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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 5 months

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Gold Dust

Pairing: Modern Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Public use of an app based sex toy, smut. Word count: ~1.8k

Summary: Aemond's office Christmas party is the last thing either of them want to attend, however, he comes up with an idea to make it fun for both of them.

Author's note: Can be read as an addition of this series, but also works as a standalone. Day seven of the Smuffmas prompts - "sharing a drink and toys". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Aemond edit in first picture is by @kyloremus.

It’s been six blissful months since her and Aemond moved in together. Having decided his own lofty high rise flat no longer felt like home - in truth, it never had - he’d offered a swap with Mysaria, and she’d leapt at the offer.

Aemond’s flat was paid for outright, so there’d be no expenses incurred on her part, beyond standard bills and utilities. She suited the space, adding a touch of glamour to the modern matte black and chrome surroundings. Her jaw had dropped when he’d handed her the deeds, his grandfather’s law firm already having handled the necessary paperwork and transfer of ownership. Aemond didn’t want rent, he simply wanted to live with the woman he loved. The simple act of Mysaria giving them a space to be by themselves was payment enough in his mind.

The security of the smaller, more homely feeling flat which she now shared with him had been trickier to negotiate. The landlord had snubbed Aemond’s initial offer to buy it from him, insisting he’d make more in rental payments from it than he would if he sold it. Some moderate pressure applied by the legal team of Otto Hightower, and an offer well above its current market value had soon seen to that, so now they were homeowners of a place that was theirs.

Mysaria’s old room had been turned into a home office, a space where either her or Aemond could work from home if and when they wanted to, aside from that they had made no further changes. The cosy little space was where they had shared their fondest memories, and every aspect of their relationship was woven into it.

She shrugs off her coat, hanging it up by the front door, and sighs in relief as the warmth of the central heating prickles her skin. She stoops to ruffle Vhagar behind the ears, a reward for the elderly doberman having reluctantly left her bed to greet her, before walking through to the living room. The blankets on the sofa are exactly as she’d left them the previous evening, and she eagerly retreats back into her nest, snatching up the TV remote from the coffee table.

“Good day?” Aemond asks, propping himself against the door frame as he emerges from the home office, the faintest smirk of amusement playing upon his lips as he looks at her.

She regards him with a warm smile, her features softening instantly despite how tired and irritated she feels. “Horrid, thanks for asking. Do we have any wine left?”

“There’ll be wine at the party, I expect,” he says, moving to sit next to her and brushing a chaste kiss against her temple.

“What?”

He narrows his eye at her, drawing back to look at her carefully. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

She groans as realisation dawns upon her. “Shit, your office Christmas party. Do we really have to go?”

He sighs, nodding and interlocks his fingers with hers. “Ordinarily, I’d give it a miss, you know I loathe parties, but my grandfather has called in more than a few favours for me this year. I owe him this.”

An hour later, and she steps out of the bedroom, hair and make-up finished and a slinky silk dress hugging her curves.

“Beautful,” Aemond breathes quietly, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips.

She smiles bashfully, feeling her skin heat up beneath the weight of his compliment as he pulls away, and watches with curiosity as he moves past her to rummage around on the top shelf of their wardrobe.

“What are you doing?”

“Your outfit’s missing something,” he tells her, pulling down the Lovehoney box, a glint in his eye as he turns to her.

“Aemond, no!”

The app controlled egg vibrator had been a drunken purchase on her behalf, that she’d regretted the moment it had arrived. Upon discovering it, Aemond’s reaction had been much more enthusiastic, kneeling between her spread legs and watching in fascination as she’d whimpered and writhed as he’d played with the settings using the app on his phone.

It had been fun at the time, but she’d considered it impractical and tucked it away, hoping he’d forgotten about it. It’s clear now that he hasn’t.

“Oh come now, darling, it’ll make the evening much more fun for both of us. Consider it an early Christmas gift to me.”

It doesn’t take much persuading, and soon she is sitting in the back of a black cab next to him, her coat pulled tight around her against the chilly December air, made colder still by a distinct lack of knickers, which Aemond had insisted she leave behind.

She is acutely aware of the feeling of the egg enveloped snugly inside of her, its presence, though discreet, making her feel as though she brandishes a scarlet letter that their taxi driver must be aware of.

“No!” She mouths desperately at Aemond as he pulls his phone from his pocket, thumb hovering over the app.

He flashes her the briefest of grins, tapping once on the screen. A mild singular buzz reverberates through her, causing her to clasp a hand over her mouth to muffle her squeal. Aemond eyes her carefully, poking at the inside of his cheek with his tongue before pocketing his phone once more.

Tonight was going to be interesting.

They step into the office, already bustling with people, chatter and light classical music fill the opulent space which is decked out in rich, mahogany furnishings and forest green upholstery, ever the indication that the Hightowers come from old money.

“There they are!” Aegon greets them loudly with a grin, arms spread and half drunk flutes of champagne clutched by the stem between each of his fingers. His shoulder length blonde hair is tousled, and his white shirt is open by three buttons.

“How long have you been here?” She asks, taking in his bedraggled appearance.

“‘Bout twenty minutes,” he slurs around a mouthful of vol-au-vent.

Otto steps up behind him, placing a ring clad hand upon his shoulder. “I tell you where you might like it, Aegon, on the terrace; outside.”

She watches with amusement as the older man leads him away.

“I’d better give him a hand,” Aemond mutters quietly, the warmth of his palm leaving her lower back as he moves to follow. He nods towards his older sister. “Good to see you, Hel.”

She smiles warmly at Hel leaning in as the two peck each other’s cheeks. “How are you doing?” She asks fondly.

“Starving!” Helaena complains, pulling her sheer turquoise wrap tighter around herself and waving away a tray of canapés that’s being offered around by a member of serving staff. “Not a single vegan option here, everything’s either got salmon in it or is slathered in cream cheese.”

“You could always sneak off to grab something?” She offers sympathetically.

“Aeg said there’s a kebab shop over the road. I might see if he’ll grab me a falafel wrap later. Anyway,” she continues, snatching up two flutes of champagne from a passing tray and handing one to her. “How are you?!”

“Yeah, really good!” She grins. “Aemond mentioned we might fly to New York for New Year’s, go and see Daeron. I’ve not met him yet and I– oh!”

She bows her head, biting back the quiet moan that tries to escape her, as the egg inside her vibrates incessantly. Her head snaps up, making eye contact with Aemond, who stands in a corner with his phone out, a sly smile upon his face.

Bastard.

“You alright?” Helaena asks, eyebrows pinched together in concern.

“Mhm…just...champagne bubbles…they go right up my nose!” She feigns a laugh, embarrassment making her skin feel hot.

Ever the dutiful girlfriend, she does her rounds of the office, speaking to colleagues and family members alike, though every interaction is thwarted by sudden and persistent vibrations between her legs.

After an hour of polite chit chat with Alicent, Criston, Otto and several other party guests, she leans back against the wall next to Aemond’s office door, needing a breather from socialising, but also feeling lightheaded from the intermittent throbbing in her core.

The door swings slowly open and Aemond steps out, a crystal tumbler of amber liquid in hand.

“Having fun?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Mmm,” she narrows her eyes, “you clearly are. What’s that you’ve got?”

“Laphroaig,” he tells her, swirling the liquid in his glass. “Thirty six year old The Wall Peat, to be precise. Grandfather would never offer this around to the guests. Lucky for me I know he keeps it stashed in his bottom desk drawer.”

“Lucky indeed,” she purrs up at him.

He grabs her hand, pulling her into his office and closes the door behind them, before backing her up against the desk, until she perches on the edge.

“Let me see,” he whispers, pushing her dress up above her hips.

His free hand applies gentle pressure to her knee, spreading her legs, and she watches the bob of his throat as he swallows thickly, taking in the sight of the arousal that coats her centre.

“Fuck,” he mutters darkly. “The idea of you walking around making innocent small talk while you’re soaked is driving me mad.”

She giggles, clenching around the egg that’s nestled within her as she sees his gaze darken. Aemond pulls out his phone again, changing the setting to a constant vibrate, before setting it down on the desk behind her.

Mewling helplessly, shockwaves of pleasure ripple through her as Aemond’s thumb swipes against her sodden folds, spreading her open to watch intently.

He takes a sip from his glass, and she gasps as he grabs her forcefully by the hair at the back of her head, crushing her lips against his and letting the whisky pass from his mouth to hers. She moans quietly, the intensity of the burn of the liquid that slips down her throat and the throbbing ache between her legs making her feel dizzy.

She is devastatingly close, can feel the pressure building to boiling point, and she whines, pressing her face into the crook of Aemond’s neck, fingertips rumpling the fabric of his black button down shirt as she grasps his biceps for purchase. “Fuck, Aemond, I–”

“It’s alright, I’ve got you, let go,” he coos.

She bites down on the juncture of his neck to muffle her pleasured cry, earning her a startled grunt from Aemond. Her body spasms around the toy, climaxing with a force that makes her toes curl inside of her high heels, before going limp against his chest.

He settles his glass down and strokes her hair before pulling back. His long, dexterous fingers wrap around the cord of egg, and despite how gentle he is as he tugs it free, she still hisses with overstimulation as it leaves her body. The sudden feeling of emptiness is alien to her after having spent most of the evening with it inside of her.

“Can…can we go home now?” She asks tiredly, as he wraps the toy in tissue and deposits it on the desk.

“Hmmm, not just yet,” Aemond tells her, taking her hand and guiding it to palm over the erection that strains against the confines of his suit trousers. “I’m not quite finished with you yet.”

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that-punk-adam · 4 months

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This is not at all a new take on life here in the US of A however I feel as though I will peel my skin off if I don’t say it;

People are seeing death as a valid option to the current state of the world + the future and now I am fully understanding why.

There is no more ‘village’. There are no reliable social safety nets installed that are realistic or easy to access. You H A V E to drive EVERYWHERE if you’re even able to drive. If your area has a bus it has to fight on the road with every other driver. To get 9 miles away from point A to B takes 2 hour out of your day. No one is hiring or they are paying minimum wages for you to run their whole circus operation damn near by yourself. Average 1 bedroom apartments are $1.1k a month for 500 sqf and if you SOMEHOW get a roommate and get them to agree to split rent and utilities then y’all are going to battle for personal space. A 2 bed is out of the question bc there is no way in hell that you can save anything if you are spending more then half of your wages on rent. You want to go out and have a sense of what it means to be fulfilled as a human? Don’t even dream about it, you have your bills coming up.

Get a second or 3rd job? Wait… you were able to find one? They didn’t ghost? Lucky you; now you are better off & you can now sleep knowing that the 2nd job will be able to pay for the gas ($3+/gal), insurance (3X what it used to be but still making you open up ur wallet before they step in), and your car note! (Wayyy too much for a used).

What is fun? What are get togethers? What is a ‘cheap meal’? What’s a bucket list? What’s a vacation? What’s a hobby? Wait, you can afford to replace items and not get anxiety over it? You can afford more then an arm full of groceries?? Will you be able to retire by the time you’re 60 with enough money in the bank to not just exist, but to do the things you’ve always wanted to do during those working decades? What will elder and death care look like? Will your children be able to not live in poverty?

We as young people are seeing death as a valid option because we know we will NEVER see an adult life like those before us prior to the 90’s. Starting a family or adding on to your family will put you in poverty. Buying a house if you’re fortunate enough will put you in poverty. Renting will put you in poverty. Working more jobs will put you in poverty. Having a car will put you into poverty, not having one will keep you from ever getting one. We will just work and work to never ever have anything to show for it. This is not the lifestyle that I’d doom more life to do for the rest of their lives. Something’s gotta change sooner rather then later and it’s gotta be grass roots. We have to be willing to break some rules to get to where we need to be.

Things. Must. Change.

#tw death #ask to tag #death as an option #cost of living #cost of living crisis #housing crisis #rent crisis #unaffordable housing #US housing crisis #public transportation #jobs #wages #job market

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abibliophobiaa · 1 year

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Beyond - s.h. x f!reader

Chapter One: She Might be It

a/n: here’s chapter one of my purely self-indulgent fun, which shouldn’t be taken very seriously, if at all. haha. wanted to play around with one of my favorite tropes, so here we are with modern day!rich!fake husband!steve harrington x afab!reader.

warnings/tags: hugely unedited; mentions of alcohol; parent loss, both parties; r has a sister and father; smut in later chapters, so 18+, minors dni; additional tags to be added.

masterlist

The rooftop is crowded, bodies brushing against your shoulders and hips as you try to blend in, ignoring the creeping insecurity that you’re merely an imposter trying to fit into a world you were never meant to. It’s a foreign land you’ve found yourself in. A stranger in unknown territory as you listen to the sounds of lively conversation and clinking glasses.

The air is thick with the smell of expensive colognes and perfumes, bringing to your attention the soft spray of vanilla you’d spritzed on earlier, bought off some discount rack at the mall. Yet another reminder of the chasm separating you from them. From the elites of society you can’t help but compare yourself to.

All around are women garbed in designer dresses, men decked to the nines in finely tailored suits. Beneath, when you look out to the cityscape, is an electric hub of activity below. Cars spill in and out of busy streets, headlights illuminating the night sky.

You’ve found yourself at some rooftop lounge situated in the heart of the city, which you know for certain is well outside of Robin’s and your budget, but Eddie insists. And when Eddie insists, neither of you argues. You merely humor him, milling about bodies around the bar illuminated in glowing neon lavender, fingers curled around a flute of champagne that you’re sure likely cost at least half of your monthly rent.

You didn’t buy it. No—the man who did has long since disappeared into the throng of bodies, seeking out conversation with close companions, leaving you to wander aimlessly about the space, did. And you find it hard to focus on anything but when you’re constantly reminded of your own humble beginnings everywhere you turn.

Robin and Eddie have drifted toward the rest of Corroded Coffin, likely catching up after months of him being on tour, leaving you to people watch in silence, very much a tiny fish in a sea of wealth. And there, in the center of the sea of swirling bodies, stands none other than the man who bought you your drink himself, decked head to toe in a suit, freshly from the office, one hand in his pocket, the other elbow leaning on the bar as someone regales him with a story he seems uninterested in. His head bobs as they speak, mouth drawn tight, light catching on the thin wires of his glasses.

He glances your way and suddenly the room feels like it shrinks. As if it hones in on where you stand. You’re a girl in a spotlight you never yearned for, drawing the attention of Steve and the man he’s presently talking to, your hand coming to rub along your bicep as he waves you over into the fold. Heart hammering in your ribcage, you make your way over, heels clacking against the rooftop, stomach fluttering when Steve’s hand brushes your shoulder as he pulls you nearer to him, asking if his companion will excuse the two of you.

You dip your head to the man standing beside Steve. Definitely older than the two of you—likely in his forties, with wrinkles bracketing his mouth, the beginnings of salt and pepper throughout his hair. And when they’re gone, muttering they’ll see Steve come tomorrow at the office, you shift so you can stand as he is with one elbow against the bar, skin basked in neon lavender light. Your other hand holding your glass raises your glass to his, earning a huff of laughter from his full lips.

“Using me as a distraction, are we?” You tease, taking a few sips of your bubbly drink. “Didn’t think we were on that level yet, Harrington. This is—oh, I don’t know, the third time we’ve hung out, is it?”

“The fourth, actually.” When you’ve finished off your drink, he waves the bartender over for another, even despite your multiple protests. “It’s on me. We’re meant to be celebrating. You’ve finished…year three of veterinary school, Eddie told me. Impressive.”

“Yes, I just finished my last final the other day. And I am definitely looking forward to some down time.” Another champagne flute is pushed across the bar toward you, your fingers curling around the stem. You gently tip the glass in Steve’s direction, watching those eyes of his trail along your face, taking in your features. Curiosity piqued, you continue, “Keeping tabs on me, Harrington?”

“Always Harrington to you, huh?” He chuckles, extending an arm to lead you away from the bar. “You looked a little out of place. Figured you’d like a little company, even if you don’t consider me a friend just yet.”

“In case you couldn’t exactly tell, this isn’t my usual crowd.” Nose wrinkling humorously, your elbow loops with his as he walks you over to one of the many smaller barstools situated along the roof. “Well, we can always fix that. Tell me, Steve, what brings you here tonight other than Eddie’s demanding? You seemed a little off kilter when we first got here.”

“I’ll need another drink for that,” he laughs, the light of the moon catching on his wire frame glasses. “There is a quieter area inside. We could play a game of pool. Catch up.”

You’d like that, so you tell him as much. There’s a boldness you feel as he leads you into the mouth of the building, the gazes of those around you shifting your way, likely because no one can imagine Steve Harrington entertaining Cinderella in a room full of royalty.

He’s not wrong that the inside of the building is quieter. There’s a second bar in here, various bodies lining couches as the two of you steal away toward the pool table. Your throat tightens at the couple sitting across the way, the man’s nose running along the side of his partner’s. Intimate. A closeness that has heat thrumming in your gut as your eyes dart up to find Steve looking at you. Inside, you’re really given a chance to see him. He’s draped his jacket over the side of the pool table, revealing a black tie and thin gray button up. The corded muscles in his arms ripple and jolt as he unfastens the buttons around his wrists and rolls the sleeves up to the elbow, revealing golden tan skin lined with dark hair that matches the fullness of his wild mane atop his head.

Steve, though a mere acquaintance, is handsome. Highly so. To deny that would be choosing to ignore what’s so plainly there. You’ve only seen him after work. Always dressed to the nines in suits and slacks, professional at all times. But now he’s carding his fingers through his voluminous hair and sidling up beside you, bumping his shoulder into yours, ordering another bottle of champagne for the two of you, murmuring, “As we were saying, I think it’s about time you call me something other than Harrington or Mr. Harrington.” And you’re struck with his charm. The little smirk that crawls along his lips making something foreign flutter in your chest.

Your lip pinches between your teeth at the notion—at the roiling heat in your gut at the purr in his voice. Hip pressing into the corner of the table, you shift to face him, head tilting to the right slightly. “Okay, Harrington. You start. Tell me about yourself.”

“That’s so very broad,” he teases, moving to set the pool table. “What do you want to know?”

“I don’t know. What does a normal day like this look like for you? Was always curious. Is it always flowing drinks and sneaking women off to quiet rooms to chit-chat? Or am I special?”

“You know, I forget who you’ve been best friends with since kids sometimes, and then you go and remind me.” He snorts, lining up the balls on the table. “It’s actually not all that exciting. Since my dad passed, I’ve been preoccupied with…all of the details of that. His will, stakeholders, lawyers—you know, all very exciting.”

“I’m sorry, Eddie told me and I meant to go to the funeral—”

“Don’t even worry about that.” He waves a hand in the air. “And no, I don’t sneak off women to quiet rooms for chit-chat. I don’t usually have time for stuff like this.”

“Late night rendezvous with your best friend’s best friend?”

He lets out a guffaw at that, shaking his head. “And sleep. Apparently it’s a hot commodity for someone who newly inherited a business. Who knew?”

“I think it’s a hot commodity for most,” you joke, sliding back up beside him. Your elbow brushes the bare skin on his forearm, palms pressing against the edge of the table. “I work at a restaurant after classes. I’m sure it’s…not the same as running a company, but the no sleeping thing…”

He grips one of the poles and tosses you one. “Know how to play?”

“Are the rules different here?” You smirk, lip quirking upward.

“No, guess they’re not. You can be stripes.” He pauses, like he’s contemplating something, and bumps your elbow back. “You’re different than I remember.”

“This is the first time we’ve really spoken alone,” you remind him, grasping your champagne glass and taking a sip. He does the same, eyes trailing yours over the lip as you lean forward over the table for the break. You manage to sink one of his, grinning wryly. “So you know I’m in veterinary school and that Eddie is my best friend. You’ve also known Robin for a bit. I grew up in Hawkins, which is basically bumble fuck. You’ve lived in the city your whole life, haven’t you?”

He takes his turn next, hips angling a bit as he gets into position, those broad forearms shifting with every movement. You turn a bit to take another gulp of your drink, the familiar heat of your buzz starting to settle in. “Grew up here. I’m an only child to Elise and Rowland Harrington. And now I’m the inherited CEO of the company for the time being.”

“For the time being?” You muse, shoving him jokingly out of the way as he sinks one of your balls and it’s your turn once more. “How can one be a CEO for the time being?”

“I’m not nearly drunk enough for this conversation,” he laughs, eyes lingering on the side of your face as you attempt to sink another ball but it bounces against the exterior with a hollow thump.

You take turns around the table, talking about surface level topics. Laughter ebbs and flows in the spaces between you, an endless banter that flows easily between two friends. And it’s in that moment the knowledge of such solidifies for you. Steve’s company is pleasant, the two of you feeding off of the other’s energy as the drinks continue to flow between the two of you.

He wins the first game and you poke him squarely in the chest, watching those dark eyes of his grow darker as they linger on your face. “Mr. Harrington, we’re going for round two. And you’re going to tell me something no one else knows. I think it’ll truly solidify our friendship.”

“Oh will it?” He smirks, turning to set the table once more. He pours the two of you another glass as soon as you’re ready for the next game, glass clinking against his. “You’ll tell me one?”

At your nod, he moves to line up for the break, and with the clash of his cue stick against the cue ball, he blurts out, “There’s a condition in my father’s will that I need to marry, otherwise it goes to my shit head of a cousin, Theobald Cletus. And don’t you dare call him anything but, because he’ll never let you live it down if you do.”

“Theobald Cletus?” You snicker, leaning in to take your turn. “People don’t really have ritzy names like that, do they? I thought that was just a celebrity thing. Like naming your kids after inanimate objects”

“He sure does,” he clears his throat and gets into position, knocking one of your halls into a pocket. “Anyway, I’m coming up on the date I’m supposed to be married. People are already giving me a hard time because I’m young, and then I have this over my head on top of it all.”

“Haven't you thought about dating?” At his narrowed eyes, you splutter out, “Right. You already said you don’t really have a lot of free time. I’m sure dating is the furthest thing from your mind. Uhm—if it makes you feel any better, I’m drowning in student debt because most of my money is used for rent and helping my dad take care of my little sister.”

He stops in his movements and rubs a thumb along his jaw, thoughtful. “I just had a funny idea. But I’m pretty sure it’s because you’ve coerced me into drinking two bottles of champagne—”

“I did nothing of the sort!” You gasp, thumping the back of your hand into his stomach. He laughs jovially, one of his hands coming up to steady you when you nearly trip over your heels. “What was this funny idea, anyway?”

“We could…get married. Would solve all problems.”

You laugh.

And then laugh again.

Because there’s no way Steve Harrington just suggested what he had.

“I’m serious,” he continues, hand carding through those messy strands of hair. “We would be helping each other.”

You laugh again, palm pressing against your forehead. “I think we’re a little drunk. But what you’re insinuating…”

“I’d help you pay for college, and you’d help me secure the company from Theobald.”

“By becoming your wife,” you tell him slowly, uneasiness creeping up slowly. “You do realize what you’re suggesting.”

“It sounds crazy, I know.”

“Actually insane.” Your head nods up and down rapidly, watching the man swallow thickly before you.

He palms the back of his neck. “It would solve all our problems, though.”

“You’re just casually offering to pay for my college. It’s veterinary school,” you explain, as if he’s not fully understanding.

“Between my inheritance and my salary, I think I’ll be fine,” he says plainly, like it’s some minor inconvenience, when it feels like a daily cloud over your head.

“Your wife.” You emphasize the word, hoping it breaks through his skull the severity of what he’s proposing.

“Yeah,” he exhales deeply.

“And you think it would work?” Your words are quiet and shaky, a hoarse edge filling the tone of them.

Not that you’re considering.

You’re just curious. That’s all.

Right?

He shrugs. “I mean, people fall in love fast all the time.”

Your hand waves wildly in the air. “Just a whirlwind romance. No big deal.”

“Again, just a funny idea.”

You laugh. “Yeah, very funny.”

The two of you continue as if everything is normal. As if he’s not just thrown out into the open the suggestion of a fake marriage. That ease that flows between the two of you continues, even despite it, bodies shifting about one another as you finish your second game and Eddie and Robin finally find you, commenting that it’s probably a good time for the girls to head back to their apartment.

You walk alongside Steve with the rest of the group as you all walk out onto the busy city streets. Eddie lights a cigarette just as Steve asks for a moment alone with you. With a hesitant wave to your friends, you walk a short distance away with him, heart thundering away at what he might ask you now.

Surely, you can’t. Surely he hadn’t meant those words back inside the building. And yet, now that you’re both a little more sober in the chilly summer air, he repeats the suggestion.

“Just…I know it sounds crazy. But think about it.” He holds out a hand and you pass him your phone, watching as he puts his number inside and presses it back into your awaiting palm.

“Sounds like the plot of some book. Definitely not real life.”

He chuckles brightly and nods in agreement. “Just—just think about it.”

And as you walk back toward your awaiting Uber and glance out the window, capturing the gaze of the man standing with his hand in his pockets on the sidewalk, you find that you actually do.

The days that follow pass as they normally would.

It’s almost like you’ve forgotten Steve’s proposal of marriage. If one could even call it that. You’re not sure standing on a side street in the middle of the night, still humming with the remainder of your drinks in your bloodstream, staring up into the face of someone who was still very much a stranger, despite the way you’d exposed yourselves to one another that night counts as one. Had shared the deepest insecurities plaguing the both of you at the present time. Him, with his need for a wife to satisfy the wishes of his father’s will and the safety of the Harrington business. And you, with the endless swirl of debt that dangles like an ax over your head, awaiting your judgment day.

Every day thereafter on your summer break you wake up and prepare for the day as normal. Carry on your routine as it was before. Waltz through your apartment and greet Robin on your way to the coffee pot that’s nearing the end of its life, make yourself a fresh brew, and scroll through social media as you await the silence that follows endless percolating, signaling the coffee is ready. You’re about two cups in by the time you are ready for the day, tossing on what little makeup you wear, and slipping into your work attire. During your summer sessions, it’s generally a pair of dark slacks and a black top. Something simple and sophisticated for the restaurant you work as a waitress at.

You greet your normal customers for the evening, tend to their needs, and slip into the break room to scarf down whatever food the cook’s had on reserve. That evening it happened to be a salad someone had returned to the wait staff. You’ve made good tips for the evening—nothing to write home about, but enough that you’ll be able to cover a good bit for what your father will need to care for Caroline. Mostly food or clothes, now that she’s at the stage in life where she grows out of things way too quickly for either of you to keep track of. Last week it had been new shoes, and last you’d spoken to her, she had muttered breathlessly over the phone in her excitement to get to her play date, that she happened to need new jeans. So you split your tips into two and mentally made a note to pull up the website she had sent you and place an order later that evening to have it shipped home for the upcoming school week.

Only that day in particular is different from the ones before it. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that it’s only going to get worse once your father calls you gruffly explaining how he’s been let go of a job he’s had for twenty some-odd years. Your heart aches at the way his voice breaks off at the end, the hurt evident in his voice, the anguish over not knowing how he’s going to pay for everything. You offer to give him extra that week, uncertain of how you’ll also manage to then pay rent for your apartment, but before he can even protest you’re routing him some money over to his bank account—throwing in a little extra for Caroline.

It gets worse later that evening when you’re late to work because you’d missed your usual subway. Your boss is less than thrilled; merely offers you a huff and threatens a write up then next time you’re late. One more of which—for similar reasons—would lead to an eventual firing. And you need your position to stay afloat; especially those vital summer hours, where more tourists fill your section, eager to tip a little extra.

But the icing on the cake. The moment that really drives the knife into your already aching chest is the way Robin looks at you when she enters your shared apartment. Drapes her jean jacket over the coat rack at the door and huffs out a great sigh, glancing down at something on her phone. Always effervescent, Robin’s quiet roils the nerves already rolling in your belly. Your suspicions of the day going from bad to worse are proven correct when she sits down on the coffee table in front of you and claps her hands in front of her, chewing on her bottom lip.

“What’s going on, Rob?” Tiredness oozes from your voice, legs and brain already aching from your long day. You’d ended your shift with a table full to the brim with business men who had barely looked up from their phones to acknowledge your presence. One of them looked so similar to Steve it nearly struck you quiet. Steve, who you still have a text sitting unanswered in your inbox from.

“So, you know how Nancy and I have been dating for a few months now…”

“Well, yeah.” You laugh uneasily. “I’m the one who set the two of you up, remember? She’d been working part time at the restaurant and I noticed her looking at you and all of that—asked her if she’d be interested and the rest was history.” You’re not quite understanding the morose expression on her face, the downturn of her lips, the overall downtrodden demeanor.

“We’re thinking about taking the next steps, babe.” Her hands fold in front of her, nervous energy making them shake in her lap. At the upward arch of your brows, she proceeds, “We’re moving in together at the end of the summer. And before you freak out and panic, I’ll be covering my portion of the rent until then! Don’t even worry about it. And I’ll definitely help you figure out other living arrangements, I’ll screenshot listings and—”

“Robin, it’s fine—”

She shakes her head vehemently, hands carving broad slices in the air. “I feel so bad, and I told Nance, maybe we should wait until your winter session with school. But I just figure we’ll be saving money, I’ll be closer to her job and my job and I—”

“Robin,” you interject, palm coming to curl around her forearm. Your voice wavers, but you swallow your tears. It’s likely only a result of all the issues cropping up out of the blue, you remind yourself. None of which are her doing. And you’re happy. All you’d ever hoped for when introducing them was for them to find deep, lasting love in one another. “I’m happy for you.”

It doesn’t lessen the sting of the news. The timing of it all, the knowledge that in a few weeks you’ll either have to move back to Hawkins with your family, or try and foot the bill on rent all on your own. With year four of school coming upon, you know you’ll be working less. Spending hours upon hours studying when you’re not in class, and starting up clinicals in the midst of it all. You’ll be barely scraping by as is, simply trying to keep a roof over your head.

But you don’t give her insight to any of that. They’re not her burdens to carry, nor were they ever meant to be.

Robin heads off to shower after you hug her for a long while in your living room, murmuring your reassurances in her ear until her smile slides back into place and the tension eases from her form. It’s then and only then, when you hear the water running in the bathroom, you pull out your cell phone and dial Eddie’s number.

He answers on the second ring, groaning, “Are you okay? It’s one in the morning, and you’re usually sleeping like the dead by now.”

“Can I ask you a question?” You ask, biting your bottom lip nervously.

“Always.” There’s a rustle on the other end, like the shifting of bedsheets in his hotel room.

“Would you love me even if I did something stupid?” Your heart clenches. You can’t believe you’re even considering the thoughts running wild in your mind. The prospect of opening that message from Steve Harrington where he’d sent you a simple, “Here’s my number, think about it.”

“You’ve done a lot of stupid shit. I mean, look back on high school. Like that time you planted that whoopee cushion under the principal’s chair, so when they sat down and started the morning announcements, everyone thought Higgins ripped ass.”

You groan at his choice of memory. “That was your idea, asshole; you were just too chicken-shit to do it—”

“I was trying to graduate.” He did that year, and you’d been so happy for him, knowing how hard he’d worked to get there against all the odds stacked against him.

“Moving on. You would?” A frown stretches along your lips, heart hammering away behind your sternum.

There’s a deep huff on the other end. In your mind, you can picture the deep set lines around the corners of Eddie’s mouth, concern evident in those umber eyes. “You’re worrying me now. What are we talking about?”

“I’ll tell you later,” you mutter breathlessly, already swiping up into your text threads. “I just needed your blessing.”

“Wait, wait—wait! What am I giving my blessing for?! Don’t you dare hang up the phone—”

The line clicks as you hit the end call button and pull open the message from Steve. There’s a small image of his face pulled from social media for his icon, his face obscured by sunglasses, jeans snug against muscular thighs. Fingers hover over the keyboard for a moment, mind churning, before you begin typing away.

You: So if I were to marry you. BIG IF. What would that entail?

Husband?: Meet me at Caldwell’s tomorrow? I have meetings until 2pm, we can grab coffee there at 3pm and talk business.

You: Stop. He’s trying to seduce me. Oh no.

Husband?: HAHA — you’re hilarious. I’ll send you the address.

Husband?: (Address Link)

You: Didn’t know they sold coffee this expensive.

Husband?: It’s on me.

You: So it’s a real date.

Husband?: Something like that.

Husband?: Talk to you tomorrow.

Caldwell’s is gorgeous. An array of pinks, beiges and creams. Like something out of a Pinterest daydream. Endless sprawling plants line the ceilings. Plush couches and eclectic wooden decor outline the walls and interior seating section. You’re amused by the fact Steve chose here of all places for your meeting. So opposite of where you imagined he might choose.

Almost even more amusing is that your prospective husband-to-be looks out of place in the brightly illuminated space in his dark outfit. In the few times you’ve seen him, you’ve noticed a pattern: gray, black, the occasional pop of maroon, and navy blue make up most of Steve’s wardrobe. And sure, it's no detriment to him, because he looks handsome as ever, but it brings a smile to your face as you capture his gaze from across the coffee shop. Your lips quirk upward as you wave. His answering smile makes something unfamiliar quiver in your chest, though you pay it no attention and clutch your bag tighter to your chest, phone in the other, and make your way over.

He’s already placed an order for you. Texted you a few minutes prior so it was ready at the table he’d situated himself at. You settle down on the chair across from him, catching the laptop in the center of the table, a leather satchel on the plush bench beside him. He’d foregone his glasses today, you notice, eyes meeting the constellations of birth marks along his face and neck, drifting down into the collar of his shirt.

“You look nice,” he mutters, glancing down at your workout clothes. Nothing more than a cross body bag, pair of leggings, tee shirt and running shoes. You know he’s only being kind, a snort falling from your lips, eyes rolling. “I’m not kidding.”

“I meant to change. But, uh, something came up and I sort of needed to rush here.”

No, you had no intention of telling him you’d fallen asleep after you’d gone for a run around the neighborhood. You’d been reading a book on your couch and woke to the pages folded across your face. It had taken a bit to rub out the crease in one of your cheeks, evidence of one too many sleepless nights at the restaurant you worked at.

“I got your iced coffee…thing. Although, I don’t know how you consider that coffee. The barista threw in so much sugar,” he says, pointing to your drink. Your fingers open the straw wrapper before you hastily, giving him a thumbs up with the first splendidly perfect sip. “Good?”

“It’s actually perfect. And it’s meant to taste like a cinnamon roll, if you must know. But in all honesty, ‘Happy wife happy life’ starts with getting your wife’s coffee order right,” you laugh, not missing the way his cheeks flush. He clears his throat, fingers tapping along the spacebar on his laptop. “Sorry. Just trying to get used to the fact this…might actually happen. I figure if I repeat I’ll be your wife about, oh I don’t know, a thousand more times I should be okay.”

He folds his hands in front of him, and you wonder briefly if this is how it’s like sitting in a conference room with him. Stern demeanor, an edge of severity that has your feet curling inside your shoes, that tension in his jaw which highlights the perfectly sculpted features sitting mere inches across from you.

“I guess we should probably talk out the details,” he says, shifting his laptop to show you the document he’s typed up. At the top he’s written the title of your ‘marriage contract’ and you also don’t miss the NDA agreement tab just beside it. “So my father said as long as I was married a year after the reading of the document, I would satisfy the will and the company wouldn’t be transferred over to my shitty cousin, Theobald. Which would mean we need to marry soon. I’d like the sooner the better…since you go back to school in a few months. And I’d like to maintain the appearance that we’re spending time together. So we’ll need to go on a honeymoon as well. But we’ll get to the details of that later.”

You know Steve has a pretty substantial social media following. It’s natural for someone who is not only the son of the late Mr. Harrington, but someone who has also modeled for his mother’s clothing brand, and thus other companies. And you suppose it’s also natural for someone who is friends with other socialites and people like Eddie Munson, who is part of one of the biggest up and coming bands.

You’ve been on the receiving end of comments on Eddie’s photos long enough to understand people are interested in everything going on in their favorite celebrities' lives. You can’t even count on two hands the amount of times people have asked ‘is she dating Eddie?’ To which you’ve always laughed and scrolled out of the photo. But for someone like Steve, someone who has been notoriously private and maintained an air of mystery for so long, to post a photo with his new bride-to-be? You’re not sure about that one. All you can assume is it’ll be explosive.

“Okay, I’m listening,” you tell him, glancing about the room.

No one is looking; not really, at least. But you can’t help the fear that wells over anyone overhearing what you’re planning on doing. Negotiating a marriage contract, talking through the terms of said marriage, actually planning to marry.

“We will marry in a month.” He coughs, like he can’t believe he’s speaking that sentence out loud. Neither can you, but you’re certain if it’s baffling to you, it must be to him as well. “If you agree to it. My mother knows enough wedding planners and has enough connections in the city that we won’t have to worry about scheduling or anything like that. It shouldn’t be too hard to make it happen.”

“A month.” Thirty days. June seventeenth of this year will be your anniversary. A thought in itself that has your stomach clenching. “We will get married in a month.”

“A month,” he repeats, nodding patiently at your thoughtful expression, brows drawn high on your forehead, lines etching into creases between your brows. “In front of all our closest family and friends.”

“In typical holy matrimonial fashion, yeah.” Only there’s nothing holy about this union.

This ruse, if done properly, will set you both up to achieve everything the other lacks.

“Okay, uhm…what else is in this contract?” you ask, giving him permission to continue through the remainder of the document.

You’ll stay married for three years, giving you enough time to sustain the image needed to set forth. Steve agrees to pay for your tuition on a per semester basis throughout. Sorrow creeps into your heart at the thought desperation has brought you to this moment, and you briefly wonder if Steve senses it when he stops mid-sentence and brushes a thumb along the back of your hand.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks softly, your eyes lingering where your skin meets. Your head shakes, and he continues, “Are we going to be faithful to each other?”

“Oh—I hadn’t really thought about that.” Your eyes lift to meet his dark ones, shoulders shrugging. “I mean, I don’t really think I’d enjoy people gossiping if they caught either of us with someone else. But this is a fake marriage, so…uh, I mean, if you need to uh…take care of business elsewhere I suppose I wouldn’t—”

“I don’t really date much these days,” he laughs, easing your seemingly silly fears. You find that one very hard to believe, but he proceeds before you can think much further on it, “Or at all, really.”

“Right. So, uh, you’re going to be good for three years with just your ha—”

“I’ll manage just fine.”

You whistle. “Brave, Harrington.” He snorts, eyes rolling. “I don’t date much either these days. Always too busy. When I’m not in school, I’m working. So you’ll have yourself a faithful wife.”

You’ll attend as many social gatherings as you can given your schedule. Be it family gatherings, galas, charity events, and the like. It’s all meant to uphold the image of a supportive wife, though you don’t really find issue in it. At the base level, Steve is an easy person to get along with, so you suppose it’ll be like spending an evening with a friend.

And there, at the bottom of the contract, after he’s walked you through the remaining details of your nuptials, is a line for both yours and his names.

“Do we really need a contract, though?” Your finger taps his screen, pointing to the NDA next. “And the NDA? Are you really thinking I’m going to admit to people how absolutely insane this whole idea is? We’re like one of those cliché romance novels as it is. Two people who are practically strangers choose to fake their marriage, minus the falling in love bit.”

“It would make me feel better, yes.” He folds the laptop shut. “You don’t have to make a decision right now, but—”

“I want to do it,” you blurt out. The hard line of his mouth softens, cheek jolting. “I want to marry you. I, ah, want to be your wife.”

It’s impulsive, you know. But if you allow yourself to think too long about it, you’ll talk yourself out of it.

“Are you sure?” And suddenly it’s like the whole room shifts, eyes locking on the couple that’s not really a couple sitting in the corner of the coffee shop. “You…agree to it. Really?”

“Looks like we’re getting hitched June seventeenth, Harrington.”

If there’s one thing Steve is, it’s a gentleman. He opens the door for you as you waltz into the jewelry shop, hand lingering on your back as he leads you toward one of the many display cases revealing different engagement and wedding rings, as well as earrings, necklaces, and other pieces.

It suddenly dawns on you what you’re here for. An engagement ring, and your wedding rings. Plural, for both you and Steve when you solidify your marriage in only a month’s time in front of your closest family and companions. The weight of his palm guides you toward one of the many illuminated displays, eyes peering in on a selection of halo engagement rings.

“The Mrs. Harrington-to-be. Have those caught your eye?” The gentleman behind the counter admonishes, sliding out the set of glittering rings. “Gorgeous, truly. Also new. She has good taste, Mr. Harrington. Would you like to try it on?”

“Isn’t that bad luck?” You glance over your shoulder to Steve, who merely shrugs at the suggestion. You suppose it can’t be too much poor luck when you’re already lying to everyone around you as it is and allow the jeweler to slide the ring onto your ring finger for size. It’s a gorgeous piece, you can’t deny. A giant central diamond with a sparkling halo and glittering band. But it’s not quite you. Too fantastical and bright—well outside of your comfort zone and liking. Instead, your eyes gravitate around the many display cases for something simplistic. Something timeless.

If you’re going to be married to Steve Harrington for three years, you want something understated and more in line with your preferences. “Do you have anything a little less…bold? I—well, I want to wear this every day proudly. But I don’t know if it’s impractical for my job.”

“My fiancée is going to be a veterinarian,” Steve explains, drawing you tighter to his side.

“You’re thinking of something smaller?” The attendant looks to Steve worriedly, mouth downturned at your words. Steve only waves a hand and they dip their head. “What about these?”

You walk around the counter, looking into the cases imploringly. Steve is there at your back, glancing over your shoulder as you shop about, stumbling on a round engagement ring with diamonds set lovingly into the band. They’re simple—albeit still extravagant—but they’re better suited to your tastes. Understated and classic.

“How about Mr. Harrington puts this one on?” The man grins, eyes bright as Steve takes the ring and lowers it to your presently bare finger.

“Still want to marry me, honey?” Steve asks, wry grin in place as he rests the ring on your first knuckle. He doesn’t slide it up. Not right away.

The nickname is new. Sends a flood of liquid heat to roll in your gut, heart fluttering rapidly behind your ribcage as you nod and he pushes the ring up into place. You glance down and marvel at it as his fingers wriggle it into place near the base of your knuckle, his thumb brushing overtop before swiping across your skin. It’s perfect. As perfect as fake engagement rings go.

You both tell the worker as much, before proceeding to find a matching wedding band for your new ring, and then search for Steve’s. Steve settles on a metal and you’re presented with a few options of styles. Steve’s preferences are more simplistic, his wedding ring a simple shiny silver. Your breath skitters when you teasingly ask him to marry you, before sliding the ring up his finger. Inhaling sharply, your eyes dart upward to your future husband’s, softening when he glances down at his finger and smiles to himself. That smile falters only for him to ask to purchase the ring, and it’s soon thereafter you leave the shop and ready yourselves for your dinner with Eddie and Robin, where you’ll deliver your engagement news.

Images of their reactions already preconceived dance in your mind. You’re prepared for Eddie to have a fit over the whole thing. Can already hear Robin’s frantic rant wherein she tells you all the reasons why this is a bad idea.

So you suppose it should come to no surprise when you sit down, now beside Steve to present yourselves as a couple, and are met with the unamused the looks on their faces when you exclaim, “We’re engaged!”

Robin glances at Nancy. Laughs nervously to herself, chokes on her water. Her girlfriend places a hand on her arm, mouth opening to speak, just as Robin cries out, “Babe. I’m gonna be really honest with you. Steve’s great, I love him, but are you really thinking this one through. You two have hung out a collective…four times. What do you really know about each other? I mean, we left you two alone because we wanted you to maybe date, but holy shit Eddie, if we knew they were going to do this—”

“You told me you wanted my blessing for whatever stupid thing you were about to do,” Eddie interjects, swiping a hand down his face. “I didn’t think that you meant marrying my best friend. And hey, asshole��I didn’t say you could ask her to marry you.”

“I haven’t technically asked her,” he says, holding up your hand to show off your still bare ring finger. “Well unless you count the party the other day.”

Eddie’s eye twitches. “He asked you at the par—”

“You haven’t even asked her to marry you with the ring, you dingus?!” Robin’s vein in her forehead throbs, her head leaning into Nancy’s as the girl beside her shifts to run a hand along her arm.

“I wanted to make it special,” he admits, wincing at the sight of Eddie practically turning red before you. “In front of our closest friends.”

“You’re going to ask her properly.” It’s Eddie who speaks next, his eyes drifting to lock onto yours. “If you two idiots are going to actually get married, he’s asking you properly.”

Maybe now is the right time to tell them it’s fake. Nothing more than an equally beneficial agreement between two consenting parties. Your mouth opens to tell them as much, to try and assuage their fears, when a waiter walks out with a champagne bottle on ice and a dessert plate with Marry Me? written out in decorative chocolate. Head already reeling from that, you fail to notice Steve dropping down onto one knee in his perfectly tailored suit, despite the fact he’ll likely wrinkle, with that velvet ring box open and your sparkling ring set into the center.

All eyes in the restaurant take you in. Some with phones held aloft, because naturally they’ve noticed Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington. Your hands tremble as you finally look into his eyes, knowing this agreement is very much fake, but the nervousness that wells in your belly isn’t. Ever the gentleman, Steve reaches across your lap and grasps your left hand, staring you squarely in the eyes.

It’s grounding, even despite catching Eddie, Robin and Nancy watching with bated breath on the other side of the booth, to have him there to offer support. In one month, your future husband.

“Honey, I know it hasn’t been very long, but people have always said ‘when you know, you know.’ And I know there’s no one I would want to spend the rest of my life with other than you.” There’s a collective inhale all around the room, or maybe that’s your own breath hitching in your lungs as he pulls the ring free and Eddie’s hand reaches across the table to retrieve the empty box. Steve breathes your full name into the open space, and it sounds like a gentle caress down your spine. “Will you make me the happiest man alive and be my wife?”

This part—this part, you haven’t thought out. Haven’t really allowed your mind to wander down the path of public displays of affection with your very fake husband. At the wedding, when the officiant declares he may now kiss his bride, sure. Maybe a little hand holding at a social gathering or family event. But this part? The engagement itself, the portrayal of a happy couple in front of prying eyes? No.

And still, you nod your head all the same, letting out an excited “Yes,” that you hope isn’t too over the top, and cover your mouth delicately with one hand as he slides the ring into place on your left one. Cheers erupt into the room, mixing together with the clinking of utensils against glasses, prompting the two of you to lean forward in an embrace.

His arms circle your waist and his lips brush your ear, chills dancing along skin.

“Kiss me,” he whispers into your skin.

Your head dips and you lean back just enough to capture his gaze before he’s leaning forward and pressing the chastest of kisses to your lips.

After that it’s endless congratulations as people pass in leaving, the looks of pure unadulterated happiness from coupled up spectators around the room, as if recalling their own proposals or simply reminiscing on the love they share. Across from you, Eddie, Nancy and Robin start pouring champagne.

Eddie downs his first drink swiftly, before reaching across the table to grab your hand. “Speak up, both of you. Why the rush to the altar?”

“It’s uh…” you start, shoulder brushing with Steve’s. “It’s—well, it’s a long story.”

“We have nothing but time,” Robin points out, leaning back comfortably against the plush booth.

They remain quiet as you both explain the whole situation. The events that have brought you both to this moment, the reminders that you’re both capable of making your own decisions (albeit silly ones), and that it’s only for the required amount of time. It’s a positive business decision for the both of you, Steve expresses, though you wish he’d maybe avoided that one because Eddie’s face is nearly purple by the end of it. Nancy remains quiet at Robin’s side, while Robin nods here and there throughout, awaiting the perfect moment to explode over the whole ordeal.

“I hope this isn’t because I’m moving out—”

She speaks, just as Eddie lets out, “When you asked if I’d love you for making a stupid decision, I didn’t mean this one! I thought you two would go on one date after we saw you walking together. Not get married!”

“But it’s…” your voice drops to a whisper, “not a real marriage.”

“Babe, when you say it like that, it doesn’t really make it better,” Robin murmurs, placing a comforting hand on Eddie’s forearm.

“I think it actually makes it worse,” Nancy adds, wincing slightly.

All in all, Eddie, Robin and Nancy eventually come around to the idea. There’s multiple drinks passed around the table before they do start to understand, but once the idea has settled a bit in their minds, they start to question the event itself. Robin and Nancy will be in the bridal party, naturally, and Eddie’s the decided best man. Luckily, this aids in dissipating a lot of his anger—either that or he’s trying to appease you both—and the group is excited by the end of the night for the ordeal. A big party, you remind them, think of it like a big party.

Full of hundreds of strangers.

But there are important matters to be taken care of before then.

Your heart throbs as the driver pulls up in front of the Mrs. Harrington’s home. It sits outside of the city in an eastern county. A large cream house, grandiose in comparison to anything you’ve ever known, with sprawling property and modern decor sits atop a sprawling driveway. It looks like you’ve stepped out of a Pinterest catalog. What with the endless black and gray detailing, floor to ceiling windows, and a porch that overlooks a small body of water.

Though you’ve told your friends the arrangement is purely an arrangement and nothing more, both Steve and you have decided in order to prevent any doubt over the situation, your families need to be kept in the dark. The thought supplies you with hefty guilt, but you tip your head up all the same and clink your glass of wine with both Elise Harrington and her son’s.

“To a bright and happy future and hopefully grand babies,” she toasts, and your chest burns at the idea. Quietly, she adds, “If you two should want them, that is.”

You’re surprised by how easy going she is with the whole thing. Upon arriving she immediately commented on how pretty you were, kissing you on both sides of the cheek before ruffling her son’s hair. He’s told you enough that for most of his life, their relationship has been strained, but that with the death of his father she’s been trying. It warms your heart seeing them now, caught in a moment as she cups his cheek fondly and waves you both into the kitchen.

You recount how you met. A wonderful evening at a rooftop bar. Conversation flowing simply between the two of you, a few months of quiet relationship kept from the public eye, and a pure desire to not wait to spend forever together. It’s simple and it’s partially true, and she latches onto it without hesitation, hand immediately reaching out to look at your ring.

Bringing Steve to Hawkins takes place the next day after an early morning flight. You call your father the day before and tell him there’s something very important you need to tell him. Steve steps out of the rental car and opens your door on the other side, drawing you as close as possible as he tucks a wine bottle under his other arm.

“Are you nervous?” You tease him, catching the way his knuckles pause mid-air over the door. “They’re both harmless. Caroline probably will scroll through TikTok the whole time we’re here.”

Only you’re wrong.

Instead, you’re immediately met with the screech of a younger tween when your father opens the door and Steve introduces himself, the girl practically throwing herself into your arms as you reach out to grasp her. From above your shoulder, where you struggle to hold her up, she shoves at Steve with a wild glint in her eye.

“Did you bring home a boyfriend?!”

“Nice to meet you, Caroline. Your sister has told me all about you,” Steve says, rubbing at the place she’s dug her fingers into playfully.

Your father leads you both into the living room, your eyes catching on all the papers and bills strewn about the kitchen table as you pass by. Steve’s ignorant to it all, his hand still clutching yours tightly as the two of you settle down onto the couches there. Fondness brims in your chest when your father reaches across and shakes Steve’s hand again, his kind grin settling into the wrinkles surrounding his mouth.

“Holy shit, is that a rock?” Carole gasps, breaking up the moment. Your eyes drop down to where your hand rests over Steve’s, sunlight catching on the sparkling stones. “That is a rock! Wait, you’re Eddie’s friend. You’re that Steve. Your dad was the owner of that company, and you model and…don’t you own a football team? Your mom is also that big designer in the city! You’re, like, really rich, I bet.”

“Care,” you warn, shooting her a glare to calm down. “I, ah, have known Steve for a little while now and I know it’s crazy but…I’m in love with him.” The words taste wrong on your lips, throat tightening as you continue, “When you know, you know, right?”

The words leave you with a wince, and you’re not sure if you imagine Steve’s fingers tightening around your own, but it brings you a semblance of comfort. Thankfully, your father speaks next, “I knew your mother for two weeks before I asked her to marry me. We were married for twenty three years, you see, Steve. So if my daughter says she loves you, I trust wholeheartedly and believe you’re the one for her.”

And in a way, those words are both soothing and a knife in your heart, what with the ease he accepts your feelings as truth.

The remainder of the evening is spent talking about the wedding details—what little you know, at least—and your offer for Caroline to be in the bridal party. She’s over the moon, naturally, and grows bored immediately after, pulling out her iPhone and scrolling through social media so she can show your father the engagement photo plastered across your page, Steve’s and Eddie’s now.

“Congratulations, you two. I wish I had something fancy to toast with, so the wine you brought will have to do,” he apologizes, moving into the kitchen to pour you all glasses.

“It’s not a problem at all,” you reassure him, thanking him softly when he returns and places a glass in both your hands.

“To your love.” He turns to Steve next, grinning in a way that has your heart sinking. “Welcome to the family, son.”

Steve drops you off at your apartment at the end of your evening spent together apprising your family of your news. Neither of you speaks for a moment. He merely rests his palm on the car steering wheel and brushes a thumb over your ring, making sure the stone is in place. It seems like such a silly thing—the slightest of brushes to make sure your fake engagement ring is properly on your finger. But your skin still ignites at the small contact. It’s paired with the crushing knowledge that in a month, in only thirty days, you’ll be standing across from this man and reciting your vows to him, binding yourselves together in marriage.

“Your rent is up at the end of the month with Robin,” he reminds you, eyes shifting your way. You watch his long fingers glide through his hair, ruffling bits of it in his face. A part of you feels intent on fixing it despite yourself, but you remain seated in place, one ankle crossed over your knee. “But I think for those following on social media, it likely looks better if you move in as soon as possible.”

That reminds you of the thousands of new followers you’d received once Eddie and Steve had posted your congratulatory photos from your engagement—as well as once other news sources got a hold of it. The young CEO, friend to one of the hottest up and coming musicians, a girl who has always been in the background of their photos now suddenly took center stage. You’ve propelled into a world you’d never prepared for.

Becoming Steve’s wife was one thing, gaining a spotlight another, wholly untouched territory.

“I think you should move in on Friday.” You know he’s saying you think, but a part of you recognizes it’s what he knows is best for optics. It’s what he wants without forcing you to do so. “There’s more than enough room. I have the penthouse, we’ll have privacy. And it’ll, uh, sell the illusion.”

It’s then and only then that the reality of your situation finally creeps up on you. The understanding of the weight that settles on your ring finger as you glance down at the ring he’d bought you. A ring that should be meant for someone he loves—truly loves, at least—and not someone who is little more than a mere stranger. Your thumb moves to run along the diamond band, hand cupping over the sparkling stones that cost a small fortune.

His palm reaches over and slides over the back of yours, stilling you in your movements. “I’ll help you. And your room is nice. Spacious. Far away from mine.”

Because, you remind yourself, you’ve agreed upon not falling in love—and definitely no consummation of marriage. Even still, there’s a sting to his words. The understanding of a loveless marriage, forged in mere convenience. Two ships passing in the night, nestled on opposite sides of Steve’s spacious lodgings.

“Okay,” you agree, dipping your head and moving to push the passenger side door open. “I’ll move in on Friday. I’ll tell Robin tonight. I should get going; I have to meet with your mother and the wedding planner first thing tomorrow, you know?”

“I’ll see you,” he says, leaning down to look at you on the sidewalk. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Steve.”

Your chest tightens as you watch him peel away from the sidewalk. As he drives down your road, and disappears from view. Your heart throbs at the recollection of your father’s weathered face, smiling as he’d welcomed Steve into the fold of your family like he was already a part of it with a firm shake of the hand and a blessing. Chest aches at the vision of Caroline nearly slamming into your soon-to-be husband’s legs when he’d reached for the door and wished your family well for the rest of the evening. Because you feel like a fraud—are a fraud, really. Your impending nuptials are not refined by fire and forged in love. They’re unlike that of your own parents' relationship—the depth of your father’s love toward his wife had been limitless. Untouchable from anything the world might have thrown at it. No, instead your upcoming sentiments you’ll share with Steve are a mockery of the vows people wait to speak over the altar in front of loved ones their whole lives. They’re a lie told to secure an inheritance and cover a debt. That’s all. And it dawns on you then as you slip into your bedroom, waving to Robin as you pass, and settle down on your bed.

Your mind wanders to that moment back at the restaurant with your friends. How all the eyes turned your way in the room to watch your face drop in shock. It’s the only genuine reaction you’ve had thus far, you realize. Because you hadn’t expected a proposal. Not really. When you’d picked out your ring at the store your mind had been a bleary haze. You remembered hearing the voices of Steve and the jeweler, running over various options that were befitting for someone of Steve’s status, and thus his wife-to-be by default. But they’d slipped into conversation about karats, quality, and cuts. And all you could think about was the fact the rings Steve were looking at cost a few months worth of your rent. All of a sudden you were Cinderella long after the clock struck midnight, your carriage turned back into a pumpkin, your tattered dress the pair of thrifted jeans that sat a little too-big on your frame.

But you once more think of your father’s aging face, the brightness of Caroline’s eyes. You think of the knowledge he’s looking for a new job with little luck because of layoffs in his workplace, the mortgage on his home, the endless list of things Caroline needs. The constant stream of bills you’re footing, the need to try and save them, because if you can’t save them, who can you save? And on top of it all, your college debt, for a program you’re only halfway finished with. With a resounding sigh, you roll over onto your side, snapping a photo of your ring to send to Steve. It looks silly and garish in the dying afternoon light, though you suppose fitting for a wife to a young CEO of a prolific real estate company.

You: I don’t even know if my first name goes well with Harrington.

HubsToBe: It does. It’s a perfect fit. Don’t worry. I can practically hear you worrying from here.

You: Guess we’re really doing this.

HubsToBe: One month until we say ‘I do.’

The second text message rushes in.

HubsToBe: Remember you can back out at any time.

You: I’m not changing my mind, don’t worry. Time to plan a wedding, fiancé. ;)

comment/reblog if you can. 🩷

#steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x afab!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington modern au #husband!steve harrington

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arcielee · 8 months

Text

Command me to be well

Summary: Lord Osferth has been injured and she takes care of him. Paring: Lord Osferth x Female!Reader (third person) Word Count: 1845 Warnings: Teasing baby monk, mentions of battles, injuries, oral (m receiving), 9th century remedies for bruises? Author's Note: This was inspired by @hightowhxre story of Lord Osferth x Maid!Reader, which is so brilliant and has been living rent free in my brain as you can see from the 1800+ words. Beta read by the wonderful @sylasthegrim surprise this was that request you sent me an eternity ago 💜 Dividers by @saradika 💜

The day hung heavy on his shoulders adding to the weight of the mud heavily caked onto his boots, along with the perspiration that caused his layers to cling to his lithe frame, the night’s cool air chilling him. Osferth entered his sleeping estate but noticed the pool of amber from the backroom where the Dane woman remained, her steadfast devotion to his humble household despite him expressing that her choices were solely to be her own.

He thought back to the last time he had spoken this outloud, how her startling eyes focused on him, the flutter of her long lashes that framed them. “Then my choice is to serve you, my lord,” she had replied with her honeyed tone.

Her words caused a lump in his throat and Osferth swallowed hard.

At first he rued the day that Uhtred had marched her into his modest, but comfortable, manor bestowed by his dear sister in Rumcofa. His title was behest after the death of King Alfred–their father–by a scroll with his signature, his final command for his eldest son’s legitimacy. When they returned to Mercia, Æthelflæd glowed with pride.

“You will be an ealdorman of Mercia,” she smiled.

Sihtric and Finan teased his title, but it was Uhtred who insisted he take in the Dane woman, how hands were needed to run the homestead. His large hand rested on her shoulder and pushed her towards him. “This is your lord,” Uhtred said with a smile, with a smirk. Osferth felt mortified. “You will serve him well.”

For a time it was them alone and he learned that she showed diligence, but not obedience; she possessed a sharp wit and sense that she always knew what was best for Osferth, more so than he himself. He also learned that she was a sanctioned healer, blessed by the gods–or so she claimed, and he indulged her natural curiosities, taking the time to teach her to read and to write.

She seemed to agree to this tutoring with the sole purpose to tease and to torment Osferth, always pressing too close for propriety. At the end of each lesson, her every fiber lingered after, from the lavender on her washed skin, a sinful scent that hung on his clothes, to the soft touch of her finger pads on the back of his hand, a soothing and circular motion to catch his attention. If he dared to look, she would always lean closer until he could see the candlelight dancing in her eyes.

Osferth would then create the much needed space between them, if anything so that he may begin to breathe again.

Though he felt her haunting tactility, he suppressed his desire when he saw her shifted attention and felt a sense of pride with how her fingers now grasped for every scroll, tome, and book within her reach. Her days were now spent gathering herbs and in the evening, she would painstakingly transcribe her remedies known to parchment.

He could only assume this was what she was doing at this moment. Osferth winced as he began to remove his boots, and then he heard her soft steps; she peered out from her room, her familiar silhouette against the amber light, and he could hear her concern. “Are you injured, my lord?”

At first, she picked up the teasing from the men he considered his brothers–Finan and Sihtric, relentless with his newfound lordship–but right now there was a genuineness to her tone.

“Please,” Osferth grimaced from her formality, from his subtle movements to unlace the ties. “I am simply Osferth.”

He saw the shadow of her brow furrowed and she then called for the water to be heated for their returned lord; Osferth burned from her words. “It is not necessary–” he started to say and, as always, she was quick to cut him off.

“It is needed, Osferth,” and her eyes that usually danced seemed to darken as she moved towards him. She kneeled in front of him and helped him remove the other boot before her palm moved to slip into his own hand, walking him back towards his room.

She turned to scrutinize his disheveled state; it was another long day patrolling the riverbanks and a small skirmish won on its shores. Osferth was not injured, severely, but he was beaten and it showed with the severity that lined his face. His weary hands went to remove the scabbard around his slender waist, a sharp exhale from the pain he felt explode in his chest. It was alleviated with her touch, a warmth that pooled from her palm that rested on his hip, taking over to remove his sword, his dagger, and returning to unlatch his embossed cuirass worn over.

She was careful to remove his upper layers which revealed the beginning bloom of purples, blues, and greens in the center, bold against his pale skin. “You are bruised to the very bone,” she assessed. Osferth hissed through clenched teeth when her fingers touched and she pulled away. “I’m sorry, my lord–”

“Please,” he rasped. “You know that when it is us alone…the title is not needed.”

He would have sworn he saw the wash of rose across her face, but she was quick to leave the room. Osferth looked to grab for the wooden chair when she returned, a pestle gripped in one hand to grind within the mortar held in her other; he could smell the crushed herbs mixed with honey.

“This will help with the bruising,” she explained, peering up at him.

Osferth hummed in response, and again with the touch of her hand against his bare chest; it was the same slow, soothing circular motion as she spread the poultice over where his blood rose dark on his skin. “It must rest for a moment,” she continued to explain. Her hand remained and he was unmoving, elated with the feeling of her skin against his own.

Once again, she was closer that good priority would allow, close enough to see the pink hues that dusted her cheeks and how she brightened when he spoke her name. “Thank you,” and he grimaced again with his exhale. Her fingers twitched, her touch still anchored on his chest before they began to trail lower. “You do not need to stay…”

“But what if I choose too?”

Osferth looked up, his surprise apparent with her bold words; the shades darkened across her cheeks, her lips wet from her tongue, and he had the intrusive thought, she is beautiful.

“This is not necessary–” but his words stilled on his tongue as her soft fingers wiped themselves clean on the fabric on his pant leg, the tug of fabric jolting the length of his spine. Osferth shifted his weight as her silk touch dipped into his waistband and followed back towards his center where his cock began to press against his breeches.

She licked her lips again and he now saw how lust swallowed the color of her eyes. “This is why I am here, my lord,” her voice was low, sultry and smooth like velvet as she repeated, “I choose to serve.”

And her fingers were quick to unlace and pull at his slacks until they puddled at his feet, her touch still gentle to push until he sat back in the chair. She followed, slowly sinking between his splayed legs, her hands resting on his knees to keep her balance and her eyes were up, never leaving his.

Osferth burned under her gaze, her lustful scrutiny before she blinked, breaking the spell, and her attention refocusing on his length; her eyes traveled the ridges and veins, the shift of color to the red shine of his cockhead. He whimpered at her touch, the slow curl of her fingers around the base, and she gave a tug, watching the wetness that trickled.

She was a vision, her thighs plush as she rested on her heels between, one hand rested on his bare thigh and the other around his cock. The vision she made caught his breath, and when she leaned forward, the air staled in his lungs, watching rapt as her lips pressed against his flushed head. Her tongue cleaned his spill before she began to take him into her mouth and he exhaled sharp feeling her wet muscle pressing to the underside, slavering over his girth, relaxing her throat to press until the patch of hair above tickled her nose; she hollowed her cheeks as she fell back, the glisten of her saliva, and she took a deep breath through her nose before she returned again.

Osferth moaned unabashed, a white hold of his hands on the edge of his seat, his eyes rolled to the back and his head lolled with. He felt her palm tighten around what could not fully fit in her mouth, and he watched the bob of her head following his length; he grit his teeth with another guttural groan that reverberated from the back of his throat.

His hands moved to rest on her shoulders, a firm hold to ground himself, and she quickened her pace at his touch; the glide of her swollen lips in tandem with her tongue, the lewd noises that spilled with the spit at the corners of her mouth.

And he saw the stars spark in front of his eyes, lost in the overwhelming heat of her mouth; his thighs began to tremble, the pulse and swell of his cock with her ministrations. She seemed to notice and she hummed, the vibration rippling through his veins and towards the base of his spine, a push over the edge he precariously balanced with vibrant flashes of colors.

“God!” He gasped. Gods? He was no longer certain as he followed blindly after his pleasure, the buck of his hips in his seat to sate the suction of her mouth that seemed determined to milk the last drop of his release, until he cried out from the oversaturation of pleasure.

His chest heaved, a dulled ache, and he moaned loudly as she slowly pulled away, her tongue trailing the underside of his still half-hard cock. She paused at the end, a glassy eyed exchanged, and then suckled. Osferth could not help but whine pitifully, and he felt the curl of her lips; he watched as she let him drop from her mouth, her fingers wiping her corners and her tongue licking them clean.

Osferth tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry.

“I will see if your bath is ready, my lord,” and she pushed to stand.

Osferth watched her go, the rumpled fabric of her gown now settling over her curves, the sensual sway of her hips. He could not stop the words that spilled from his mouth. “Would you care to join me?”

She paused and looked back at him, with her hooded eyes and heady stare, the candlelight glimmering in the black that swallowed the color of her irises. “Whatever you desire,” and her sinful mouth curled upwards. “My lord.”

Taglist (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @aemondx @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @girlwith-thepearlearring @lauraneedstochill @theobjectofyourire

arcie's masterlist

#the last kingdom fanfic #tlk fanfic #osferth #osferth x you #osferth x reader #osferth x female reader #osferth x fem!reader #Lord Osferth x Female!Reader (third person)

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justmeinadaze · 6 days

Note

Hi! I’m 23 but requesting anonymously because this is a similar situation I experienced and wished someone would have been there for me.

I was wondering if you would be interested in writing a Steddie x reader story where the reader recently lost her grandma who she lived with in a two bedroom apartment. It’s left the reader financially strapped and she posts an ad for a roommate. Steve and Eddie are looking for a place and sees the ad. Steve is a nurse and Eddie is a mechanic or masseuse (two extremes but I feel like Eddie is always a mechanic lol).

The reader is really withdrawn and struggling with grief because her grandma was all she had. She is working two jobs and not taking care of herself. She wears herself out and gets sick. She’s really resistant to letting anyone take care of her. And she doesn’t talk to Steve and Eddie much because she’s trying to hide her struggles and doesn’t want to bother them. And it’s an adjustment to living with other people. Steve and Eddie have a huge soft spot for the reader and want to take care of her.

There can be smut or no smut in this or if it would happen to turn into two or more parts! You’re a talented writer so I have no doubt you will write this beautifully!

A/N: It took me awhile to get to this because it struck a cord with me. I get this. I am this minus a Steve and Eddie.

I think I've mentioned it before but my father suddenly passed away 10 years ago and it destroyed me. I still deal with the aftermath of that to this day. Not only do I struggle with that grief but I struggle with how I was and have been treated which is why I am a big advocate on taking the time to feel what you feel and no matter what anyone says THERE IS NO TIME LIMIT ON GRIEF.

The doctor experience I write in this story happened to me and the chaos of that...I can't even... But yeah...more than anything I want anyone who's grieving a loved one to know, you are not alone, you are not broken, your feelings are valid, and I love you <3.

The title of this comes from "Guernica" by Brand New. I was thinking of this song when I got the request because the lead singer wrote it for his grandfather who was sick in the hospital.

P.S. I am more than willing to write another part to this. I wanted to focus on the emotional aspect more than a smutty aspect for this first part.

Warnings: Topic of Grief and loss of a family member, panic attack mentioned in slight detail, Steve and Eddie have an established relationship here.

"I submit no excuse

If this is what I have to do

I owe you every day I wake

If I could I would shrink myself

Sink through your skin to your blood cells

Remove whatever makes you hurt

But I am too weak to be your cure

Is this the way a toy feels when its batteries run dry?

I am the watch you always wear but you forget to wind."

“So, um, yeah the rent is $1300 including utilities and it’s due on the first of the month. You can leave it on the counter here and I can take it down to make the payment.”

Watching them go through her room was like being stabbed in the chest. When your grandmother passed, a part of you died with her and it killed you even more when you had to slowly begin removing things from her room to make space for a new roommate. Your grandma was your everything basically being a mother to you when everyone else disappeared. When she got sick it, it was no brainer to have her move in so you could look out for her with as much love and care as she had you growing up.

For four years, she fought her disease until heaven decided it was time for her to go home. After that you began to spiral and not just personally but within life. When did everything become so expensive? Even in your rent-controlled apartment, you could barely afford the bills because everything else around you escalated to the point where now you couldn’t even take out a small loan to get groceries because your credit was so fucked up.

You didn’t want to get a roommate and avoided the notion as long as possible but when it was becoming harder and harder to live day to day, you finally gave in.

You were surprised when a boy answered your ad you had placed in the paper but when he told you their story, you couldn’t help but sympathize.

“Yeah, my boyfriend and I are looking for a nice, safe place. The small town we were living in was already harassing him for the way he looks but when they found out we were together… I knew I needed to get us both out of there.”

“We can take it if you want. I don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of everything.”, the pretty boy who introduced himself as Steve responded as he leaned against the wall next to you.

“I mean it’s no problem. I work a couple of jobs so I usually leave pretty early anyway.”

“Me to. Well, it’s more like me coming in early because I work overnights from time to time. I’m not sure if the hospital over here is the same but… yeah. What, um, what do you think, babe?”

The longhaired boy who told you his name was Eddie beamed widely your way.

“I love it. Are you sure we won’t be bothering you, sweetheart? We’re nice guys, we swear.”

“No. No bother.”

Both men glance towards each other at your sullen tone before Steve extended his hand towards you with an equal large but soft smile of his own.

“We’ll take it.”

***

You didn’t anticipate how hard it was going to be having someone in the apartment again let alone people that reminded you of her. Before she retired, your grandmother was a nurse and when the scent of hand sanitizer and hospital lingered on Steve’s admittedly beautiful hands, your mind shifted to the stories she would tell you about her late nights talking with patients in her care.

Through smell alone, you learned Eddie got a job as a mechanic at the shop down the street and the first night when the aroma of gasoline lingered you cried at the memories of being a little girl with your grandparents, sitting by your grandfather’s truck as he attempted to fix it for the 400th time.

Loneliness began to set in almost immediately after they moved in. They never actively displayed affection in front of you but there were moments when you were leaving for work and you’d pass by their open bedroom door to see them cuddled together. Sometimes at night when you would come home from your second job, you would hear Eddie talking to Steve over the phone while he was at work and he would giggle at something the man said on the other line before telling him how much he loved him.

You missed having someone care about you…

Your grandparents had always been there for you through everything; every breakup, rough patch in life, or just to have someone remind you that you were loved unconditionally…they were there.

When your grandmother lived with you, you laughed harder, smiled wider, and loved waking up in the morning. Now that all seemed so far away, so unattainable. You couldn’t ever picture yourself being happy like that again.

To avoid that pain, you ran around constantly. It’s not like you could stop anyway with how hard things got around you. Life moves on…you can’t stop just because you’re numb. You suffer through it just like everyone else.

“Y/N?”

At the sound of Eddie’s voice, you jumped shattering the glass in your hand.

“Fuck, I’m sorry—”

“No, no. That was my fault. You seemed lost in thought. Don’t move, I can clean this up here.”

Nodding, you stood still as you watched him run to grab a broom before your brain caught up with you.

“Wait! Wait, um, don’t…don’t throw away the glass. This was, um, someone in my family gave me this cup.”

“Oh, uh, ok. Well, I don’t see a lot of little pieces. I can try and fix it for you. Do you feel comfortable coming into our room?”

Silently, you headed in that direction, pausing in front of the bed as the metalhead shimmed around you to dig in the desk drawer by the window. Everything in the room was completely different. Where her bed with her yellow comforter used to be was now a bigger bed, higher off the ground with black sheets and blue pillowcases. Where her dresser used to be with the vanity that had photos taped to the mirror was now a much smaller 3 drawer shelf with a guitar hanging above it. On the nightstand, instead of medication and a photo of you with your grandparents, there was now a pack of cigarettes, empty beer cans, a photo of both men, and a book that was half read.

“Ok, I knew Steve had it around here somewhere. I’m clumsy as hell so he’s always fixing things I accidently break.”, Eddie mused as he sat on the floor and began to focus on his task. “So, um, how are you?”

You couldn’t help but breathily laugh at the awkward way he asked that making him smirk at the sound as you took a seat in front of him.

“I’m alright. I just have a lot going on, you know?”

“Yeah, you come and go a lot like Steve but he gets to sleep. What do you do if I may ask?”

“I’m actually a photographer for the paper.”

“Oooo paparazzi girl!” Eddie’s grin grows as his eyes take you in watching you genuinely laugh for the first time since they met you. “Is that why you come and go at weird hours?”

“Oh, no. When I’m not there, I have another job at the mall taking photos of like families and kids at Glamour Shots.”

“Yeah? Those shiny, glimmering photos? I keep trying to get Steve to take a couple of those with me but he gets adorably embarrassed.”

“How long have you two been together?”

“Geez, uh, almost 3 years now. Spent the first couple hiding our relationship because of our town and his parents, rich fuckers who think they control the moral high ground.”, he rolls his eyes. “A few months ago, he finally told them we were together and his parents kicked him out of his house. A couple weeks later, I got harassed at my job and that was the final straw. Steve packed our things and we drove out here.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“No reason for you to be, princess. You’ve been nothing but nice to us. Well, when we see you.”, he chuckles. “Steve gets worried sometimes that you push yourself too hard.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m strong. I’ll be ok.”

“No one’s saying your weak, Y/N.”

“Good because I’m not!” You snap as silence falls over the room before Eddie displays the cup for you with his palm on the bottom.

“You may not want to use it for its purpose but keep it as a display.”

Without taking it from him, you rise to your feet and run to your room, slamming the door.

###########

Everything was loud.

Why is everything so loud?

You were running late for your second job and you couldn’t find the polo you wore for it. You felt disgusting, not having time to shower in what felt like an eternity and you were just so fucking exhausted. You couldn’t afford to lose this job nor calling in to rest. You had to make money. It’s what everyone else does.

Why is everything so loud?

As you opened your door, you were met with Eddie standing at the counter in the kitchen.

“Have, um, have you seen…”

“Y/N, are you alright?” Tears cloud your vision as you run your fingers through your hair and absently look around the apartment with your eyes. “BABE.”

You flinched at the metalhead’s loud but stern tone not even realizing that Steve was suddenly in front of you with his hands on your biceps.

“Y/N, what’s going on?”

“Let me go! I have…I have to…to go to work…”, you sobbed before your legs gave out and the world went black.

***

When your eyes finally fluttered open, it was pitch dark outside and your body felt incredibly drained. It felt like every bone in your body had become stiff as you carefully tried to sit up.

“Hey, no, no, no. Don’t move to quickly or we’ll lose you again.”, Steve cooed softly as he came up from behind you and sat down on his knees to help adjust you. “Good. Here, drink some of this but not too fast.”

When he handed you the bottle of water, you gladly sipped it as his concerned eyes scanned you over.

“How are you feeling?”

“Heavy.”

“I’m not surprised. When you push your body as hard as you have at some point it pushes back. Do you think you can eat something while we talk?”

When you nodded, a plate appeared beside you as Eddie handed it to his partner.

“I’m going to ask you some questions purely from a medical standpoint, ok? Do you feel comfortable if Ed stays? He had a bit of a panic attack to when we couldn’t wake you up.”

“That’s fine.”, you whisper. “Is that what happened? I panicked?”

“Um, kind of, honey. This kind of seems like a slow build so I would say anxiety attack. We know you work pretty much around the clock and you told me when I called that you were struggling with cash. Has anything else been going on?”

“Someone…that mattered to me…is gone. Died.”

Eddie sat on the couch next you and without thinking brushed some of your hair behind your ear so they could see your face better.

“I’m sorry. How long ago?”, the nurse continued to inquire.

“On the 18th it will be 8 months.”

“And you’ve been doing everything you have?! Y/N.”, the metalhead sighed as his boyfriend gave him a look of warning as if to say tread carefully. “Sweetheart, you should be taking it easy so you can grieve.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m supposed to be fine by now.”, you murmur as you shrug your shoulders. “After my grandmother died, I got 2 weeks paid leave for bereavement. Two weeks. Two weeks of fucking casseroles, sympathies, and people checking in. After that time, everyone began to slowly disappear and I went back to work but I never…I never felt whole. I didn’t understand why everyone else seemed fine while I was still felt like I was dying.”

“After two months, I went to a doctor and told them how I felt. Do you know what she said? ‘After 6 weeks, it’s no longer grief but depression.’ That shook me. I thought to myself ‘well shit. I guess there is a time limit on grieving and there must be something wrong with me because I can’t get better!’”

The tears begin to fall at a faster pace and you let them go.

“I still have to work, pay my bills, live my life… but no one ever walked me through how to do that. No one ever showed me how to continue existing without the person you love…without someone who meant the most to you… I wasn’t prepared to be left alone without her.”

Eddie presses your head to his chest as you sob, his arms squeezing you tightly as he whispered that you were ok. Sudden heat warmed your side as Steve leaned his head against your shoulder as he intertwined his fingers with yours while your body trembled against them.

This had been a long time coming and you allowed the pain to wash over you till you fell asleep in their arms.

***

This time when you opened your eyes, you were bundled up in a blanket with your head still against Eddie’s chest with one hand comfortingly rubbing your arm while the other held a book he was reading.

“What are you reading?”

Tilting his head, his gentle eyes take you in as he grins and closes the book to show you the cover.

The Vampire Lestat.

“I love vampires but Steve likes werewolves. Should have known he’d break my heart one day.”, he teased as the other boy comes around and places a soda with more food on the coffee table in front of you.

“They are big dog like animals. How can you not like them? Y/N, I want you to at least eat a little bit of this, ok? You need to refuel.”

Not wanting to leave the metalheads comfortable embrace, you whine as you sit up until the smell of the pasta hits your nostrils and you realize how hungry you actually are.

“Slow! Goodness.”, Steve chuckles as he takes a seat on floor after serving his partner and himself as well.

“It’s been so long since I’ve had a home cooked meal. Usually, I’m eating microwaved food or something I pick up on the way to and from work. This is delicious, Steve, thank you.”

The three of you casually talk allowing you to really get to the know the men you had been living with. Eddie loved music and had been playing guitar since he was a little boy. He and his uncle had been fixing up cars since he moved in with him after his father went to jail. Steve learned in high school he enjoyed helping people and after he graduated he went to nursing school.

“My dad gave me shit because I’m ‘settling’ and not becoming a doctor. I like what I do though. As a nurse I get more one on one with patients and make them feel cared for which as you noticed is hard in today’s society. Doctors seem to care more about the money and not the person.”

His eyes drink in your demeanor as you smile, agreeing with his words. Your entire energy seemed different since the first time they met you. You seemed to be relaxing a bit more and some of what he assumed was your normal personality began to shine through.

“What about you, honey? Eddie told me you’re a photographer.”

Silently, you unraveled the blanket you had been tangled in and bounced to your bedroom, returning with some photos that you placed on the coffee table in front of them.

“This man here proposed to this girlfriend by painting a mural on the side of an abandoned building that the city was going to tear down. The mayor called it graffiti and they tried arresting him for it.”

“Oh, wow. That’s gorgeous. I hope this guy is making a ton of money in like New York or something.”, the longhaired boy grins.

“This young lady saved her baby brother from a fire.”

“This are amazing, Y/N. You are extremely talented. “

“What was this story about?”, Steve asked as he held up a photo of an older woman smiling on the couch by a window watching the rain.

“That’s my grandma.”, you softly smile as you take it from his hands. “This was about a year before she… I remember we were talking about some trivial stuff and suddenly she turned to me and said ‘Life is beautiful. Even something as small as listening to the rain is never something you should take for granted.’”

“I like that.”, Eddie responded with a tender tone that made you feel safe. “She was right. I know it’s hard with all the bullshit going on in the world but… I think we do need to stop and take a look around, you know?”

“Y/N, honey, we hope you know that you don’t have to do everything yourself. We can help you. We have some money in savings if you need to take a break and—”

“No. No, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking, we’re offering.”, Steve insisted. “At least, quit your second job. You need a moment to breathe. We can help with any extra bills you may have until you really get back on your feet.”

Tilting forward, you kissed his cheek before leaning towards Eddie to do the same.

“Thank you…so much…”

################

Over the next week, you felt more motivated to do things you hadn’t wanted to do over the past 8 months. You did what Steve suggested and quit your job at the mall. You began moving around and leaving the apartment for fun things instead of work. You accompanied the boys to a movie at the theater and took them to the lake where you basked in the sunlight all day.

You took the time to eat healthier, home cooked meals even offering to make your roommates a meal every now and again. Sometimes when you knew Steve would be out all night, you left some leftovers in the refrigerator and wake up the next morning with a note on the counter thanking you with a big smiley face.

One morning, however, you were surprised with something different. When you opened your bedroom door to get some coffee, you noticed a box with a big red bow on the top and a piece of paper attached to the side.

“Y/N,

There’s no bottom to the box so all you need to do is lift. I was afraid if we put this in an actual box it may break. Steve said it would be ok but I reminded him he fixes people not objects : ).

Eddie’s been working on this for a while but we thought after how well you’ve been doing, we just wanted to show you how proud we are of you and how much we’ve enjoyed having you in our lives.

Eddie & Steve”

Carefully lifting the wrapped box and placing it aside, you picked up the glass you had dropped and Eddie had tried to fix. The blank material now had an image of your grandmother you had showed them illustrated on to it with her head turned towards the window. Instead of watching the rain, when she looked out the window there was a detailed drawing of you grinning with your fingers tangled in your hair as you were moving it behind your ear.

He had painted it with light colors, giving her an angelic glow that broke you as you began to cry.

Your feet scooted against the floor as you hurried towards their door and knocked on it a bit too enthusiastically causing it to fly open with a panicked look on the metalhead’s half asleep face.

“What!? What’s going on? Where’s the fire?!”

You tackled your arms around his neck, not even realizing he was only in boxers. From the bed, Steve saw what was in your hand, smirking as he fell back against the pillow and slung his arm over his eyes.

“Thank you for this. You have no idea how much this means to me.”, you whispered.

When he finally realized nothing was wrong, his arms settled around your waist.

“I know what it’s like to lose someone you love. You’re not alone, Y/N. You don’t have to carry it all by yourself, ok?” As you pull away and let him go, his hands cup your face as he dries your tears. “Now go back to bed, you fucking weirdo. It’s too early.”, he teases as he lightly pushes you away making you giggle as he turns back around and crawls into bed.

“May I—”

Before you can finish your sentence, he lifts up the covers and Steve pats the mattress between them. Once you climb in, the pretty boy lifts his arm and circles it around you to tug you closer to his side. When your head rests on his bare chest, your surprised at how warm and comfortable he feels against you, looping your arm around him as you nuzzle into his skin. Another set of arms wrap around your waist pressing you against Eddie’s equally comforting frame.

His steady breath hitting your shoulder mixed with the other man’s heartbeat lulls you into the heaviest sleep you hadn’t experienced in a long time.

#############

Steddie Asks

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mimising · 4 months

Text

Summer with stranger | Carlos Sainz

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Carlos x (she)reader

Little angsty with sweet savoury.

--- It's my first time to write something like this. I have NO idea what I'm actually doing. Do enjoy if it's enjoyable.

---

“Please don’t cry.” Her head sifted from her hands. Big watery eyes looked up to him. He squatted down in front of her. “What’s the matter? Who made a pretty girl like you cry?” She sniffed. “Some arsehole.” The girl took a closer look at a man in front of her. His skin was golden brown, fluffy hair sat just right. Only she couldn’t look the man in the eyes.

Carlos put his hand on her shoulder. “I’ve heard that hugs make everything go away. Would you like to try it out?” His voice sounded sincere. She didn’t say anything but sifted her hands. That was all he needed to see and took the girl in his arms. One hand caressed her hair while the other held her tight against his chest. Head pressed against his neck and shoulder. He could feel her warmth and heartbeat. Tears started to slowly soak his shirt. Her smell was divine.

Slowly the girl started to feel a sense of comfort. The arsehole was forgotten for a minute. She felt safe. Although her nose was blocked from the crying she could smell his strong cologne wrapping her in a heavenly space.

“Would you like to go for a walk?” Suddenly the comfort was gone and cold reality was back. The girl nodded. “Ye-yeah, I would like that.”

He stood up and held his hand out to her. This was the first time she really looked up and saw the man's eyes. Soft brown eyes which matched with his fluffy hair.

“I was on my way to the beach. If you're interested then we could go there for a swim.” He did have a towel on his other shoulder. “I don’t have a towel.” All she could come up with. The part where she didn’t really know how to swim was left out. “No need to worry about that. They must have plenty to rent.”

If he hadn’t been so sweet she would have declined but for some reason she just couldn’t. “You are right. Will figure something out.” She smiled at him and looked away when their eyes met. Blood rushed to her cheeks.

As they walked he asked if she was local but learning that she was just visiting and didn’t know much about the city did he start talking about the beauty of it. She enjoyed listening about cafes to visit and roads to walk through.

The girl was quiet and he didn’t even know her name. “You are visiting for the first time. Is there a particular reason why here or?”

“I was meant to pay a visit to my boyfr- ex’s summer house. Things took a darker turn and now I’m just here to leave.” “Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep-” “It’s completely fine. I should be the one apologizing and thanking.”

They walked side by side, almost close enough to hold hands. Occasionally catching sights of each other. Her face started to light up. Teares long forgotten.

The sand was warm under their feet. She soaked in all the warmth and hid the fear of the sea with smiling.

“I never got your name..” As he was taking off his shirt he said “Carlos. Carlos Sainz. And you?” For a second the dictionary was forgotten. The man was ripped. She couldn’t stop blushing. After saying her name she held out her hand. He snickers but shakes it. Even his hand was twice her size.

He tried to be polite and not check her out. What a naive idea. She looked like heaven. Her skin white like the milky way. It didn’t go unnoticed by her.“I’m from a colder area. That’s why my skin is so light.” He took a sharp turn to the sea.

“Run to the sea?” She really would have liked to run the other way. Without saying anything she started running to the sea instead. He was hot on her tail. “I’ll catch you, you little-!”

She cried out when he caught up with her. Easily running past. She cried out with laughter while adding speed.

Once in water, she slowed down. He went head into the water. She stayed back and watched. When Carlos didn’t see her beside him and almost on the shore he screamed “oh no, you are coming in the water!” And swam back to her. “Nono, I’m happy right here.”

Carlos didn’t slow down which concerned her and she tried to run back. “You are not going anywhere!” Playfully he pulled her into the water. The water was only to her hips but scared her nevertheless. She screamed with horror and held onto him with her dear life.

He pulled the girl against him. “Everything is ok. You are safe with me. I won’t let you get any deeper, cariño.” She caught her breathing back and opened her eyes.

“Are you scared of the sea? You should have told me.” Lustful face was washed from his face and replaced with concern. “I didn’t want to ruin your plans. Already ruined your shirt with some mascara.” He chuckled. “This is the least of my problems.”

Her hands were still holding tight around his neck. Eyes roaming to his lips. They looked so kissable at this distance.

“Actually I have to confess something.” “Go on.” She looked away. “I don’t know how to swim.”

He took her chin into his hand and made her face him. “Then I can teach you. Maybe the sea isn't the best place to start but some other day. For example a pool. How does that sound?” She nodded. “The pool it is then. But right now we can just stand here and feel the warm water. If that’s fine with you.” Once again she nodded.

They stayed like this for a few more seconds when she realized their position. Her hands let go of his neck. He cleared his voice. The hands slid away quickly.

“You’ve helped me out a lot today. Would you like to grab some lunch together?” She had tried herself with his towel and was putting clothes back on. Carlos tried himself with the same towel. It felt a little erotic to know that just minutes ago the fabric ran against her smooth skin.

“Sure. I can take us to somewhere nice.” His meaning of nice ment somewhere fancy at first but the woman didn’t seem to know who he was and he’d love to keep it that way for as long as he can. “That would be smart. I only ever visited a few places where they mostly served coffee and sweets.”

As they were both dressed, they took a turn back to the town. Sun was burning extra bright and finding a shelter with a cooler seemed mandatory. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?” She turned around, looking at him. “Uh, to tell you the truth, not really. I mean, I can afford one more night at the hotel but that’s it. And my booked flight isn’t until next week.”

She had forgotten all about her ex and her situation. But the weight was back on her shoulders. He saw the change on her face and regretted immediately what he had asked. “If you’d like, you could stay at my place until your flight back home. Not that I have a big apartment here but some arrangements could be done.” First it sounded a little too good and creepy to her. She had known Carlos for only… a few hours. In reality it felt much longer. And she didn’t have a plan B. Maybe he isn’t trying to kidnap her for her organs and genuinely felt sorry for her.

“If I did take your offer, what would you like back? There are no free lunches as they say.” She was shivering. Carlos thought for a minute. He just didn’t want her to go just yet. Moments where someone didn’t know him were rare. She as a person felt rare. “You come to me to the pool to learn how to swim.” First thing that came to his mind. She laughed. “That's beneficial to me. What about you? I could do your laundry for that time period or run errands.”

Carlos didn’t need those things to be taken care of. He did enjoy doing them himself after a long season. Just something a normal human can do. “I guess you could help out but I do enjoy doing these things myself.”

As she was throwing ideas at him and Carlos tried to decline, they had reached main streets. He had a particular smaller business in his mind where to take her. “Right this way. Even Though it’s out of the main street, the food is delicious.”

He stopped in front of a big old door that didn’t have any signs near it. “That? Are you sure? I don’t see any-” she was saying before he opened the door. “Yes, ladies first.” Carlos smirked as she stepped in. The interior was mind blowing. High ceilings, huge windows with a view to the sea. You couldn’t really see it all from the grand entry.

“Table for two please.” said Carlos and the waitress took them to one next to a window. Carlos held her chair like a gentelman. “I’ll be right back with your menus. Would you like something to drink?” She sounded sweet but held back for some reason. “Some water with lemon. Is that fine with you?” Carlos was asking that from his companion. “Of course.” Waitress nodded and went away.

“This place looks way too fancy. Look at the wallpaper they have. This is either Jane Claytons or I don’t know…” Carlos was a little shocked. He had a wide grin. “How or why do you know about wallpapers?” He was genuinely interested. “I'm a little into interior design and just like to know about history and products.” Carlos put his elbows on the tabbed and held his head in his hands.

She told him more about her interests and job back in the other country. He would occasionally ask one or two things about her work. Finally the waitress came with water and menus. She told them about today's dishes and left.

The food was not on the cheaper side and made her anxious. How could she say no if she had asked him to choose the restaurant. She’ll live off noodles for the next few months. Nothing new really.

She had chosen the cheapest dish from the menu. Carlos had noticed that.“You know, if you’re concerned about the food then don’t be. It’s on me. Choose whatever you like.” She shook her head. “Mkm, no way. You have helped a lot today. The food is on me.” This went on back and forth til their food arrived. Carlos had convinced her in some circumstance–she would pay for the ice cream after lunch.

“I haven’t allowed myself a cheat day in a while. Thank you for the ice cream.” He was one of those who bite his ice cream instead of licking. She was licking it. While she did that Carlos would glimpse looks. They were walking without a destination. Mostly him showing her around the town while talking about facts about thing or two. ---

Part 2

#carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #formula one x reader

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bieachella · 1 year

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Wants and Needs | dbf! joel miller x reader (pt. 1)

summary: your family and friends are at a cabin celebrating your parents anniversary and u and joel get comfy together 🥰

rating: 15+ they’re just flirting here

warnings: (for the entire fic) age difference (reader is highschool graduate so take that as it is, joel is in his 40s) f!reader, dirty talk, fingering, oral sex (both receiving), pet names, praise, slow burn?? kinda idk, dbf!joel, alcohol use, fluff, unprotected p in v sex, breeding, this will be filthy trust me

a/n: ive never written fanfic in my life but dbf joel is plaguing my brain so buckle up

“Still open?” Joel jokes as he slides his empty whiskey glass toward you. You had been playing bartender behind the small, wooden bar in the center of your parent's get-away cabin.

It had been your parents’ 15th wedding anniversary, which called for inviting family, extended family, and close friends, all to the large, chateau-like cabin your parents rented on occasion.

You smile at Joel and take his glass, nodding your head. "Always open," you reply. Joel chuckles and leans back in his chair, surveying the room.

It's a cozy space, with a large stone fireplace dominating one wall and comfortable seating arranged in small groupings around the room. Soft lighting from wall sconces and table lamps gives the space a warm glow, and the scent of pine needles and woodsmoke wafts in from the crackling fire.

You turn your attention back to the bar, starting to refill Joel's glass with a generous pour of whiskey. As you work, you can't help but notice Joel’s skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat despite the cool air conditioning of the bar. It sent a warm feeling to the pit of your stomach, and you brushed it off as a passing thought. You fixed your eyes on the liquid pouring out of the spout, and he couldn't help but smile at your efforts to make his drink neat and precise.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” You felt your cheeks flush at the pet name as you slid the glass back over to him.

Joel took a sip of his drink, letting out a content sigh as the alcohol warmed him from the inside. He turned to you with a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.

God, he made you feel like your lungs would collapse at any moment. You suddenly realized you had been staring at him for what would soon look like not innocent.

You quickly averted your gaze and cleared your throat, trying to hide your embarrassment. “So, um, you having fun?” you asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from your momentary lapse in composure.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Joel.

“Are you having fun?” he repeated with a playful smirk. Again, you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks heat up at his teasing tone.

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself before responding. “I am, actually,” you said, smiling back at him.

Joel nodded with a half-joking, impressed look on his face. You giggled a little and you gazed around the room, trying to find something else to talk about. You decided to stay quiet, looking at all your drunk relatives you didn’t recognize but had supposedly known you since you were little.

“Why don’t you get back out there with your kind, Joel,” jerking your head towards the group of people.

Joel chuckled at your comment and shook his head. “Nah, I’m good right here sweetheart. Plus, wouldn’t want’cha to get lonely.”

You felt that pit in your stomach again, getting butterflies at the thought of Joel not wanting to leave you alone.

You tried to play it cool, but your heart was racing. You had been crushing on Joel for as long as you can remember, but you never thought he felt the same way. It was understandable, considering he was your dads closest friend. Revealing any romantic involvement between his best friend and his only daughter, something he took immense pride in, would shatter him.

“Well I’m glad you’re comfortable here,” you said, trying to act nonchalant. “But my feet are killing me,” you added, wiping the bar down before stepping out from behind it and heading towards the couch. “Join me?” you asked, flashing him a toothy grin

Joel smiled back at you, his eyes twinkling. "You got it, babe" he said, following you over to the couch.

As you both settled down, you couldn't help but feel the warmth radiating from his body. You tried to keep your distance, not wanting to give away how much you wanted to be close to him. But it was hard, especially when he leaned back against the couch and stretched his arms out, accidentally brushing against your shoulder.

You felt your heart skip a beat as Joel's touch sent shivers down your spine. You tried to play it cool, but your cheeks were turning pink as you leaned slightly closer to him. Joel seemed to notice and he shifted slightly, his arm now resting on the back of the couch behind you.

You sat with your knees pressed up against your chest, stealing glances at Joel every now and then. He was so handsome, his dark hair, sprinkled with grey at the sides, and his salt and pepper beard, and his dark eyes, and the way he listened so intensely when you spoke to him, you couldn't help but feel a sense of ease around him that you hadn’t felt with anyone else.

#this is my first time writing #be nice pls #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #joel miller x reader #dbf!joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #tlou #slow burn #kinda sorta #pedro pascal #pedro x reader

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solar-sunnyside-up · 10 months

Note

Hi there... I really love the idea of solarpunk but like. The "punk" part of it makes me so anxious. I think it's a vital part of the movement, but I can never imagine doing something like that myself.

If you have any small (tiny) tips or ideas on things I can do on a more personal level I would appreciate them. Everything seems so overwhelming and completely out of my wheelhouse and skill base

Hey ya 🌱 Sprout!! It can be hard to recognize, particularly in solarpunk, but your already punk and already doing praxis. I'm sure of it.

If you've ever pirated media, DIYed or mended clothes, have a rain barrel, spoke out against poor labor conditions, provided a safe space for anyone in an uncaring world even for a brief interaction- Your already punk!! Anyone who fights and gatekeeps that title from you bc of age, aesthics, or experience is a poser and a FED!!

That being said tho--

If you want to do more outrageous projects there's a few things I can recommend depending on how much you wanna do!!

Battlejacket- TBH the purpose of a battle jacket is to soothe this exact anxiety while also being a fun project and being a single to others!! There's many examples in both my Battlejacket tag and patch idea tag to get you started. You can get iron on patches/print paper that transfers pretty well if your not used to DIYing stuff. If this feels like to big if a step and is too much tho keep in mind you can make a battlejacket and not wear it outside right away. It's a second skin to make you feel and others feel safe, but it's also a big neon target on yourself depending on your environment and where you are. So it's ok to just make one and not wear it out until your ready!! (If you do this-- my only demand is you show me when you do it!! I want to see all of those kinda projects bc I'm obsessed with them)

Getting out there- If starting a guerilla gardening project or joining a community garden, or community association isn't an option for you- be that bc of accessibility/time/energy- I'd recommend starting to archive and getting out there! Inaturalist or falling fruit are awesome programs where you identify plants/animals/stuff outside in general. It gets you outside, your adding to a community which gets the feeling of a ball rolling building confidence and your praxis muscles!!

Root yourself in your community- This is a hard one if your busy/have low spoons/are introverted but I promise its worth doing even if you arent super active in those spaces! Even just researching the history of your town/city/neighborhood and seeing what programs are running can really connect you to the area. A lot of us due to the renting crisis never truly attach to our neighborhoods or are too busy to look into local artists. (Not your fault babes, its built to do that to feed monopolies) Pick even just 1 thing you care about (local artists, teashop, bands, libraries, community fridges, etc..) and find the closest thing to you and get obsessed. Being a regular in any space is an awesome feeling, its where you'll find friends, and you'll directly see any change you provide there.

Media archiving- There's a lot of ways of doing this one but just pirate the fuck out of everything!!!! Burn it to a physical copy, share it with your friends/family! Make mix dvds, burn movies/tv shows! Directly download youtube videos! Print off your fave fanfiction and bind them into books! Particularly with streaming services directly deleting content and getting rid of them entirely this is important work but its also just very fun!! Seeing my wall filled with dvds and books and objects makes my brain happy but also again, the physical exchange of handing the media you love to another person is so unique! Theres lots of guides and methods of doing this depending on the method and medium your using.

Utilizing public spaces- Loitering is a good one as well to push yourself and to interact with things IRL! Use your public libraries and parks excessively! Spend a weird amount of time at the mall not buying stuff! This might seem like a weird one, but its a long term thing. It shows that ppl are supposed to be out and about without spending money, but also many of these places (except the mall obvi) get funding based on usage so the more you use something the more likely they are to make it accessible to more ppl! It also makes it more normal for ppl who need to loiter to be in these spaces which again adds more accessibility. This is also one that might get you unwanted attention so decide your comfort and safety level. Pushing boundaries is good but do it at your own pace.

Vandalize! - Again we're ramping up a bit on risk levels but I recommend it, particularly bus stops or putting up posters. Bus stops is bc at least in my city they only maintenance them once they've been 'ruined' so its actually a cosmic positive to do it in these spaces. Posters are also good! Ive seen quite a few for tenant unions but also a handful of them that are food resources or call outs for police. This is mostly to have passive way to show solidarity or get a message across. But also like your doing art! Great stuff! Again tho this comes with risk if caught or if you dont know what your doing so start with baby steps (like using sharpie on an Ad you fucking hate or putting up a poster in a neutral space to get used to it)

Hopefully these tips get you started!

#solarpunk #praxis #punk #asks #hopepunk #ref #sprout #sprout guide #sleepover saturday

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oskea93 · 2 months

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✶ Whiskey (1) ✶ - John "Bucky" Egan x OC - Masters of the Air fandom - Multi-chaptered story.

⚠ Warning: Rating 18+ ⚠ This story will contain explicit sexual content, mentions of unwanted pregnancy/miscarriage, cursing, violence, spousal abuse. Please read at your own discretion/risk. This story is a work of fiction and simply based on the portrayal of the actors on the show. It has nothing to do with any of the real men that these actors are playing. A/N: Hello all! So, this is my second Bucky story and to say i'm a bit obsessed would be an understatement. There's just something about the way Callum Turner plays him that is... I don't even know if I have the right word to describe it. I posted a couple days ago about my idea for this fic and i've finally narrowed down my choice The OC for this story will be the new Colonel's wife at Thorp Abbotts and of course drama will ensue. I just want to point out that since this story is so heavily smut driven, i'm sorry if my writing of smut is not that great. I've never written a fic so centered on it before, so this is a bit new. If you have any suggestions or comments, just let me know! Lastly, I just want to thank everyone that's read It Had to be You. I greatly appreciate each and every one of you! If you would like to be added to the tag list, just comment your username ☺︎

Heavy breathing filled the darkened space as the distant sound of the bombs could be heard exploding on the outskirts of town. Both of us too lost in one another to care of the threat that could be dropped onto the city at any minute.

His arms wrapped tightly around my thighs, holding me down on the bed as his tongue lit a fire through my body. The whimpers slipping past my lips – begging him for mercy – our eyes meeting as he flattened his tongue against my core. My hands pulling at his messy locks, pulling as the pressure intensified as he sucked my clit.

“Oh, fuck – “ I tried pulling away – my heels digging into the mattress below.

The pleasure was something I had never felt before – my heart beating erratically as he smiled at the state I was in. “John, please.” My legs closing around his head as my walls clenched, sending me into a state of pure bliss.

My dam quickly opened, the floodgates soaking the linen sheet below as he stayed in the same position admiring his work. His hold on my legs loosened, giving me the opportunity to quickly move into a sitting position, pulling his lips onto mine. My taste on his tongue sending me into a primal state as he pulled me into his lap, the pressure building in my stomach as I take all of him, moans building in both of our throats.

“Holy fuck – “ He cursed against my lips as our hips moved in sync. The new position sending us both into an utter state of delectation.

Bruises were sure to form as his fingers dug into my hips, pulling my body harder into his as I felt him swell inside of me. His hot breath hitting my ear as my teeth pulled at his neck, no doubt to leave a noticeable mark in the morning. The friction between us was so strong as we started to reach our climax – our ragged breathing and moans probably heard through the thin walls.

My body fell limp against his as we recovered from our high – his soft lips placing butterfly kisses behind my ear.

“Pretty good, huh?” He smirked against the skin – taking my earlobe between his teeth.

I whimpered in reply – too tired but still too turned on to speak to him in a complete sentence. Talking was what got me into this position – into his rented bed – into his arms and underneath his masculine body as he made me his own...

I was the first to wake the next afternoon – my legs acting like that of a newborn fawn as I stumbled towards the bathroom. I glanced at the mangled bed as I closed the door behind me – his body barely covered by the thin sheet. “Lord, give me strength.” Whispering to myself as I looked in the mirror. My red curls in disarray – red lipstick smeared around my bruised lips. The markings he had left littered my body – small and large – thankfully low enough to be covered from the public eye. The memories of last night replaying in my mind like an old Nickelodeon – heat pooling in my stomach at the thoughts of how he made me feel – over and over – all night long.

My fingers gripping the sink as the feeling of his lips danced across my skin. His teeth pulling as he moved along my shoulder blades – his arms wrapping around my middle.

“You’re thinking too hard.” His morning voice hinting at a rasp, causing my core to throb with want and need.

The temptation to reach back and connect my lips with his was damn near impossible – my knuckles turning white as my grip on the cast-iron intensified.

“I have to go.”

The words slipping out between low moans. His hold pulling me flush against his bare body – his cock twitching against my lower back. I knew that if I turned around in that moment, I wouldn’t be able to tear myself away from him – from his kiss – from his Goddamn touch.

His nose nuzzled in my hair as his hand moved tantalizingly down my stomach, stopping just above the point of no return. “And if I want you to stay?”

I squirmed uncomfortably, rubbing my legs together, already wet just from his proximity.

“If you tell me to stop –“His index slowly moving over my slit. “I’ll quit and you can go on your merry way.” I leaned my head back against his shoulder as he added the middle finger, making slow strides as he hummed against my outstretched neck.

“You’re killing me.” My words slurring together.

He smiled against my skin as his pace increased. A slew of curse words flowed through my lips, his own finally meeting mine in a heated and much needed kiss. My arm laced around his neck, pressing our faces harder together as his fingers continued their assault. I felt like I was on the verge of fainting – dropping dead from the euphoria that was coursing through my exhausted body.

My body reacted to his touch seconds later – the sticky substance running down my legs as he removed his digits. Our bodies still pressed together – both breathing as if we’d just ran a mile.

“John – “

His hooded eyes casting down as he hummed in response. I paused for a moment, my brain and heart arguing for dominance.

“Take me to bed.”

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starlightkun · 5 months

Text

❧ word count: 2.0k ❧ warnings: cursing ❧ genre: fluff, angst if you squint?, drabble, childhood friends to lovers, model jungwoo, normal person reader, mark is there but he doesn't pass the sexy lamp test so i'm not calling this a love triangle, also gender neutral reader on this one ❧ extra info: this is a reworked version of a drabble from an old multi-group writing acct of mine from years and years ago. it was previously about hyunjin from stray kids, so if you read this like six plus years ago and it feels vaguely familiar, that’s why! ❧ author’s note: happy new year!

“Oh,” you forced out a giggle, voice cracking awkwardly as you added, “You missed… again.”

“No I didn’t,” he declared steadily, closing the space between you two again.

December 31st.

New Year’s Eve.

Ever since you were little, you had spent every New Year’s with Kim Jungwoo. And he insisted that even though he was a very popular model now and his reputation could easily be ruined with any slight scandal, that fact wouldn’t change. You were his best friend, he insisted, which meant that you would keep your traditions.

And so that’s how you ended up on a balcony at some fancy hotel that his agency had rented out for the occasion, needing some fresh air for a moment. Being around so many people, not to mention that they were all incredibly famous, was overwhelming and exhausting to you sometimes. Checking the time on your phone, you winced when you saw that it was only 10 p.m. Jungwoo had told you that the party would probably last until 2 a.m. at least, meaning that you theoretically still had four more hours of this. Your feet ached from standing and the goofy dancing you had done at first with your equally goofy friend and his surprisingly down-to-earth coworkers. All you really wanted to go home and change into your pajamas and go the fuck to sleep. New Year’s never mattered much to you; it was always Jungwoo who made you have fun on the seemingly pointless holiday.

The thought of your handsome, bright-eyed, and caring best friend brought a familiar bittersweet pain to the left side of your chest. You’d realized the not-so-small crush you had on him last New Year’s, when he’d given you his routine Happy New Year’s kiss on the cheek, and missed, pecking the corner of your mouth gently. It had been pretty easy to ignore your agony-inducing feelings since you didn’t see him much while his model life kept him extra busy. But now that you were at this party with him, and he had pretty much glued himself to your side the entire time, it was difficult to push them away.

For the past thirty minutes, however, you’d had a completely different issue plaguing your mind. One that you knew you needed to talk to Jungwoo about. As if he could hear your thoughts, his voice suddenly manifested from behind you:

“You’re missing Johnny and Haechan’s drinking contest.”

“Their what?” You spun around, looking absolutely bewildered.

“I’m kidding, I needed to get your attention,” Jungwoo let out a melodious chuckle as he stepped closer to you, looking just as dazzling as before in his simple black suit, the jacket having been discarded long ago in favor of just rolling his sleeves up to just below his elbow. That, paired with the slightly-mussed up and wavy hair, gave no aid in calming your thundering heart. How was one man allowed to be that attractive?

“You could’ve said ‘hey.’ You know, like a normal person,” you snorted, going back to leaning against the balcony railing as he joined you.

“Since when have we ever been normal?” He bumped your shoulder.

“Oh, I’m perfectly normal—” You bumped his shoulder back. “It’s you that’s fucking weird.”

“You know, I’d tickle you if I wasn’t afraid of touching the art.”

Your skin heated up immediately, counteracting the chilling winter winds easily seeping into your skin. At your lack of response, Jungwoo spoke again, “So what’s on your mind? You’ve got your thinking frown on.”

Dropping your face into your hands, you mumbled, “Woos, I’ve made a grave mistake.”

“What did you do this time, Y/N?”

“I might have agreed to give Mark a New Year’s kiss.” You took your face out of your hands in time to see Jungwoo’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Like, kiss on the cheek?”

You shook your head.

He seemed more distressed than you, rubbing his face in frustration as he thought. Finally, he groaned and offered, “I’ll tell him that you know… he can’t do that, because you’re my best friend and that’d be weird for me.”

“That’s not what I’m concerned about.” You ignored the twinge in your heart when he called you his friend.

Truth be told, you were doing this hoping that it’d help you get over Jungwoo. Not necessarily by getting into Mark, that wasn’t exactly what you wanted. But just a little extra push to forget about your feelings for your best friend.

Jungwoo’s eyes were nearly popping out of his face as he asked, “So is it like… the actual kiss, then? What, why?”

“I’m a bit rusty,” you mumbled, rubbing the back of your neck.

“So it’s been a few months since you’ve kissed someone, whatever. It’s like riding a bike.”

“More like a few years…”

“How many years?”

“Like… ten? I’ve only ever had my first kiss, okay?” You admitted, your skin prickling hot with embarrassment. “Got a bit… busy after that.”

Jungwoo crossed his arms. “And you’re really going to let Mark Lee be your second kiss?”

You shrugged.

“You don’t know him that well, Y/N.”

“I barely know anybody here,” you pointed out with another shrug. “Why are you making a big deal out of this?”

“I don’t know, don’t you want your first adult kiss to be with someone you know, and who actually cares about you, and isn’t just some guy who would get affection from a rock if he could?”

“Well yeah, but, who would that be?”

“Not Mark.”

“If you can find me someone like that within the next—” you looked at your phone again “—one hour and fifty-six minutes, then sure, Mark Lee won’t be my first adult kiss.”

As you had said that, you looked at him with a newfound fire in your eyes, waiting for him to respond to your implicit challenge. His jaw was clenched, and he opened his mouth as if to say something, but decided to close it again, taking a step back.

“Fine.” Jungwoo shook his head, walking back into the venue and managing to disappear his tall form into the crowd.

Your friend’s cold departure from you had left you in a sour mood for all of five seconds before some of his coworkers had found you and provided ample distraction from the tears threatening to make an appearance. Never had Jungwoo ever looked so upset or disappointed in you, and it hurt. It really fucking hurt.

You had a feeling that Jungwoo’s friends had been able to surmise that something bad had happened, considering you wouldn’t even look in his general direction, a stark contrast from just an hour ago when you were laughing together while his arm had been around your shoulder. The ghost of his arm there was still present, and you desperately pressed yourself even further back into the couch you were on to try to rid yourself of it. You really only succeeded in tucking yourself into Yuta’s side, as you were crammed onto the couch with him and a few of the others, not including Jungwoo.

Mark was on your other side, trying to yell out a story above to the constant loud hum, one that Johnny on his other side could apparently understand, as his deep laughs reached your ears. The light tinkling of Taeyong’s laughter brought your attention to your other side, and you felt Yuta attempting to worm himself off the couch. You scooted closer to Mark to give Yuta some more room, and when he stood up, you saw that there was a dark brown stain all down the front of his light-colored suit. Realizing that your sudden jolt into his side must have caused him to spill his drink all over himself, you tried to apologize, but he waved you off and disappeared as well.

Now with more space, you scooted back away from Mark, only by a few millimeters, as the couch was definitely not meant to fit even four people like it was now. As you leaned in to listen to Johnny’s addition to the conversation, you felt someone slide in beside and slightly behind you again and were surprised at how quickly Yuta had returned. But then an arm snaked around your waist and an all-too familiar voice was beside your ear and you knew it wasn’t him.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Jungwoo didn’t have to whisper too much, the room was definitely too loud for anybody further than a few centimeters away to hear anything he was saying. “If you want to fuck Mark—”

You snapped your head around to hiss incredulously, “I don’t want to fuck him! Jesus Christ, Woos, it’s a kiss on New Year's. I don’t even like him like that. Like you said, he’s just some guy.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you scoffed.

“I’m sorry. Seriously.”

You elbowed him in the side. “Yeah, yeah, I forgive you. I know you were trying to look out for me. You’re a good friend, Woos.”

“Yeah, I know.”

If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought he sounded disappointed when you called him your friend. But when he rested his head on yours and your hopeful heart hopped painfully against your ribcage, you reminded yourself that all you were was his friend, and you had to learn how to be happy with just that.

You were towards the back of the large mass of people crowded around the huge TV announcing the countdown to the New Year. With Mark on your left and Jungwoo on your right, you blamed the heat for your sweaty palms instead of the idea of having your first kiss in a very long time in a very visible place and with a somewhat-random person. It would be just a peck, you had convinced yourself. Not a big deal.

The voices of everyone counting down in unison reverberated through your brain.

Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

Before you could even turn to the man on your left, you were yanked to the right, a pair of lips descending onto yours in one fluid and firm motion. Jungwoo’s hands were gripping either side of your face and neck, his body pressing against yours, and his mouth meshing with yours in a way you could only describe as perfect. Your own hands grappled for something to hold onto as your breath was stolen from you, finding a somewhat suitable place clutching desperately onto his shirt.

Finally, Jungwoo deemed it necessary to breathe, moving his face back just a few millimeters from yours, a thin line of spit still connecting you two. You widened the distance, taking a few shaky inhalations as you tried to look anywhere except Jungwoo. Which was difficult considering he took up much of your vision, still being only a couple centimeters away.

“Oh,” you forced out a giggle, voice cracking awkwardly as you added, “You missed… again.”

“No I didn’t,” he declared steadily, closing the space between you two again. “There, you kissed someone who actually cares about you. So if you want to go kiss Mark—”

“No.” Shaking your head with determination, you looked him in the eye, “I don’t want to kiss him. Or anyone else…”

“Except me,” Jungwoo finished your implicit statement with a shit-eating grin.

Rolling your eyes, you nodded nonetheless.

“So, can I date you on a proper date, then?”

You pretended to contemplate this for a moment before grabbing his collar and tugging him back down for another kiss, wrapping one hand around the back of his neck. Jungwoo grinned into the kiss, pulling you closer by the hips.

The very amused voice of Taeyong startled you into nearly having an aneurysm, “You two might want to stop that before the CEO comes by to say Happy New Year to everybody.”

You folded your hands politely in front of you, nodding sheepishly as the rest of his friends could only giggle at your being caught.

Mark then complained, “I still didn’t get a New Year’s kiss!”

“Come here, then!” Haechan wrapped an arm around the older man’s neck, pursing his lips as Mark tried to get away. The whole group burst into laughter, taking enough attention off you and Jungwoo for him to take your hand in his.

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bobohu4eva · 1 year

Text

Messy

Part 1/2

Characters: Reader x Baekhyun

Genre: Enemies(ish) to lovers, roommates, smut

WC: 7k

Masterlist

“I swear to god..” You mumbled to yourself, walking out into your living room to find it once again trashed by your asshole roommate, Baekhyun.

You started picking up the beer cans from the night before, annoyed but not surprised by his lack of consideration. This was how a lot of Saturday mornings would go. You’d be kept up late by Baekhyun and his friend’s loud laughter and music, and the next morning your kitchen and living room would be left a mess of empty beer cans, boxes of food, and whatever else he and his friends happened to drag in. On particularly unlucky nights, like the one prior, you’d have to listen to him “entertain” a lady guest as well. Quite loudly.

It was obnoxious. When you had first allowed Baekhyun to move in it was because you desperately needed someone to help out with rent, and he just happened to show up. He liked the place, and had the money, so you let him move in. But things went downhill quickly when the semester started and he started inviting people over for parties every other weekend, leaving your home a mess in the process. And he sure as hell wouldn’t clean it up himself, at least not until days later, which was too long for you. So you had to spend your Saturday mornings cleaning up his messes.

Luckily he wasn’t dirty, just messy. On days when he wasn’t having people over he was actually fairly clean, it was when he’d throw his little parties and get drunk that he’d leave it so bad. But it was getting really, really, old.

You’d finally gathered a majority of the beer cans when you heard a door open and a small dark haired girl emerged from Baekhyun’s bedroom, obviously still in last night's clothes. You didn’t recognize her, as per usual. Baekhyun rarely took the same girl home twice. It made sense that he was a fuckboy, despite how much you hated to admit it, he was hot, even if in a very extra and obnoxious way. He kept his hair in a mullet, and recently he’d even added red streaks for some extra flair. Even the way he dressed with his skin tight jeans and colorful shirts was annoying to you.

Living with him was slowly starting to eat away at you, if you were being completely honest with yourself. You didn’t like him. Not at all. Having to live in the same space as someone you disliked so much was terrible. The worst part was that you knew he didn’t care at all.

Once you’d finally gotten the majority of the mess cleaned up and had the living room looking half decent again, you heard his door again and this time it was him who stepped out into the living room.

He looked around, acknowledging you and the now clean apartment, before grabbing himself a glass of water.

“You’re not even gonna thank me this time for cleaning up after your shit?”

He just stared at you for a second before shaking his head, rolling his eyes, and turning to walk back towards his room.

“You’re such an asshole, you know that right?”

“Yeah sure whatever, I'm too hungover for this.” He said before retreating back into his room and closing the door behind him. .

As angry as you were, you knew arguing with him was useless. He simply didn’t care if what he did bothered you and had no intention to change his behavior at all. He always said you just needed to learn to chill. That you were too high strung, and maybe he was right, you were never good at dealing with messes, and it probably bothered you more than it should’ve, but it was also just him and the way he acted in general. When you’d first met him he didn’t have that stupid mullet yet, and he had just moved into town for university. You actually thought that he was sweet, and above all else, clean. You thought that maybe you two could even learn to get along fairly well. But when he started making friends and going to parties he grew more and more aloof, until he was nothing more than another messy, asshole fuckboy in your eyes.

You retreated back to your room, avoiding seeing or talking to him for the rest of the day.

Usually you just didn’t speak to one another. If he was in the common space when you needed to use it you’d simply put in headphones and try to ignore him. Oftentimes he would just go with it, leaving you unbothered as he did whatever it was he was doing, but other days he would make it his mission to piss you off.

Later that same week, one of those days came. You could hear him watching TV in the living room, while you needed to make dinner. You were tired of waiting, so you decided to just go do it and pay him no attention.

At first he left you alone, but when you started cooking the bacon for your carbonara he, unfortunately, appeared next to you.

“That smells so good.”

You ignored him.

“Wanna make enough for two?”

“Not a chance Baekhyun.”

He huffed, giving you his best fake pout. “You’re always so mean to me.”

It was always like this. This stupid little game he liked to play with you.

“Yeah because you’re an asshole. Make your own food.”

Baekhyun just giggled, clearly pleased that he was succeeding in his mission to annoy you. “But you know I can’t cook for shit, come on please?” As the last word came out he leaned forwards, blocking your view of the pan with his face.

“You’re getting bacon grease in your hair.”

He snapped his head up, running his hands through his hair in concern and you scoffed.

“But I haven’t eaten since this morning and it smells so goood come onnn y/n.” He whined. Why did he always have to be so dramatic?

“Not my problem.” You spoke as you took the bacon off the stove, getting your noodles ready.

He caught your eyes again and you made note of the mischievous glint they showed you. He looked at you for a little while before speaking again.

“What if I promise I won’t have anyone over this weekend?”

That caught you off guard. Was he really bargaining with you right now, for some damn noodles?

“You want it that bad?”

“So do we have a deal then?” He smirked.

You thought about it, and at the end of the day making some extra pasta was still far less annoying than spending hours cleaning up after him.

“Fine.”

Baekhyun grinned and made his way back to the couch, humming happily. You rolled your eyes as you got out more bacon.

You were grateful that he at least left you alone while you were cooking. When the pasta was done you set his bowl down on the coffee table before walking away towards your bedroom door.

“Where are you going?”

You turned around and raised an eyebrow at him. “To my room. To eat in peace.”

“Aw, really?”

“Yeah?”

“I thought you liked this show too.” He said as he gestured towards the TV.

He was right, it was one of your favorite shows even. But you’d still rather watch it by yourself in your room.

“And?”

“Come sit and eat with me.” He said it like it was the most normal thing ever.

You let out a dry laugh. “No way.”

“Why not?” He pouted.

“You’re just gonna be annoying the whole time and talk over the show. And it’s not like we’re friends.”

“I promise I won’t talk! Just sit down, you know the couch is comfier than your desk chair anyway and your noodles are getting cold.”

You sighed, but sat down on the opposite end of the couch. It was much comfier. If he hadn’t been out there you would’ve been anyway, watching the same thing. As long as he didn’t talk, you could just act like he wasn’t there. Hopefully.

To your relief he actually stayed true to his word, too busy devouring his pasta to speak anyway. You still felt incredibly awkward sitting there with him. You never did this. You couldn’t even remember the last time you two had a meal together. His presence was enough to make you uneasy and when a sex scene started playing in the show, you got up, abandoning your bowl of pasta on the coffee table.

“Are you seriously leaving because of a little sex scene?” Baekhyun laughed. “You’re such a prude.”

“I am not a prude! I’m just not watching that with you.”

“You so are though.”

“My sex life is none of your business.”

“You don’t have one anyway.” He almost sang out, you clearly hear the smirk on his lips, mocking you.

He was having way too much fun with this. You wanted to smack the stupid grin off his stupid perfect face so bad.

“You don’t know that.”

“Oh yes I do, you’ve never even brought a guy home before.” He chuckled.

“Just cause I’m not a whore like you doesn’t mean I’m barren.”

He let out a little fake gasp, but you knew better than to think he was actually offended by that. “Whore is such a strong word, I prefer to think of myself as someone who likes to indulge in the various physical pleasures life has to offer.”

“So you’re a manwhore.”

“So you’re a prude.”

You groaned, and he was still just grinning smugly up at you from his position on the couch.

“I’m not a prude.”

He stood up, standing himself directly in front of you, close enough that you felt yourself stepping backwards but he kept moving closer, until you found yourself trapped between him and the wall.

“Well then bring a guy home sometime and maybe I’ll believe you.” He challenged, the mischievous sparkle in his eyes never failing to provoke you. “I’ve never had any trouble getting girls to come home with me.”

He said it with such a gross lopsided smile, you had to fight the urge to throw your noodles at him.

“I know, Baekhyun, because I unfortunately have to hear it every time.”

“And you listen? Weirdo.” He wrinkled his nose up in disgust, but you knew he didn’t actually care if you heard. “But I guess I can’t say I’m surprised since you don’t seem to have sex at all or if you do it’s incredibly boring.”

At this point you were fuming, and Baekhyun was having a fantastic time. This was exactly what he loved to do. To get you all riled up, arguing with him about something he didn’t even really care about, because he knew it would get a rise out of you. He was surprised again and again by how easy it was to get you like this.

He thought it was so cute.

“I do not have boring sex!”

He scoffed, clearly unconvinced.

He knew you were bullshitting and so did you. Truth be told though, you didn’t have boring sex, because you hadn’t had sex at all since he moved in, or even in the months before that. There’d been a pretty gnarly breakup and you hadn’t felt comfortable going out and meeting new people yet. But of course Baekhyun knew nothing about that.

“Well if you ever wanna know what good sex is like, you know where to find me.” He said casually, smiling as he twirled a strand of your hair around one pretty finger of his, watching as it fell back to frame your face. And with that, he turned and walked into his room, shutting the door behind him with a big stupid smirk on his annoyingly gorgeous face.

For a minute you just stood there. Your brain was still trying to process what he had said, and no matter how many times you tried to convince yourself you heard wrong, you hadn’t. You heard him loud and clear.

There was no way he could actually want to sleep with you though, right? He had to just be saying that to get to you. The thought of doing anything like that with him was something you vehemently fought off. Of course he was attractive, even if it was in a very obnoxious way, but as much as you hated to admit it, you couldn’t help being attracted to him. He was just hot.

But you were better than that, you told yourself, and either way, he was too much of an asshole for you to even consider it.

That Friday evening you let yourself relax knowing that at least you wouldn’t be bothered by him and his friends making a mess of the place. And what a relief it was. After a nice relaxing bath and maybe one more glass of wine than necessary, you found yourself falling fast asleep, free of any dread of the morning to come.

When you woke up you felt refreshed and when you remembered the deal you’d made you let out a sigh of relief, smiling to yourself. You’d be able to get up and get ready and make yourself a nice breakfast in a clean kitchen. He didn’t seem to be awake yet, so you’d finally be able to have a peaceful Saturday morning.

After washing your face and putting on your favorite hoodie you turned the corner from the hallway where the bedrooms were towards the kitchen and living room.

You felt all the joy drain from your body when your eyes met the room in front of you.

The coffee table was barely visible beneath the blanket of takeout containers and beer cans, and the couch was littered with dirty napkins. His guest didn’t seem to care to take their shoes off either, judging by the amount of dirt stuck in the carpet, and the longer you stood there, the more you noticed the unpleasant smell of seafood that sat out too long coming from the dirty dishes all over the kitchen.

The anger that filled your body was more intense than on any other morning. You had made a deal. This was the one day you were supposed to get to relax. One morning to relax and not deal with his shit. That was all you wanted.

You briefly considered banging on his door and demanding that he clean up his mess but you knew that wouldn’t work. He’d just laugh at you for being ‘dramatic‘. As much as you hated it you still wanted to try to have a decent morning, so you got to work cleaning it all up.

The beer cans, the takeout containers, and the smelly piles of dishes felt like they were mocking you, and the more you did the more you realized that you were still pissed and this time you wouldn’t just get over it. When you finally had everything clean and made your breakfast you sat down and turned on a show to watch as you ate.

You turned around when you heard yawning, narrowing your eyes at your roommate.

“Looks nice in here.” He commented.

“You better be fucking kidding” You felt the anger rising again.

He shrugged nonchalantly. He once again didn’t care.

You watched as he went to make himself a coffee and you stood up and walked over to him.

“We made a deal.” You were pissed. You hoped your tone would be enough for him to know not to fuck with you but that’s wasn’t the case.

He just shrugged again. “We were gonna go to a buddies house but something came up. Sorry princess.”

When he went to put a hand on your shoulder in mock solidarity for the stress you had to endure on his behalf, you lost it, yanking his arm away from yourself and going off on him.

“Dont fucking touch me! I’m so tired of you! This was supposed to be the one day I don’t have to deal with this.”

Baekhyun took a step back, not at all expecting this kind of outburst from you. You hated that you were an angry cryer, and inevitably tears started to spill over as you continued your yelling at him.

“School is stressful enough and for once I just wanted to be able to relax and you promised you wouldn’t have people over! Do you ever think of anyone but yourself? Are you so self absorbed that you never even consider that someone else lives here too?! You’re such a fucking asshole Byun! You don’t give a shit about anything but yourself!”

He just stared back, mouth slightly parted in shock, not even fully awake yet. At this point you were hysterical, fully crying as you kept pushing the words out between sobs.

“You think I’m so uptight and prude but really you’re just an inconsiderate piece of shit. I’m so fucking done with you.”

And with that, you turned around, going to your room and slamming the door behind you.

Baekhyun still just stood there, processing your words to him.

You’d never cried in front of him before, and you felt the embarrassment start to consume you as you curled back up into bed, still crying as you let out the last of your frustrations. You didn’t mean to blow up the way you did, but you’d suppressed so much of your frustration with him, when you finally let it out it was overwhelming.

You never wanted him to see you in a moment of weakness like that, and you could only imagine how crazy he thought you were now. He already thought you were a bit odd for how you got onto him about his messes, you hoped that your outburst would at least help him take you more seriously, though. You wished you didn’t have to care what he thought about you.

That day Baekhyun didn’t try to engage you any further, and you were grateful. He stayed in his room, and you stayed in yours.

It took you a whole day to leave your room again. You had waited until you knew he was in his room, and cautiously approached the kitchen, expecting to find some mess of his in there mocking you. However you didn’t find anything of the sort, in fact the whole common space was spotless. When you opened the fridge you saw a box of your favorite cheap white wine, with a note attached.

“I’m sorry.”

You gave the box a puzzled look.

Baekhyun felt bad. For the first time since he’d moved in, he actually felt some remorse for how he treated you. You almost couldn’t believe it.

The next few days felt incredibly odd to the both of you. Baekhyun actually cleaned more than you did, even doing your dishes if you left them out for more than an hour or two.

As usual, you didn’t talk to him. Even if the both of you were in the same room. But the strange thing was, he didn’t try to speak to you either. By now he usually would’ve made some dumb joke to piss you off, but he said nothing.

It was almost a full week later when he finally got the courage to talk to you again. Your birthday was coming up, so he cooked for the both of you, the one meal he knew how to make; mac and cheese.

You were surprised when he knocked on your door that evening.

When you opened it for him he wasn’t wearing his usual sarcastic smirk, just a small, slightly nervous looking smile.

“I made dinner. I thought we could eat together.”

You looked up at him with a look of confusion. “Why do you want to eat together?”

“I just thought it might be good for us. You don’t have to talk to me. We can just put on a show and eat in silence.”

You thought it was a strange request, but you were getting hungry, and he was offering to feed you, so you agreed.

It was odd seeing Baekhyun in this light, when he wasn’t being obnoxious, and he was actually looking at you and speaking to you with a completely serious look on his face. It did not match the image of the man you were used to, with his loud mouth and flamboyant hair. With how he usually acted it was easy to forget that he was an actual human with thoughts and feelings, no matter the aloof fuckboy front he usually put up.

Just as he had promised, the both of you sat on the couch in silence and watched the show as you ate your dinner together. He didn’t try to tease you about anything, he just let you eat, until you were finished and he took both of your bowls to the kitchen to wash them.

You watched as he did the dishes and you realized something. It was almost 9pm on a Friday night. And he didn’t have anyone over.

Before you could question yourself any further, you blurted it out. “Do you want some wine?”

He looked up from the dishes, pausing, as if he needed to check that he’d heard correctly.

“Sure.”

So you poured two glasses, and you were both back on the couch. You couldn’t help but smile as you took your first sip, because this time you knew there wouldn’t be a mess in the morning.

You still didn’t understand the sudden shift in his behavior towards you, but that was okay. You assumed that he really was sorry, as the note suggested, he was just too proud to say it out loud yet. The two of you talked a little the more you drank, but not about anything noteworthy. Just polite small talk.

It was frustrating, because you were coming to realize that it was actually easier to hate him. The less he annoyed you, the more you noticed the little things about him. The sharpness of his jawline in contrast to the soft features of his face. How pretty his hands were. How strong his back looked in a fitted T shirt.

You needed him to start being obnoxious again.

The following morning when you were making breakfast your prayers were answered when he appeared behind you in his sleepy state, voice still low and rough.

“I do hope you’re making enough for both of us.” He grumbled into your ear, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You turned around, leaving a light slap on his chest. “And if I’m not?”

“Then I guess I’ll have to go to my room again and cry myself back to sleep.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me! You should be thanking me right now.”

“I should be thanking you? For what?” You scoffed.

“It’s Saturday morning and everything is clean.” He said proudly, raising his eyebrows and shooting you his best smile.

You gave him a blank stare. “I’m not going to congratulate you for being a decent person. I never should’ve had to clean up after you in the first place.”

His brows furrowed and a pout formed on his lips. He was just wearing a thin white t-shirt and black sweats but he still looked so good. You really hated it. He had no right to look like that, this early in the day, after rolling right out of bed. He didn’t have his contacts in yet so he was wearing his glasses. You found it silly how someone with such an obnoxiously douchey look could wear such dorky round glasses, but you figured that was why he never wore them outside. It was an interesting contrast to his disheveled black and red hair, and the broadness of his shoulders and chest. As much as he might try to fight it, there were certain things about him that you couldn’t help but find cute. The way his glasses sat on his round little nose, the tired droopiness in his eyes, and the little pout on his pink lips. He was making it very difficult for you to deny him.

“C’mon please? You know pancakes are my favorite.”

This wasn’t a battle you were going to win. You didn’t really want to anymore anyway.

“Fine. It’s too much batter just for me anyway.”

His face broke into a wide grin and his hand moved up to ruffle your hair. “Thanks princess.”

You cringed at the unexpected contact, trying your best to conceal your embarrassment.

The pet name was another thing. You knew that most other girls would be delighted to hear Baekhyun call them that, but to you it just felt like another one of those things he did to get under your skin. It didn’t feel sweet, it felt like you were being mocked, that he was calling you uptight and prissy. You hated it, and he knew you did, which made him want to do it even more.

He simply made his way over to the couch, plopping himself down happily. You rolled your eyes and continued on with the pancakes. When they were finished you brought him his plate and when you were about to turn to go to your room you felt his hand on your wrist.

“Come on, sit down.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanna eat with you.”

You gave him a look. “Okay, why do you wanna eat with me?”

He frowned. “Isn’t it a good thing for roommates to have meals together? You’re the one who asked me if I wanted some wine last night.”

“I should’ve just drank it myself.” You muttered.

“You know I really am sorry.”

Your eyes snapped to his face. You found yourself sitting down on the opposite end of the couch.

“I didn’t realize all that stuff actually bothered you so much, I thought you were just a little extra with all the cleaning and that it was more annoying to you than anything else. I didn’t mean to upset you that bad.”

He was avoiding eye contact and seemed genuinely remorseful for his behavior, to your complete surprise.

“Um, thank you. I appreciate it.” You eventually responded weakly.

“You really meant it all those times you called me an asshole, huh? I never thought you actually disliked me so much.”

He sounded a bit sad as he said it. You thought it was obvious that you meant it, because why wouldn’t you? Was he just so used to women falling at his feet that he really thought you were still fond of him despite his behavior?

You sighed. “Yeah. I did mean it. You were really inconsiderate. It was super frustrating.”

“You know you make it way too easy though.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. “Make what too easy?”

“Come on y/n you’d get so huffy and puffy about the littlest things it was just fun to get you all riled up. You’re so cute when you’re pissed.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. He wasn’t even wearing that usual dumb smirk you’d usually see after he said something like that. He looked completely serious.

You narrowed your eyes at him and let out a small dry laugh. “Well I’m glad my suffering is at least amusing for you.”

You absolutely did not want to address the fact that he’s just called you cute. If you let yourself dwell on it you knew you’d only lose your mind.

He hummed in agreement and you were rolling your eyes at him again. “I’m gonna miss it.” He said. “I wish I could still mess with you like that but I really don’t want you to hate me either.”

“Since when do you even care how I feel about you?”

“I always have! I just didn’t realize I annoyed you that bad is all. I thought maybe you just liked arguing with me. I know I love arguing with you, half the time I didn’t even care about whatever it was we were discussing. I just wanted to see you get all heated.”

He was having a wonderful time. He had a big grin on his still slightly tired face and you knew he meant every word he’d just said. But that also meant that despite what you’d thought in the past, Baekhyun actually did care about your perception of him. It seemed he might even be trying to get on your good side now.

“Are you really that bored all the time? That you have to bother me?”

“Come on y/n don’t lie I know you don’t actually hate being around me. If you did, you wouldn't have sat down earlier or offered me the wine last night.”

You really shouldn’t have offered him that wine.

He was right, but why? You didn’t even fully understand it yourself. Now that he stopped with the messes the most obnoxious part of having him as a roommate was gone. Without that to piss you off, you actually did like talking to him. He was stupid and ridiculous to you most of the time but it was still amusing.

“You’re a lot more tolerable when you aren’t filling our home with garbage.”

He smiled even wider. “Well I can’t promise that it’ll never happen again but I’ll try my best to keep it at a minimum if it really bothers you that much.”

You sighed. “You know I’m glad you’ve decided to be a little less terrible, but that doesn’t mean I want to be your friend either.”

That infuriating little pout made its way back to his stupid pretty face.

“Well, then can I make it up to you somehow?”

Why was he doing this? You never thought he cared about any of this. It made no sense to you that he was suddenly now feeling the need to be considerate after being anything but for months already.

“I don’t know… why do you even care?”

“Well if you think of anything let me know and I’ll do my best. We live together and I’d really rather not have any hard feelings between us. It makes it weird.”

Truth be told, Baekhyun really didn’t want to upset you. He thought it was cute and entertaining to mess with you but he thought it was all in good fun and that none of it was that serious. He also just liked having you around. Yes you cleaned, but he also thought you’d made the place look really nice, it always smelled good, and just having another person around was nice, especially when it was a pretty girl.

Occasionally Baekhyun entertained the thought of trying something with you, but he was still cautious since you were roommates and sex could easily complicate things. He noticed when you wouldn’t wear a bra, or walked around with a big T shirt on, thinking that he wouldn’t be able to tell that you only had underwear on underneath. You liked to be comfortable in your home and never thought twice about what you wore around him, and he knew that, but he still couldn’t help letting his eyes linger a little longer than they should. He found it surprising that you’d never seemed to notice.

But you had noticed. You just tried your best to ignore it and tell yourself that it didn’t matter.

You noticed it then too, when his eyes slowly drifted down from yours to your chest when he was done speaking. You never wore a bra to sleep, and you hadn’t bothered putting one on yet this morning. The shirt you wore was quite thin and a little fitted and you knew it left very little to the imagination.

“I’ll get back to you.” You said, and his eyes shot back up to yours. You almost scoffed, catching yourself just in time.

You knew how he looked at you at times, and more than anything it just made your blood boil. Doing anything like that with him was a monumentally terrible idea. It had stressed you out enough when he’d made that comment about showing you what good sex was like, you weren’t sure how much more you could take. Especially since you knew he wasn’t actually serious at all. He knew he was a very attractive person and he was just using that as another way to fuck with your head to boost his ego.

But god did it work. You wished you were immune but that just wasn’t possible. It was infuriating because as much as you disliked him and tried to avoid him there was still a part of you that was drawn to him. You hated to admit it, and you’d refused to in the past, but now that he was being nicer to you, you definitely had a thing for him. Even if it was mostly physical, there were aspects of his personality that you did actually like. Sure he was usually trying to do or say something that would piss you off but you had to admit that he was whitty and oftentimes it was pretty funny too. You could see how he so easily got girls to come home with him every weekend. Not only was he gorgeous he could be incredibly charming as well.

After finishing your pancakes you retreated back to your room, where you stayed. You really didn’t want to have to face him again, you’d had more than enough of him for the day.

That evening you felt yourself becoming uneasy as you watched dark storm clouds slowly moving closer through your window. According to your weather app it would be the first big storm of the season, and you felt the dread building within you as the sun began to set. You hated storms, and although you liked this apartment a lot, it was in an older building and it didn’t always feel the most secure when the weather would act up.

It was well after dark when the rain started and soon you were hiding under your blankets, blasting music through your headphones to try and drown out the sound of the rain and thunder. Unfortunately you could still hear most of it, and worst of all, you could hear the building creaking as the wind blew.

You were still just trying to tune it all out and distract yourself when you felt a wet spot in your bed, and realized you felt something dripping. Using your cell flashlight you looked for the source, soon spotting the wet area on the ceiling over where you slept.

Of course there had to be a leak, and of course it had to be right over where you slept. You dragged yourself out of bed, placing a bowl under the leak and dragging your stuff with you to sleep in the living room.

You tried making yourself comfortable on the couch, but you knew this was a couch for sitting, not laying down. You had a long night ahead of you, not to mention the thunder and lightning outside that made you jump every time there was a loud unexpected boom. You were still trying to find some decently comfortable way to sleep when you heard Baekhyun’s door open.

“What are you doing?” You heard him ask, peeking up from where you had buried yourself in your blanket.

“There’s a leak in my room, my bed got all wet.”

You tried to stay composed as you said it but when a loud clap of thunder caught you off guard you jumped, letting out a small wince. Baekhyun gave you an odd look.

“So you’re sleeping out here? You know that couch sucks to sleep on.”

You were about to answer when another loud boom had you screaming and hiding under your blanket. You stayed under the covers, still shaking slightly until a hand moved them off of you and you looked to see your roommate gazing down at you.

“Y/n, are you scared of thunderstorms?”

You weren’t about to play along if he was planning on making fun of you right now. You were too stressed out.

“Shut up, you’re just gonna make fun of me.” You whined, covering your face with the blanket again.

You heard a long sigh and before you had time to react you were being scooped up off the couch, and Baekhyun was carrying you through the living room towards his bedroom.

“What the hell are you- put me down!” You tried to protest, but it was no use.

“You can sleep in my bed tonight, there’s enough space for both of us.”

Not giving up so quickly you kept trying to get out of his hold, and his eyes met yours, faces now only centimeters apart.

“Would you really rather be on the hard couch all night, freaking out over every little clap of thunder or do you want to be comfortable?”

He raised his eyebrows, daring you to say something back but you didn’t. You just pouted and let him take you to his room.

You knew that his king sized mattress would be big enough for both of you, but sleeping next to him still felt wrong. You were already feeling uncomfortably warm just from him picking you up and holding you like that.

He set you down on one end of his bed and climbed in next to you, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Why are you doing this?”

He turned to look at you. “Midterms are starting, you’re always stressing about your grades so you should make sure to get enough sleep.”

He said it as if that too was completely normal. Like he actually cared. He turned away again to turn off the light and you both tried to get comfortable on your respective ends of the beds.

Knowing he was just right next to you still felt very strange. However before you were able to dwell on it any longer another loud boom had you jumping and shaking in fear, pulling the blankets up over yourself. You heard Baekhyun laughing.

“Don’t make fun of me! I can’t help it.”

He was still just laughing and you were trying to ignore him and get comfortable again but another loud clap of thunder had you tensing up, letting out a scared whine.

“Yahh, are you really that scared? It’s just a little thunder.”

He sounded less amused now but you still didn’t like how he was teasing you about it.

“Yeah, I am scared. I really hate storms.” You said from beneath his blankets, voice shaky.

You were becoming more and more frustrated and the seconds ticked by, waiting for the next annoying comment from him or loud bang of thunder still coming from outside. As much as you tried to prepare yourself for it, you still got scared every single time, and the storm only seemed to be getting worse.

Baekhyun watched through the dim light of his room as you hid under the covers, gasping and shaking every time there was a loud noise or flash of light through the windows.

He frowned at how terrified you still seemed. Did you really always get this scared when it stormed? It seemed a little ridiculous but if you were actually that distraught, he wanted to somehow help. He just wasn’t sure what to do as you continued to hide, wanting nothing more at this point than for this storm to be over.

There was a bright flash right outside his window, followed almost immediately with a sharp, ear shattering boom, and you lost it completely. There were no thoughts in your mind other than how badly you needed to get away from this storm. You were so scared that you hadn’t even realized how much you’d jumped, and that Baekhyun had pulled you in, letting you hold onto him for comfort.

You hated this. This wasn’t like you. You weren’t usually some damsel in distress and it pained you that you were acting like this, but you didn’t stop yourself either. In fact when you felt Baekhyun’s arms wrapping around you, you only held onto him tighter and he was moving and you felt something wrapping around your head. It was a pillow, and Baekhyun made sure to cover both of your ears with the thick memory foam while still holding you close. He made sure you couldn’t hear and couldn’t see the storm, hoping that you would finally be able to calm down and go to sleep.

And it actually worked pretty well. The sounds were now muffled and you couldn’t see the flashes of lightning when your face was buried in his chest, surrounded by the pillow and blanket. He had you all curled up, close and protected and after a couple minutes, you finally felt yourself relaxing.

Baekhyun didn’t move, keeping you snugly in his arms until the storm passed. When he was sure there wouldn’t be any more thunder and only the soft sound of the rain remained, he let go of you and the pillow.

“The worst of it’s over, try to get some sleep.” He whispered before turning, laying down with his back to you as he dozed off. You too were exhausted, and the comforting smell of him on his sheets had you slowly drifting off. His bed felt so warm and cozy.

Part 2

#baekhyun x reader #baekhyun fic #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun smut #exo fanfic #exo fic #exo #baekhyun #exo baekhyun #baekhyun au

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musings-of-a-rose · 1 year

Text

I'll Always Wait For You - Chapter 17

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Word Count: 4200+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: Holy shit, y’all. Unless something goes completely bananas, this is the penultimate chapter of this fic. I can’t believe it!

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

I'll Always Wait For You Masterlist

Frankie Morales Masterlist

<;<Chapter 16

Settling back into a normal routine after being gone for 8 months, and after having been through so much heartache and out the other side, was proving more difficult than you’d thought. While Frankie confessed everything, and you forgave him, you also wanted to have some space and ease back into things. Luckily, you were able to rent out an apartment about an hour down the road from Frankie.

Frankie continued to be slightly nervous around you, as if he didn’t know how to behave. It took him a week before he tentatively asked you to dinner, your “yes” earning you a brilliant smile in return. He didn’t settle into himself until well after dinner, walking you to your door, making light small talk until you turned to him, your hands gripping his shirt as you pulled him to you, your lips crashing together. You barely got the door closed behind you before clothes started to fly, Frankie chasing you down the hall as you laughed, pressing you into the bed as your bodies melded together until well into the morning.

3 months later, you’re at Frankie’s house, just the two of you celebrating a year of him being clean. You’d cooked him his favorite meal, settling into the couch to watch a movie after. He wanted to keep things low key and spend time with just you - he said the boys can wait. He pulls you to him and nuzzles into your hair, holding you as close as he can during the entire movie. But once it ends, you glance at the clock and sigh.

“It’s getting late, Frankie.”

“I don’t care.”

“Yeah, but I have an hour drive ahead of me.”

He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. “That sounds terrible.”

A small whine escapes you as his lips continue to pepper small, light kisses on your skin. “It really sucks.”

Suddenly, the kisses stop, his lips pressed against your ear. “Then move in with me.”

“Wh-what?”

He pulls your earlobe inbetween his teeth, lightly nipping at you before pulling back, making sure you’re looking at him before he repeats himself.

“Move in with me.”

“You…you want to live together?”

“That’s typically what happens when you move in with someone.”

Are you ready for this? Ready to make that leap? His eyes are wide as he watches you think, and you know he’d support whatever choice you made.

“I’ll need some closet space.”

A smile quickly spreads across his face. “You can have the whole damn closet, Hermosa!”

Pushing him to sit up, you throw your leg over his lap, your fingers winding into the curls at the back of his neck. You pull his head back, looking down into his eyes, finding yourself falling in love with him all over again.

“I love you, Francisco Morales.”

Frankie confesses his love before pulling you to him, his lips gently brushing against yours, his breath catching when he realizes you’re grinding on him, He grips your hips, guiding you as you ride him, his stomach providing the perfect pressure against your clit as he quickly brings you to the edge, his name falling from your lips as you come. Before you’ve finished coming down, he’s pressed your back into the couch, quickly shoving his own pants down just enough to spring free before pushing your panties aside and thrusting in, hooking his arms under your legs as he fucks you into the couch, your fingernails digging little crescents into his skin as you writhe under him. When he comes, he pants out your name, pressing his forehead to yours, breathing heavily. He pulls out with a hiss, cleaning both of you up before kissing you again.

“Can you move in tomorrow?”

—----

You spend the next morning packing. It doesn’t take you more than a few hours, as you hadn’t really unpacked everything from storage when you got back. The place you were renting was supposed to be temporary until you found something closer to everyone, so you hadn’t seen the point in pulling everything out only to put it back within a few months. Frankie loaded up his truck and your car, leaving for his house, no wait, your house, at your insistence as you finished cleaning the apartment. Once satisfied, you took pictures and turned in your keys, smiling as you got into your car and drove to the house you were going to make a home with Frankie.

But when you pulled up to the house, a very familiar car sat alongside his truck. Parking behind Frankie, you get out and walk towards the house, voices already raised and loud enough for you to hear some words, getting clearer as you approach the door.

“...only need to talk about Aurelia.”

“But Frank, we used to be so good together-”

“Oh come on, Liz! We were terrible together!”

“Not always! Aurelia is proof of that!”

“I love our daughter with all my heart, but that doesn’t mean we were good together.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining that ni-”

“You fucking divorced me while I was in a coma, Liz. Who the fuck does that?”

“Well, I-I didn’t know if you’d ever wake up! I had to take care of Aurelia!”

Frankie scoffs. “You left her with Hermosa all the time!”

“I was trying to secure a future without you in it!”

“That’s sort of my point, Liz.”

“Let’s…let’s just take a step back. I love you, Frank. I don’t want to lose you. I see now how wonderful of a father you are and a great hus-”

Frankie’s voice is low, but strong. Authoritative. And you wonder if this is the voice he used when in command.

“Liz…we are over. I don’t want to talk to you or see you outside of anything to do with Aurelia. Only contact me through the Talking Parents app unless it’s an emergency.”

A few moments pass before she speaks. “But, Frank, I-”

“You pushed me on drugs, Elizabeth. Told me I was a fucking miserable person without them. Told me I was better on them. You’re the reason I got back on them. You and fucking Rick. And don’t get me started on how you treated my friends, especially Hermosa.”

“Oh that bitch was always getting in the way.”

“Get the fuck out of my house.” There’s that commanding tone, but this time it has an edge and it sends chills down your spine.

“What-”

“Get…the fuck…out of…our house.”

“Our house? She’s living here?”

“Get. Out.”

Frankie’s heavy footsteps echo across the wood floor and the door flies open just as you raise your fist to knock.

“Oh. I…I didn’t know you were here.”

“I just got here. But I can come back?”

Frankie shakes his head, pulling you inside. “No. Elizabeth was just leaving.”

You finally look at her and see a look of utter defeat on her face. She looks between you for a moment and then nods, pulling her keys from her pocket as she walks past you.

“Talking Parents unless it’s an emergency, Elizabeth.”

“I’ll be by on Thursday to drop off Aurelia.”

“Wait.”

She turns to look at him, a small glimmer of hope in her eyes.

“I’m filing for supervised drops offs. Meet me at the fire station on 12th.”

That glimmer of hope sizzles out and he closes the door in her face, pausing to listen for her fading footsteps as she gets in her car and drives off. His shoulders slump and he lets out a puff of air. You walk to him and pull him to you, his arms wrapping around you as he sighs.

“How much did you hear?”

“I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop.”

He chuckles sadly. “So most of it?”

“You guys were really loud.”

He chuckles again. “Well….at least that’s over with.”

You pull back and look at him. “Are you ok?”

He takes a breath and nods. “I am. Actually, I feel fucking great. I’ve set it up to where I never have to be around her without someone else, she can only talk to me through that co-parenting app, and the best part? My girl is finally moving in!”

He takes your hand and pulls you down the hall to his bedroom, but he doesn’t lead you to the bed. Instead, he opens his closet door and gestures for you to look. He had cleaned out half of the closet and left space for you to put in a dresser.

“I did clean out a drawer for you, but I figured you’d want your own space.”

Your eyes fill with tears as you turn to him, placing your hands on either side of his face. “This is perfect, Frankie. Thank you.”

You pull him to you, his lips pressing against yours before sliding his tongue inside your mouth. He guides you to his bed and spends the night between your legs, both of you celebrating finally being together in the same home.

—----

“ ‘bout time you moved her in, Fish!” Benny slaps Frankie on the back as he walks past him, a case of beer in his opposite hand.

Frankie nods, a smile on his face. “I wish it had happened years ago, but…” He shrugs and Benny smiles at him.

“I was rootin’ for you the whole time.”

“I know you were.”

Frankie follows Benny into the backyard where everyone had started setting up for a moving in BBQ. Stacy and Will’s kids were running around the yard with Aurelia, who had been dropped off earlier in the day. When she found out you were now living with her dad, she screamed and jumped into your embrace, her tiny arms winding around your neck.

Everyone says some version of “about time” to you before relaxing, Frankie manning the grill as Will stands next to him, saying he’s “supervising”. Benny was being pulled around by the kids, eventually being used as a literal jungle gym, the kids screaming with laughter as Benny would grab them and toss them in the air. His girlfriend, Olivia, watched him with love in her eyes and you could see the possibility of a future of them together. Benny was like the brother you never had and it made you smile to know that someone was taking care of him. The party lasted well into the night until the kids all fell asleep in their dad’s laps, Frankie calling it when Aurelia’s puddle of drool on his shoulder got to be too much.

You wake the next morning to Frankie’s hands on you, one hand lightly clapped over your mouth to keep you quiet as he rubs small circles on your clit, feeling your body shudder with your release. You feel him hard against your ass and you push your hips back, Frankie grunting as he quickly pushes inside of you, that hand still clapped over your mouth. He slowly thrusts in and out, nipping at your exposed skin on your shoulder as his fingers dig into your hip. His pacing becomes more erratic the deeper he thrusts until he’s panting in your ear, biting on your shoulder as he comes with you. When he’s done, he turns your head and kisses you before pulling out, holding you when you turn to face him, burying your face in his chest.

“Good morning, Hermosa.”

“Good morning, indeed.”

“Is the door locked?”

Frankie lifts his head to look at the handle. “Yeah, why?”

You push at his shoulder, getting him to lay on his back as you straddle his hips, rubbing yourself along his quickly hardening cock, spearing yourself on him and quielty riding him until he comes, his nails leaving crescents marks in the skin on your hips.

“Fuck, I love you so much, Hermosa.”

His hands find your boobs and he squeezes them, listening to your moan. “I love you Frankie.”

Before anything else can happen, a small series of pounds sounds across the bedroom door.

“Papa? I’m hungry!”

You both chuckle and Frankie grunts, gripping your hips to get you to stop laughing, trying to push you off his overstimulated cock. “I’ll be right there, mija.”

About 20 minutes later, you make your way downstairs, listening to Frankie and Aurelia sing in the kitchen and round the corner to see them dancing together, her little feet on top of his as they turn about the room, a plate of cooling bacon and pancakes on the table.

“Mosa!” Aurelia makes a grabby hand to you and you walk over, one of her little feet moving to stand on yours as she uses both you and Frankie to dance.

When you look up at Frankie, a large smile on your face, his eyes find yours, big and brown, love radiating off of him.

This is perfect.

—----

“Ok, this is so fucking cool!”

A few months after you moved in, Frankie asked to finally take you flying. You were thrilled to finally get to share this little part of him and to see why he loved it so much. So you swallowed back any fear, trusting Frankie completely.

“No wonder you love your job!”

Frankie’s laugh crackles in the headset. “I love it up here.”

“It’s…freeing? Almost? If that makes sense.”

“Yeah. It does.”

About 15 minutes later, Frankie touches down in a random field in the middle of nowhere, obviously having been here before. He turns off the helicopter and motions for you to wait a minute. You watch him grab a giant basket out of the back and walk over to a spot under some trees, spreading out a blanket and setting up a small picnic lunch. He comes back over to you a few minutes later and offers you his hand, helping you down from the chopper. He takes your hand in his large one, gently pulling you towards the spot he had just set up.

“Oh Frankie! This looks amazing!”

He had packed delicious looking sandwiches, fresh fruit and juice, and some of his homemade potato chips. You both sat, Frankie divvying up food and handing you a plate. As you ate you looked around at the field, wildflowers growing amongst the tall grass, trees surrounding the edges of the area, which was just large enough for the helicopter to land without chopping down any trees. The wind gently moves the trees, a familiar whoosh sound as it winds through leaves and needles.

“It’s beautiful, Frankie. How did you find this place?”

Frankie takes a sip of lemonade before answering. “By accident, actually. I turned the wrong way at a road and ended up seeing this small clearing. I set down so I could focus on the map and realized how pretty it is.”

“I bet this is where you bring all the ladies.”

He smiles, his eyes pulling you in with their warmth. “Only you.”

You smile back, reaching your hand out to cup his cheek, scratching at his patchy facial hair. “I’m honored.”

Frankie leans forward, pressing his lips to yours before pulling back quickly. “I brought my cake.”

Your eyes grow wide and you gasp. “My favorite cake?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Why didn’t bring that out first?”

You make grabby hands as Frankie takes out a small cake holder from the basket, opening the lids and putting a pre-cut piece of cake on a plate for you. You jab a fork in it, quickly shoving the delicious dessert in your mouth, moaning slightly when you start to chew.

“Fuck, Frankie. If you didn’t love flying so much, I’d suggest being a chef.”

He chuckles. “I like cooking, but it’s not where my heart is.”

You study him for a moment. “And where is your heart, Frankie?”

“With you.”

“No, I meant career-wise. You look like you’re thinking about something.”

He’s silent for several moments. “It’s…it’s nothing.”

You set your plate down, half a piece of cake still left on it. “Frankie, it’s not nothing. Tell me. Please?”

He looks at you and caves instantly. “Alright, but promise you won’t laugh?”

“Of course I won’t.”

“Well…I had this idea. To open my own chopper business.”

“Oh Frankie! That would be so cool!”

He smiles, the dimple on his cheek deepening as his smile grows wider. “Yeah! But it would also be Veteran owned, by me, and operated. I’d only hire Veterans. It’s hard enough finding jobs when you get out, but one that will allow you to keep flying? I know how hard those are to come by. Also, I need to check into if I can get some decommissioned birds. Maybe have a “fly with a Vet in a real, legit blackhawk” or something. I think people might like that?”

You take his hand in yours, squeezing it. “Frankie, this is an amazing idea! Have you looked into it?”

His smile falters slightly. “Yeah a little. The cost is what’s stopping me.”

“Why don’t you look for investors?”

“Who would want to invest in this?”

“I would.”

He looks at you. “I can’t take your money.”

“You most certainly can.”

“No, Hermosa. It’s too much.”

“I can’t give you all the money, but I’d like to help.”

“No money.”

“But-”

“You can help by being supportive. And maybe helping with paperwork?” He puts on a puppy eye look and you laugh.

“You know I can’t say no to that face.”

“Good. That makes this easier.”

Frankie shifts in front of you, taking your hands in his, his eyes finding yours.

“Ever since the day we met, when you punched that guy in the face for calling me a spic, someone you don’t even know, I knew I wanted you in my life. I should’ve told you then, or anytime before shipping out, but I was…afraid. I didn’t want to risk you not feeling the same. And then we kissed and that should’ve been it. You had me entirely the moment our lips touched. And yeah, we got lost from each other along the way, but…well, I guess almost dying brought you back to me. And we’ve been through so much, and I know I hurt you, but, Hermosa..I want to spend the rest of my life making sure you’re happy. I want to wake up every day next to you, have kids with you, grow old with you. You have me, heart and soul, and I love you so fucking much. Hermosa…will you marry me?”

Frankie pulls out a small, wooden box. When he opens it, you see a vintage ring, ornate with a large ruby in the middle, filigree designs weaving their way around the band. You recognize the ring almost instantly, as you had seen Frankie’s abuela wear it in her photos and you remember mentioning to Frankie how beautiful it was.

“I..Frankie..of course I will!”

He lets out a laugh of air, putting the ring on your outstretched hand before pulling you to him, kissing you deeply. Both of your cheeks are wet, tears streaming down them as you lean back, letting Frankie guide you to lay down on the blanket. A slight grunt of pain from him has you pushing him back up, shaking your head at the apology on his lips.

“I know you’re done with the cane, Frankie, but please, let’s not push it? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

He nods once, the smile quickly coming back as he watches you stare at your hand.

“Is this your abuela’s ring?”

He nods. “I uh…I actually asked my mom if I could have it the day we kissed.”

“After the hospital?”

A blush creeps up his cheeks and when he doesn’t answer, you tear your eyes away from the ring to look at him.

“Frankie?”

“Not…not after the hospital.”

“Oh. Then..when?”

“After…after our first kiss.”

“Our first…Frankie, that was well over a decade ago…”

“I…I knew that, or well I hoped that one day I would marry you. And I wanted to make sure I had my abuela’s ring to give to you.”

“But…but you married Elizabeth?”

“I never gave her this ring. It was never hers.”

“You mean…you held onto it…the whole time?”

“Well, I had my mom hold it for a bit, when I was afraid Elizabeth would find it and pawn it.”

“But…but you’ve had it the entire time?”

“Well, yeah. I told you, you’ve always had me.”

“Oh, Frankie!”

You push him back, quickly straddling his hips as you kiss him, your fingers trying to grip any part of his face you can reach. His hands settle on your hips before pushing you back slightly.

“I thought you said no sex?”

You take off your shirt and toss it on the blanket. “No, I said I don’t want you hurting yourself with your bad legs and hip. I never said anything about me fucking you into this field.”

—----

You hop in Frankie’s truck after he turned in the chopper, tossing the basket in the truck bed before hopping in himself. He turns on the truck and drives out, lacing your hand with his and bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to your hand.

“So, you have a particular date in mind for the wedding, Frankie?”

“I’d marry you right now.”

“Ok. Then let’s go to the courthouse.”

He chuckles, but when he doesn’t hear you responding, his eyes snap to you.

“Seriously?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

He checks the mirror before cutting across several lanes of traffic. A few minutes later, you find yourselves in front of the courthouse, both of you smiling and giggling.

“Are we…are we really going to do this, Hermosa?”

“Only if you want to.”

“You don’t want some large wedding?”

“Nah. We can always have a small ceremony in the backyard? Just the boys and such, and our parents. I don’t need something huge and elaborate.”

“You don’t?”

“I just want to be with you. Nothing more.”

He pulls you to him and kisses you for a moment before pulling back.

“We’re going to need a witness, I think.”

30 minutes later, you meet Benny and Olivia out front of the courthouse, his smile large and bright as he pulls you to him, hugging you so tight that you have to tap his arm to let you go.

“My baby girl is growing up.”

“I’m the same age as you, Benjamin.”

Benny sticks his tongue out at you. “So…we doin’ this?”

“Benny!” Olivia smacks his arm.

“Ouch! What?”

“They’re getting married. Have some class.”

They smile at each other as Benny offers his arm to her, leading her inside along with you and Frankie. You sign the log book and wait until your name is called, Olivia heading inside to wait in the pews. Benny pushes Frankie inside and turns to you when the doors close.

“Last chance to run, ‘Mosa.”

You roll your eyes but pull him to you, giving him a tight hug.

“Love you, Benny.”

He kisses the top of your head. “Love you too.”

Benny leans over to the flowers on the receptionists desk and plucks out a flower, earning himself a glare from the flower’s owner. He gives her a wink and she settles, Benny turning to offer you his arm.

“Let’s get you hitched.”

3 minutes later, you’re kissing Frankie, sealing your vows as Benny and Olivia whoop and clap in the background. Frankie takes your hand and leads you back down the isle, pushing open the doors before spinning you and pulling you in for another kiss.

“Alright, alright. Settle down. This is a place of law,” Benny teases as he comes up behind you.

“Are you going to have a party?” Olivia asks.

“We were thinking of doing a small ceremony and reception in the backyard at our house. Just the family and our parents. Nothing too big. Maybe a few weeks from now?”

Olivia claps her hands. “Oh that sounds wonderful! Can I do your hair?”

“Um yes please!”

The four of you exchange ideas for the small backyard ceremony, and by the time you make it home, you’ve already got a solid plan. A few weeks from then, you’ll have your little backyard wedding you’ve always wanted, complete with the man of your dreams.

“I can’t believe I left the house this morning with one name, and now I’m coming back on the same day, except now I’m Mrs. Morales.”

“Fuck!”

Frankie flings the door open, swooping you off your feet to carry you over the threshold, kicking the door closed with his foot as he carries you to the bedroom, where you spend the rest of the night tangled up in each other. The first night as The Morales’s.

—----

A couple weeks later, you and Frankie stop at this grocery store across town, the only place that has the mini appetizers you were looking for for the wedding. While there, you grabbed several other things that were on your "must" list, giggling and smiling at each other, placing not so secret kisses to each others lips as you made your way through the aisles.

"Could you not?"

A familiar voice snaps you and Frankie apart, having started making out in front of the crackers.

"Elizabeth…what are you doing here?" Frankie asks, trying to keep a level voice.

"Buying groceries."

Frankie nods, looking around. "Where's Aurelia?"

"At a friend's house for a play date."

"Sounds like fun."

Elizabeth nods to your cart. "Having a play date of your own, I see?"

Ugh this bitch.

"A grown up play date." You place your hand with the ring on Frankie's chest, pointedly looking at Elizabeth. You were so sick of her shit that you wanted to make sure she knew that you and Frankie were moving forward.

Her eyes land on the ring and go wide for a moment. A fleeting expression of anger and jealousy crosses her face before she schools it, fixing a fake look of forced happy on her face.

"How…wonderful for you both," she says through gritted teeth.

Before you can reply, she spins on her heel and storms off, leaving her cart of groceries in the aisle.

"That might be a problem later " Frankie says, worry laced in his voice.

You chuckle and he looks at you. "I'm so sick of her shit, Frankie. If she wants to do something, I say bring it. We can face whatever it is together."

>>Chapter 18>>

—----

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers-blog @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed @ladykatakuri @marrianena @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics

#frankie catfish morales #santiago garcia #frankie morales #santiago garcia x you #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #pedro pascal #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character ff #pedro pascal character fanfiction #frankie morales x f!reader #francisco catfish morales

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letomills · 10 months

Text

Download all: SFS / Mega

Eight sets of swimwear and undies (one also as PJs) for @brattylulu's MartaXL edit body shape. All are on the same mesh with fat and preg morphs. As usual you'll have to choose if you want blockfeet or sexyfeet, or I included a third option, Marvine feet & smooth hands, for a reason that I go into at the bottom of this post. The recolors are BSOK'd.

Details, credits full swatches below the cut.

Not everything on this post is enabled for elders. That's because some of these outfits would look a bit weird with the saggy boob texture that EF gets with regular skins. If you use my MartaXL showerproof skins however, your MartaXL elders will have the AF skin texture (because that's what works with the nude mesh). In that case, you can enable everything from this post for elders if you wish to and it won't look weird.

1. Basic Swimsuit

For adults & elders, categorized as swimwear. Textures are my recolors of one of the Maxis swimsuits.

2. Hrekkjavaka Swimsuits

For adults & elders, swimwear. Textures by Hrekkjavaka astarkort on MTS.

3. Kishmaash Bikinis

For adults only, swimwear. Textures by kishma_ash on MTS.

4. Rented-space 4t2 tie bikini

For adults only, swimwear. Textures are @mrs-mquve-cc's recolors of @rented-space's 3t2 tie bikini.

5. HystericalParoxysm Fanseefem undies

For adults only, underwear. Textures taken from HystericalParoxysm's Fanseefem undies.

6. Lacy undies

For adults & elders, underwear. Bra textures taken from the undies on this post by @withlovefromsimtown. Panties textures found on Parsimonious (all by Salix Tree).

7. Bruno Unmentionables

For adults & elders, underwear. Textures by Bruno on MTS.

8. Needlecream Patterned T-Shirt Briefs

For adults & elders. You'll have to choose if you want them categorized as underwear & sleepwear or as sleepwear only. Textures by Needlecream.

All recolors are on a single mesh that comes in 3 versions (choose one). Polycount will vary depending on which you choose: Blockfeet + Maxis hands: 1,948 Marvine feet + smooth hands: 4,064 Sexyfeet + Maxis hands: 6,530

This mesh is actually on the same file as the mesh that @pooklet & @skulldilocks made for the pjs, undies & swimwear that they shared here. The reasoning is that it's the same mesh (Brattylulu's nude mesh) but with added morphs (the morphs that I made for the MartaXL showerproof skins), more feet/hands options, and improved texture mapping (ankle seam with Marvine feet has been fixed, chest mapping tweaked to minimize excessive texture stretching on graphic tops).

This means that this mesh also works with all the wonderful PJs, undies & swimsuits from this post! Just replace the mesh from over there with one from here and you're good to go.

(↑ Here featuring Pooklet&Azaya's textures on the sexyfeet + Maxis hands mesh.)

And yeah the reason I exceptionally made a Marvine feet + smooth hands version of the mesh is because Pooklet & Azaya's mesh has Marvine feet and smooth hands.

#sims 2 #download #body shapes #MartaXL #clothing:swimwear #clothing:underwear #clothing:sleepwear #sims 2 cc #sims 2 download #ts2cc #s2cc

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erina-writes-headcanons · 7 months

Text

Neeraja Patel (India), Gupta Muhammad Hassan (Egypt), Wibawa Prayogo (Indonesia) Crushing Headcannons

➽───────────────❥➽───────────────❥

A/N: Hey @reeces-pieses! Thank you so much for the request and I hope you do not mind that I added Indonesia as well as Egypt for this headcannon. This is for relationship headcannons and soon after this would be done. I would make a Crushing headcanon!

Gender: Neutral Warning: None

➽───────────────❥➽───────────────❥

Neeraja Patel - India

Pretty much obvious when he had crush and sometimes have a hard time he tries to hide it away from you because he is naturally an expressive type of person

If you are his classmate, sometimes he leaves some Indian sweets on your table but if you don't like sweets, he could make savoury snacks for you

A little bit more talkative than usual when he is around you as he unconsciously tells you the things he really likes, maybe about his club activity or other things.

A little bit handsy but he would still respect your personal space. He would most likely hold your hand if you let him as he thinks that you have nice warm hands.

Also, he would listen to all of your rent even though he does not understand the, and if you ask him his own opinion. He would try his best to give the answer that you wish to hear.

A little bit easily jealous when he sees there are other guys trying to talk to you but he won't show it because he would still put his charming smile around you and that person.

Also, he would try to make you laugh with some of his Indian jokes despite sometimes it does sound stupid or the joke was too dry that you don't understand the joke at all.

He always wants to be around you and think about you, can be a little bit clingy as he also tries to hog all of your attention but if you need some space. he would respect that and leave you alone.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

A slender man with dark brown skin sat at the back of the classroom, engrossed in a conversation with another student who had dark spiky brown hair, and brown eyes, and wearing a pair of rimmed rectangular glasses. In his classmate's hands, he was holding a tiny creature that could grow into a giant if it grew older and it was obviously an elephant's calf.

As they talked, Neraja noticed a hint of distraction in Thailand's, he seemed to be listening to him, but his gaze kept shifting towards the door. It didn't take long for India to figure out the reason. His crush, (Y/N) (L/N) the country of (C/N) was about to enter the classroom and he could feel his heart beating.

(Y/N) (L/N) has a beautiful (H/C) hair colour with (H/L) hair length. As they/she/he has a mesmerizing (E/C) eye colour that could steal everyone's heart. As you walked into the room, the entire class seemed to brighten in his eyes. It was as if there was only you in his eyes and the other person had disappeared.

His friend Thailand who was quite perceptive, noticed a beautifully wrapped box on their desk, which had gone unnoticed by you so far. Without missing a beat, the glasses guy decided to give Neraja a little nudge. "Hey, India, you should probably show (Y/N) the box on your table. It might catch their attention," Thailand points out. "I'm sorry but no. I'm sure (Y/N) is going to notice it sooner," Neraja smiled at his friend.

As the class progressed, Neraja nervously stole glances at (Y/N), hoping you would glance in his direction and notice the mysterious gift on your desk. Would you notice the box? Would you figure out that it was from him? Minutes turned into hours, and the anticipation weighed heavily on him.

Just when it seemed like all hope was lost, (Y/N)'s eyes flickered to the small box on her/his/their desk. You hesitated for a moment, a puzzled expression crossing your face. With a soft smile, (Y/N) picked up the box and began to unwrap it. India held his breath as (Y/N) revealed the contents.

Inside it is a handmade spiral sweet that seems to be some kind of fried dough that was coated with corn syrup. It is one of the most popular delicacies in his country. (Y/N)'s eyes widened in surprise, and a warm blush crept across your cheeks as you realized someone had just given you a sweet.

She/he/they couldn't help but smile at the obvious handmade Jalebi that is inside of the small lunch box as the smell of the sweet is mouthwatering. As Neraja looked up and saw the person with (H/C) hair colour. His heart skipped a beat, his crush was walking up to him and she/he/they was smiling!

The prince-like Indian guy swallowed nervously, trying to muster the courage to speak to his crush as he tried to make himself look natural with his friendly smile despite the reddening cheeks giving it away. "Namaste (Y/N), is there anything you need?" if he had a tail, it would be already wagging excitedly. "Thanks for the Jalebi, Neraja. It's really sweet of you that you gave me this," (Y/N) said.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

Gupta Muhammad Hassan - Egypt

He is a mix of obvious and can hide his crushing on you, he's a man who doesn't talk a lot as he doesn't express his emotion a lot. Although, his cheeks would be slightly tinted pink when he is around you.

The reason I said he's not as obvious as India is because each time you almost caught him staring at you. His eyes were already cast away and seeing other things even though you felt someone was staring at you.

Even with you, he could still be brutally honest and speak just a few words as he acts like he doesn't want to speak with you at all so it seems that he hates your gut.

However, all of those are just a facade to hide his real emotion because he is actually EMBARRASSED to talk with you and he does not know how to start a conversation.

When he is staring at you, you could mistaken him that he hates you because of his blank looks but if you notice the lights in his eyes. He's actually starstruck with your beauty.

Also, Gupta is also the type that would also help you when there is a chance where he could get close to you as he would stay close to you and glare at those who are trying to approach you when he is there.

Actually, he would also listen to you when you vent and he is a much better listener than India because he doesn't get distracted as easily as India and he could give a better answer for you.

If you hold his hands, he would have a much funnier reaction because he would immediately freeze as he is trying to process what just happened but instead of getting annoyed. He would just let you hold his hands,

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

A guy with a white cover on his head found himself once again in the heart of the United Nations, a place where the hopes of the countries could help each other or finish all of the countries' problems through a meeting to talk about how to solve them. He gazed around at the representatives of the many nations, bickering, pointing fingers, and arguing over resources, boundaries, and ideologies.

It seemed as though the world's problems would never find a resolution here. Egypt sighed in annoyance, his patience wearing thin. He had seen countless meetings like this, where representatives of nations played a never-ending game of one-upmanship. Every nation vied for dominance, wanting their voice to be the loudest, and their interests to be the most important.

Just as Gupta was lost in his thoughts, his fullgreen forest eyes caught the sight of a person with (H/C) hair colour with a (H/L) hair length sitting in front of him. They/he/she was seated next to another country's representative, engaged in an animated conversation, and a bright smile adorned their/his/her face.

Gupta's heart skipped a beat as he watched them/him/her, his cheeks beginning to flush a little bit as the picture of his crush noticing him went through his head and he was hoping that maybe just one day you notice him. However, it was not easy to just come up to you and start the conversation.

Gulpta is not a man of word, he is a man of action and if he tries to start the conversation. It is only going to end up with a simple 'Hello' and a 'Goodbye'. The man with the white cover found himself lost for a moment, unaware of how long he had been staring. His resting face often gave the impression of anger, despite his internal feelings being quite the opposite.

The country next to (Y/N) seated beside her/him/them, couldn't help but notice Gupta's intense gaze, and they shivered in fear. The expression on Gupta's face led them to believe that he hates (Y/N)'s gut without any reason. In a hushed whisper, (Y/N)'s concerned friend leaned over to your ear. "(Y/N), what the heck did you do? I see someone staring at you as if you burn his entire place!" they said.

The girl with (H/C) hair colour furrowed her eyebrows, confused by her friend's whispered concern. She turned to see what her friend meant, but by the time she looked, Egypt had already averted his gaze, his attention fixed on a note laid on his table. Confused, you returned your gaze to your friend and shook your head a bit. "What are you talking about? No one is staring at me,"

As Egypt shifted his attention back to the world meeting, he couldn't help but feel a mixture of emotions. On one hand, he sighed in secret relief that (Y/N) hadn't caught him staring at her, he did not want (Y/N) to think of him as a creep. Yet, on the other hand, he couldn't help but hold onto a glimmer of hope that perhaps, one day, (Y/N) would notice him, and they might strike up a conversation.

On the other hand, (Y/N) held a secret wish of your own. They/he/she longed for the day when the guy with a white keffiyeh, would gather the courage to strike up a conversation with you. However, the reality of your life was often consumed by the mountain of paperwork bestowed upon you by your demanding boss.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

❀

Wibawa Prayogo - Indonesia

When he has a crush on you, it's not as obvious as India. In fact, it is much harder to find out that he has a crush on you or if he is just being friendly.

Around you, he could still smile around you and still be comfortable when you are holding his hands or touching him. He would still act like everything is fine despite screaming internally and panicking that his crush just touched him

We can see that Wibawa is an extrovert as he can get along with everyone and female countries could be mistaken for him being friendly as being flirty.

Now the way that you find out that he is actually has a crush on you that he would listen to your deep talk. He's not the type of a person that likes to tell other people about himself so if he is vulnerable around you, he has a crush on you.

Also, he would be much more teasing around you. Not in a mean way but in a cute and compliment way "Lookin' good today, cutie" with a cheeky smile.

And if you have his phone number, he would be always waiting for you to reply to his text messages and sometimes he would text you all night, forgetting that it's already four in the morning.

His words would become softer and his eyes would be brighter. each time he speaks with you. Sometimes, he would slip some hints to you that he has a crush on you and secretly a little bit upset but also relieved if you are dense.

Always wants to be with you constantly and always thinks about you but tries to make it less obvious because he does not want to be seen as a creepy guy.

Ⰶ║ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ║Ⰶ

In the dim light of the classroom, a group of friends had gathered for an evening of laughter. Among them was a guy with jet-black hair and striking golden eyes like the colour of honey. He sat at a table with his friends, who were all joking and sharing stories, creating an atmosphere filled with warmth and joy.

Wibawa couldn't help but let out a hearty laugh at one of his friend's jokes, his golden eyebrows gleaming with amusement. He was thoroughly engaged with the story of how his friend was caught that they were eating while cooking in the back of the classroom but instead of getting punished, the teacher also joined them.

Everyone at the table was having a great time, except for one person. The person has a (H/C) hair colour and a pair of (E/C) eye colours. Their/his/her face was illuminated by the pale glow of their phone screen, which they/he/she were glaring at with a mixture of annoyance and frustration. Their/his/her brows were furrowed, and it was evident that you were preoccupied with something on your phone.

Wibawa, ever perceptive, couldn't help but notice that (Y/N) seemed to be upset or irritated about something. He excused himself from the conversation at the table and made his way over to where (Y/N) sat. With a concerned look on his face, Wibawa gently asked, "Hey, (Y/N), is everything okay? You seem a bit off today."

(Y/N) sighed and looked up from their/his/her phone, meeting Wibawa's warm, caring gaze. "It's just work stuff," they/he/she replied with a tired smile, appreciating his concern. "Don't worry about it, Wibawa," you told him and waved your hand outward, trying to shoo him away. "Well, if you ever want to talk or need a distraction from that screen, I'm here for you," Indonesia pulled up a chair next to (Y/N).

The reason Indonesia was so eager to cheer (Y/N) up was a deeply held secret that he had guarded for some time. In reality, he had a crush on her, a feeling that he had kept hidden behind his friendly and approachable demeanour.

Indonesia, inspired by the warmth of the moment, immediately had an idea. With a friendly smile, he turned to (Y/N) and suggested, "Hey, why don't you come sit next to me? I'd love to introduce you to my friends. They're an amazing bunch, and I think you'd fit right in." His eyes sparkled with excitement.

You were taken slightly by surprise as Indonesia suddenly offered you a place next to him. She accepted the invitation with a shy yet grateful smile. They/he/she stood up from their/his/her chair together with Indonesia and made their way towards the group of friends.

However, just as they were about to join the lively circle, Wibawa did something that took them/his/her aback. The sudden physical touch of his hands holding your smaller/bigger hands ignited a flurry of emotions within (Y/N), and a deep blush crept across your cheeks. It seemed that Wibawa's feelings were more than just a secret crush, and this small gesture spoke volumes about his affections

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74 notes · View notes