the way resting above the dimples of his lower back. He remembers when it was freshly inked and Fernando had posted it on his now abandoned Facebook. There's probably things about Fernando that he himself has forgotten that Guanyu remembers.

"You like?"

Guanyu blushes again, caught. He nods. "It's so cool."

Fernando smiles, maybe a real one this whole evening. "You have to be brave in life, like a samurai."

Fernando puts on a robe, heading to the en-suite bathroom.

Guanyu bolts over to where Fernando's phone is, unlocking it: 3314. He saw Fernando type it before, and it opens. Going to the phonebook, Guanyu saves his number as 🌸🪷💖Bunny🌸🪷💖 (Joe from the club) (Minardi fan Zhou Guanyu); before leaving it back where Fernando kept it.

If he were some lowlife stalker he would've called himself to save Fernando's number, but he's not. He hopes the emoji associations remind Fernando of the good times they had.

The next time Guanyu sees Fernando at the club, he's there with Logan and Oscar, who had invited their friends along too so the private perks and the membership card hadn't been awkward at all -- everyone calling him Joe The Man.

Logan, drunk, collapses on his shoulder with an inconspicuous whisper yell over the music. "Is that, that dude from Heroes?"

He locks eyes with Fernando across the dance hall. This time, Guanyu doesn't look away.

His phone buzzes with a text.

[zonnemaagd]

Phei of the Wind | Draft 3 Complete

Hiya all~ It's been a while, but today I've finished the third draft of my fantasy novel Phei of the Wind. As many of you know I've been working on this novel for more than twelve years now, and this is the most definitive version I've ever made. It's still going to be revised and worked upon, of course, but most story beats have now been completed. It's composed of 29 chapters with a hefty 109000 words. I'm writing my thesis this semester, and I realised that I was so close to finishing that I couldn't think about anything else. So I went burn-out mode and wrote some 20000 words these two weeks, and now while I'm sitting in my eco-literature class (which is very interesting but my brain is too obsessed to stop writing), I've typed up the last few words.

So for those who have somehow missed me talking about this, it's a story about Phei, a halfling-harpy who lives in a world above the clouds. She is a priestess of sorts, and she notices that the world is slowly growing pale and empty. When she learns of a possible cause she runs away to the world below the clouds, the world where her people exiled themselves from. There she travels across the lands, figuring out not just what's happening to the world, but what happened to her people as well while meeting a cast of eccentric characters.

As in regards to the third draft, the biggest change is the endpoint. The previous draft ended at a point that made sense for a single novel, but would require another novel to tell the whole story. This new draft doesn't stop there. I shuffled around a lot of things and added some 40k words after that point. I wanted Phei's story to be composed of one big book. It doesn't mean that don't want to tell other stories in this world, but Phei's story is done when this book is done.

So what's next? I'm going to go through the entire book once, since I have a pile of notes that I thought of when writing this draft. And then I want to send the book out to a handful of beta readers. I'll send a post out for that tonight or tomorrow, so keep your eyes peeled if you're interested in that!

And lastly I'd like to thank you all for your nice comments and support! Every time someone commented something nice about the story it kept me going, so I think it may have taken a lot longer without all of you. <3

I'll leave you with a snippet (picking something that has no spoilers was haaaard), and hope you will all have a wonderful day!

xx

The wind causes Phei to lose her grip on time. Hours blow past as Phei glides, effortless. She knows of birds being able to sleep in the sky, and wonders if her people used to glide in their sleep too. Her dream quickly fades when she dashes to the right again, a sliver of upwards current catching her attention. Agile, yet absent-minded, she crosses past the forests until she can see the sands of Iekin edge towards the mountains, there where the narrow peaks and pillars of Sunde come into view. Without the stormy clouds Phei is able to take in the mountain in its entirety. It is a lonely mountain, imprisoned by the hundreds of spikes surrounding it. The evening sun shines over it, making the golden chains draping down all around the mountain glitter in sinful light. Glistering like that, Phei imagines the mountain as almost peaceful. It shows no sign of the great horrors that have been committed at its feet. It is like a passive observer, nothing more, nothing less.

Taglist, let me know if you want to be added / removed!

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