#silly season starting early again

[foreverfearlessred]

accurate representation of me finishing up my meeting and seeing a message about Lew:

[shepscapades]

The whole “connecting the whole server with rivers” thing isn’t for nothing :3

Okay I just got like 3 asks about this so apparently I missed something DFBJDFGHKCGHN whose POV is this from? i know false is doing all of the river stuff, is she kinda leading the server plot/trying to do something sinister or is it more of a widespread thing? o.o genuinely curious

[nkogneatho]

— 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐖, 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐊 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐍

—characters: gojo, toji, geto, sukuna, nanami, choso

—cw: lactation ofc, fem!reader, nicknames, aphrodisiac (the milk), intoxication, masturbation, semi-public, dry humping.

—a/n: i have officially surprised myself with how insane i can really be. ya gurl so thirsty she created her own universe where men gib milkies 🧍🏽‍♀️

introduction to the universe:

Evolution took place a little differently in this universe. A mutation caused hormonal presence that triggers monthly lactation in men for 3 to 5 days, and it usually starts in their early 20s. It is studied that it does not serve any purpose of feeding like female lactation, but might be an indicator to arousal, and even a mating call due to accurate findings of natural aphrodisiacs in the milk produced by the thin gland located in a breast. It also pains a lot and causes swelling of nipples. While scientific advancements have yet to develop a pill that might solve this problem, the most effective natural method to be proven is letting another person suck it.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

It had been quite a long day at work. You knew you were the last to arrive home when you found his boots messed on the floor.

“Toru?” You called out his name, failed to receive a response. “Toru, baby, ' m home.” The wooden door of the shoe cabinet creaked as you closed it after placing the footwear in their place.

The house smelled…sweeter, felt warmer than usual. Making your way to the bedroom, you found clothes scattered on the floor near the entrance. The door was ajar which means your eyes had quick access to what was happening.

“Fuck! Ah! Ah! Mhmm.” You watched in surprise as your boyfriend kept fisting his cock, but wait. Something was different. You moved closer and found his hands squeezing his tits, milk oozing and drenching his naked body. But his heat doesn't arrive until next week. You thought. It was not uncommon for heats to arrive irregularly. It only meant that his hormone level had increased due to sexual frustration. Your eyes scanned his position, his movements. A hand reaching down to rub the wetness forming between your legs. You couldn't take it anymore.

“Need a hand?” You asked, announcing yourself in the room to let the man know he wasn't alone.

“Oh fuck! I thought I locked the door,” he panicked, yet he didn't remove his from his cock, just another arm covering his chest.

“And deprive me of this treat? I don't think so, baby.” You walked closer until you were hovering over him, kissing softly. Heat always has Satoru acting needy and you knew it.

“Touch me, doll. Please.” You smiled at his eagerness.

“I will do more than just touch.” Slapping his wrist away that were blocking the view of his lovely tits, you pushed him until he was laying flat. Your clothed pussy grinding in his naked cock as you leaned and took one of his nipples in your mouth.

“F-fuck.” he stuttered. “Don't. I am early this month. The flow is too much—ngh—you'll get high.” As if that was going to stop you? You started sucking more aggressively. He was right. The flow really was too much because you found yourself gulping a mouthful of his sweet milk, as your other hand reached down jerked his cock.

“Baby…ah! Keep doing that. I am close.” He is so silly to think he can relieve himself on his own when it never works. “Holy fhhuuck! Gonna c—aahhh!” You watched as he arched his back, white spurts covering your hands and other white liquid wetting your jaw. You sat up, removing your top as you already felt dizzy.

“We're not done, Toru. Wan'you to fuck me nasty while I suck your milk.” And he was hard again at your words.

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

You loved spring. It was your favorite season to go out. Not too cold. Not too hot. Just the perfect amount of wind and sun. Apparently, it is also a perfect season for outdoor dates. You and Toji preferred to stay in most of the time but the cherry blossoms were too precious to be enjoyed from your windows or TV screen.

“Toji, you ready?” you asked your husband, packing things in your cute pink purse.

“Uhm, princess? Think we might need to cancel the date.” His muffled voice emerged through the bedroom.

“What?” You yelled as you stomped to the bedroom. “What do you mean we might need to c—oh…" Your legs stopped, body taken aback as you stared at his shirtless body, tone muscles and triceps flexing as he squeezed his tits, squirting the milk out.

“I am over-lactating.”

“What happened to the breast cups?”

“Look at me princess. 'm leaking too much. They ain't gon' hold it. Agh fuck!” He spat angrily as you watched the milk travel down his abs, covering it in sweetness.

“Fuck the date. I have a better plan.” You winked at him.

“Shit. Calm down, ma—ugh. Y'er gonna bruise my tits." You were riding his rock, rocking your body back and forth on his crotch while sucking his swollen dark peachy nipples. Your hands struggled to hold his chest because they were bigger than it, causing your nails to dig into the skin.

“Mmh lvove yvour mwilk shwo mwuch.” Your dirty muffled comments vibrating on his skin.

“Y'er drunk, ma. Ya like to get drunk on daddy's milk, hmm?” He cooed, planting a spank on your ass.

“Lwove it.”

“Hm mhh,” he chuckled. “Nasty fucking girl. Move—ahh! Move faster. Need to cum.” You followed his orders, not looking up once to meet his eyes but busy soaking in the drug and flavor of his milk.

“Ngh—twoji, too much. Wan' a break.” You complained, but he was not going to let you stop. This was your plan after all.

“Nuh uh! Don't pull that now.” He grabbed your ass and started bouncing them up and down. You felt so insides bursting with pleasure, cheeks burning up, eyes rolling back. “Gonna cum, ma. Make sure this pussy drinks all my cum as you stuff your mouth with my milk—gahh! fhuck fhuck! fuuuuck!” He was talking as if you had a choice when one of his hand forced you down on his cock as he painted your hole in his cum, while the other hand pushed your face further against his tits. He watched as milk overflowed from the side of your lips. “Such a good girl f'me. You wan' more?”

𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍

Sukuna tend to get a bit crazier when he was in heat. He fucked you with more strength, came a lot more than usual. It was hard to keep his mood balanced. You tried to suggest him some diet during those days of the month, but he refused to eat greens. A big man like him fancies flesh. Furthermore, why does he need a diet when he has the most proven effective method?

“K-kuna…agh! Too biiig." You cried. Sukuna had you on top of him, his big body splayed on the king-size bed—that surprisingly was almost the same size as him—your thighs trembling, kneecaps digging the mattress as you struggled to keep hi dick inside. Your head was telling you to get off it. Yet, your tight little cunt craved more of him.

“Hmm,” he chuckled. “Your pussy has a habit of biting more than she can swallow.” His teases were humiliating. Your hands rested on his chest, tongue reminiscing the sweet taste of his milk. Even though you were not completely dominant in this relationship—it is hard to be one when you are dating a man like sukuna—there were times when you initiated the things he would usually pester you about. Your lustful eyes gave him a look he hadn't seen before. Soon, he felt your hands tightening around his tits. Now he knew what you were up to.

“Want a taste, my woman?” All you could do was give a light nod because most of your strength was busy rolling your waist on his cock. “Go ahead. Suck my milk out.”

Without a second thought, you found your lips kissing his puffy pink nipples. You could feel the veins throbbing as you were suckling his juice out. Sukuna's milk was sweet with a hint of tanginess. Nevertheless, you loved it.

“Shhit! Calm down woman. I am not going anywhere.” His words were just background noise to you because all you could hear is squelching of your pussy and your slurps on his tiddie.

“Mmghh! Don't tell me you're planning on getting drunk.” His shoulders adjusted themselves to get a better position. “If you are—fuck. Then don't expect me to go easy tonight.” You unlatched your mouth from him for what seemed like after fifteen minutes to finally speak.

“Want you to ruin my pussy, kuna. Mmh,” you jerked your hips forward. “Want you to fill my mouth with milk as you do it.”

“Get off.” His tone shifted from somewhat sweet to serious. You followed his orders anyway. You both exchanged positions so now he was on top of you.

“My dirty human. Better stick to your words, darling. I am not planning on stopping until you're drenched in my cum and my milk”

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

You always knew Suguru's heat cycle. As the days approached closer, he used to become more and more whiny and clingy, arguing with you over petty things. His behavior did a 180° on these days.

Earlier today, you had a discourse over chores. He nagged at how you should keep things in place, or you won't find them when you need it. You understood where he was coming from, but the work had taken quite a toll on you that you barely had energy tonight. He just wouldn't let it go, and you grew more frustrated. You yanked him by his wrist, dragging his giant, muscular body to the shower. And here you were, stroking him off as you nibbled, and suckled on his tits. The continuous pour of warm water stimulating both of you.

“This is what you wanted, right, sugu?” you looked up, chin nuzzling in his cleavage. “Nagging me the whole day. You just wanted your tits sucked.” His brows scrunched together. A large hand approached your face, cupping your cheeks. He had his fingers digging the muscle on your face until they squished together.

“Behave,” his voice stern. “Just 'cause 'm in heat doesn't mean you hold the upper hand, baby.”

“Oh, but I do, Sugu—*spank* Ah! What was that for?”

“For teasing me. I know you love drinking my milk, princess. Get to it 'cause I can't take it nomo.” He pressed your face against one of his boobs, your nose pressured a little above the nipple, forcing the spurts of milk out.

“You gon' let it fall down the drain?” Your immediate action was to cup his tiddy with both of your hands—his chest was too big to use one—massaging all of the juice out. You opened your mouth and let it aim at your tongue.

“Fucking hell! This is why—mmghh easy, princess. 'Tis all sore.”

“I gotchu, sugu.” You eased out the movement of your hands, gently kneading them.

“Fhuuck, yes. Just like that.” Other hand travelled back down, grabbing his throbbing boner, squeezing the base as you squeezed his nipples. Geto planted a kiss on top of your head. “Holy shit. Still can't believe you're mine.” Your lips morphed into a smile, teeth still grasping his nipple. “Look at'cha. My milk's getting your high already.” He picked you up bridal style, your tongue still licking his puffed chest, as he kicked the bathroom door open that lead to your bedroom. “You got your treat. Time f'me to get mine, princess.”

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

Working 9to5, staring all day at a computer screen is what your life had been all about. You switched companies to think you might get something new to do, but to no one's surprise, it was the same. Except, this one man you were crushing on since day one.

Nanami Kento was a gentleman they described in those fairytales. Always so respectful, kind and damn he was a big feminist. Although, with him being the perfect husband material, you were still never going to cross the line because you were co-workers. That didn't mean you weren't allowed to crush.

“And then Mr. Sasaki from HR department knocked the beer over,” your TL chattered. Nanami wasn't the one to gossip, but Sakurako-san was your team leader and older than everyone. She wasn't a bad person but oh boy did she love tea. You fake gasped to give her the reaction she wanted, as you side-eyed Kento who looked a bit uncomfortable.

“Then he had the audacity to—”

“Excuse me,” Nanami withdrew halfway from the conversation he wasn't even participating in much, walking away abruptly.

After a few minutes, you decided to look for him to make sure he was alright. Of course, as a co-worker, you should. Nothing related to the heart eyes you give him, right?

You stomped towards the corridor almost making a left until you heard loud coughs reverberating through the walls of the men's washroom. You swore it was him. Furthermore, you shouldn't have gone in. What were you thinking? It was a men's washroom, for fuck's sake. But what if something happened to him? Sure.

Pushing the door in a hurry, you entered, almost tripping. “Nanami-san—” You did not whether you should be embarrassed, shocked or horrified. Maybe all three.

“Are you okay?”

“You shouldn't be here, l/n-san.” True. But seeing him squeeze his tits, and milking himself down the drain was the sight you were blessed to see. You locked the door behind, the clicking of the latch making Nanami hold his breath, “What are you doing?”

“You're going to let all that milk go to waste, Kento?” His dick twitched. You never called him by his first name, and now you were asking inappropriate questions along with calling him Kento.

“L/N-san, this isn't right—”

“Shhh. Just wanna help you. We're colleagues, aren't we?” He nodded.

Without breaking any eye contact you hopped on the counter, hands reaching for his nipples glistening with milk under the off-white light. You pressed your palm against his chest, feeling the liquid staining it, only starting to cramming the swell more. Kento lost his composure, hands falling flat on the counter, head on your shoulders. Couple of shaky breaths, fading soft moans leaving his lips. Pushing him back for a second to only latch your tongue on the dark pink bud, you were sure you're way past the appropriate relationship of just work buddies.

“L/n—ah! Can I?” He darted his eyes down where the tent peeked out his gray formal pants. You smiled. Knowing he needed friction, you adjusted your pencil skirt, and wrapped your legs around him, boner pressed against wet patch on your panties. Nanami felt like he was in heaven. He started humping against your clothed pussy, being rough contradictory to his gentle innocent touches to you before. But it was only reasonable given the fact that he was in heat.

He never knew the feeling of being milked from both ends, but now when he came, he ruined his whole expensive suit. The edges of the mustard yellow shirt becoming translucent with his milk, with a dark spot on his pants between his legs. He let out a shaky breath, apologizing as he slowly came back to his senses.

“What are you apologizing for? I started it,” you said as you hopped off the countertop. “Let me know if you ever need more help, Nanami-san.” A wink from is what caused his cheeks to turn red. “I'll bring you spare clothes from your desk.”

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

Most lactation in men started in their early twenties. Although, it wasn't unusual for some to start late. There was nothing medically wrong with them. But you've heard things about. How much more it hurts, and how more they leak on their first heat if they do get late.

You've been dating your boyfriend Choso for almost a year now. He hadn't start lactating yet, which is why you researched enough on this topic just in case. Personally, you've never been physical with men when they're in heat. Not because it is not your thing, but your relationships were too short to actually be comfortable in experiencing it. Of course, you would never do anything with Choso at his displeasure just because you wanna try it. You love him too much. But the thought would never leave your mind. What would he act like in his heat? Well, it was your lucky day. Because you came home to a whining lactating man.

“Cho…baby, are you okay?” You rushed to him in concern. Choso was on the bed, hair down with tears in his eyes as he pressed his chest together.

“Babyyy, It hurts. I don't know what is happening.” His hold on your wrist a little too tight. “Fuck. It hurts so bad. Make it stop. Leaking too much and my cock hurts too.” You could hear—feel the desperation in his voice. His cock was on full display as his boxers dangled near his ankles. The swollen tip shining with pre-cum seducing your mouth. But your mouth was needed more elsewhere. You remembered your first sex education class, how men in heat can be relieved if you milk and suck their tits. You discarded your clothes, getting bare and settling on his lap. Your hole rubbing against the body of his shaft as you pressed your tits against his, kissing his forehead.

“Cho shhh. Baby you're fine. You're just in heat. 's gonna be alright. 'm here, okay?” He sniffled as you pampered him. “Gonna take good care of my boyfie.” You left a trail of lipstick stains as you kissed his body, slowly trailing towards the puffy nipples. You looked up at him for consent, only to continue when he whispered a “please”. With your tongue darting out, you soaked in the view before licking a stripe.

“Shit,” Choso cursed. You do it a few more times until you're finally sucking on it like a popsicle. “Fuck. Ah!” It was indeed too much because with only fifteen seconds in, your mouth was already full of his milk, leaking from the corner of your lips. It wasn't a normal amount. But given the fact that it was his first, that too at this age, you brushed it off, focusing back to sucking. You gulped the milk, each sip making you dizzy. It made you grind harder against his cock, moaning along with him. His whimpers making you wet, and his dick enjoying your slippery pussy.

“Wanna cum. Please. Wanna cum, baby.” He begged and you started fastening your pace. The sheets were wet, along with your neck and tits as he shot spurts of sweet milk in your mouth that dripped down your body. Some of it sneaking its way down between his dick and your cunt. You held on to his shoulder, giving his chest a few slaps, making him rut harder against you that the bed started creaking.

“Cumming. Fuck, I am cumming. Ah! Ah! Ah! Ngh—holy fuuuuck!” Your own orgasming cunt could feel his dick twitch as it shot a load out. His hardened nipples turning soft. He immediately cupped your cheeks, pulling you up. “I love you so much, fuck. Thank you.” He said before he kissed you, his tongue lapping against yours, tasting himself on you.

@kiffenisstupid @pastelle-rabbit @lxnarphase @teddybeartoji @rizzmin @yuta-nation @evxelisy @hellkaiserinphoenix @ffsg0jo @princessoflalaland @baekinola @chuuyasboots @cathybarn @togamest @katsukichu @blkkizzat

[pedrospatch]

weakness

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: An afternoon at Bill and Frank’s place takes one hell of an unexpected turn for you and Joel when hidden feelings start coming to the surface.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA JOEL. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is in his early 50’s). mentions of reader having longer hair/her hair gets brushed, reader wears a dress, no specific mention of reader’s size, but there is a brief mention of the dress fitting loose on her, Frank is sweet and makes her feel pretty, Bill is a grump, Joel is kind of soft, hidden feelings. dashes of angst, fluff, and an abundance of Frank being an absolute angel.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY. NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 5.7k

“Can you stop fidgeting for just one second, please?” Frank scolds you lightly, bringing down the palm of his hand onto your shoulder in a small, quick slap in an attempt to get you to stop squirming. He then moves his hands back up to your hair, which is out of its usual braid and towel dried after a much, much needed wash. The sickeningly sweet scent of the floral shampoo you’d used in the shower earlier that afternoon lingers deliciously in the air around you, a refreshing and welcome change from what your hair normally smells like—grime and smoke from hours of work detail in the Boston QZ. After coming out all of the stubborn tangles that he can find, Frank then picks up a boar hairbrush and he carefully begins to run it through your locks. He starts from the roots of your hair and brings the natural bristles down, all the way through to your ends. He chuckles and says, “You know, I would be done a hell of a lot quicker if you would just sit still.”

You sigh softly, but impatiently, allowing yourself one final, uncomfortable little shuffle in the white wicker chair he has you perched on before finally giving into his request. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” you mumble You bring your knees up against your chest and exhale another small sigh. You can’t see his face, but you can picture the smug, satisfied smile on Franke’s face as he continues brushing your hair. “So, tell me again why we’re even doing this?” you question him just a minute later, as if he hasn’t already explained it to you about a hundred times—he wants to do something special for you. “It kind of seems like a complete waste of time, don’t you think so?”

“We’re doing this because you deserve to get dolled up for once in your adult life,” Frank states in a matter of fact tone. The world had ended when you’d been about seven years old, and he’d imagined that since then, you’d never done a single damn thing for your appearance—besides the occasional at home haircut you would give yourself every few months with an old pair of rusted shears. He’d have been absolutely right about that. “And besides, it’s something of a special occasion today,” he adds. “It’s the first day of spring. The weather outside is stunning, our flowers are finally in full bloom, and we have a nice outdoor lunch planned to celebrate the new season.”

You can’t help the way the corners of your mount turn upwards into a small smile. One might think it was all rather silly, given it was the end of the world and all, but you have to admit, you admire the way Frank manages to find genuine happiness and joy in the little things, like warm sunshine on the first day of spring. Or showing a friend what a proper hairbrush looks like. He has such a beautiful soul, something that very, very few people in this new world possess. 

“Your hair is so healthy,” Frank observes a few minutes later, setting the hairbrush aside. Taking two handfuls of your hair from the front, he twists them gently and brings them around to the back of your head. He then secures them with a clear, elastic band and runs his fingers through your soft locks, maneuvering your hair until it cascades perfectly around your shoulders. Frank walks around your chair to face you, fussing until he makes sure that every stand is neatly in place. He smiles. “You should wear your hair down more often, you know. It really suits you.”

“Long, loose hair and work detail are a recipe for disaster,” you laugh, shaking your head at him. “Most of the work sites in the zone require anyone who has longer hair to keep it tied back, anyway.” You push your legs out away from your chest and plant your feet firmly on the floor. “Listen, Frank. I really do appreciate what you’re trying to do for me. I really do,” you swear. “It’s incredibly sweet, but there’s really no point. In just a few hours, Joel and I are going to have to head back into Boston where my hair goes back into its braid and I have to change back into my normal clothes.”

“Exactly. So how about you just zip it and enjoy this while it lasts?” he suggests with a tiny, cheeky grin.

“But Frank—”

“Honey, this is a fight you simply aren’t going to win, so hush. Now, come with me.” He takes your hand, pulling you out of the chair and up to your feet. “Close your eyes,” he instructs, and with a reluctant sigh, you do as you’re told. Frank leads you over towards the full length mirror in the far corner of his and Bill’s bedroom. “Okay. One, two, three—open your eyes.”

Your eyes flutter open and your mouth parts slightly in surprise. 

“What the fuck,” you murmur underneath your breath, taken aback by the reflection in the mirror. The young woman staring back at you, she looks absolutely nothing like you. The hair, the hint of blush on your cheekbones—the color he’d found was one one that flatters the tone of your skin—and the thin coat of decades old mascara that he’d applied to your eyelashes; the tube had been bone fucking dry, but Frank used a few drops of water to bring it back to life, swearing up and down it was fine to put near your eyes. And then there was the dress, the goddamn dressed he’d force you into. His favorite part of the makeover and your least favorite. 

“Wait until you see what I found for you to wear,” he’d told you, giddy as if it were him who would be donning a new outfit. “You’re going to love it!”

Skeptical, you had asked, “Am I though?”

Frank had gone to the boutique and found you a dress to wear, and while it was just a tad loose on your frame, he insisted that it would look just fine on you with the help of a safety pin hidden at the back of it, pulling the fabric taut. It was simple enough, white with a subtle sweetheart neckline and thin straps that tied together at your shoulders. The delicate lace fell down in a flowing skirt to just a few inches above your knees and it itched like hell, especially at your sides. Wanting to add a finishing touch to the outfit, Frank had brought you a pair of brown, strappy sandals and he’d let you know that he had a couple of different color options for a cardigan in the event it became too chilly outside. 

“You look perfect,” he gushes. “Like a daydream!”

You look different. But that isn’t what brought on the shock. More than anything, you’re completely taken aback by how fucking normal you look. 

Sure, coming over to Bill and Frank’s always gave you a temporary sense of normalcy. They always allowed you to take a hot shower, gave you the opportunity  to properly wash your hair and change out of your dirty shirt into a new clean one. They always provided you with a warm meal presented on porcelain dishware that wasn’t stained or chipped like the shit you had back home in your crumbling apartment in Boston. You’d had several tastes of normal thanks to those two, but this drastic change to your appearance was overwhelming. Too overwhelming.

You’d never thought that you could look like this, not in this fucking lifetime. 

Frank immediately picks up on your emotions, senses how you’re feeling. Standing behind you, he places his two hands on your shoulders and leans his head forward, pressing his cheek against yours as his kind eyes meet your tearful gaze in the mirror. “You look absolutely beautiful,” he whispers, giving your shoulders a gentle squeeze. “I really hope you feel beautiful. You deserve it. You deserve so much more, but if I can at least give you this much, then my mission is accomplished.”

You open your mouth to speak, but words fall short. Afraid that you might burst into tears on the spot, you clamp your mouth shut and give him the tiniest little nod of your head accompanied by a quivering smile of gratitude. 

Frank smiles back. “Good. Now, come on, let’s go out front and have lunch.” His hands fall from your shoulders and he ushers you out into the hallway and towards the staircase. Looking over his shoulder, he gives you a wink. “I’m really eager to see what your man thinks of your new look.”

“What?” you sputter, almost tripping over your own two feet. “Who—you mean, Joel?”

Shit. You’d almost forgotten about Joel.

What the hell is he going to say when he sees you like this?

What’s he going to think?

Probably that you look utterly fucking ridiculous, that’s what.

“Who else would I be talking about? Bill?” Frank snorts. “Yes, I’m talking about Joel.”

You glare at his back. This isn’t the first time Frank has teased you about Joel Miller, and despite the countless times you’ve sworn to him that there was nothing going on between the two of you, he insists on believing otherwise, adamant that there has to be something more there. “Don’t start with this shit again. He is not my man, and you damn well know that.”

“He might as well be,” Frank shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly as he leads you down the staircase.

“Frank, I’m being serious,” you say. Normally, weren’t so uptight about it all, but today, you’re not finding his antics amusing in the slightest, not while you’re wearing goop on your face and sporting a fucking dress. “I’ve told you a million times that there is nothing going on between me and Joel. He’s my partner.” You pause briefly, realizing how that must have sounded, and add in emphasis, “He’s my work partner. We work together, Frank. We smuggle shit together. That’s it.”

Frank stops at the bottom of the staircase and turns to you, letting out a curious hum. “Hmm. And if I remember correctly, you two also live together, you sleep in the same bed together, you spend every waking moment from sunrise to fucking sunset together—I have never heard of two work partners being that close, sweetheart.”

Stubborn, you shake your head. “He’s like fifty!”

“The world ended and that’s your concern? An age gap?” he questions. “Really?”

“Frank,” you plead his name, groaning. “I swear it. We’re nothing to each other. Joel is—well, he’s Joel. He’s not exactly the type of man who does that. You know, feelings and shit.”

He throws his head back slightly, letting out a loud laugh that echoes through the foyer of his home. “Oh, trust me. I know that much. Between you and me, I have to say that he reminds me a whole lot of Bill,” he muses. He notices the horrified expression that crosses your face and laughs again, holding up his hands in defense. “Wait a minute, just hear me out. They’re polar opposites in some ways, but in most ways, they’re almost the same fucking person. Joel is just like Bill. Cranky. Grumpy. He hates everyone and everything. Kind of man who’ll stab someone if they so much as look at him the wrong way. Would you say that’s pretty accurate?”

“Yeah, sounds like Joel Miller,” you have to admit. As much as you did not want to think of Joel being the same person as Bill, Frank had a pretty good point.

“But Joel also reminds me of Bill because he’s the kind of man who means well when it comes to the people that he cares about. The kind of man who will do whatever it takes to protect what is his,” he further explains. He pauses and then asks, “Let me ask you something. You trust him, right?”

You don’t even miss a beat, answering, “Of course. With my life.”

He ticks his  index finger at you. “Aha! Exactly!” he exclaims. “You know that Joel would never let anyone lay so much as a finger on you. He’d never let anything bad happen to you. And why is that?”

You stare at him blankly, unsure of how to respond. “Is this a trick question?”

Huffing, Frank rolls his eyes and lets out a disappointed sigh, as if you’d missed the obvious. “It’s because you mean something to him, sweetheart. Whether you choose to let yourself believe it or not, you mean something to Joel Miller.”

For a moment, it feels like all the wind’s been knocked out of you. 

Could Frank actually be right? 

Do you actually mean something to Joel?

No, that was impossible. Joel Miller doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything—all he cares about is surviving long enough to find Tommy again one day, and even then, he never speaks of his younger brother too kindly. He’s been hardened by this world, closed himself off, put up a barrier around himself that nothing can permeate. Not even you.

“Under that tough, rugged exterior, there’s a soft spot. It’s there, for you and only for you.” Frank’s eyes glimmer, speaking a truth he’s been wanting to tell you for the better part of the last several months. “You might need to do some digging to find it, but it’s there.”

“I just don’t understand why you would think that,” you confess, shaking your head. “Joel has never said anything to me to indicate that I mean something to him. More often than not, I find myself wondering if even considering us to be friends is too generous.” You cross your arms over your chest, growing uncomfortable under his knowing stare. “Yes, Joel looks out for me, but that’s only because we work together so well. I know my way around. He needs me, especially if he plans on getting to Tommy.”

Frank bites his bottom lip, stifling another laugh.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Oh, sweetheart. You don’t even realize it, do you?”

Your eyebrows knit together, confused. “What? Realize what?”

“You are his weakness.”

He’d said it so simply, and yet there goes the rest of your air leaving your lungs, an invisible first driving itself right into your gut. 

“Of course Joel isn’t going to tell you how he feels about you. He’s afraid,” Frank remarks, sounding so sure as if he had been told that by Joel Miller himself.

“You’re wrong. Joel isn’t afraid of anything,” you counter in the steadiest voice you can muster. “You’re wrong, Frank.”

“He’s afraid because he knows how dangerous it is, having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this.” Any trace of teasing or playfulness had disappeared from Frank’s expression. He speaks gently, but with purpose, with such seriousness that it makes your heart sink further and further down into the pits of your stomach.

When you speak again, your voice is strained, thick with emotions you’re trying so desperately to shove down. “Frank, you really need to put down the fucking romance novels.” Before he can say another word to you about it, you place a hand lightly on your stomach. “I’m really hungry. Can we go eat now? Please?”

Thankfully, he gets the hint to drop the subject.

“Of course. Come on” Frank takes your hand. He opens the front door and leads you outside and onto the freshly landscaped front lawn. He had been right, the flowers were in full bloom—the small, round table he’d set was positioned in a perfect spot so that no matter where anyone sat, they would have a view of the colorful roses and azaleas he and Bill had planted around the perimeter of the yard.

As soon as he sees you two approaching, Bill throws up his hands in a dramatic fashion. “It’s about goddamn time!” He grouches loudly. “Jesus Christ, Frank. I’m fucking starving!”

“Sorry, got caught up inside.” Frank tosses his partner a sweet smile as he releases your hand. “But look, I found myself something pretty!”

Heat floods your cheeks. You should have known better than to think he wasn’t going to make a fuss about your new appearance. “Frank, please. Don’t.”

“Oh come now, you know I have to show you off!”

Joel, whose back had been turned towards you, furrows his eyebrows and he glances over his shoulder, looking to see what Frank was referring to. His dark brown eyes widen just ever so slightly, the grip around his glass of red wine tightening in complete surprise at the sight of you. Frank had failed, quite miserably, to convince him to dress up for the occasion, but at the very least, he’d talked him into wearing one of the nicer shirts he'd found at the boutique, a neatly pressed, sage green button up with long sleeves that, much to Frank’s chagrin, Joel had rolled up to his elbows. His graying, dark brown curls  might have even had a comb run through them, but it;s  difficult to tell if the way his thick locks were effortlessly disheveled was natural or the result of his efforts to tame them.

“What do you think, Joel?” Frank beams proudly, as if presenting the man with one of his painted art pieces.

Joel doesn’t respond. His eyes remain glued on you, following as you walk around the table and take your usual place beside him.

“Way to put me on the spot, Frank,” you mutter, your face growing warmer and warmer with every second that ticks by. You silently urge yourself to get a grip as you reach for the crisp, white cloth napkin next to your plate and drape it over your lap. The smoked, wild rabbit Bill had cooked up for lunch  smells heavenly—Frank knows  it’s  your absolute favorite dish, and so he had made sure Bill put it on today’s menu, bless his heart. 

Joel still hasn’t uttered a single word. Part of you hopes he wouldn’t.

“Joel?” Frank prompts as he picks up his own cloth napkin. “Doesn’t she look pretty?”

You glare daggers at him from across the table and hiss, “Frank!”

Finally, Joel sets down his glass of wine and turns slowly, angling his body towards yours. When he speaks, his voice is low, but clear as day as he looks at you, “Yeah. She looks very pretty.”

His eyes flicker up to meet yours, causing your heart to skip a beat inside of your chest and a strange warmth to bloom in your belly. 

Had he actually meant that?

“You look real nice,” he adds, giving you a subtle nod of his head. He lets his sights linger on you for another moment before tearing his gaze away. He then turns back to the table, picking up his glass of wine once again, chugging what’s left of it before reaching for the bottle to pour himself another. 

Bill clears his throat roughly. “Well, if everyone’s done playing dress up, I’d really like to fucking eat now.”

Meals with Bill and Frank were always pleasant. 

Well, meals with Frank were always pleasant.

 Although Bill had gotten used to having you and Joel over as guests and didn’t see either of you as a threat anymore, he still preferred to keep you both at arm’s length, a choice you two respected. He hardly ever said much and often chose to let his partner do all the talking unless the conversation had anything to do with trading supplies. Only then would he step in. 

As you’d tucked into your meal of wild rabbit and garden vegetables, you could feel Joel throwing subtle glances your way every so often. It was half expected that he would, seeing as he’d never seen you like this before. He was so used to seeing you in tattered, dirty old clothes with dirt and grime caked onto your skin and in your hair. 

Surely, he must have felt like he was sitting next to a complete stranger, not his smuggling partner.

About an hour later, once everyone has finished eating, you offer to help Frank clear and clean up the table and wash the dishes. He settles for letting you help him bring everything inside, but shoos you away before you can even think about lifting another finger. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” he says, waving you away from the kitchen sink with his hands. “You and Joel are taking off in just a couple hours, so go on and get some rest,” he suggests. “Oh, by the way, we found some new books to add to the collection. Might find something you like. Go ahead and check them out.”

“But I forgot my library card at home,” you joke lamely, although it earns you a sincere laugh from your friend. You pad out of the kitchen and into the living room, straight over towards a grand oak bookshelf that is packed tightly to the brim with dozens and dozens of books of various genres. You hadn’t been all that much of a reader before, but thanks to Frank, who always sent you home with at least two or three works in your pack, reading had become one of your favorite hobbies over the last few months, a sweet little escape that took you out of your shoddy apartment in the zone and into another world. You start searching the titles for the new finds he’d mentioned. Spotting one of them, you pluck it from the shelf, a paperback titled, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Opening it up, you begin thumbing through the pages, quickly realizing that it’s play—you’ve never read a play before. Still not convinced if it’s one you would like to take home with you, you flip back to the first page and start reading with a curious little hum. 

You had been so preoccupied with it that you hadn’t noticed Joel standing behind you, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest until he clears his throat, and asks, “Find somethin’ good?”

Startled, you whirl around, nearly dropping the book in your hands. “Jesus Christ, Joel,” you breathe out, clutching it tightly against your chest as your heart rate slows. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Not my fuckin’ fault you were too busy with your nose buried in a book,” he states, trying his hardest to fight the small smirk threatening to cross his lips. He uncrosses his arms and pushes himself away from the doorframe.

A chuckle escapes you, almost nervously, as he slowly starts walking over towards you, his brown boots heavy on the hardwood floor. He takes the book from your hands, humming as he reads the cover. “Shakespeare, huh?”

“You know Shakespeare?” you toss him a teeny, lopsided smile as you tease, “He from your time?”

Joel lightly smacks your arm with the worn paperback. “Yeah, I know Shakespeare and he was about four hundred fuckin’ years before my time, thank you very much.” He flips it over, eyes skimming the text on the back. “Had the world not gone to shit, you would’ve grown up and spent your entire middle school career being forced by English teachers to read all his shit and write essays tryin’ to interpret it all.” He hands it back over to you. “Here.”

“Sounds like a real fucking dream,” you deadpan. You glance down, running your index finger down the spine of the book. You’re trying, almost painfully, to ignore how Joel’s eyes glaze over you from head to toe. 

“Y’know, it’s kinda nice,” he remarks quietly, breaking the brief moment of silence that had fallen over the two of you. “Seein’ you like this.”

You keep your eyes fixed on the book and scoff. “What? In a dress?”

“When we’re here, you let your guard down. Ain’t always lookin’ over your shoulder. You smile a hell of a lot more.” He pauses, then adds, “You look happy here. Sure, this dress looks nice on you. Your smile looks even fuckin’ better, though.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. More than his words, it’s the genuine tone in which he had said them—you’d never even realized Joel noticed things like that. Whether you were happy or not, how often you smiled. Or didn’t smile.

You force a small chuckle. “It’s the only sense of normalcy that we get. Of course I look happy when we’re here. Because I am happy when we’re here.” Still refusing to meet his gaze, you turn around and walk over to the couch towards your pack. Opening the top, you quickly shove the book inside. 

When you hear Joel’s footsteps coming up behind you, you stiffen slightly.

“Frank, he adores the hell outta you,” Joel says. He seems to hesitate, but then continues, “You ever think of askin’ him to stay here?”

“You kidding?” You snort in response. “Bill wouldn’t allow that. Never.”

Joel’s hands go to his hips, knowing you had a point. “But you know Frank can convince him of almost anythin’, don’t you? And besides, believe it or not, Bill actually likes you. He loves Frank more than anythin’ and you make Frank happy.”

You finally turn around to face and find yourself caught off guard by how close he’s standing to you. “Joel, what exactly are you getting at?” You raise an eyebrow before playfully asking, “Are you trying to get rid of me or something, Miller?”

Joel quickly shakes his head. “Of course not. All I’m sayin’ is that—” He stops and lowers his voice, just in case Bill or Frank happen to be wandering nearby. “I like seein’ this side of you. The happy side. The normal side.” He shrugs his shoulders, the lean muscles of his upper body flexing with the movement against the smooth fabric of his shirt. “Seein’ you all cleaned up, well fed and content—” He trails off once again. “Shouldn’t be a rare occurrence, y’know? You’d clearly be better off here with them and you know that with Frank’s help, we could probably talk Bill into letting you stay.”

The second you realize he’s being serious, your smile fades.

“What? But what about you?”

“Darlin’, Frank’s good, but he’s not a goddamn miracle worker. Even if he tried, that’s not somethin’ Bill would ever go for,” Joel admits, lifting a hand and raking his fingers through his hair. “And even if he did, we’d fuckin’ kill each other by the end of the first week.”

Bill and Joel being neighbors?

Talk about a different kind of apocalypse, you think to yourself.

“I know that much,” you reply with a tiny eye roll. “What I mean is, do you honestly think that I would leave my life in Boston?”

“That ain’t no fuckin’ life—”

You hold up a hand, stopping him. “I know it’s not. But it’s my life with you, Joel.”

The rough creases on his forehead suddenly soften. That was the first time you’d ever seen that happen.

The scowl on his face wasn’t permanent after all.

“Yes, this is nice. This patch of town, this house, the running water, the food, the clothes—this is a decent life. More than decent. In this world that we’re living in, this place is heaven. But without you, all of it would mean absolutely nothing to me. I wouldn’t be happy here, not without you.”

Joel tilts his head back, shaking it lightly. “Think about what you’re sayin’ here.”

“I know what I’m saying.” Before your brain and your body can even make the connection, you find yourself taking a step towards him, shrinking the gap between your bodies even further. You glance up at him, somehow finally finding the courage to have your eyes meet his. “I refuse to leave your side, Joel. That’s never going to happen. Not if I can fucking help it. Do you understand that?”

Joel exhales the breath he’d been holding, his warm breath tickling your face.

“I mean it, Joel. We’re in this shitty ass fucking world, together. No little slice of heaven could ever get me to leave you behind, no matter how good it is,” you declare, silently wondering to yourself where the hell you were even finding the balls to confess all of this to him. “Okay?”

“You’d be safer here than in the QZ, with all that shit’s that been goin’ down—”

“I’m the safest when I’m with you, Joel. I know I am.”

You lift your hand to his face. At first, there’s minor hesitation on your part, but you will yourself to place it on his cheek. Although your touch is gentle, Joel can’t help but wince. Not because he doesn’t want you to touch him, but because it had been so fucking  long since anyone had ever touched him like that. 

Since he’d let anyone touch him like that. 

He closes his eyes and after a second or two of resisting, he finally allows himself to relax his tense muscles and he sinks  into your touch.

Joel lets himself savor the feeling of your hand on his face. His bottom lip gives a subtle tremble when you softly start to graze your thumb down along his jawline. His beard, which you often playfully tease him about now that it’s beginning to gray just like his hair, feels rough and scratchy, and yet somehow still soft underneath your fingertips.

“Hey,” you murmur, and he forces his eyes to snap open. “We’re in this together. That’s how it’s been and that’s how it’s going to stay,” you assure him. “My place is with you, Joel.”

Joel manages to speak through tight lips, his voice strained. “You really fuckin’ gotta stop talkin’ to me like that, darlin’.”

You carefully move your hand away from his face, letting it drop back down to your side. “Why?”

“‘Cause. Shit like that is dangerous.”

“Dangerous,” you repeat, almost laughing. “Of all the things—”

Then, Frank’s words from earlier come to mind.

He’s afraid because he knows how dangerous it is, having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this.

Joel’s dark eyes flicker to the strap of your dress, noticing it had started sliding off your shoulder. Before he can even think to stop himself, he reaches out and pulls it up back into place, his rough, calloused fingers brushing against your smooth skin. “You’re so soft,” he murmurs under his breath. All those fucking years of working with you, even sharing a bed together, and he had no idea of what it was like to touch you.

“Joel…” 

Your heart had all but climbed up into your throat.

“Everythin’ you just said a minute ago, ‘bout not wanting to stay here without me,” he starts to say, “I know that it’s fuckin’ selfish of me, but I’m real glad you said it. ‘Cause no way in hell do I want a life without you. I know it’s wrong but—”

Placing your hands delicately on his shoulders, you lift yourself up on your toes and cut him off mid-sentence by pressing your lips softly against his. The clean scent of the soap Frank had given him to shower with fills your senses and you yearn to have more of him, you nearly ache to get a real taste of him—but your courage only went so far. Thankfully, Joel knows to take over from here. One of his arms snakes  its way around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest while the other reaches up, the warm palm of his hand pressing against your cheek. His tongue swipes lightly across your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore your mouth just a little bit further.

You eagerly grant him access, half expecting his mouth to ravage yours.

Much to your surprise, Joel remains gentle.

The way that he kisses you, the way he holds your body against his, the way his large hand—the same hand that slits throats and breaks bones—delicately cradles the side of your face like you’re made of porcelain. 

“Joel,” you nearly whimper his name when he breaks away.

His face remains just inches from yours.

“Fuck,” he mutters, leaning his forehead against yours, fighting to catch his breath. “We’ll need to get goin’ soon.”

“I know.” You nod, hoping you don’t sound as disappointed as you feel. You can sense that Joel, much like yourself, is  at war with himself over what had just happened. Not that either of you regretted it, at least you certainly don’t, but the realization that you two have just crossed a line you’ll never come back from was daunting.

Joel lifts his head, lightly pressing his lips against your forehead. He then forces himself to release you from his arms and steps back, dropping them back down at his sides. “I need to, uh, I need to go get some things from Bill. Y’know, get my pack ready before we take off.”

You nod again. “I’ll start changing and get another pack of supplies ready as well.” You pause, clearing your throat awkwardly. “Joel, about what just happened—”

He silently shakes his head before leaning down, capturing your mouth with his.

This kiss is short and quick, and when he pulls away, he says nothing. He turns on the heel of his boot and disappears, heading out to meet Bill in the garage. 

Your hand flies to your mouth, your fingers lightly touching your lips.

“Well, well, well.”

Looking over your shoulder, your throat goes dry when you see Frank standing there, hands on his hips and a knowing, smug expression on his face. 

“How long have you been standing back there?”

“Long enough.” Even from a distance, you catch the amused twinkle in his eye. “What did I tell you?”

You turn away from him, biting your lower lip.

So maybe he’d been right after all.

Maybe you were Joel’s weakness. 

But he was yours too.

[soamericn]

𝜗𝜚 𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐃 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐄

🐰ྀི₊˚⊹ he said, "baby, " that's what he called me, "i love you" every single word you say makes me feel some type of way, it's the thought of you that slightly scares me but it takes my breath away, forget what I was gonna say

𝜗𝜚… summary , ( f!y/n x oscar piastri ) oscar’s plans for a date for him and his girlfriend after feeling bad for being busy all week, but ignoring how tired he’d been turns out to not be the best idea.

𝜗𝜚… faceclaim , up to your imagination <3

𝜗𝜚… triggers , swearing , anxiety

𝜗𝜚… authors note , I was really proud of this!!! hope you like it it had a plot and I sorta lost it while writing it but thats okay, my next fic is gonna be an smau I have an idea planned out

🐰ྀི₊˚⊹ masterlist

It’d been a busy week for Oscar, almost the start of the season and he’d missed the feeling of winter break already. He loved his career, most didn’t get to say that but there was a sort of weight off his shoulders when the last race ended, a certain peace in the air that put him at ease. 

Currently, the ease had subsided and the stress was catching once again in his throat, and his schedule had started to fill up. He knew he had to make time this year not just for himself, he’d recently gotten a girlfriend right before the end of the race last season. 

She’s everything he’s ever wanted, he’s never met someone who’s understood him so much until he met her. Oscar felt a nervousness in his heart, what if he couldn’t make time for her? What if she’d validly lose interest with him not around? 

He’d been reassured plenty of times by her, even without sharing his thoughts. She just knew. God, Oscar couldn’t even put into words how perfect she’d been for him. 

Towards the end of his week, they’d planned to go on a date. Oscar had felt guilty after not properly going out in a while, not that she minded they were both homebodies anyway. 

Setting the reservation for the restaurant days in advance that he’d known she liked was easy, picking out the right outfit a few hours before he had to pick her up was not. 

This all felt silly to him. Never in his life had he’d cared so much about what he wore. Christ, he wore the same Mclaren polo in the paddock practically every race weekend. 

Scouring his limited closet for the right shirt and pants proved harder than he thought. He’d tried a nice t-shirt and jeans, too casual. Maybe not a tux either, too fancy. He’d finally settled on a white button up with the top three buttons unbuttoned, and a pair of khaki shorts. And feeling somewhat satisfied with his choice he put on some cologne, and ran a hand through his hair. 

This might as well have been a first date the way the Aussie was stressing. Tapping a finger on the steering wheel as he drove, running many hands through his hair. Both tell-tales of his nervousness.

Tall glass doors filled his vision as he reached her apartment building. Tapping twelve on the elevator and tapping his foot as he waited. The silence of the confined space was so loud, nerves rising in his chest. Oscar felt stupid. He had no need to be this nervous. No need at all. She was just so her, so perfect and the exact image of someone he’d imagined his life with. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve her. 

Once the elevator doors had opened with a small beep, he’d walked out and the hallway seemed hauntingly long with her door at the end of it. This was all muscle memory to him, he could’ve come here with his eyes closed if he wanted, though he might’ve gotten some weird looks and a potential car accident.

He’d rung her doorbell, folding his hands neatly and awkwardly behind his back as she waited. “Coming!” A soft voice shouted on the other side of the door. Oscar smiled to himself. 

For the first time since he started getting ready he’d checked his phone, and sighed. He had been almost an hour early then when he said he’d be picking her up. Now suddenly the feeling of him intruding on her crowded his thoughts. 

They faded away the minute she opened the door and her eyes lit up. Y/n’s hair had been curled but was obviously not styled yet, she wore pajama shorts and a t-shirt and looked halfway done with her make-up. 

“I’m early, I think,” His nose scrunched as he spoke. 

She shook her head, lips in a small friendly pout. And gestured for him to walk inside. Once he’d taken a step closer into the apartment she’d pulled him into a hug, standing on her tippy-toes and her arms around his neck. “I missed you.” The girl whispered into his ear sending shivers down his spine.

Oscar’s arms fit snugly around her waist pulling her close, his face buried in her neck smelling the floral scent of her body wash. 

He hadn’t realized how tired this week had truly made him till he’d fallen into her touch. The coziness of her presence made him notice how much he actually needed this, how much he’d been needing her.

Pulling away from his tight grasp she looked up at him in a way that made him wanna melt into her all over again. Y/n’s hand slowly moved up from his neck tracing the light stubble along his chin before holding his face in her hand, he swore she would be the death of him. 

“You look handsome.” She commented with a hint of surprise in her voice and a furrow of her eye brow as she scanned his outfit. 

A small pink rose to his cheeks but a sarcastic comment rose in his throat, “do I usually not?” 

Her head shook, “No you do, even in the same Mclaren polo and unbrushed hair.” 

Oscar’s head looked down at the floor slightly embarrassed with a huge grin spread across his face. Using her hand once again she tilted his head to look at her, their eyes meeting. “I gotta finish getting ready but the tv’s on in the living room.” She said, placing a quick peck on his lips before walking off to the bathroom, having no idea the effect she had on him.

He paused standing there in the hallway, he wasn’t sure what it was about her that had such an impact on him. It might’ve been her bubbliness, how she radiated positivity, or just the fact she knew him, like truly knew him.

Every time she’d walked away from him, Oscar missed her presence like he hadn’t seen her in years. He never imagined himself being clingy but it was like with her he couldn’t stay away. Y/n had been his second home. 

The brunette boy took a seat on the couch sinking into it, the t.v. played some random sitcom the volume low. The exhaustion he’d been pushing back for the whole week had broken through a dam and flooded back into him the moment he took a seat. It didn’t help that her home was the exact definition of cozy. A candle burned filling the apartment with the smell of fall, she’d refused to use the overhead lighting opting for smaller lamps and other lights.

Oscar could’ve slept three days here if he was allowed, preferably with her near him. Subconsciously he rested his head on a nearby pillow at the end of the couch lifting his legs up (them partially going off the couch). And his eyes seemed to drift closed.

The scent of cinnamon filled his nose as his eyes fluttered open. He made a confused groaning noise stretching his back and arms out because despite the couch being fairly comfortable it wasn’t exactly made for his height. He sat up taking off a blanket that was placed across him that he didn’t remember putting on.

It’d taken him a moment but not long to remember where he was but more importantly what plans they had. Panic seeped through him and he jumped up looking to the bathroom, the door was now opened and the light had been turned off. “Fuck.” He whispered under his breath, guilt filling his pores. 

Oscar ended up in the kitchen where Y/n sat on the counter, legs criss-crossed watching something on her laptop. She’d put her hair up and had been in her pajamas like she was before her make-up removed as well. Looking at the time on the stove, Oscar cursed himself he’d slept right through their reservation. 

God, he wished hadn’t ignored how drained he was like he did. Now she’d noticed him and paused what she was watching looking at him with a soft smile. The smile hadn’t warmed his heart like previously, he couldn’t put into words how horrible he’d felt. 

Taking steps closer to her, ending up standing in front of where she was sitting, her legs uncrossing and he stood in between them. “I’m so so sorry, I feel horrible right now.” He admitted, not wanting to meet her eyes. 

“It’s okay, we all need breaks sometimes, you’ve been busy.” He didn’t deserve her. Oddly he felt like her yelling at him would’ve been better than this. She’d been such an angel and he broke the one promise he’d made all week. 

Oscar shook his head, “Sweetheart, It’s not okay I told you we’d do something special and I fucked it.” He looked at the granite next to her leg not wanting to meet her eyes still. 

A soft light hand placed itself on his chin and pushed him to face her. Her eyes were comforting like a warm blanket of kindness. “You did, but it's okay.”

He had so many apologies in his throat so many words he could say but only the simplest ones came out. “I’m so sorry again-” He was suddenly distracted by the sudden scent of cinnamon once again. “What are you making?” 

“Well right now dessert but I need help with dinner.” She admitted and he wrapped his arms around her torso and her around his neck once again except he was the one looking up at her. 

Oscar furrowed an eyebrow. “Is that not the wrong order?” 

“Oh shut it, you’re in no place to make jabs right now.” She joked with a fake roll of her eyes.

“How about I make dinner for you?” He offered lightly running his hands up and down her back. 

Her facial expression showed her contemplating it. “Do I trust your cooking?” 

Oscar was now the one to roll his eyes. “Do I trust yours?” He commented. 

Y/n lightly hit his shoulder gasping. “You’re very rude, Oscar, don’t you know that?” 

“Oh am I?” His hands moved from her back to her waist once more.

“Mhm.” 

He carried her off the counter as she wrapped her legs around his torso and she started laughing, a sound Oscar wished he could hear on repeat forever. His hand resting on her butt holding her up. He placed a light kiss on her lips, more intimate than the quick peck from earlier. He pulled away but their faces were still inches apart. 

“So can I make you dinner?” He asked again in a whisper. 

Her eyes tilted up dramatically thinking about it, “Only because I don't feel like it.”

She placed another quick peck on his lips and Oscar pulled her back in for a deeper one, and he swore no matter how long they knew each other he’d never get over this feeling.

𝜗𝜚… tags , @whitcferrari @cedarbcws @c-losur3

[something-about-sunflowers]

ALRIGHT, *cracks knuckles* let's get into that teaser, shall we?

Should I itemize this? I think I'm going to itemize it lmao.

So:

Starting here because this is a baseline for Stede, he's got no neckerchief here. This is likely early in the season, probably the very start.

Man's got a fuckin' ARM.

This is Ed. You can see the bare right arm in both shots.

Red neckerchief. Ed's scrap of silk? Beat to shit if it is, which, he did toss it out to sea so, it would be.

Ed's not wearing the knee brace. Or gloves for that matter. I know the knee brace being an actual mobility aid is unconfirmed canon/fanon but it does make me :(c to see him without it. Either it wasn't actually considered as a mobility aid or he's lost it like he's lost his gloves OR he's going without it because he doesn't care if it hurts.

Closer shot of the neckerchief.

I just wanted to point out all the knives stabbed into the table. Also, those look like bits of paper on the windows, did they keep some of the books to repurpose for window blocking purposes?

THERE HE IS!!!!!!!! Other people have already pointed out the makeup and his ring still on his tie, along with the whip on his hip cjizzy real. He's got a new baldric but I also think his clothes look. Darker? Than in season 1? This is a darker/heavier contrast setting but it carries into other shots of him too I think? Like they're less sun/saltwater faded or something?

Other thing to note: If I have my orientation right, this is to the right of Stede's bed nook and to the left of the library, which means this shelf is the one with the auxiliary wardrobe opening mechanism. Which I bring up because:

This little guy seems to be in the place of the mannequin. Ed kept the auxiliary wardrobe and gothed up the mannequin to justify it still being there.

SO much here. This is, I'm fairly certain, Benjamin Hornigold. This camp he's set up (along with what he's wearing) looks like it was made out of a shipwreck. Ed's barefoot and missing his jacket and gloves, and his shirt's torn up at the sleeves. Definitely where he washed up from his dip in the ocean.

Note the trees and the lighting, that comes up later. Ed shoots here and Ben moves with the shot but it doesn't look like he was actually HIT by it to my eyes.

'Wanted. |Blackbeard| Villainous Pirate. Murderer, thrice over. $400 Reward for the criminal responsible for: theft - brigandry - larceny - arson - tax evasion ➡' Presumably there are more crimes/info on the back, though we see the reverse side in the next cut and it's either blank or all in very small text, I couldn't quite tell.

The poster to the right says 'Port' something which has me wondering Port Royal but that's just the only 'Port' something I know, could def be somewhere else.

(Also, just for fun:

Here's how much abouts Ed's capture would be worth now.)

Wider pic than it needs to be but I didn't wanna cut out Olu lol. ANYWAY. Neckerchief again. Also the back of the poster, see what I mean about it either being blank or very tiny?

Babygirl. . . But also that Bride Ed figure kinda slays. Little bralette with the midriff showing, I see you Babygirl. When will he be allowed to just rest and do silly little crafts WITHOUT heartbreak looming over him?

Well. Four is not nine. So. There's that. The other five could be used or out of frame though, of course.

OH. He's back to his fingerless gloves! They might actually be different from his original ones though, they look different at the wrist to me, not quite sure though.

The BOYS!!!! Frenchie looks like he's having a GREAT time. Considering he suggested they turn the hostage into a table and complained about the Republic of Pirates being a bit gentrified I'd say this is more in line with what he's used to in piracy. I 100% buy he was going along with Stede's way because he knew it was an easy ride compared to real piracy. This wouldn't necessarily be a return to form for him but definitely something he's more used to? And he gets to be kitty :3c

And FANG!!! Look at him showing a bit more skin!! Good for him!!

Everybody say 'Thank You David Jenkins'. Right now. Look at this Mad Max shit. Fuckin' Imperator Jimenez right there. LOVE that tye added the 'beard' after the 'fuck's wrong with your face?' bit in 1x10. Full 'it looked weird on you but I slay' energy.

Jim

Izzy

Fang

Near as I can tell at least. I can't make out if Frenchie is in the shot and I'm pretty positive Ed isn't cause he stayed by the cake when they charged in.

Man, yknow I know we were all kinda clowning on it a bit at the end of 1x10 but this look really is so JARRING. Like, in the dark it's menacing but in the light? It's unhinged and that reads as more dangerous imo.

Also just for comparison's sake the pre-Ed-ified version of the bride figure. He really did full on customize that thing lol.

I DON'T THINK ANNE KISSED STEDE HERE. It feels out of character of the show to pull the 'It's fine if a woman does it to a man' kind of thing with regard to unwanted kissing. This is the frame the scene starts on in the trailer. She's leaning back from him and isn't nearly close enough to his mouth to say for certain that's where she was coming from. My money is on her leaning in to whisper something into his ear, maybe under the guise of it being an advance/intended kiss, which would also explain the annoyed look when she's interrupted. She either got ACTUALLY interrupted or it's part of the act. Stede doesn't look nearly as uncomfortable as he would be if she'd kissed him or tried to, he looks confused.

Izzy going for his sword when this guy tries to get the drop on Stede. He either is starting to care or he knows how much Ed needs him alive.

Also, this is the other potential source of Stede's neckerchief. Mr, Knife right here has a red one and Stede doesn't have it in this scene. I do think this one is a little less distressed than the one Stede has though so it could just be coincidence.

See? No neckerchief. He DOES have a sword at his hip tho! So this, I think, is after Izzy's started training him.

Also, he actually looks really good in red lol.

Baby. He's definitely missing the ring in this shot. It sits higher than the baldric is covering. I want to give him a little kissie on his ouchie and then let him have a nap, he needs that.

The pants match the coat. Also, black shirt. Stede is kinda slaying ngl.

Still missing her head :(c. Isn't that bad luck?

Maybe yall didn't hear me properly with the Jim pic. I'll repeat:

EVERYBODY SAY 'THANK YOU DAVID JENKINS'.

I can't get over how Stede's just standing there politely with his arms behind his back lmfao.

Also, Izzy's got his right leg up, he's putting his weight on his left. . . 'foot'.

I SAID EVERYBODY SAY-

I know tits and all but also. The belly. I would like to. Bite.

*ahem*

ANYWAY. On the left (our left) side of the barrel you can see the tip of his right boot so he's def got that leg off the ground. Perhaps someone is trying to relearn their footwork? Now that they've got a different balance than they're used to? And perhaps a difference in sensory input in the leg he's standing on? Possibly?

This is the same beach Ed was on when he did the fuckin' RAD takedown of the other officer but it definitely looks like different times of day. Having both in the teaser is def meant to be a red herring. He doesn't have the neckerchief in this shot either.

Bra för honom. (Is how google translate tells me you say 'Good for him' in Swedish.)

Is Jackie's hair the same here as it is in the VF pic with Ed? Or like, similar enough to be a 'later in the day after some Fun™ messing it up a bit'?

Roach!!! Fully sleeveless now, added a belt, got some flowers tied to the strings/straps of his apron. Looks like he's having fun lighting that cannon lol. Pretty sure this is the same scene as that one leaked photo of him dancing with Fang and Izzy's green screen sock. He had the flowers in that, right?

[Ran out of allowed images, please hold]

[variousqueerthings]

okay I watched good omens s2 yesterday with my partner, and I was genuinely very surprised -- I think if you've grown up through superwholock/merlin/the 100/teen wolf type shows where (with the exception periodically of doctor who) you kind of had to make up the good show that something could have been in your head, that colours a lot of your viewing, and to be honest I thought season 1 of good omens was a fine little piece, honoured the book while modernising it somewhat, it was a nice, fun, low stakes time, with a couple of things I might have wanted a tad different but nothing overall awful.

so I was seeing all this meta and gifsets and discussion, while I was waiting to give s2 a watch with my partner and thought "ah, people have made up the good show in their heads again" not that I assumed s2 was going to be a bad show, but that people were taking extra deep plunges into possibilities, the way fandom does, and that was fine. I knew there was a big ol kiss, I had a sense of some kind of argument at the end, and that it was setting up a s3

I also knew that mainstream reviews were calling it (politely) self-indulgent and dependent on whether or not you enjoy david tennant and michael sheen having a good time for just under 6 hours

all in all, expectations of a somewhat mainstream show without too much to think about, a nice, fun low stakes time, moving on...

(EDIT: AND THEN I WROTE A LOT OF WORDS SO YOU CAN IMAGINE THAT MY REACTION WAS QUITE DIFFERENT)

as it turns out it seems these things that were being written on tumblr were discussing the actual text of the show and not things you could extrapolate if you squinted and tilted your head a little to the left as I'm so used to doing, so in fact there is much to think about!

and my first thought was "this is like when you read early discworld books that ask a question like a joke, only to find that over time the answer to that question becomes very serious (and also can be funny at times of course)." how terry pratchett would pick and pick at tropes and notions and social ideas and go "oh now hold on, this seems strange..." starting way back when he thought it was odd that women warriors always seemed to be dressed in metal bikinis and then realising he hadn't done a good enough job of subverting the trope, simply by depicting it and calling it a bit silly

why do goblins always get treated as the villains? what's with this divine succession of kings business? where are the female dwarfs? who do we treat as disposable?

good omens season one went: "haha what if heaven and hell were intensely incapable, bureaucratic, corrupt, and uncaring of the work they did, and we took an angel and a demon and had them actually care? wouldn't that be... a bit silly?" (and it was)

good omens season two went: "what are the consequences for caring when the people who have power over you are incapable, bureaucratic, corrupt, and uncaring? what are the forces that supersede systems built on fear, ignorance, and violent conformity? can people change and break out of/challenge/break down these structures by caring?"

and this was set up with a neat little sleight of hand (to reference aziraphale's switch-and-bait in the episode with the nazi zombies), because the majority of season 2 does feel a bit indulgent: hey, remember those two wacky angel-and-demon characters? watch some more wacky things they did through the ages, watch them take a sojourn through 1827 Edinburgh and do a magic show during the Blitz, and... stop the death of Job's and Sitis' children (actually maybe that whole segment ought to have been what they call "A Clue")

see them try to figure out a kooky mystery, all the while setting up a cute little same-gender romance on their street. watch as everything points towards a happy ending that's all about the two of them realising what they've been to one another all these thousands and thousands (and thousands and thousands) of years- but hold on. lest we forget - and the show has made this point over and over - there are powerful people who control them, who hurt them, and who plan on hurting others, throughout the whole season, and as it turns out they know what they've been to one another for far far longer, and know how to pull their strings...

season 2 then, has to show us these things, not because they're indulgent (well, maybe occasionally, but the apology dance is still important), but because in order to make the ending a tragedy, we first need to understand, properly, the impact that they have had on each other. we need to understand that Aziraphale relied heavily on Crowley to be his moral compass and leaned on black-and-white thinking in order to deal with things, because if it's all grey then where does he fit and what has it all meant and heaven has to be the good guys, even as Job's and Sitis' children are ordered to be killed, it's all he ever had...

and Crowley was always an anchor, needed to trust that Aziraphale was different, needed to bend to every whim that Aziraphale has, because otherwise what's his worth in all this? After having been already deemed worthless by the heaven that Aziraphale needs to believe in?

and that, simplistically described, is the narrative that we're seeing in s2, and alongside that the ways that the changes they have upon each other are noticed, and monitored, and placed under suspicion, and finally... broken up, not by the clumsy, brute force that's been attempted over and over again, but by a promise to return into a violent, controlling system and to "make it better from within"

and all of this is wrapped up in two queer relationships + a third queered-within-the-text relationship that creates the inverse of how it ends for Aziraphale and Crowley (so far). queer love -- whatever shape that has -- is explicitly the shape of non-conformity within this narrative, including within the symbolism of angel-and-demon love of Gabriel and Beelzebub, which in the context of the systems created is considered queer (and one can argue till the cats come home about casting cis actors, about angel-and-demon notions of gender/romance/sexuality, but the "queerness" comes from building something non-conforming to the systems they exist in), and enforced by the explicitly our-world-definition-of queer romance that Nina and Maggie have going on (which, while less high stakes, still contains the background controlling relationship that Nina initially is in)

all of this to say, that I disagree that s2 meanders, or that plotlines happen for the sake of showcasing Aziraphale and Crowley without purpose, or that characters get sidelined (I'd say it sets up a whole host of interesting characters to further get into actually), or that it's strictly mainstream easy-access narrative that's just an excuse for the main creators and actors to get back together.

the love is the point, and this show takes its time to show the love (and the unequal boundary-setting, and the fact that one of them has an undiscussed tragic backstory, and the desperation to belong again, and the fear instilled by oppressive systems, and and and), so that we understand why those last 15 minutes happen the way that they do

it's sleight of hand, and like all good magic, you don't notice until it's happened

[maxlarens]

driver!reader and engineer!george spiel:

I can just imagine if driver had a tyre blowout or smth George just becomes so apologetic and feels terrible-

“I’m so sorry I didn’t notice it in the data-“

*driver sighs* “for the a thousandth time, it wasn’t your fault.”

also when driver first moved to the team George had no idea how to comfort them after a bad race, unsure if they wanted space, or just someone to be with them. George decides to keep his distance until one race where driver just sighs and mutters “stay…please.” George’s heart melts and combusts simultaneously at this.

i love this it’s so sweet!!!! hope y'all enjoy!!! i feel so bad for not posting anything recently so i wrote this sooo quickly before i had to get ready for work lol😵‍💫😵‍💫

You know the disqualification wasn’t your fault.

You know that. How could it possibly be your fault anyway? Sure, if you twist it into something utterly unrecognisable you could make it into a personal failing. But you’re trying not to blame yourself for every little thing, and you’re trying hard not to micromanage.

You’re new at Mercedes anyway, you don’t want to come off too strong. Scare them off before they start to really trust you. It's a miracle in and of itself that you're here. A rookie driver, a woman, at Mercedes of all teams. Alongside Lewis Hamilton. You've got Susie and Toto Wolff to thank for that you suppose.

Anyway, you're trying hard not to think about the car just on the other side of the wall. Trying not to grab a tape measure and measure the chassis yourself. Like you'll find anything different than the FIA, like it'll change anything at all.

It's only P8 after all— four points— which is four points you'd have really liked to have to your name. Especially so early on in your rookie season. Toto knows that, had been apologetic on behalf of the team during the debriefing. You'd understood.

You'd tried to understand at least.

He'd said it wouldn't happen again.

Still, it hurts. There this ache in your chest that makes it feel like your hopes and dreams are slipping away through your fingers. This was the first race you felt you'd really begun to prove yourself and your position on this team and now everyone will be able to point to the disqualification and say this is why. She doesn't have the raw skill, it's because of the car—

"There's next week."

You snap your head up, startled at the noise. It's George, in the doorway. You'd not heard him come in, too busy navel-gazing, feeling sorry for yourself. God, you're pathetic.

"Hm", you question, trying not to let on that you're utterly miserable.

"There's next week," he repeats, inching into the room and closing the door gently behind him, "You'll do it again next week."

Your mouth twists involuntarily, skeptical. Even though you know it wasn't you. It was the car, it was some silly mistake from the warehouse. You couldn't have done anything. It just inexplicably feels like the world is crumbling in on you and you can't figure out why.

"You think?"

George nods, expression serious, a little harrowed. But sympathetic, like he understands, like he knows how it feels. You're inclined to believe that he does, he'd not given you a reason to think otherwise in the six odd months you've known him.

"Pretty sure," he says in such a way that you're sure he means 'unequivocally yes', like he believes in you wholeheartedly, like he'd never doubt you.

You're not sure what you've done to deserve that from him. This unwavering loyalty to you that he seems to have already. You just know you feel it too. Inexplicably.

You watch him, long-limbed and slightly out of place, shifting from foot to foot under your stare. He makes a move to leave after a long minute, giving you a cursory nod— you feel something open up in your chest at the thought of him leaving right. Some pit of yearning, some ache that you cant quite place.

"Wait," you say, feeling brave.

His hand falls from the door knob, he turns, tilting his head at you in question. His eyebrows furrowed.

"Would you stay? For a bit?"

He's nodding before you've got the words out, crossing the room to sit next to you on the couch. Not too close, but enough that you can feel the body heat radiating off him, smell him, a little sweaty from being out on the pit-lane, but mostly the smell of his cologne.

"Yeah," he says gently, "Of course, I can."

You nod in thanks, feeling a little exposed, a little vulnerable from your shame, from begging for a friend in him.

"Thank you, George. I just—" don't have anyone else, you don't say, feeling like that might be too far. Instead you let you sentence taper off and sigh, letting some tension leech out of you, "Yeah."

George moves closer, fractionally. Feeling brave again, you lean your head onto his shoulder, hoping he doesn't mind too much. You decide he doesn't when his arm comes around so he can rub little comforting circles into the top of your shoulder.

Slowly but surely, you feel all the anger and the sadness make way for some warm fuzzy feeling in your stomach. From then on, George becomes a regular fixture in your driver's room, especially post-race, especially when you feel like your heart has been stomped on. It's hard to feel like shit when George acts like you're capable of anything.

headcanon: george is a former driver turned engineer!

[landosjpg]

‘tis the damn season | ln

the one where you go back to your hometown just to end up in lando's bed.

lando norris x gender-neutral!reader

word count: ~1.3k

warnings: ex-bf!lando, little bit of angst & fluff, implied smut

note: part 2 of this blurb series i have going on rn, it’s not proofread so there might be some spelling mistakes!

you looked at the screen of your phone absolutely perplexed, reading the simple conversation over and over again.

"heard you're back in town?"

"i'm sorry, who's this?

"lando."

you couldn't believe that was actually happening.

it had been years since you and lando had last seen each other, or even talked. growing up in the same town, you had been friends since early childhood, and you had grown together with your group of friends.

you also happened to date him for a year before you had decided to move to L.A for your studies, and with him also making his move up to f1, you had decided to call it quits.

and when you left, you never heard of him again.

you had been out of the country for a little over five years, and had never came back til that very christmas. flights from california to england were not only expensive, but also a lot of time; so you had never found yourself in the right state of mind to go back to your hometown, having your family and friends visit you instead some times.

from what your friends had told you, lando had lost contact with everyone in your old friend group, so how on earth did he even findd out?

"my parents told me, they saw your mum at the store yesterday."

the answer to your question came as he double texted at the lack of a reply from your side. you sighed, not sure where he was going with all that.

"just came back a few days ago."

"are you free tonight? haven't seen you in forever."

straight to the point, classic lando.

"can't, i'm staying with my parents. they probably want to have dinner together."

you knew it wasn't a great excuse, but you hoped he would accept it and move on with his life.

part of you wanted to accept his invitation, it had been so long since you had last seen him. as you looked at your screen, you reminisced your relationship with him.

you had dated other people during those years, but even on the other side of the world, you sometimes thought no one would ever make you feel the way he used to do, no one would even know you the way he did.

the rational part of you knew it wasn't a great idea. in the end, you were leaving again in just a few weeks. and you didn't want to go back to your new life with the "what would've been..?" question lingering on your mind.

୨୧

you knew lando could be persuasive. but you thought he wouldn't have much of an effect in you after so many years.

silly you.

he had convinced you to come over to his place in the matter of a few minutes, claiming that his parents were out of town for the weekend and he would appreciate some company.

you parked your car between your old school and the town's church, the place where you and lando would usually meet when you were younger.

sighing, you left your car and started walking the cold streets that led to his house.

the same path you used to follow every other day a few years ago, but this time you weren't sure what was waiting for you there. and it was too late to retreat when you knocked on the door and a smiling lando welcomed you inside from the other side of the door.

he looked different.

more mature, and definitely a lot more handsome than you remembered.

he had ordered something for you two to eat, and with a movie on the background, you talked for hours, time flying by without you even noticing.

you were sat on his couch, one bottle of wine gone during your joyful chatter; and with the alcohol getting to your head, you couldn't stop yourself from leaning into his body, sighing contently.

you looked up at him, a smile creeping up to your lips when you saw him staring back at you.

"what's with this?" you giggled, scratching his chin, amused at his attempt of growing a beard.

"hey," he pretended to be offended, poking on your side with his index, which made you squirm. "it's not that bad."

"i didn't say it was," you answered, "you look hot."

the words slipped out of your mouth before you could ever think about it, and a pink flush quickly painted your cheeks as you mentally slapped yourself.

"i'm sorry, i didn't mean to..." you tried to make the situation less awkward, but his hand cupped your cheek and forced you to look back at him again.

he was leaning into you, and your breath caught in your throat at the proximity between your faces. a deep, shaky breath left your lips as you looked into his piercing eyes.

"is this okay?" he asked, his voice low and husky. and fuck, was it inviting.

you nodded your head, not able to form a proper sentence, or even a word. and he broke the distance between your lips, crashing his mouth against yours in a soft, tender kiss.

you sighed against his mouth before you let you hands and lips do all the talking and soon he was guiding you into his room with his arms around your waist.

୨୧

a few hours later you found yourself walking back into his room, your hair messy as you put your clothes back on. he smiled at you from under the covers, having gotten in bed already.

you chuckled at the sight of him, tucked under the blankets with messy curls and sleepy eyes. and it reminded you of all the previous times you had spent with him in that very same bed, your heart growing fond of the sight before you.

"you're not staying?" his question caught you by surprise, making you stop gathering your things to turn to look at him.

"what?"

"you're not staying?" he repeated, as if you hadn't heard him the first time. but you were still as surprised.

"no," you simply mumbled, sitting on the edge of his bed to put your boots back on.

"come on, y/n," you felt his weigth shifting closer to you, his arm wrapping around your waist and his lips pressing a tender kiss on your hip, over your jeans.

it wasn't a good idea, spending the night with him. you knew that much.

"it's late and it's cold outside, you can leave in the morning," he added, not letting you reject his offer again.

and the softness of his voice with the puppy eyes he was giving you, could've made you do anything he asked for.

he smiled when you didn't reply, knowing that you weren't going to turn him down again. you rolled your eyes with a smile and changed into the shirt he was offering for you to be more comfortable.

his shirt.

and you knew you shouldn't have come to his house in the first place. you knew you shouldn't have slept with him and surely, you should've left instead of crawling back into his arms, letting the warmth of his body envelop you as you lied with your head on his chest.

because you knew you would leave again in only a few weeks; and having a taste of what could've been if you didn't run away years earlier would only lead to breaking your very own heart.

but you sighed and snuggled closer to him, nuzzling your face on his chest and allowing yourself to be his, just for the weekend.

[starsinthesky5]

you belong with me (mini fic): hotel room || joe burrow x reader

description: sometimes the need to feel each other is just too strong to resist

a/n: SURPRISE! a little bitty standalone type fic before we get to the angstiest fic I've ever writtennnnnn ;) horny hour came to WORK in this fic...

also woah? two fics from me in 1 weekend? and I wrote this in a day? what. so if this is trash, boring, or me yapping, that’s because I wrote this within the last few hours and im sleepy 😋 this was inspired by 2 requests! thank you, you know who you are💗💗

anyway, go check out the one if you haven't!

word count: 5.9 k

warnings: smut (there’s thigh riding in this one 😜), language

you belong with me series masterlist

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

"Oh, fuck," Joe whispered to himself as he opened the photos that you just sent him from your hotel room, the need to see you growing just like the tent in his pants as his hormones started to soar.

You both were away in Kansas City for the weekend ahead of the highly anticipated AFC championship game between the Bengals and the Chiefs on Sunday night. Joe had flown to Kansas City with the team as usual while he chartered a private plane for you that was a few hours behind him and he made sure that he booked you a hotel room specifically at the hotel that the team was staying at. He felt comfort in knowing that you were safe and close to him--you were just 8 floors beneath him--since you came to KC alone since his parents would be flying in early tomorrow morning.

Since you technically weren't allowed to see Joe and didn't want to go out in the City all alone, you found yourself absolutely bored out of your mind, not being able to find any entertainment or way to pass the time all alone. You found yourself like this a few weeks ago as well, the night before the first playoff game of the post-season, and remembered what you did to cure your boredom and entertain yourself and Joe.

Spicy Photos.

He loved them the first time so you knew he'd love them just as much this time. Maybe it could even become a 'night before a game' tradition?

So then, you found yourself half naked--only clad in a skimpy, lacy purple lingerie bra & pantie set--seated in front of the large body mirror and tapping away on your camera as you changed up your poses to show off the parts of your body that Joe was obsessed with (your thighs, your breasts, your ass, the crook of your neck where he liked to mark his territory).

Joe got your photos a few moments ago, and he was losing his mind. Especially because you were so close to him right now, close enough for him to see you. Or was he close enough for you to see him?

"Fuck, Y/N," he whispered again as the growing erection in his purple shorts was becoming more and more visible. He needed to see you so badly, he couldn't control himself. Not when you were this close to him. Last time, he was a whole half hour away so he was mostly okay, but this time...this time it was a different story.

Joe opened his camera and snapped a photo of the tent in his pants, a cheeky grin on his face as he went back to your chat and responded to your photos.

Joe: i miss youuuuu

You: i miss youuuuu too, if you couldn't already tell by the photos ;)

He then attached the photo of the tent in his pants, typed up a silly caption, and sent it to you, wishing he could see your reaction in person.

Joe: image 📸

he misses you too 😋

Your eyes widened as you opened the photo and saw what he had just sent you, the silly caption that he typed with it making you bust out laughing.

"There is no fucking way," you laughed to yourself as you flipped onto your stomach and laughed even harder into the pillow as you imagined Joe taking that photo and typing up that stupidly adorable caption.

"I can't believe he just sent me that photo," you smiled to yourself, still not quite used to this part of your relationship. How could Joe be so sexy and adorably silly at be the same time? You went back to the texts and quickly typed something up to make sure he didn't think you left him hanging, playing along with his silliness.

You: i miss him too 😪

Joe raised an eyebrow at your sudden straightforwardness but was amused that you were playing along with him.

Joe: you and that damn purple lingerie are reallyyyy doing something to me

He scrolled back up to the photos you sent him, tapping on one that showed off your beautiful smile but also gave him a good view of your perfect breasts. "Fuckk," he shakily breathed out while throwing his head back onto the pillow as he placed his hand on the tent in his pants, the pressure that was building becoming too much for him.

Joe was obsessed with your chest. Whether it was laying on it after a tiring workout while you played with his hair or it was him leaving little love bites along your nipple while he was sending you straight to heaven with each thrust, that was his favorite place to be.

He needed to feel your lips on him again, he needed to feel your fingers scratching down his back, and he needed to feel you.

He needed to see you right now.

Joe quickly went back to the chat, this time hitting the Facetime button instead of texting you. You immediately picked up, a grin growing on your face as you saw his adorable flushed cheeks.

"You're needy tonight," you giggled.

"I need to see you," he said while running his fingers through his hair and moving his curls back. "Like really bad. I can't do this,".

"Joe, you know I can't," you said as you sat up on the bed, his eyes falling down as your body came into the frame. You weren't in the lingerie anymore, but you were wearing a slinky tank top which showed off your beautiful breasts.

"Baby, please," he pleaded. "I can't,".

"If I get caught on your floor, it'll be hell for both of us. Probably me more than you since you're the star of the show and they can't really do anything because it'll hurt everything," you said while moving your hair back.

"Nobody will give you hell, you're my girlfriend. Everyone knows that now," he smiled.

"I know, but being your girlfriend doesn't give me a free pass to bend the rules that every NFL team has to follow," you sighed.

You wanted to see him so bad, but you were scared that you'd get caught and didn't even want to think about what the consequences would be. They had NFL players stay at a hotel the night before a game for a reason--home or away--and it was to prevent any and all distractions and to prevent them from partaking in activities that would release the energy they needed for game day. You both were already pushing it when Joe booked you a room in the same hotel he was staying at, the Bengals Travel Coordinators were not super happy about it, but Joe being Joe somehow convinced them to let it slide just this once.

"Do you have the Mascot suit on you by any chance?" he giggled, referring to the first time you joked about sneaking into his room by trying to pass as the mascot.

"Damn, I think I left it in my other suitcase," you pouted, a soft chuckle coming from his mouth in return.

Although he was laughing with you, he was still serious as hell about getting you in his room one way or another.

"Y/N," he said, turning serious again. "Please. I just need to see you for a little. I'll make sure you won't get caught,".

"And how will you do that?" you asked him, part of you wanting to hear him out.

"You can't come up the elevator because we have staff guarding the it up here so that nobody can come up here other than Bengals personnel, but there are stairs that connect every floor and my room is just 3 doors down from the stairs on this floor. I know that they make the rounds around my hall and the hall on the other side so you'll just have to wait for them to turn the other way," he explained.

"Why does this sound easier than I thought? Was this all I had to do to see him?" you thought, contemplating what you should do.

You would be lying if you weren't as turned on as Joe was right now. That photo he sent you made think some things and feel some feelings but you ultimately came to the consensus that you needed him right now.

Your brain was fogging up with thoughts of Joe. Thoughts of his lips pressed against yours, his hands massaging your plush skin, the dirty sounds of pleasure leaving his lips, the mere sight of him on the brink of coming undone. He was the only thing you could think about right now. With the way your heart was pounding in your chest and the way the heat was slowly rising up your body, you were either two seconds away from passing out or two seconds away from saying something that would really set you both off.

"Please," he begged again, a gush of wetness pooling at your core because of his husky voice.

"Fuck it," you whispered, you needed Joe. "I’ll be there in a little bit," you said as you got up and hastily searched for your clothes.

Joe immediately sat up on the bed, a huge satisfied grin on his face as a thrill shot up his spine. "I love you," he smiled.

"I love you too much, that's why I'm doing this," you giggled as you placed your phone down on the dresser and quickly slipped on your flimsy sleep shorts and tank top. "I'll see you in a few, okay?" you said to him once you picked up the phone again.

"Be careful," he said before you gave him a quick nod and hung up, then placed your phone back onto the table so you could slide your Uggs on. You grabbed your room's keycard and took a deep breath before opening the door.

About 10 minutes later, you were slowly climbing up the stairs as you were hot, sweaty, and out of breath. "W-what the fuck," you sighed as you stopped to collect your breath. "I need to go to the gym more," you panted, rolling your eyes when you saw that you were only on floor 7 and still had 4 more to go and you already climbed up 4 flights of stairs.

"Only for Joe," you laughed as you continued up the stairs. You wouldn't be caught dead doing this for another man, but for Joe? Anything. You'd move planets for the person that you've been in love with for 9 years if he asked you to, and you had the comfort of knowing that he would do the exact same for you.

Another 10 minutes later, you finally made it to the 11th floor.

"Holy fuck," you said while wiping the thin layer of sweat off your forehead, quickly crouching down once you saw one of the Bengals staff members through the little window in the door. "Fuck," you whispered as you peeked your head up to see if they saw you or not, which they didn't.

"Any minute now," you whispered, waiting for them to turn around and go down the other hallway.

You watched carefully for about two minutes, getting impatient as they took their sweet time before you saw them turn around and start walking down to the other hallway.

"Finally," you whispered to yourself as you stood up and quietly twisted the door handle, carefully stepping out into the hallway before gently shutting the door behind you.

You slowly walked down the hallway, counting 3 doors down from the stairs but realizing Joe never told you which door 3 doors down was his room.

You reached for your phone to text him but were met with an empty pocket. A frustrated sigh leaves your lips when you realize you left your phone on the table.

"Ugh. Left or Right?" you whispered to yourself as you looked back and forth between the doors. "This is like a game of roulette," you soughed. You eventually chose the left door, accepting that if you were wrong you would quickly leave the floor with your tail between your legs and go back down 8 flights of stairs to your room.

"Okay," you breathed out before making your hand into a fist and knocking on the door, in an uber-specific pattern.

Two quick knocks, "Knock-Knock", matching the start of the chorus with a steady beat.

Pause for 1 second.

One slow Knock "Knock", reflects the continuation of the melody.

Pause for 1 second.

Two quick knocks, "Knock-knock", follows the rhythm as the chorus progresses.

Pause for 1 second.

Two quick knocks, "Knock-Knock", ends the pattern in sync with the final beats of the chorus.

It aligned with the Chorus of the song "Night Changes" by One Direction, a song you and Joe were obsessed with back at OSU. A song you made a special knocking sequence to for times you showed up at each other's rooms unannounced for whatever reason. You made this special sequence up because there were times you didn't want to see other or hang out with other people, but you always wanted to see each other no matter the circumstance. This knocking sequence always let you both know who was at the door.

"Hm, that's ironic," you giggled as you remembered the Chorus of the song.

"We're only getting older baby and I been thinking about it lately, Does it ever drive you crazy just how fast the night changes, Everything that you've ever dreamed of, Disappearing when you wake up, But there's nothing to be afraid of even when the night changes, It will never change me and you,".

It did drive you crazy just how fast the night changed for you and Joe. Everything around you changed in the past 9 years--your ages, your careers, your lifestyles, your relationships--but the one thing that never changed was you and Joe.

And that was the one thing that was never going to change.

While you were lost in thought, you felt the door open as a whiff of air hit your face, your precious 6’4 boyfriend standing right in front of you.

"Oh thank god," you said, letting out a relieved sigh before you felt Joe grab your hand and yank you into the room, quickly closing the door before he leaned down and smashed his lips against yours. You were a bit taken aback by the intensity of the kiss, but it only took you 5 seconds to melt in Joe’s arms and lose your cool. His hands were firmly placed on your waist, the pads of his fingers massaging the soft skin of your hips, as he backed you both up to the couch across the room.

He felt the back of his knees hit the couch before he pulled away from the kiss and plopped down, spreading his legs extremely wide as he patted his lap for you to sit down. "Come here," he smirked, you gave him a quick nod before placing a knee on either side of his thighs and sitting down in his comfortable lap, the hardness underneath you making your hormones take over.

You cupped his face with your hands and pulled his face closer to yours, capturing his perfectly pink lips in another kiss. His hands landed on your waistline again, "Mm, I haven't heard that knock in years," he said in between the kiss.

"I had to let you know it was me," you whispered as you slid your lips to the corner of his mouth, peppering wet kisses up his jaw as his hands slid underneath the flimsy fabric of your tank top.

"I missed you," he rasped as you felt his other hand land on the back of your head, pulling you right back to his lips.

His hand then moved to the straps of your tank top, slowly pulling one down as he pulled away and moved his lips to your collarbone.

"Joe," you quietly moaned as you tilted your head to the side, exposing more of your neck for him to worship. You felt him attach his lips to his favorite spot on your neck, rhythmically sucking and biting the skin as he marked his territory--a special reminder to those who didn't know who you belonged to.

"Baby," you breathed out, grabbing his head by his hair and pulling him back up to your lips, your noses bumping into each other as your tongues tangled in each other's mouths. It was driving you insane, the more his hands moved around your body the more desperate to feel him everywhere you got. You wanted him to rip your clothes off and have you right then and there, but you were playing a risky game. If anyone walked past his door, they would 100% hear you two going at it.

His hands dropped down to your ass, kneading the flesh with his large veiny hands as he began to rock you back and forth in his lap. You instantly pulled away, taking note of how his big blue eyes were screaming 'fuck me' at you right now.

"Joe, we can't," you breathlessly said, his movements not stopping at your hesitance.

You feel him grab your waist again, scooching you over so that you are now straddling one of his thick, muscular thighs and not his lap. "Yes, we can," he whispered in your ear, heat pooling in your stomach as you feel his large thigh against your aching clit.

Joe continues to slowly rock you back and forth against his thigh, a tingling sensation all over your body as your clothed clit rubbed against his thigh; the flimsy fabric of your shorts practically had you bare against his leg. You leaned your head back as you let out a moan that was a little louder than you both preferred.

"Fuck," you whined at the stimulation his thigh was giving you. Joe lifted one of his hands to cover your mouth, "Shh, baby. Another one of those and this will be over a lot faster than we want, and it won't have a nice ending either," he warned as you looked back down at him.

You gave him a nod as you continued to move back and forth against his thigh, his purple shorts riding further and further up his leg because of your movements. The wetness from your core was seeping out of your underwear, and your rocking hips were spreading it along his thigh.

God, you loved his thighs. They were so thick and muscular and the perfect seat. Whenever you saw photos of Joe doing his typical man-spread, you lost it. The thighs were always the highlight of the show, not his face, not his arms, his thighs.

"That's it, baby," he said while guiding you back and forth, somehow enjoying this even more than you were even though he was receiving no stimulation from this.

"Joe," you whimpered, his big hand muffling your moan, feeling him bounce his leg underneath you which made your moans come out in short gasps. "J- Joe," you moaned again, your belly fluttering at the new movement.

You lifted your hand and moved his hand off your mouth, then leaned in and captured his lips in another kiss to hopefully stifle your moans.

Joe was taking part in a mental battle right now, trying to fight off the urge to take you to the bed in front of him and fuck you into oblivion. He needed to feel you more than he already was, but if he did you both would get caught very quickly.

Suddenly, an idea popped into his head that could solve your problems--the shower.

Nobody would be able to hear you both in the bathroom, especially with the running water.

He decided to hold off on that for a few minutes, allowing you to continue to do what you needed to feel your rapidly building high. He pulled away from the kiss again, lifting your head with his hand, "Look at me, Y/N," he whispered. His thumb stroked your bottom lip as he looked intensely into your glossy eyes, "Keep going," he encouraged, your movements getting faster against his thigh.

"Joe, I'm so close," you quietly whimpered, your clit pressed firmly against his thigh as the band in your belly tightened. You ran your hands up his arms, then gripped his shoulders as you continued to ride his thigh, your body starting to tremble on top of him as his cock grew harder at the feeling of wetness spreading along his leg.

"That's it, that's my fucking girl...you're so fucking sexy riding me like this," he whispered in your ear, his hands wandering along your body again as he pressed a kiss to your ear before lightly biting your earlobe. “Come for me, come on my thigh,” he whispered.

"Joe," you moaned loudly, dropping your head to the crook of his neck as you picked up the pace, your pleasure just a few seconds away. There was truly no place you'd rather be right now than the comfortable embrace of Joe's arms. This was your home. He was your home.

You bit down on the tan skin of his neck to stifle your moan, knowing that this one would be particularly loud as you let yourself go. "Mmph, Joe," you moaned as you felt the band in your tummy snap, your core gushing with wetness as most of it seeped out onto his leg.

"Fuck, Y/N," Joe breathed out, feeling a cool moisture pooling on his thigh as you quivered above him. "Baby, I need you," he whispered in your ear, your face coming back up from the crook of his neck.

"Joe, I- I told you, we c- can't," you choked out, aftershocks of your high washing over you.

"We can in there," he said as he motioned to the bathroom with his head.

All the hesitance and apprehension left your head about 4 minutes ago, so you honestly could not care less about what would unfold once you got in the bathroom. You didn't care if you got caught, as risky as that sounded. "Okay," you nodded, Joe immediately got up from the couch with you in his lap, his hands firmly placed on your ass as you wrapped your legs around him. You rested your cheek against his chest, whispering "I love you" to him in which he pressed a loving kiss to your forehead in return.

A few minutes later, you were in the bathroom, completely bare as the hot water of the shower was falling around you. You were pressed up against the cool glass of the shower door as Joe was spending some more time around your neck, especially at his favorite spot.

Your fingers played with his wet curls as you used them to pull his face back up to yours so that you could kiss him again. "We have to be quick," you mumbled in between the kiss. "I have to get out of here before lights out,".

"Okay," Joe nodded, his hands reaching down to cup your ass, hoisting you up as you wrapped your legs around his thick body. "Fuck, I needed this," he sighed as he looked deeply into your eyes again. "I needed you,".

"Well, it's a good thing I'm here then," you smirked before pulling him back for another kiss, this one way messier and needier than the others.

After another minute of attacking each other's swollen lips, Joe lined his rock-hard cock with your already-soaked core, thrusting all the way inside as you let out a loud moan and threw your head back against the glass.

"Ah, Joe," you hissed, the feeling of him filling you up all the way still new even though you'd done this quite a few times since December.

"Fuck, Y/N," Joe groaned as he felt your walls wrap around his thick shaft, his hips snapping into yours after a few seconds of getting comfortable.

"Oh my god," you cried out after you felt his cock grazing your g-spot, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"Yeah? You like that?" Joe panted in your ear after giving you another hard thrust which made him hit the spot.

"Yeah," you whimpered, his cock continuing to slam into your cervix, making you re-think your entire existence. The way he was going about this was driven by pure lust, love, and need. This was exactly what he needed right now, and you were giving it to him with open arms; and open legs.

You were the most addictive thing on this earth, he could never stay away from you and if he tried, he'd have withdrawals. For example, if you didn't sneak into his room, he would've had all this pent-up energy inside of him that would most likely turn into anxiety for tomorrow's game. But it wasn't, thanks to you.

For most, this would be a distraction. But for Joe, this was the best way to relax. The perfect way to collect himself, he just needed to be with you. You always made him lose his worries, lose his nerves, and make him calm down. You were exactly what he needed.

And you almost said 'No' to coming up to his room, pathetic.

A few minutes later, Joe leaned back a little and leaned down, sucking your nipple into his mouth as he rhythmically rolled his hips into yours, making sure that he touched every spot on your body that he loved.

"Don't stop, Joe. Don't ever stop," you cried out, feeling your second high building in your stomach as he continued to pound into you. You ran your nails along his back, lightly digging into the skin while Joe hissed around your breast at the burning sensation he was feeling.

After a few moments of showing your perfect breasts some love, he moved back up to your face, "Y/N, you feel so good," he moaned.

The sights and sounds of his flushed cheeks, tousled & wet curls, and open-mouthed moans drove you insane.

You felt your legs starting to burn from the rough thrusts of his cock, also because of what transpired on the couch earlier. "Babe, I'm close," you panted as you gripped his broad shoulders.

"Hang on for me," he softly whined, picking up the pace of his deep thrusts which sent you straight over the edge, your walls tightening around his veiny cock.

"Oh my fucking-," you moaned before you felt the tip of his cock hit a spot he hadn't hit before, causing your orgasm to rip through your body like a strike of lightning. "Joe!" you screamed as you grabbed his wet curls and tightly pulled on them.

"Y/N," Joe panted as he dropped his head to the crook of your neck, your walls convulsing around his twitching cock. "Fuck, I'm," he choked out, his orgasm begging to be released.

"I know, I know," you soothed as you rubbed his back while coming down from your high. "I'm here," you said while kissing his reddened cheek. "I'm right here,"

A few more thrusts later, you felt him let go as your walls were coated with warm spurts of his cum, Joe continuing to whimper and moan into your ear as he felt his high come over him. "F- Fuck, you're incredible,".

"I love you," he panted, trying to catch his breath as he gently let go of your legs and set you back on the ground, your knees buckling as you fell right into him. "Woah, I got you," he smiled as he wrapped his arms around you.

"I love you," you giggled as you clung onto him, the hot water falling on both of you making you feel even more refreshed than your previous orgasms.

About 10 minutes later, you both dried each other off and made it out of the shower. You slipped your clothes back on before brushing your wet hair in the mirror while Joe changed into a fresh pair of shorts behind you, your eyes widening at the red scratches on his back.

"Oh, shit," you gasped as you flipped around to look at his back. "I'm sorry,".

"No need to say sorry, princess," he smiled. "I like it when you leave a mark," he winked.

"But the guys are probably going to give you shit for it," you frowned. "They'll see that those are fresh and figure it out,".

"If the guys find out, they'll be too busy bitchin' about how it's not fair for them to not be able to see their girls before a game to care that you broke about a dozen league rules," he laughed. "Besides," he added as he placed his hands on your waist and flipped you around so that you were facing the mirror again. "I left plenty of marks on you," he said while resting his chin on your shoulder and moving your wet hair to the back to show off your neck, a prominent purple love bite on your neck with a few small, faint ones scattered around it.

"Good thing I brought extra concealer," you giggled as you felt Joe pepper kisses along your neck.

"Mhmm," he hummed as he looked back up and met your tired eyes in the mirror. "I still can't believe you actually snuck up here. We should do this more often next season,".

"Woahhh, slow down, Burrow. I had to climb 8 flights of stairs to get up here. My legs are about to snap in half and I have 8 more flights to go down to go back to my room. This is def a once in a once-in-a-blue-moon deal," you nodded. "Stairs are not my thing,".

"Fine," he sighed, earning a pleased smile from you. "I'll be looking forward to the next time we get to repeat this little rendezvous, though,".

"I know you will," you winked before looking up at the clock, seeing that it was almost time for you to make your sneaky exit. "I should get going," you said as you flipped around in his hold.

"Okay," he nodded, tucking your wet hair behind your ear.

"I'll see you at the game tomorrow, okay?" you nodded.

"Yeah," Joe nodded again while giving you a soft look with his eyes.

"I want you to know that no matter what happens tomorrow night, I'm so proud of you, Joe. You've truly had one of the best years since you've been in the league and regardless of what goes down tomorrow, you did your best and went above and beyond. I love you so much and I'm so happy and proud of you," you smiled while you cupped his cheek and pulled his face down to press a kiss to the crown of his forehead.

"Thank you, Y/N. That really means a lot," he said while letting out a deep breath. "I love you. Thank you for being here," he said while leaning in for a sweet, purely innocent kiss.

"I'm always here," you said against his swollen lips after you pulled away.

After a few more minutes of saying goodbye to each other, you took a peek outside the hallway to see if the coast was clear; which it was.

You stepped outside into the hall, slowly and quietly inching towards the door to the stairs before you heard a familiar voice call your name behind you. "Y/N?" the deep voice spoke up.

"Fuck. Ja'marr," you whispered to yourself, instantly recognizing the voice and turning around.

"Y/N? What the hell are you doing up here?" he loudly said as he walked closer to you.

"I....uh....," you mumbled, not being able to come up with an excuse for why you were on this floor.

"Wait a second," he said as he looked at your wet hair, the purple spots on your neck which you clearly couldn't cover since your makeup was in your room, and your blissed-out facial expression and glow.

"Ain't no fuckin' way," he said, bursting out laughing as he realized he just caught you in a walk of shame. "No fucking wayyyy,".

"It's not what you think," you nervously shook your head.

While you were attempting to come up with an excuse, Joe opened his door because he heard a ruckus outside and decided to see what was going on, but he froze at the doorstep once he saw both you and Ja'marr look back at him.

"Oh my god," he said while laughing harder once he saw Joe's wet hair matching your wet hair. "You two seriously...right now...at the team hotel...oh my GOD," he said, his entire body shaking at how hard he was laughing.

"Ja'marr please don't tell anyone," you begged as you looked over at Joe.

"Joe, you do realize she probably just broke about a dozen rules by doing this, right?" Ja'marr asked while looking back at him.

"It was actually my idea," Joe said while scratching his neck, his cheeks turning red out of embarrassment.

"Man, why you so fuckin' horny lately?" Ja'marr shook his head, a laugh coming from your lips as you saw Joe's cheeks turn even more red. "I get you have a hot girlfriend and you're making up for 9 years worth of sex, blah, blah--not to be weird--but damn Joe, keep that shit in your pants till you get home," he lectured.

"Yeah, Joe. Keep it in your pants," you teased as you gave him a wink.

"Y/N, please. Spare me," Joe playfully rolled his eyes. "Maybe save the lingerie pics for when we get back home then,".

Your jaw fell open at his lack of filter considering you were with Ja'marr right now.

"Okayyy, I don't need to be a part of this conversation," he laughed. "Yall can have your lovers quarrel later. We have 5 minutes before lights out and the staff comes to check the rooms, Joe. So Y/N needs to get outta here or you're both fucked,".

"Well, I was just leaving until you stopped me," you huffed.

"Well, your secret is safe with me...for now," he grinned. "Yall owe me, remember that," he said while pointing at you two.

"You got it," you laughed as you gave him a salute. "I'm gonna go now," you said while looking back at Joe, a small smile on his lips as if he was enjoying this situation.

"Bye, Y/N," Ja'marr waved like a little kid.

"Bye, Ja'marr," you laughed before looking back at Joe.

"Bye, J. I love you and remember what I said earlier," you said while shooting him a loving smile.

"I love you too, and I will, " he smiled while giving you a small wave.

"Man, are yall still talking dirty right now? For real? 'Remember what I said earlier?' No. Joe don't need to remember whatever the fuck you whispered in his ear while going at it," Ja'marr said with a disgusted look on his face.

"That's not what I-...you know what? Never mind," you said while throwing your hands up and turning around to open the door to the staircase, a smile tugging at your lips as you heard Ja'marr and Joe laugh behind you while you closed the door behind you and slowly made your way down the stairs.

"Man, yall are really something," Ja'marr said when he walked back over to Joe's doorstep.

"What do you expect me to do," Joe shrugged. "I've been after her for 9 years. Let me have my fun with my girlfriend,".

"Have fun, but don't have too much fun," Ja'marr laughed as he patted Joe's shoulder and walked back to his room.

"That's considered too much fun? Please," Joe whispered to himself while turning around and going back into his room. "We're just getting started," he said with a content grin on his face.

--The End--

[ragingbookdragon]

A Guardian For All

TFP Optimus Prime x Reader

Word Count: 1.1K Warnings: None

Author's Note: Okay look, OP has a chokehold on me in all forms. Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

She’d somehow managed to become the in-resident mom, even though she was just in her junior year at college, after tracking down the three teens to the silo. To say it had been a surprise, to see and learn of the Autobots and the multitudes that came with the robots, would be an understatement. And yet, she fit right in, even with Miko’s constant, “She’s like a mom!” complaints.

Fortunate enough to be able to focus solely on schoolwork and not juggle a job, she was able to spend more time with the Autobots and learning about them. When the teens were there, she spent time utilizing the kitchen that was seemingly untouched by the Autobots—and why would they use it? They didn’t even consume human food. Often times, she made the three meals they had skipped in order to come to the silo and be with their guardians.

Guardians.

Jack had Arcee.

Miko had Bulkhead.

Raf had Bumblebee, and at times, Ratchet.

She didn’t have one.

Not that she needed one, of course. While she worried about the others running around with Decepticons, she felt it was the best course of action to not leave the silo all that much on missions. Typically, she stayed behind and helped Ratchet, well, when he decided he “needed” the help. She thought it didn’t bother her as much as it did until she was sitting up on the higher level, watching as the three teens played games and laughed with their guardians. Even Ratchet was smiling along with them.

“Are you in need of assistance?” A voice sounded beside her, and she blinked, looking over to meet Optimus’s gaze.

“Huh?”

He smiled easily. “You’ve been stuck on that page in your book for almost ten minutes.” His optics scanned the paper. “If I am correct, the answer for the question at the bottom is, ‘D. Administration of immunosuppressive medications.’”

She smiled, laughing with slight embarrassment, and shook her head. “Oh, no, the questions aren’t trouble.” Her eyes found the teens again. “I’m just…thinking.”

Optimus looked at the others with a calm look, an almost peacefulness. “Do you worry about them?”

“Sometimes,” she answered. “But I know that they would never let anything happen to the kids.”

He looked back at her. “Then it is not the thought of them that is occupying your mind. What troubles you?”

Looking away, she scratched at her notebook. “It’s…not important, Optimus. Silly even.”

“If it is causing you this much time in thought, perhaps it is not something silly.”

Optimus was always the voice of reason, a testament to the eons of troubles he’d seen and experienced.

She let out a sigh and met his gaze once more, a bashful look on her face as she admitted, “I just sometimes think of what it would be like to have a guardian like they do, y’know? I mean, I don’t need one like Jack or Miko or Raf do, but…I don’t know, sometimes I just think it’d be nice to have that companionship, no, friendship like they do.” She waved a hand. “Just wishful thinking, Optimus.” When he didn’t respond, she looked over. “Optimus? Is everything okay?”

He seemed to be in deep thought himself but shook from it with a smile. “I’m fine, and I understand what you mean. Thank you for letting me know what troubled you. I am honored to have that trust.”

“Oh, you’re welcome, Optimus,” she murmured with a flush and grabbed her things as Raf started calling for her. “Time to head home for the night.” Reaching out, she gently laid a hand on Optimus’s shoulder. “Thank you for listening to me, Optimus. Maybe when Wheeljack gets back he can be mine,” she joked and grinned when Optimus chuckled along and helped her down to the ground level.

“Perhaps.”

***

As the Christmas season reached its peak, schools had started letting out for the winter break. Most of her class at the local university had all left early for vacations out of state, but since she had no plans to leave Jasper for the holidays, she stayed through the end of the school week.

As she joked with the few remaining friends and acquaintances as they exited the building, one friend stopped and pointed at the truck parked by the street. “Woah,” they admired. “Whose ride is that?”

Her gaze turned to the truck and widened. “Optimus?” she quickly waved and hurried to him, opening the door and climbing in, shutting it behind her. “What are you doing here?” she asked, then she started worrying. “Oh no, are the kids okay? What happened? Who’s hurt?” frantically, she took out her phone, checking for missed calls or unseen texts. “Was it the Decepticons? Or was it MECH? Or was it—”

“Peace,” Optimus calmed as he pulled onto the street and drove through the town towards the base. “No one is hurt. No attack has occurred.”

Curiously, she looked at the steering wheel. “Then why…?” then it hit her and she sighed fondly. “Oh, Optimus, you didn’t have to do this.”

“I believe it is unfair to you to feel such a difference between the others when there are more than enough guardians left to be one of yours.” His voice was calm and easy like always. “It is…also nice to spend time with you outside of missions.”

She shifted into the driver’s seat and curled her legs underneath herself, leaning against the window. “That sounds like you like me, Optimus.”

“…Your companionship is desired long after you leave base,” he murmured and she smiled, looking at the steering wheel.

“I…feel the same,” she said and gently traced the Autobot symbol at the center. “Y’know Optimus…there’s a Christmas lightshow in the next couple cities over.” She shrugged slightly. “I think the others could hold down the base for a few hours while we were out…don’t you?”

He let out a hum. “We really shouldn’t stray too far from Jasper without them.” Just as she was about to sigh and nod, he added, “But I agree, they could survive without us for some time. Besides…I have never seen Christmas lights. I wonder if they’ll be as beautiful as you are.”

She felt her cheeks warm at his words and she looked out the window with a giddiness in her chest. “You’re just pulling my leg.”

“It would be dishonorable to lie, even more so to lie about the beauty you possess,” he replied, and she could just hear the grin in his voice. “Now, what was that city, and which way to it?”

[hoshigray]

Sweet Blind Summer Fling ༄ S. Gojo

"Due to a bet made by Nobara, I made an online dating account to set myself up with a blind date. Although a bit witty and annoyingly childish, Gojo's remarkably handsome and sweet...So, how the hell did I end up sleeping with him on the first date!?"

A/n: Alright, y'all, it's time for the second entry for my summer series!! Not gonna lie, it was fun to write as it's my first time writing for Gojo. I think I did a decent job capturing his character in my style, but you will be the judge of that. This was supposed to be posted on Monday, but I was overwhelmed (had 1 hour of sleep) and dropped something else. But we're good to go now! :) And fyi: there's a bonus scene at the end that sets up the next story as they are connected. Any spelling/grammar errors will be dealt with tomorrow.

Also, guest appearances from my lovely mooties (@cu7ie // @kazushawty // @etherealxmaya // @hqkalon // @yourrfavzxri // @neptunes1nterweb) because I felt like it, lol. Hope this puts a smile on their faces if they see this :3

Series m. list!! This entry has been updated along w/ its contents.

Cw: switch! Gojo x fem! reader - explicit content, so minors DNI - blind date/online match-up - age difference (the reader is at least in their 20s; Gojo is around early 30s) - texting back and forth - sex at a hotel - one night stands - consensual sex under the influence - protected sex (PSA: wrap it up, or get the fuck up) - cowgirl + lotus positions - pet names (angel, baby, dollface, pretty, princess, sweet thing) - clitoral play (swiping and pinching) - praise - mentions of drug/alcohol use (reader and Gojo don't get blackout drunk, but y'all get tipsy) - a bunch of silliness bc it's a Gojo fic (duh).

Wc: 6.9k (7.4k with the bonus scene...never say I don't do anything for y'all)

Dear Diary...I once again have come to you with more thoughts that cloud my personal judgment. I did not think you'd be of use to me again. But after what happened last night, it's worth having you in front of me and a pen in my hand again once more...

After finishing your finals, summer break has finally welcomed you with open arms. Two semesters of painful studying and sleepless nights have been long forgotten since you turned in your last in-person exam! You've started working at an internship that you've been dying to get, enjoying the new things you're learning from experienced colleagues, and finding love in the field you've grown and studied for this entire time.

In addition, you also have all the time in the world to hang out with your best friends — Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara! Just last weekend, you four hung out at this new sports bar that recently opened and had the most fun experience! Yuuji made new friends with people at the bar who kept buying him drinks; Megumi had to begrudgingly watch over the salmon-haired other to ensure he didn't croak from alcohol poisoning, and you and Nobara took sweet pictures together for your summer album.

It's been a great summer so far. There has been nothing that could bring you down from enjoying this season in the best way you can. Absolutely nothing that could throw you off your summer grove!

However, that's what you initially thought. Because why else would you be in some random hotel room writing in your diary.

To get the full context, I'll take you back to the night I and the gang left the sports bar. We spent the night at Yuuji's as he and Nobara tried to sober up...

It was a chill evening in your friend's place, you and the other three in the living room chatting with the television on low to not disrupt his sleeping grandfather. Yuuji was sobering up by eating bread and drinking water, Megumi was on the couch reading something on his phone, and you were arguing with Nobara.

The auburn-haired other points to you with her index, holding a glass of water. "I told ya, you lost the bet!"

"How!? You literally cheated!" You push her finger out of the way as you two giggle at your complaints. "You kicked Yuuji in the shin to distract him, and I didn't even know I was a part of the damn thing!"

Now your pink-haired friend jumped to say words of his own. "That was foul with what you did; I should've fallen to the floor and acted like I was really hurt. Have you paying my medical bills."

"Blah, blah, blah, sounds like a losers' pleas to me." Nobora rolls her eyes while you and Yuuji glare at her. "And you! You didn't say you were out of the game, unlike Megumi. I said, and I quote: 'When the wings touch the table, the bet is on,' and guess what? By the time the wings got here, I didn't hear a single peep out of you saying you forfeited from the challenge! Once you picked up a single wing, your ass was set in stone!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, you annoying bitch..." you groan in your hands as the woman maniacally barks her laughs. "Alright, fine, I ate the shortest portion of wings. Therefore, I, Y/n L/n, declare myself the loser to this fuckery of a challenge. So, Queen Cheater," Nobara snickers to herself at the title you've given her. "What is my punishment?"

You should've known by the evil twinge of your friend's lip that the punishment would be absurd. "I, Queen Cheater," she takes a confident swig of her water before sealing your fate. The words she says next shake to your core, and the decline of your dignity hits you like a bullet train. "...Hereby dare you, the loser, to make an online dating account and find thyself a blind date!"

Your disapproval fell on deaf ears, forcing you to resentfully grab your phone and download a dating app. To make matters worse, you had to make the account with your friends watching (minus Megumi, who still wanted no part in what you all were doing). Once you were done setting up your profile, the three of you looked to the screen to look at the other users, who were also on a quest to find a sense of courtship.

The past thirty minutes have been spent looking at all the users around the area, swiping left and right for those who did and didn't pique your interest.

Todo Aoi (22) "I like 'em tall, with a FAT ASS. If you don't fit the criteria, it's gonna be hard to convince me."

Oh, brother.

Sol (18) "Don't know about a long-term relationship, but we can be chill if ya wanna be friends! :D"

Seems nice. Maybe a chat wouldn't hurt.

Mei Mei (36) Don't ever expect me to pay for the first date or any date. Will you see me again depends on what you have in your savings. ♡

Alright, I appreciate the honesty. But nope.

Karma (20) "Tbh I'm secretly married to my four wives: Hoshi, Maya, Sae, and Zari. But if you look like or are Toji Fushiguro, hit my DMs pronto!! Shhhh, don't tell Hoshi tho, she might divorce me :P"

Okay then—Wait, isn't that Megumi's dad??

Hoshi (20s) Don't listen to Karma. We are very much divorced, and my heart belongs to my one and only: Toji Fushiguro :/

Alrighty then...

Sapphire (19) "Call me MLK, cuz I had a dream about us 🫦"

Fucking no!

Frustration keens in through a heavy sigh. Usually, you'd be happy knowing you can't seem to find a match; however, for this situation, Nobara Kugisaki will not let you off the hook until there's someone worthy of the swipe of invitation. You groan in exhaustion, throwing your head back onto the couch behind you.

With no luck, you decided to call it a night and try again later. So you called an Uber, took yourself home after saying goodbyes to your friends, and reluctantly promised Nobara you'd let her know if you'd get a blind date. With a nice shower and some comfortable PJs, you're now lying comfortably on your bed and looking through all the pictures you took tonight. Then, for some reason, you had the urge to go back on the dating app to look through more users to match up with. Probably because you'd prefer to get this bet out of the way now than later. Regardless of the justification, you spend about twenty minutes swiping and reading through many other people's profiles, and — just like before — not many people catch your eye.

That holds true until you stumble upon a name and description that sparks your curiosity.

Satoru Gojo (old enough to be irresistible; 31) "I was made perfect, I can do everything perfectly, but I want us to be perfect together (･ω&lt;;)☆"

It might've been the use of the emoticon or the confidence that seeped out based on the tiny description. Whatever the case, you stayed on the user's profile for quite a while longer than the others. Even going far as to read his profile thoroughly: knowing what his likes and dislikes are, his height, a fan of Digimon, and so on.

And you contemplated whether or not to swipe him to the side of approval, but you made up your mind after a few minutes of inner discourse. It's not like I'll match up with him immediately. So, you gave him the go and continued on with your search.

Although, that was short-lived because what happened next surprised you to the point that sleep no longer claimed over you.

"Contratz! You've successfully matched with Satoru Gojo!"

Wait, what!!??

You were utterly perplexed by the pop-up showing up on your phone screen. There's no way this was happening, all under the same night, too! And what surprised you the most was the fact that he was awake as well, sending you the first message:

gogojojo: Hey!

Oh, fucking shit. Your body tenses at the greeting, reading his username and message repeatedly. Quickly, you take a few deep breaths to ease yourself before doing something stupid. You answer him with a salutation of your own:

y/ndontwannabehere: Hi there!

gogojojo: A night owl too, huh? Couldn't sleep?

y/ndontwannabehere: Yeah, was just on my phone for a bit, until I saw your message.

gogojojo: Lucky me! I was surprised to have you as a match, I saw your profile about an hour ago.

y/ndontwannabehere: I'm also surprised as well, you're one of the few people who I seemed interested in.

gogojojo: Well, I'm flattered :D Now that you got my attention, what would you like to know about me?

y/ndontwannabehere: Okay...it says you're six-foot-three, how's that like?

gogojojo: I may be six-foot-three, but I'd like to be six feet under you ;3

y/ndontwannabehere: ......

......I regret giving this dude a chance.

Because of the terrible pick-up line, you closed off the app and turned off your phone to switch the lights off and go to sleep. However, another text sends your phone vibrating on the dresser's surface.

gogojojo: Woooow, not even a pity laugh? :/

You shake your head at the notification, but a smile creeps up when you open your phone and tap on the keys to message back.

y/ndontwannabehere: nope, that sucked ass.

gogojojo: Hey now!! >:T you can't say it's ass if it did what it was supposed to do

y/ndontwannabehere: and what's that?

gogojojo: got you here talking with me ヾ(●ε●)ノ

His message makes your smile broader, and you spend the rest of the night talking to Gojo.

It continues for two more weeks, sharing pieces of info about yourselves while rolling your eyes at his annoying jokes and pick-up lines. But for the most part, you enjoy your talks with the stranger on the other side of your screen.

And it all goes swell until he drops this:

gogojojo: Hey! Wanna go on a date with me this weekend?

You were lying on your bed watching Netflix, and you almost choked on your dinner when the message popped up. So in tune with the back-and-forth between you and Gojo that you had forgotten why you made an online dating account in the first place! You grab for your phone to reply:

y/ndontwannabehere: you're serious?!

gogojojo: yeah! I mean, you and I've been talking for a while, I'm kinda into you, plus we could meet up somewhere close. Besides, I would like to see you, and I know you're dying to see me too :)

y/ndontwannabehere: And what makes you think I'd DIE just to see you?

gogojojo: Because why would you not~? You'd be surprised by how many people I've had fallen head-over-heels for me~

y/ndontwannabehere: well, guess I'll be the first one to not be >:3

gogojojo: HUH!!?? Don't say that, I'll cry

y/ndontwannabehere: LMAO grown ass man crying over rejection

gogojojo: Rejection hurts, and I have a weak heart!! :'000

y/ndontwannabehere: Liar.

gogojojo: ANYWAYS! You up for a date?

And that's how you started dressing yourself up on a Friday afternoon, fixing yourself up in front of your bedroom mirror. Checking your phone periodically for Gojo to tell you when he's in front of your home.

You already texted Nobara that you got a blind date, to which she praised you with monumental amounts of supportive text messages and emojis and a text stating she'll throttle you if you don't tell her all about it. It was humorous: you created the online dating account because of a stupid bet for a random date — and now that it was here, you didn't know how to feel. You can't say when was the last time you ever went out with someone, let alone on a blind date! Anxiousness shadows you about the whole thing, but after chatting and getting to know a little bit of Gojo, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad of a date.

After all, the guy seems likable and fun to hang out with based on your interactions. Plus, it's only a date. That's all it is. Absolutely nothing attached in any shape or form.

Thoughts grind to a halt when you hear your phone vibrating on your dresser, a text from Gojo.

gogojojo: I'm here~~~ Ready to fall madly in love with me? :3

Your heart skips a beat at the message, biting the bottom of your lip in nervousness. You send him a reply:

y/ndontwannabehere: Nah, ready to barf right in front of your face :P

gogojojo: Such a rude person :/ Get your butt out here

You giggle before shutting off your phone and grabbing your bag with all your necessary items. Before you leave, you look in the mirror one last time, using this moment to mentally prepare yourself for what's to come. The day has come; you're about to go on a date. No going back now, and I can finally put this dumb bet to rest!

You open your front door and enter outside, the summer heat crawling on your legs from your cute jean shorts and your shoulders excluded from the cream-white cami top. You see a black car — a black 2018 BMW XI — parked right on the street, windows tinted to hide the face you're looking for. But when you draw closer to the vehicle, the passenger side window slides down, and you finally meet him.

The man of the hour himself, the man you've been talking with for two weeks straight, and the man you were about to experience a complete mess of a date with: Satoru Gojo.

"Hey there," his voice was chipper and friendly; his texting style matched his speech. From the window, you can interpret his outfit: a blue flannel shirt covering his white Tee and black jeans with a silver chain emanating from his belt. His eyes were blocked by dark circle sunglasses, making it hard to decipher the color. But his snow-white hair was the first thing that caught your eye, contrasting with the black interior of his car. "Y/n, right?"

You smile at your name. "Correct, Mr. Gogojojo."

He snickers at the use of his username. "You look cute, and I know you like what you see since you were eyeballing me up and down."

"Yeah, whatever." You roll your eyes before opening the passenger door, putting your bag between your legs as you sit down. While putting on your seatbelt, you can feel the bass subtlety vibrate within the car, and the music was...What the fuck? You look at the front integrated head unit on the dashboard and see what artist the man is listening to. "...You listen to Zack Fox?"

"Yeah, I was listening to his songs on my way here! You know his song Marinate?" And before you could answer, the white-haired man sang along to the lyrics. To your perplexity, you just watch him rap along with the artist and the outlandish lyrics. And he just keeps going until the transition to the second verse. "Funny, right?"

"You know," you shake your head at Gojo, whose grin goes wider. "I was about to fall for you until you started rapping the lyrics."

"Whaaaat, he's a comedian, it's meant to be funny!"

"Whatever. Let's just hurry and get this date over with."

"Oh, sounds like someone's ready to be wined and dined by me." He starts the car and shifts between gears. "Don't rush things, princess. Good things come to those who wait."

"Just drive!"

Gojo laughs at your complaints as he drives off on the street. You playfully groan to yourself at your date's antics, looking out to the window to watch your surroundings move past your line of sight.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

"Ever since high school, I would eat a pack of gummies anytime I was doing homework because it stimulates my brain and helps me focus. So by the time college came around, I got so used to eating sweets that I naturally started liking them." Gojo took a sip of his milkshake. "But then, when my best friend and I went to our first house party, I had my first drink. And, Y/n."

"Oh God, what?"

"The taste was so bad that I tried downing it all in one chug. Well, that came back to bite my ass — and my best friend got the worst of it."

"Gojo, what did you do?"

"He was sitting down on a couch talking to someone, and I was behind the couch feeling all squeamish. So, before I could stop myself, I barfed on his hair!"

"Oh, my God, No!!" And the two of you roar in laughter and bang on the booth table you were sitting at.

The date was at an old, vibrant diner in the city where Gojo is a regular customer; the cozy and welcoming atmosphere had you erase any anxious feelings about this date and feel a little more confident. You and Gojo took things slow, you talking about your summer internship and him of his job as a high school teacher.

The conversation started the topic of summer break came to play, prompting you to talk more about yourself and your friends. That flipped the switch entirely as you became more open about your friends and their goofiness. And as a goofy man, Gojo was intrigued with your stories and had him reminiscent of memories from his youth. Although, you've come to find out that Gojo takes his playful nature to a whole other level, and it's been having you two laugh about said foolishness for the past hour.

"The funny thing is, right, he was talking to this sophomore girl that was eyeing him up the whole time we were there," Gojo says through wheezes. "And he was finally talking to this chick, and she was really getting into him. I didn't mean to intrude on his parade or anything, but as my best friend, you're supposed to help me through thick and thin. I was going to ask if it was okay if I headed to the dorm alone while he stayed at this party. And then, vomit happened."

"Ewww, you terrible friend!" You try to eat a fry from your meal, but your giggles make dining difficult. "No wonder he pranked you with a weed brownie."

"Jokes on him; I still nailed my presentation for my exam. I don't remember saying anything I said, but I take pride in whatever I did to get that A." He takes a big bite of his burger and swallows before saying more. "And I started seeing the sophomore girl he talked to afterward, so checkmate."

You gasp at the information and throw a piece of your food at him, which he effortlessly catches with his hand and eats. "You petty bastard! I'm on your friend's side all the way."

"No regrets!" He hits you with his annoying chuckle that has you smiling hard, and the light above your table makes his dark sunglasses shine chicly.

"Oh, yeah?" You inquire. "I bet I could make you regret it."

The man on the other side of the booth scoffs. "Is that so? And how are you gonna do that, my pretty princess?"

You didn't think he'd buy your bluff. So, the truth is, you had no idea of how'd you punish the snow-haired man. Looking around the diner, you scope for anything that sparks a concept. You then turn to his side and notice a booth at the far end. A woman was laughing with her friends and sipping on a cocktail, making a slightly sour face after taking a drink.

And then it hits, along with a sneer, and you peer back to your date.

"You don't like alcohol, right?" He quirks up a brow at your question. "How many times have you had a drink in your life?"

"Three or four."

"Well then, I dare you to drink three or four cocktails. No milkshake or water to help you get through. Just the ice cubes in the drink."

White brows furrow, and even if the shades block them from your interpretation, you can tell Gojo is studying your face in deep thought with your so-called punishment. Ten seconds go by before he scoffs again. "I'll take up on that. On one condition," he leans back on the booth seat. "You have to take the drinks with me as well."

Now it's your turn to raise a brow and think about his words. "You're paying for the drinks."

"Done deal." He pulls his hand outward to you, initiating a handshake to set the seal in stone before continuing on with this game of yours. You happily shake his hand, commencing the punishment to officially start.

One cocktail was a breeze for you but a bit of a doozy for Gojo to stomach; you had to warn him that if he barfed on you, you'd ditch him and block him for life. Two cocktails in is when you begin feeling tingly. Your date was going through it halfway into the glass, so you had to compromise that a glass of water was needed for him.

Three cocktails in, and you undoubtedly feel the alcohol hit you behind its sweet and tangy facade. You can hardly look at the drink, same with Gojo. You two look at each other and shake your heads in disagreement, pushing the glasses to the side and groaning with your now-drunk selves.

Gojo is the first to say something. "As far as disciplines go, that was, without a doubt, one of the worst things I've had to endure."

You giggle. "Honestly. But I—hic! Excuse me. I bet you're regretting throwing up on your friend's hair now. I did it for his sake, after all."

He only looks at you through his glasses. He then gets up from his side of the booth and walks to yours, and you scoot over to let him have a seat. "Nah, don't regret it one bit. Because if I hadn't done it, I wouldn't have you over here laughing and suffering in alcohol with me about it." He maneuvers his hand to rest on your shoulder, and you allow him to move closer to you. "Wouldn't be spending this fun evening with you."

Your eyes hesitantly venture up to his face, welcoming you to the tension that builds up with the lighting and soft music of the diner. His hand rubs on your shoulder in a comforting manner, a gesture you take note of even under the influence. "You know, since you're enjoying having me and all, don't you think I should have a reward for doing your punishment with you."

"And what reward do you have in mind?"

"Can I see them?" You use a finger to motion your own pair of eyes, resulting in the snow-haired man in a short chuckle. But he doesn't argue with you and uses his free hand to remove his shades.

Icy blue is the first thing that comes to mind when you look at his eyes. His orbs are a rarity to the usual crowd, yet they go perfectly with his peachy complexion and pale hair. His orbs hooded and honed in on your figure, appearing soft because of the slight rosy shade of pink on his cheeks. You take in every single feature of his face before speaking.

"Well, I'm starting to see why so many people fall for you, Mr. Gojo." Your face goes hot with the sudden confidence that sneaks within you, yet you continue. "You're very attractive."

He chortles at your comment. "Thanks, dollface. But I don't think it's fair that you only get a reward from me. After all, I almost drowned in alcohol."

You hum. "Fair enough. What would you like?"

His face doesn't change with the following sentence he utters, but you take note of the slight squeeze on your shoulder. "A kiss from the princess would sure warm my heart."

Brows draw upward and breath hitches. A kiss? On the first date? On a blind date?

You don't know what possessed you to do this — it might have been the cocktails. But you incline your face to his and move forwards, your plump lips land on his soft ones for a simple kiss. And with the low hum of his voice, you place another. And another.

When you remove yourself from him, his eyes open to meet yours. A smile gets broader, and so does yours. "You taste sweet," you say.

"So do you." His fingers toy with the strap of your cami top. "Kinda want to kiss you more. And, you know, do a little more, only if you're up for it."

You give him a look. "I believe I just gave you a reward after receiving yours."

"I know, I know," he raises his other hand defensively, but he doesn't remove his smirk. "That's why it's up to you."

You only look at him as he waits for your answer. You already kissed the man; what more is supposed to happen on a blind date? Thoughts on what to do are carefully calculated in your mind, remembering the reason why you're even on this date in the first place. Without Nobara's stupid bet, none of this would be conspiring. Yet simultaneously, it's not like you were having a terrible time. If anything, it was quite the opposite. Not once did you feel uncomfortable around Gojo's presence or feel the need to call off the date. Just enjoying his company and character that attracts you to him more. Even if it means spending the entire night with him.

I'm already deep into this night. What's the use of stopping now.

"So?" Your eyes peer up and down on his figure. "What does 'a little more' entail?"

One moment you and Gojo were enjoying each other's company at a diner, then the date was moved to a different location the next. Now you and the white-haired man are in a cozy hotel nearby. You expressed your worries about Gojo driving you two to the new spot as he still had alcohol in his system. But your complaints fell on deaf ears as he persuaded you into trusting him ("Don't worry, it's like three streets away! Plus, it's almost midnight. No one's on the street." "If you crash us into a pole or something, don't ever ask to talk to me again." "Duly noted~" )

The two of you got yourself into a small hotel room. Soft lighting from the lamps bathes nude bodies lying on the comfortable queen-sized. You mount on top of Gojo, a makeout session warming the two of you up with the exchange of body heat. Sucking and biting each other's lips, his big hand at the back of your neck to deepen the kiss, and the grind of your hips on his firm erection makes the throbbing sensation between your legs flourish with your slick painting him.

His kisses trail down to your neck, and you allow him to venture below your clavicle. Pillowy lips pepper your chest and eventually find your breasts, taking a hardened nipple into his warm mouth.

A sharp cry exits your mouth when Gojo lightly teases your nipple with his teeth. "Mmmm! G-Gojo, pleaseee, I want it," your words come out in whimpers, your body quivering as your cunt brushes against his erect cock shielded by a rubber.

"Is that so, dollface?" He coos at your pleas, his hand running up and down the cusp of your ass and slender fingers teasing your aching entrance every time they draw nearer. "Then go on, ride on my dick like you want to."

His permission has your face go hot, but you station your hands on his chest to propel you upwards, admiring the view of him below you for a moment before lifting your ass. He moves his hands behind his head to relax, signaling you to do the work yourself and at your own pace. And with that, you do.

Your bottom raises until you position the tip of his shaft on the squish lips of your folds. Your breath hitches at the contact of his glans. His smooth voice coaxes you. "Relax, sweet thing. Take your time." You take a few moments to even your breathing and mentally prep you for your following actions. Hips gradually go down and push the cockhead further between your folds. Entry is prompted through the pain with every breath, and a sharp gasp lets you know that his girth finally enters you. And Gojo moans as well.

"Hmmm, that's it." He comments sweetly, his blue orbs tracing the union of your sexes. His hands now snake to your hips, and he throws his head back on the pillow under him. "Ready when you are, princess."

When you're ready, you move your hips downward to take in more of his member, the size of him widening your folds to accommodate the foreign limb intruding inside your vulva. His curve nudging your inner walls has your legs quake, and you concentrate on not being hasty and taking his cock all in one go. So once you finally meet the base, you exhale shaky and use a few seconds for your body to adjust.

Knowing you have the reins, you start to move. You start off with a slow speed, letting the feeling of his dick rub your walls in a steady position. Your whining is muffled with the bite of your lip, but not the man below you. He proudly expresses his pleasure in his moans, the hold on your hips getting tighter.

"Haaahhh, so good and tight," Gojo purrs, egging you to dial up your tempo. He notices you biting the bottom of your lip, and he chuckles. "Come on, baby. I wanna hear that cute voice of yours. Lemme hear it all." He then surprises you with a sudden thrust, evoking a choked cry from puffy lips.

You get the memo then and just let the pornographic noises fly, every moan getting higher and louder with the pace of your hips. His length drilling within you with each intake, and you lean forward for your clitoris to stimulate with the friction, causing you to jerk. You can't tell if it's because of the sex or the cocktails from hours ago making your nerves so sensitive and tender. But in any case, it makes you feel so good right now.

And when you lean back, the feeling gets even more ecstatic, resulting in more mewls from you. His dick goes even further than before, grazing your sweet spots and walls with precision with your increased speed. You swerve your hips in circles, having the man groan. To counter, his hand snakes down to your clitoris to play and pinch on, and you scream.

"Ahhhnn! Haaaah, Gojo! It feels so," the sounds of your ass smacking on his things are now apparent to the ears. The raunchy squelching noises of your cunt embarrass you; however, you can't deny the grip your cunt has on his cock with every rock. Your mind slowly descends into a dreamy haze. "Nnnmph!! Feels too goood, wanna commme..."

He opens his eyes to look at you; the erotic display of your nude body bouncing on his shaft turns him on even more. "Yeah, wanna come with me?" You nod lazily, earning another chortle from the man beneath you. "Alright, stay still for me."

It takes you aback when he suddenly moves up from the bed, sitting with his legs crossed under your ass and his handsome face too close to yours. You instinctively avert your gaze away from the frosty-headed other, bashfully turning your face to the side. It amuses him, guiding your face back to him with his hand. "Hehe, don't be scared of me, angel. I wanna see that beautiful face of yours."

Again, you can't tell whether or not it's the effect of the alcohol, but your face and ears go uncomfortably hot at his compliments. And now that his face is so close to yours, you can clearly take in his features. His sky-blue eyes were extremely fixated with yours, softly hooded with the flutter of his snow eyelids and in contrast with his rosy cheeks. Your heart skips a beat. What is with this beautiful motherfucker?! "Stop flirting with me in the middle of this..."

He laughs at your sheepishness, kissing your cheek. "Flirting with you is what got you here in the first place, baby. Now," his hands slither down your ass, squeezing the flesh with his fingers. "I'm gonna start moving — get ready."

He waits for you to wrap your arms around his neck and lift yourself from his legs before he begins moving his pelvis. The rash jabs of his cock leave you gasping for air and clasping around him. He hisses to your ear with his arms now wrapped around your back as he brings up the rhythm of his hips. You're now forced to bounce onto his crossed legs, his dick scraping your insides deliciously so that you can't think properly.

It's now that everything feels better than before; his member now achieving deeper penetration to the point of hitting your G-spot accurately with the underside of him. You no longer try to suppress the sounds leaving your lips, your wails bringing life to the hotel room. And Gojo's moans get louder and louder when your legs slither around him, and your ass matches the climbing cadence.

"Oooooh, fuck, Gojo! Shit, shit—Mmaah!!" With every rut to your cunt, you can feel the pounding of your head get louder and louder. "Oh, Christ, it feels tew good, so gooood...!!"

"Hnngh, mmmnph!!" Gojo groans at the pleasure, placing his sweaty forehead on yours. His eyes survey your certified expression caused by his touch. He chuckles, "You look so cute jumping on my cock like this. Such a pretty angel."

Timid by his words, you shift your face onto his shoulder to shield away from his line of sight. "Haaaah, stop saying stuff like that—Ahhhhhnnn!!"

You shriek when two fingers come down to your clitoris, the digits swiping and pinching the tender bud. "Hiding away from me again, huh, dollface?" He continues to mess with your clit ensuing in choked mewls and tears streaming down your face, and his hips increase in speed.

Your brain is a mushy mess, fighting the right to form coherent sentences. His fingers go at a hurried pace, abusing your clit. You're so close. Almost there. "Ahhh! Ahhhhh! Go-Gojo, pleaseee, I'm gonna cum—Hmmm!! Ahhaaaaaa!!!"

The peak hits you hard like a train, your body shaking uncontrollably on Gojo and his cock, the walls of your cunt fluttering beautifully on his length. And the contraction pushes him to release, his essence captured in the condom to prevent a spill.

Pants and groans fill the hot space between you two, and Gojo kisses your shoulder as the shockwaves die down with every passing second. A wave of calm covers your body while exhaustion crawls up your spine. You lift your head from his shoulder, and he's met with the most beautiful dazed expression he's ever seen.

"Heh, I should drink with you more often if it means I see you like this." He kisses your nose, and you smile.

"Oh, shut up," you remark breathlessly, and your lips meet his. He kisses you without hesitation, bringing you with him as he lies back on the bed. The sounds of his lips smacking with yours fill the room with a romantic glow, and it stays that way even when slumber claims you both.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

You're woken up by some sort of light on your eyelids and the sound of birds chirping. With a few blinks, your eyes open and are met with the sun's glaring rays peeking through the blind of the hotel window. Begrudgingly, you rise from the mattress and stretch your fatigued limbs. A massive headache greets your head without your consent, pounding it like a drum. The sheet above you slips from your figure, and you find out you slept bare nude.

Too flustered for exhaustion to take control, you grab the sheet to cover your chest, afraid that someone would've seen. The headache vanishes into thin air as you whip and search the room. But there's no one here? And you then notice the blue flannel on the side next to you. The side of the man you were on a date with.

Wait? I was with Gojo last night, right? Questions of the night prior finally come to you. Okay, wait, we went to that diner. Then we had those cocktails, which was a bad idea on my part. So what else? Oh. We kissed. Yeah...we kissed...then I got in his car and drove to this hotel room, and then...And then we.....we—

Unable to complete that thought, a sudden click catches your attention, whipping your head to the hotel door to see it open. And there he is.

Gojo enters the room with his clothes back on, his white tee and black jeans. His shades now block the beautiful eyes you had seen last night — perhaps it was a fever dream, imagining that you did see them. He's holding a paper cup, which you could only assume was tea or coffee. When he notices you, he greets you with a smile.

"Well, good morning, sunshine~" his tone gets chipper the closer he walks to the bed. Placing the cup on the bedside before grabbing for his flannel. "I brought you some tea since I'm sure your throat is sore from last night," your face heats up at the comment. "Plus, I didn't want to leave you empty-handed before I head out."

You blink at him. "You're leaving?"

"Yeah, sorry about that. Remember my friend I told you about last night?" You nod at him while he ties his blue clothing around his waist. "He texted me earlier, saying something came up with one of our other closer friends, and they need my help. He tried calling me, so I had to leave the room to let you sleep."

You hum at his confession. "I see..." How considerate.

"Hey," He climbs on the bed to be close to you. "Sorry that I can't take you back home or treat you to breakfast or something. Maybe next time."

Now that he's close to you like this, you can make out the implications of his eyes behind his dark sunglasses, blue orbs honed in on you and you alone. Your cheeks gradually go warm. "Next time?" You didn't mean for it to be a whisper, too entranced to notice.

He chuckles at your comment, and you swear your heart's beating irregularly. "Yeah, princess. I'd love to see you next time." He draws closer to kiss your forehead, and it takes every nerve in your body to not melt then and there. He then removes himself from the bed, the dent returning to normal now that his weight is off.

Gojo straightens himself and turns away from you. "Alright, I'm off. I'll leave my hotel card by the door. Text me if you need money for an Uber, 'kay?" You hear the door open. "Be good, ya hear!?" He shouts to you from the other side of the room, practically already in the hallway.

"Same to you!" You reply back in the same manner.

"No promises~." And with that comes the sound of the door closing, confirming your isolation in the now quiet hotel room. You're left to properly rekindle everything that led you up to this point, yet even then, you feel so at a loss.

As far as blind dates go — or dates in general — it's safe to say that this was the most bizarre one you've had. Not because anything dire happened. And that's probably the reason why it felt so surreal. You came into this date to release yourself from the shackles of a bet, knowing that you wouldn't see the end of it from your friend if you didn't take care of it with haste.

Nevertheless, thanks to Gojo, it didn't feel like a bet. Not at all. It felt like an actual, fun date with a new person. With a great person at that. Not once did you express any uncomfortable feelings or ill will towards Gojo. And if you did, you're sure he tended to your worries without your knowing.

"I'd love to see you next time."

His words ring in your ear once more, and they resume to do so when you exit from the bed to grab your bag on the chair next to you. You grasp the most necessary item inside — your diary — and sit at the hotel room desk to document your concluding statements appropriately.

...What happened last night was something that I had no vision of seeing. So, now that it did happen, I just feel a little...empty? Probably because I took care of Nobara's bet and don't have to worry about going on another date again.

But, deep down, a part of me wants to do it all again — Not with just anyone, but with him. What we shared yesterday was one of the most refreshing days I've had all summer. Although he was a bit childish for his mature age, maybe that made me like him even more. He was kind to me, funny, and, dare I say, an attractive guy, both in personality and physical appearance.

Thanks for the date, Satoru Gojo. And if you wish to see me again, any time at any place, know that my heart will accept with glee.

˚₊‧꒰ა Bonus ☆ Scene!! ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Gojo exits the hotel room and walks down the hall to the elevator, whistling a tune that only he could understand. He presses the button to summon the machine to his floor, and it comes in a few seconds with the soft ding to mark its risen state. And before Gojo could fully get inside, he sensed his phone vibrating in his right jean pocket.

He grabs for it and stops whistling, tapping on the green call button and placing the device to his ear as the elevator doors close. "Morning, you man-bunned prick."

"It's midday, you blue-eyed sheep." A voice comes from the other side of his phone. "Judging by how you didn't know that, you went out last night, didn't you?"

"That's none of your business~," the white-haired man says in a sing-song manner.

"Shut the hell up~," The one on the phone returns the sentiment. "It's not like I don't know practically every person you screwed in the streets with."

The elevator door opens to the main floor, and Gojo exits to head for the entrance. "Yeah, yeah. I will say this: I had a great time with them."

"You say this about everyone who opens their legs for you."

Gojo sucks his teeth. "Well, this one really had me enjoying myself from start to finish. They were fun to be around. Shit, they even made me drink alcohol."

"Really? And you didn't barf on the spot?"

"Fuck off, Suguru." The one from the phone line — now named Suguru — chuckled at the curse thrown his way. Gojo walks out to the parking lot and enters his car. The phone call is transferred to the car's Bluetooth when the engine starts. "I don't know...They were just great to be around, ya know? Haven't had that in a while."

Suguru hums, vibrating the car with the bass systems. "Think you wanna hang with them again?"

"Mmmmm, I'd like to."

The one on the phone chuckles. "Well, don't get to whipped. Especially since you promised to be at Shoko's beach house this month, we don't want you canceling on us again because someone scheduled you for a dick appointment."

Gojo smirks at the comment. "Yeah, I won't. You'll see me." A few seconds of silence follow through until Suguru asks another question to his friend.

"So? How was the sex this time around?"

With a twinge to his lips, Gojo snickers to himself from reminiscing about the events of last night.

"Man, let me tell you..."

[aphrogeneias]

no more tears — one-shot

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: it's halloween night, 1986. you want to celebrate your favorite holiday after the year you and your friends just had, but after being dumped by your, now ex, boyfriend a week before puts a damp on your plans. eddie munson, however, has a different plan for you.

word count: 5.3k

warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, mentions of a past bad relationship, petty vengeance, protective!eddie, eddie being a sweetheart. eddie in a corset, eddie in leather pants (those are worthy warnings). drinking, smoking. implied smut towards the end.

author's note: happy, very early, halloween <3 i started writing this last year and originally, it was supposed to be a four-part series, and it became this one-shot. because of that, i'm sorry if it seems rushed, but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

Hawkins' suburban streets were a dull blur of white picket fences and houses that looked all the same, passing through the open windows of your car, despite the cold autumn wind blowing in. Even on Halloween night, where the air was full of childlike wonder and mischief, those same houses lit up with the same old seasonal decorations, the children going trick-or-treating, your school friends going out with the best of worst intentions. It all still felt dull to you. 

Perhaps because you felt that dullness deep inside of you, dead to the world around you. Fitting for such a morbid holiday — your favorite holiday, completely ruined by someone else's decisions.

Your self-pitying thoughts were interrupted by the curly-haired freshman who was currently inspecting the tapes piled in your glove compartment. You watched with interest from the corner of your eye as Dustin clicks the radio to a stop, without asking, and inserts your Blizzard of Ozz tape in the cassette player.

As the first chords of I Don't Know started echoing through the car, you teased, "Since when do you like these?"

"Since when do you care about what I listen to?"

Most days, you could deal with the kid's presumption, it was quite endearing, actually. That night, though, all you managed was to sigh as dramatically as you could.

"You've been hanging out with Munson a little too much." You pointed, "What's next? You're gonna grow out your hair like Mike is doing?"

"Mike isn't growing his hair out because of… Oh."

"You used to be more observant, Dusty."

You smiled at his silly expression, blue eyes wide with realization. It was the first time they could bring out a smile from you that evening, and you could tell that the teens in the backseat could feel the tension lift a little bit. 

The accidental mention of the metalhead made your mind wander once more. You wondered if you'd see him tonight, even if just for a moment, and if you'd be able to look and, perhaps, melt at one of his lazy smiles and cute dimples without feeling guilty for the first time since you met him. 

If being able to reciprocate Eddie Munson's lingering stares was the reward you got after being suddenly broken up with a week before Halloween, then you could start seeing an end to your current misery.

You didn't let yourself hang on to false hope, though. You were still nursing a broken heart and delusion wasn't going to help with it — but going home to a warm blanket, cheap wine and a bunch of horror movie VHS tapes that your Family Video friends had graciously delivered to your house after a very persuasive phone call.

After years of friendship, Steve Harrington still couldn't resist your pouting, even from a distance.

"Don't be mean. You're being awfully mean today, did you know that? Loosen up a little." Dustin snapped, but with little bite to his words.

You turned to him again, "Can you blame me?"

"Leave her alone, butthead." From her place in the backseat, Erica Sinclair, in her meticulously pink Barbie costume, interjects. "She's already doing us a favor and you're trying to be a smartass?"

Her older brother and Max Mayfield completely ignored Erica and Dustin's following little back and forth, stuck in their own little teenage love affair — and if, for only a moment, you were jealous of the easy, uncomplicated way they talked and held hands in the small space between their bodies, you shook it off just as quickly — as you winked at the youngest Sinclair from the rearview mirror.

You'd never tell anyone, but Erica had always been your favorite.

Their conversation was once again forgotten, overshadowed by your racing thoughts and eagerness to get home as soon as you could, until you parked in front of Steve's house, where your younger friends would enjoy their official party of their High School years. There had been a long time without any ragers at Harringtons', not since Steve became one of the losers, but after the events of last Spring, he thought we could all use some innocent (probably not that innocent on his side, god only knows that boy needed to get laid), spooky fun.

You'd thoroughly agreed before your boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend, put an end to all of your plans.

"Listen," you started, shutting the door of the driver's side of your car a little too violently while the kids gathered up outside, "if you get in any kind of trouble, call me. If you're gonna drink, or do any kind of drugs…" You're interrupted by groans and whines of 'really?' and 'we're not going to!', "don't do it alone, okay? And drink lots of water! Better safe than sorry, babies."

Most of that advice was just to mess with them, you knew they weren't anything like you when you were their age, but you cared too much about those miscreants to pretend that monsters and secret government organizations were the only obstacles they'd have to face in their teen years.

It's all a flurry of rolling eyes and quiet mumblings of "okay, whatever, we weren't gonna do any of that anyway" before they leave across the street to find the host of the party that was slowly, but surely, starting to fill in, groups of people coming into the house from both sides of the street, music echoing through the walls and into the evening air. Your heart clenched, heavy in your chest, wishing you could let go of the ache that was pulling you down and allow yourself to feel alive again, maybe just for one night.

You just about missed the pair of warm, brown eyes that watched you slouch back into your car and drive away.

On the other side of the street, Eddie Munson stood on the pristine front yard of the Harringtons' house, taking a long hit of his cigarette and rubbing the back of his hand over the eyeshadow spread on his eye, cursing and coughing when he realized the black stain it left behind on his skin.

He was uncomfortable and bored, listening to the deep bass line of Blondie's rapture coming from the house behind him, Debbie Harry's soft voice lulling him into a steady rhythm. He knew he was pushing it, coming to a place full of people, of people who half hated him at worst, half mistrusted him at best, even after his name was cleared. Worst of all, none of them understood his costume, which, to him, was the biggest insult of all.

Not knowing who Alice Cooper was supposed to be was one of the biggest treasons in his own, personal, Munson doctrine.

Now, he stood there, regretting every decision he had made that night, his leather pants pulling a little too tight on his legs and feeling a little too tempted to scrub the black eyeshadow from his face, thinking about a way to let his friends down gently when he bails on them.

His discomfort lasted until he saw your car pull up, and suddenly, leaving felt like a very, very bad idea.

Eddie was used to admiring you from a distance. From when he saw you for the first time, that fateful night at Reefer Rick's boathouse, it was all he could do without making a fool of himself. He didn't know how to carry himself around you, too caught up on your beauty, on your wit, or on how absolutely unattainable you were, to actually become close to you.

He watched you as one would watch the midday sun, high in the sky, with a hand in front of his eyes, protecting himself from being fully consumed by your light.

When you exited the car — Henderson, Mayfield and the Sinclairs following close behind — he noticed two things: your lack of a costume (or, rather, the fact that you were wearing something that was probably your pajamas, and looked incredible while at it), and the lack of a douchebag boyfriend beside you. 

Before he could walk over, perhaps use the kids as an excuse to talk to you, you left. Eddie was left halfway through the yard, a hand limp to his side as his cigarette laid long forgotten, and what must have been a ridiculous, confused expression on his face.

It didn't take long until Dustin and Erica found him, while Lucas and Max entered the house. 

"Hey, uh… where's Y/L/N going? Is she not… Is she not staying?" He swore he tried to act casual, but he knew from the expression on both his friends' faces that he wasn't doing a great job.

"Does it look like she's staying?" Erica crossed her arms, looking as intimidating as a little girl in all pink and glitter could look like. All he did was raise an eyebrow, and got one eyebrow raised right back at him.

Dustin was more understanding, in his Luke Skywalker costume, orange pilot suit and all. "She's not feeling well, man. Steve asked her if she could drive us because Nancy was already driving Mike and the Byers, but she went home."

"Oh." Again, he tried, to no avail, to hide the disappointment in his voice. Eddie Munson was, by no means, a good actor. "Do you know what happened?"

The boy opened his mouth to answer, but Erica beat him to the punch. "You know, I think she could really use some company tonight. No one wants to be alone on Halloween night, don't you think?"

She pulled Dustin away and towards the front door, eyes wise beyond her years giving him one final look before disappearing inside. 

Eddie knew she couldn't hear him as he screamed "I owe you one, Sinclair!" and rushed to the end of the street where his old van was parked, a sliver of hope and renewed excitement rushing through him like a live wire.

Scratch about what he said about regretting leaving his house that night, he had forgotten all about that as he sped to your place, a heavy guitar riff thundering hot on his trail.

You heard him before you saw him.

There was a horror film playing in your television, a blonde teenager running from a serial killer rolling on the screen, her terrified shrieks and the crescendo of the soundtrack filling the living room — not that you've been paying attention, you haven't been paying attention since a little after the beginning of the movie. You were too busy drinking your usual, cheap red wine straight from the bottle and stuck in your own thoughts, lying on the couch with only a blanket and your cat for company.

It approached slowly, the sound of his van's stereo. Then, it grew and grew, Quiet Riot's "Metal Health" seeming to echo through the entire neighborhood. It made you tumble out of the couch, feeling the effects of the alcohol rush to your head all at once, and running to the nearest window. You're still a tiny bit dizzy when you see him, after he stopped the engine and the music stopped, skipping out of the van and towards your front door.

You'd barely caught a glimpse of Eddie before you ran from the window, afraid to get caught. A million questions surged in that moment, the seconds between recollecting yourself and answering the loud ring of your doorbell, knowing who was waiting for you outside. How did he know you were home? Wasn't he busy tonight? What made him want to come to your place of all places?

All thoughts were cut short when you opened the door and saw him.

Under your front porch light, stood Eddie Munson, looking like every wet dream you had ever had.

Dressed in a tight, black tank top, a latex corset wrapped around his slim wait, and even tighter leather pants. Pale chest bare, it was the first time you were seeing his tattoos after visiting him at the hospital, months ago. He leaned in your doorway as soon as you opened it, a gentle smile in his full lips, brown eyes lined with a smudged layer of dark eyeshadow. Your legs might have given out if you didn't hold on to the wall. 

"Hey, Eddie." A greeting comes out as a gasp, letting out the breath that was stuck inside your throat. You hoped he couldn't tell how flustered you were, but if he did, you would blame the wine. "Is everything okay? Are the kids okay?"

It dawned on you that that must have been the reason he came all the way over to your house. You tried to bury down the wave of sudden anxiety when you watched his face fall slightly, before he replied “No, no, everything is fine. Uh… I just wanted to check on you, actually.”

The expression on your face — eyebrows pinched together in confusion — must have said it all, because then, he explained himself. “The littlest Sinclair said you might be needing some company tonight, but didn’t say why. I figured that if none of them were staying with you, then I might, if that’s okay.”

Eddie’s demeanor was uncharacteristically shy. He avoided your gaze, looking at the floor while speaking, but that only made you fonder — even then, he was still as sincere as always. Your heart did a little flip in your chest, warming you from the inside out, as you opened the door enough to let him pass, silently welcoming him in.

“Erica said that?”

“Yeah. Got me worried there for a second.” He eyed you with mirth from under his wild bangs while he toed off his combat boots and left them beside the other shoes on the floor near the door. That sweet, domestic sight didn’t go unnoticed but you had other things occupying your mind, such as a reminder to thank Erica for meddling in your Halloween night plans.

“There’s nothing to worry about, I’m fine. Just not in the mood to party, that’s all.”

“See, that doesn’t sound like you, Y/N.”

“How do you know that?”

“I guess I just know more about you than you’d think.”

You were still both standing in the small hallway that led to your living room, now staring at each other. Eddie felt out of place, next to the cream and beige shades of the wallpaper your mom chose when you moved there, in his all black ensemble, all leather and spikes and wild hair, but at the same time, you felt like he could belong there, if he stayed long enough.

You wished he would.

“I don’t know about that,” you sighed, “but if you want to stay and watch some movies, that would be more than okay.”

He smiled and leaned back, looking taller and impossibly handsome, dark eyes shimmering. You almost melted on your spot, but again, you wanted to blame it on the wine. 

“Lead the way, babe.”

At some point during the night, between one gruesome film and another, and a couple of bottles of wine being passed back and forth, you had scooted closer and closer together on your couch, until you were almost pressed flush against each other. Eddie was afraid to move and break whatever spell you seemed to be under, because he hadn't felt comfortable like that in a long time.

It was easy being around you. It hadn't been easy for Eddie to be around a lot of people, not since Spring Break, but with you, it took absolutely no effort to just be. To let go, to let his mind rest, to just focus on how warm the skin of your thigh was under your sweatpants, almost touching his, to make you laugh with his witty commentary of the awful movies you'd chosen to watch, to watch how beautiful you looked under the blue light of the television whenever you looked away from him.

He had it bad, that much he knew. Been smitten for a long time, enamored with the girl just out of his reach, but close enough to admire without guilt, but he wasn't about to let his feelings be known quite yet. Not when you were so close, so perfect, so… approachable, for the first time ever.

Eddie had never liked your boyfriend, from the first time he met him — just another Hawkins rich boy, swim team star, on his way to some fancy college out of state, and worst of all, he got to call you his. Unlike Steve Harrington, who managed to sway his usually unshakable opinion, Andrew just proved him right every time he had the unfortunate opportunity to meet him.

The first time he saw him was right after the dust had settled. He had just walked out of the hospital as a free man, mysteriously forgiven by the law enforcement that just a few days earlier was set on kicking him while he was down, and was received by his friends back at his trailer, a small committee complete with a handmade "welcome back!" sign and a cake baked by you. 

You, who welcomed him back with open arms and never stopped fighting for him, even if you'd only officially met a week before.

You'd spent that afternoon in his bedroom, along with his friends and his uncle, all sitting around his bed and reminiscing, happy to be there, happy to be alive. Still recovering from your wounds, seen and unseen, leaning on each other like a lifeline. He remember holding your hand that day, acutely aware of the ring on your finger, but doing it anyway — your hold never faltered, instead, you ran your thumb across the skin of his hand and smiled.

Was that what bliss felt like?

Later that day, you were the first to leave. Andrew came to pick you up, Dustin announced as he was the one to answer the door. A frown made its way to your face, if only for a second, and that was enough to make Eddie decide he didn't like the guy. Not only that but he insisted on walking you to the door, ignoring the protests coming from all around the room.

Walking slowly, as much as his still fresh bite wounds would allow, he let you lead him to his front door, a gentle hand on his back, guiding him. He didn't let himself feel bad for using his battered state to let you touch him without guilt, he could do that later, after the comforting warmth of your touch had stopped branding his skin. 

When you opened the door, that's when Eddie saw him. He knew Andrew hadn't been there during Spring Break, away with his family to some tropical destination, far from the horror they, you, had to endure. Eddie could tell he didn't care much either, letting you tend to your also still fresh wounds, both physical and mental, by yourself most of the time after he got back, only calling you when he needed something.

Eddie tells himself he would never let you out of his sight, if you were his girl, but there's also a lot of other things he likes to think about when he considers that scenario.

He watched you say goodbye, squeezing his shoulder before leaving and descending his trailer's stairs, down to your boyfriend's nice car and cold arms, leading you away from him, but not before leering him down at his own doorway, a condenscending, degrading look Eddie knew a little too well by now.

Not a word was spoken between the two, but there was no need, Eddie already made hating him into a new hobby.

With that sudden rememberance, your soft giggles bringing him back to the present, Eddie couldn't help but ask.

"What happened to your boyfriend?"

Without missing a beat, you chuckled, and responded without looking at him. "He dumped me."

"He what?" His question sounded a lot louder and high-pitched than he had intended. Eddie thought it would be easier for you to have dumped him other than the opposite.

Who would be stupid enough to let you go like that?

With a long sigh, you clicked the remote to pause the movie, and turned around to face him fully. He tried not to show how disappointed he was to lose the physical contact you had at that moment, but his hand clenched almost involuntarily, eager to reach out and pull you back. Where you belonged, his traitorous mind added.

"Dumped me, yeah." You sat with your legs crossed and he did the same, turning to hear you. "Last week. Unceremoniously, might I add, through the phone, even. I heard through the grapevine he's already dating someone else, but that might be just rumors, or maybe not, honestly I expect anything from him at this point."

Eddie's mind was reeling. "Was that why you didn't want to go out tonight?"

"That's part of the reason." You nod. "I just really don't wanna risk seeing him and Halloween is my favorite holiday, I don't want it more ruined than it already is."

The urge to punch the guy in the face was strong, stronger than it was when he was still recovering, when you were still together. It made him restless, fidgeting in his seat. The hand that lied limp at his side finally reached out, sitting on your knee and squeezing it only slightly. "I'm sorry. I know that it's not worth much, but I really am. You deserve better."

A weak smile formed on your lips, but it didn't reach your eyes. Eddie desperately wanted to make your face light up again. A brief idea struck him, then.

"Do you know where he might be tonight?"

"Benny's, probably. I don't know. I don't want to know." Despite your distress, you looked adorable with your nose scrunched and your head down, picking on your already chipped nail polish. Unable to help himself, Eddie finally reached out, his first unmistakably purposeful display of affection towards you — a little unsure, a little clumsy, but it still felt right — bringing his curled index finger below your chin, gently tipping your head up, making you meet his eyes.

"You might wanna know about what I'm thinking."

His voice was soft, but his dark eyes were full of mischief.

It was late when you got to Benny's. Not that anyone there would mind, the music inside was blasting loud enough that it could be heard for miles, and the people who were outside were all too intoxicated to mind your presence.

The basketball team, and seemingly every other jock affiliation at school, had a different party happening on Halloween night. They must have not gotten their big suburban house for themselves this year, Eddie thought. He would usually try to crash these parties, make some money out of the only few times these jocks didn't abhor his mere presence to his advantage, but things had changed for him, and for all it's worth, he had better things to do tonight.

Getting your ex-boyfriends back from what he did to you was his first priority. The second was making you forget all about him.

You and Eddie must have looked like quite a pair. He was still in his full costume, standing out from the more boring looking costumes the popular crowd opted for that evening, and you had put on the first outfit you saw after he'd told you his plan and whisked you away in his van. An old black sweater and ripped jeans, he saw your mismatched socks before you put on your boots, the ones that were already near the door. 

To him, you looked perfect, but he could tell how uncomfortable you were with all the people around you. Your ex's friends, he assumed. Eddie wondered if you were ever at these parties, and if Andrew even cared about how you felt about them. He doesn't want to think too much about it or he could feel himself get mad again.

"Hey," he brought a hand to your back, moving it up and down in a soothing manner, "we'll be in and out of here, 'kay?"

"Yeah, I know." Your smile was small, but Eddie was relieved to see it anyway. He promised himself he'd make convincing you to leave your house worth it, and he'll keep his promise.

"So… which one is his car?"

He watched you point to a tan-colored Jeep towards the end of the improvised parking lot. Silently, he grabbed your hand and led the way towards it. It wasn't a very well thought out plan, the one came up with whilst he seethed thinking about an asshole like that dumping a girl like you. It demanded serious action, in his humble opinion.

Property damage, more like it.

Eddie had been trying to stay out of trouble since the events of last March. He'd been officially cleared of all charges, something to do with the reappearance of Chief Hopper and his connections with the government. The details were foggy, he barely remembered signing all of those documents, still in his hospital bed and hazy from the medication. Wayne probably knew more than he did, but Eddie never asked too many questions.

He tried to go on as normally as he could, working odd jobs here and there as his body recovered, doing his best to heal his mind too. He stopped selling, graduated in May, spent more time with his new found friends — his new found family — and his old ones. Started dreaming about a girl who belonged to someone else, foolishly hoping that someday she would be his.

Not so foolish now, those dreams seemed.

Keeping out of trouble was surprisingly easy after you'd barely escaped life in prison, or worse — Eddie discovered there were far worse things than getting locked up, or living up to his family name. After all that, a minor misdemeanor was worth it if it was going to make you smile, at least in his eyes.

When you approached the Jeep, he could tell there was something going on in there. If he noticed, you noticed it as well, inching closer to it, slowly, trying to not get caught. The car was not empty, there were two people in front seats, making out — your ex and a girl Eddie did not recognize.

The first thing he felt was your grip on his hand tighten, and when he turned his body around to look at you, you looked away. Heartbroken, a dejected look on your pretty face, lips turned into a frown. It was almost like you didn't want to be seen at that moment, trying to hide, but Eddie couldn't let you. His own heart breaking for you, but willing to do whatever it took to mend it.

He took your face in both of his hands, urging you to look at him. "You don't need to get any closer, all right? Let me handle it, it was my idea. We won't spend more than five minutes here, I promise. Then I'll take you home, or we can go wherever you want. Far away from him, okay?"

"Okay. It's okay. I trust you, Eddie." 

The chill he's been feeling having foregone his jacket is readily forgotten as he takes in how sweet your eyes look in the low light of the street. He runs his thumb over your cheek just briefly before letting you go, going over to Andrew's car.

Thankfully for the height of the car, it was easy for Eddie to crouch and quickly grab the butterfly knife he usually kept on the inside pocket of his jacket — for safety measures, especially after being almost eaten alive, he didn't feel well without a weapon within close proximity. Call him crazy, but maybe there's always demobats to be fought, or asshole ex-boyfriends to screw over.

He cringed as he noticed the car starting to shake slightly, and prayed that you'd kept looking away. Eddie made a quick job of it — light on his feet, he slashed each of the four tires, and as he watched them slowly deflate, he ran towards you. You looked at him, covering your mouth to hide your nervous laughter, and he put his finger to his mouth, signaling you to keep quiet.

Together, you ran. Eddie didn't know who grabbed whose hand first, but when he came to himself you were running in the direction of his van, and you were giggling openly, making him smile until his cheeks hurt in turn. When you stopped, panting and still laughing, none of you let go.

"I can't believe we did that."

"I did that. You just watched, sweetheart."

Rolling your eyes, you pulled him a little closer by the hand you were holding. "Still, you're my hero, Eddie Munson."

"Couldn't stand thinking about what that dick did to you. He never deserved you in the first place."

He thought he'd said something wrong when you didn't say anything right away, but he was pleasantly surprised when you finished closing the distance between you, capturing his bottom lip between yours in a delicate kiss. He stood there, shocked for a second, before bringing his hands to your waist, drawing you to his chest.

Your arms around his neck, his traveling to your back, the sound of the deep bass coming from the inside of Benny's drowning everything around you. You were all he could feel, your soft lips melding with his, taking in all the little noises you made when he touched you just right. Feeling you under his touch was kind of surreal, like he couldn't believe it was happening just yet.

He swallowed the sigh you let out, just before drawing away, looking for air. "What was that?"

"Just a thank you, for now." You pointed with another peck to his lips.

"For now? What's for later?"

"Take me home like you promised and you'll find out."

"Baby, you don't need to…," not even he expected the pet name, or what followed, "you know, thank me like that. Or at all! I wasn't expecting anything from you…"

Before he could say anymore, you silenced him with another kiss, this time sucking on his bottom lip and letting him deepen it, taking the opportunity to sneak his tongue into your mouth, getting lost in the taste of you. Eddie walked you back until you hit the side of his van, his hand covering the back of your head, softening the impact.

He couldn't bear to hold himself back any longer, and you didn't seem to want him to slow down either, pulling him impossibly closer by his hair, making him moan into your mouth.

"I know you weren't, but I've been wanting to do this for a long time."

"Yeah?" He tilted his head, running his hands under your sweater, feeling your warm skin under your shirt, "Not longer than me, I'm sure."

"Wanna bet?"

The rest of the night was a blur. When Eddie woke up the next morning, naked on your bed, all he could remember was spending through the streets, dividing his already thin attention between kissing you and the steering wheel, drinking wine on your couch until you started taking your clothes off, and stumbling up the stairs while he removed his.

You slept peacefully beside him, your hair like a halo around your head, faint purple hickies on your neck. Though his mind was foggy, and his head ached with a hangover he was sure to blame your cheap wine, he didn't regret a thing he did the night before.

Later, when you woke up, after he spent looking at your ceiling and wondering how did he get so lucky, you got under the sheets and thanked him some more.

[iris-qt]

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐

☾ ʀᴇɢᴜʟᴜꜱ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☾ ʙɢ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ: ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ!

☾ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ | 2ᴋ

☾ ᴀ/ɴ: ʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴜʏꜱ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏʟʟ (ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴛᴇʟʟ, ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴘᴏʟʟꜱ).

☾ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ʀᴇɢᴜʟᴜꜱ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇ. ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴄʜᴏꜱᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴇɴɢᴀɢᴇ ɪɴ ɪᴛ. ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ, ʀᴇɢᴜʟᴜꜱ ᴍᴇᴇᴛꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴇᴀʀɴꜱ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.

Silly, foolish love.

Regulus seemed to be surrounded by the atrocious thing as love was in bloom at Hogwarts. Valentine’s Day was slowly approaching as February rolled in, blanketing the castle in fresh snow and an air of romantic anticipation.

And Regulus hated it.

He stalked up the endless stairs with his lanky legs to reach the rotted wooden trapdoor that led to the stuffy Divination room. If only the crystal ball would tell him how to drop out of this useless class mid-year. Walking in for the 2nd semester of the year, he saw the little magical name tags Professor Trelawney had enchanted were scrambled.

New seats.

Just fucking wonderful.

He’d gotten used to sitting next to some short, sniveling boy with bad acne and thick glasses. Such a simple, mutual understanding of silence between them. 

Regulus made his way to his new table at the back of the class. At least he could think clearly as he wasn’t seated right next to Trewlany’s five sticks of incense. Leaning over, messy black curls falling over his tired eyes, he peeks at the name on the tag next to him…Y/N. 

The new girl.

He’d never spoken to her but she didn’t seem particularly irritating, so perhaps this would be fine. 

You walk in, one of the last students, and as you take a seat, Regulus notes you smell like the fresh pines of the Forbidden Forest. Not to mention you had a pine leaf stuck in your sweater. His keen detective work led him to the conclusion that there was more to you than he had originally thought. Rather than a wallflower, you were hiding something in those focused eyes.

Those focused eyes that were now trained on him, lighting up as you gave him a little wave.

Regulus nodded in acknowledgment and turned away, letting you know he wasn’t one for small talk in case you hoped to engage in it.

The planets must’ve not been aligned in Regulus’s favor as the topic of today’s class was palm reading; particularly the line that represented love and future relationships. All in the spirit of Valentine’s Day, as Trelawny put it.

She chose the wrong holiday to become festive about.

The thing is, Regulus didn’t believe in love. He believed love was a choice. A choice he tended to avoid. He had made the decision to not get involved at all. Relationships only bring drama and heartbreak and he wanted none of it. None. Of. It. 

Also, his awkwardness welcomed zero aspects of any love, so perhaps he was slightly salty about that.

When the palm reading commenced, you turned to him, flipping your textbook to the correct page.

“It looks like the heart line is right above the head line.”

He raises an eyebrow. “But where’s the head line?”

You smile as you gently take his hand in yours and trace your finger over his heart line on his pale palm. Maybe it was a sensory issue, because his heart stopped and then started racing one thousand beats a second. It was probably just because of nerve endings leading to his heart, right? Basic human anatomy.

“Hm…I’m picking up a vibe…seems like your life shall be…” you look at Regulus, eyes wide for dramatic flare “...full of smiles and hugs! Merlin! Whatever shall you do?”

Regulus can’t help but crack a smile as he attempts to hide it with a disappointed head shake. 

“And here I thought you’d take this seriously.”

“I am dead serious, Black,” you drain your face of emotions as you stare blankly at him.

He can’t help but let out a stifled laugh as his heart picks up again. This cannot be good. He must be sick. Flu season, right?

Regulus recovered from his supposed illness by the next morning as he woke up early; washing himself with ice cold water to maintain his control and balance throughout the day. The air outside was crisp and the unrelenting chill of winter was chasing the occasional snowflakes that decided to fall. 

Perfect weather for a rejuvenating morning walk.

Truthfully, he hoped the cold would numb his spontaneous thoughts of Y/N. One little interaction and he was already spiraling.

No matter.

Everything was under control.

Until he saw you, bundled up in an endless number of layers, sitting by the lake with a little tray of watercolors, your hair gently blowing in the breeze. He just knew your nose would be a rosy shade and it’s as if his heart began an override autopilot of his body, moving his legs toward you. Of course, he was just curious as to why you were painting out in this bleak weather. Of course, it was plain curiosity. Nothing more. 

His quiet steps were given away by the frosty ground, and you looked up as he approached, his ink black hair decorated with various snowflakes, blowing around his face..

“Morning Regulus, here for another palm reading?” you grin seeing him roll his eyes. He hesitates as he doesn’t know whether he should ask before he sits down next to you. You gently pat the frosted grass next to you and he quietly takes a seat; knees to his chest.

“I don’t know if a thin black robe is the best attire for this weather, Black.”

“Hm..I suppose next time I’ll bring 20 sweaters like you,” he hums, giving you a small, lopsided smile. You scoff teasingly as you unwrap your large wool scarf from your neck, putting it around his shivering form. He looks at you with a shimmering yet unreadable emotion, before he pulls his gaze from your rosy, frigid nose to the small, pocket sized canvas you’re holding.

Your art was simplistic, yet heavenly. The soft pastel shades of the water colors blended together in perfect harmony, capturing the ethereal atmosphere of this cold, February morning. The lake shimmered with an azure shade which escaped into the baby blue tint of the cloudy sky.

You caught him staring and dug into your messenger bag, pulling out another tiny canvas and a spare brush.

“Paint with me”

He blinked at you, your gentle and inviting manner a foreign language to him. He always welcomed loneliness, but in your presence, he didn’t think being alone would ever feel the same. He’d always be yearning for someone. A specific someone. 

Merlin, he was in deep.

They sat there in a comfortable silence; the only sounds consisted of the lake lapping onto the shore and whispers of the winter winds. Regulus could get used to this. He began painting the scene, hoping to impress you with his professional art; a product of his years of art lessons with the best of the best. But he would never capture the moment like you did. Perhaps it was the lack of artistic “rules” with which you painted that made it so perfect. Perhaps it was the fact that it was you who painted it that made it so perfect. 

For perfection makes perfection.

So imagine his happiness when you gifted him your little canvas after the morning paint session. Regulus was truly at a loss for words but managed to pipe out a weak “thank you” as he gently held the little canvas as if it were a fragile artifact. He gave himself a mental reminder to learn various protective charms to perform on the small painting. Perhaps buy an impenetrable golden chamber for it? No. Platinum.

Valentine’s Day commenced with a flurry of sappy couples and atrocious public displays of affection. Regulus would’ve stayed holed up in his dorm, but how could he miss a trip to Hogsmeade? He needed to stock up on swan feather quills and dark chocolate frogs.

Yes, of course, Regulus had thought about you and perhaps conveying his feelings on this day reserved for love, but he’d rather not ruin the one beautiful thing in his life. Ever since that one early morning, you and him had been painting basically everyday. Those painting sessions are what made Regulus excited to wake up in the morning. But he wasn’t sure if you harbored the same feelings. 

Truthfully, if love was a choice, Regulus wouldn’t choose to love you. It was beautiful, yes. But it was heart wrenching; his stomach constantly felt like a twisting storm while your eyes sang a siren song that would soon bring him to his demise against the sharp rocks of love. 

That is why he pondered just releasing his emotions and letting you know his affections towards you. But Regulus was nothing if not afraid. 

Afraid of losing you.

Stupid love.

As he made his way into Hogsmeade, he noticed you strolling around with your best friend, laughing. You made eye contact with him as you gave him a little wave and a small smile. He briskly looked away as if you could read his conflicting thoughts about you behind his eyes and walked off.

Strange.. You thought.

After running his errands, Regulus decided to head back. Per usual, Valentine’s Day was a flop. They didn’t even have dark chocolate frogs in stock. Regulus sighed as he began walking back. He immediately paused in his steps as he noticed you at a pop-up flower stand, making a bouquet of white flowers. Ranunculus? Yes, it was a bouquet of Ranunculus. He had studied flower language as part of his private tutoring growing up. They represented charm and attraction. 

Charm and attraction?

Who were you charmed and attracted by? Because it certainly wasn’t him. 

Regulus scoffs to himself as he walks off, attempting to push away the gnawing feeling in his stomach. 

Until he hears your sparkling voice calling his name.

You run up to him across the frozen ground, a bouquet of Ranunculus in your hand. Quite unfortunately, the icy ground causes you to slip, and as you fall, Regulus catches you, your face pressed against his chest which is adorned with your scarf. His heart was racing so fast you were concerned he could be having a heart attack. You steady yourself, straightening your beanie, an embarrassed look on your face which immediately turns to a crestfallen expression as you notice the now crushed flowers. 

“Fuck…”

You felt like crying.

Your sadness was contagious as Regulus couldn’t bear to see his beautiful girl upset over anything. He quickly muttered a spell which brought the flowers back to life. Yes, he just  encouraged Y/N’s romantic pursuits towards another person by doing so, but if that’s what made you happy, he’d give it to you. 

Your face broke into a smile as you glanced to the side, a bit shaken at this bump in the road. 

“Thanks for saving my face from destruction, Reggie.”

“We wouldn’t want that, would we?” He smiled, always enjoying their exchanges. 

With all the insecure thoughts buzzing in your head, you decided to kill them off once and for all, and pushed the bouquet of flowers towards Regulus, unable to make eye contact with his calculating eyes. You didn’t want to see them calculate just how much of an idiot your infatuation with him made you.

“For you.”

Regulus blinked, unable to comprehend what was going on. Maybe she hit her head against his bony chest a bit too hard. He stood there gaping, as still as a rock.

You took that as a sign he wasn’t interested, and, with an internal sigh, turned the other way, looking skyward to chase the tears away. Flowers hanging limp in your hand, you were about to walk away, when you felt Regulus’s soft grip on your wrist as he coaxed you back to him.

Regulus was beaming in a way that was slightly unsettling and heart warming at the same time. There was something about seeing one’s true grin for the first time. And it was purely contagious as you grinned back at him like a lovesick fool.

Silly, foolish love.

[shaylogic]

Wishlist for DBDA Season 2:

A proper noir episode that plays off Edwin's fondness for traditional detective stories

Significantly more focus on Niko's character now that the traditional comic trio had season 1 to establish. Exploring her father's afterlife situation, meeting up with her Mom, discovering her own strength and skills (especially if she has supernatural powers after the polar bear figurine)

More of Charles' living backstory and family mystery possibly reflecting the comics

Edwin's living backstory and family, whom we know next to nothing about even in comics

Crystal picking up more tech/hacking skills

Cryland Crystal x Charles relationship dynamics: conflict around her bully side, trauma-bonding and conflict around the different kinds of shitty parents they have (which so far has been something Crystal's been better about with Charles than Edwin has been)

Monty, Jenny, and Cat King all move to London with the squad. Idc how or why. I'll accept any reasoning.

Happy lesbians or other wlws!!! Didn't quite get that in season 1.

More Kashi! What is going on with him? He seems important

An episode where one of the main characters is stuck floating upside down like in the Topsy-Turvey comic, and the others take turns holding their hand like they're a balloon

Squooshing and the Ghost Roads

More worldbuilding of realms (Neitherlands?) and ghost rules/abilities

Crystal resolving buried David of course

Desire of the Endless interaction with the rest of our queer characters (which is basically all of them)

Flashback montage of the silly early cases Edwin & Charles did together in the past that they referenced in season 1

Flashback on how the boys began their Detective Agency: their very first case.

Expand their first meeting in the attic scene to include if they actually spoke to Death, what happened to their bodies, and showing them realizing the school is covering them both up

Return to St. Hilarion's. Put bodies to rest. Burn it to the ground.

Edwin new outfit. Once done with the school visit and flashbacks, he should pick something mature and individual to separate the new him from the death trauma time

Jenny's new role in the agency group now that she's aware and sees ghosts. Bonus points for goth knowledge

Charles crop top for the fans

Charles figuring out his 🤞 bisexuality 🤞 this season much like Edwin worked through his internalized homophobia in season 1. We desperately need meaningfully in depth, genuine, quality bi rep in media and I trust this show with it. (Shout out to Nick Heartstopper though)

Payneland dynamics: still slow-burn figuring out their relationship as friends or more now that the confession is known. By the end of season 2 and Charles bi journey?, relationships start to shift a bit from Cryland to Payneland perhaps... [I love them both honestly]. Just when Edwin is making up his mind to put his crush on Charles aside and start looking for his "adventure of the heart" elsewhere, that's right when Charles starts to get more interested. And we may expect him to get all flirty but he actually gets more nervous and genuine with Edwin.

Monty becomes humanoid again and is learning who he is out on his own. Maybe he gets a job and apartment. Trying to figure out his purpose as an individual instead of familiar.

Cat King has a name, an animated backstory, and a new love interest that sees through his bullshit and keeps him humble

Feel free to add your own wishlist in the reblogs/comments! <3

[icaruspendragon]

someone asks me my favorite show and i have to tell them it’s supernatural, much to my chagrin.

we get to talking and they find out that i have a near encyclopedic knowledge of it. i can recite the names of the episodes in the first six seasons from memory. i didn’t even try to learn that for the worlds lamest party trick. i’ve just seen them enough that it’s floating around in my noggin. i have the dialogue for entire scenes memorized. entire episodes, even. yet again, accidentally learned from repeated watchings. i know about the actors. i’ve met the actors. i know about the cast and crew. i know timelines and theories and why this went that way. i have characters and quotes (both from the show and fanfic) tattooed on my body. one of the things i’m best know for to an audience of 370k+ online is my passion surrounding this show and its characters. this hypothetical person says “you must be a real big fan.”

and i am. i love this stupid little show that’s objectively not very good with its silly little characters that i love so much it often keeps me up at night.

and you wanna know what always surprises the hypothetical person in these hypothetical conversations that are an amalgamation of real conversations i’ve had with real people the most? it’s not how much i know about the show or what it represented to me in my adolescence or even my love for the characters.

it’s the fact that i haven’t seen the last five seasons.

that i haven’t finished the show.

i started watching in 2013 and stopped in 2015. i didn’t pick it back up again in earnest until early 2022. i’ve been rewatching since then and despite watching it literally every single day, i’ve only made it to the end of season eight in my rewatch.

there’s always some form of indignation on the other party’s behalf. and they always ask me “why? if you love it so much, why not watch all of it?”

and the answer is simple.

because i don’t want to.

i know what happens. i was online nov 5th 2020. i know how it ends. and i don’t want it to end. i don’t like the ending. so i’m not gonna make myself watch something i know is just going to make me upset.

and does that mean i’m less of a fan?

spoiler alert: the answer is “no.”

despite what other people and fans alike like to say, it doesn’t make me less of a fan. just like watching the show in its entirety doesn’t make them more of a fan.

fandom allows for flexibility of enjoyment. and that’s what i’m in fandom to do.

enjoy.

to enjoy the same thing with people who enjoy the same thing as me. to share my joy with these people.

so no. you’re not less of a fan or more of a fan for consuming media a certain way.

if you enjoy something, you’re a fan.

and if you’re a fan, there’s a place in fandom for you.