#summary: i miss my friends and i miss my goddamn kids

[ode2rin]

1 | ANYONE BUT YOU .ೃ

summary. as lines get blurred, hearts get flustered, and a scheme ensues, your brother's best friend suddenly seems way more interesting than he used to be.

content/warnings. 5k+ wc (part 1/3) reader has little to no college friends | reader hates kaiser's guts | PROTECTIVE kaiser lol | | pet names (dollface) & a lot of profanity (it's kaiser) | minimal proofread

💭 masterlist | next part

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can go with you anymore.”

Your ears were ringing.

After the words hung over the line, a heavy silence descended, punctuated only by the dull thud of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. The phone line seemed to distort, and the world beyond reduced to a distant murmur as a disorienting ringing filled your ears. Yet, despite the shock rippling through, you managed to maintain a facade.

“Ah, I see. It’s no problem. See you around!” Your chirped voice made you cringe internally, but it was a better front than sounding like a defeated kid whose mom said no over a piece of candy at a grocery store.

Before he could say anything else, you clicked the end button faster than he could spew some tacky excuse. Throwing your phone to the side, you settled onto your bed, lying on your back, staring at the uninteresting ceiling of your room.

Sure, it was no problem at all— the music festival was just six hours away, and your date had just canceled on you over the phone. It’s no big deal facing your college blockmates without a companion as initially planned, and it’s totally not a problem that you will most likely be a third– hell, a seventh wheel, actually, and have them talk behind your back – speculating about why you're going alone or if you were just making it up that you had someone to bring.

Yes, it’s not a fucking problem at all.

You don’t even like the artist lineup, anyway (maybe you’re mildly interested with one band that’s attending).  You wouldn’t bother if you weren’t just a sophomore still trying to find a group of friends you can call your own. It's embarrassing enough that freshmen even had it better than you. It’s not a race, for sure, but in college– the truth lies blatant that support systems help. A lesson you learned the hardest way.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” Three soft knocks on your door and a muffled voice, surely coming from your older brother, interrupted your pity party.

“Yes. Come in,” you confirmed. The door creaked open, revealing a mop of magenta hair leaning over your door frame.

“There’s food downstairs. We ordered your favorite.”

“We?”

“Kaiser is downstairs.”

Of course, he is. 

Your brother’s best friend must have really taken it to heart when your mom told him he can treat your family as his own. Too deep into his heart, if you could comment. You see him around the house more than you see your parents, and if that wasn’t tiresome enough, he’s literally a damn superstar in your university. Every corner, every room, in halls and library, everyone can’t seem to be over his name like a broken record.

You wouldn’t be this annoyed, hostile even, if said man was just as nice as your brother. But instead, he was far by the most obnoxious, foul-mouthed, arrogant prick you’ve ever known. Alexis should have never kicked some ball with that conceited oaf a decade ago. Life would have been so much better. But no— reality is, the bane of your existence in the form of blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, is in your house’s kitchen, probably gulping down your favorite drinks in the fridge. 

If you can’t seem to have friends, your older brother seems to be goddamn bad at picking his.

“Hey, dollface. Missed me?” Speak of the damn devil and he shall appear.

The first thing you’re met with after coming down is a sight of Michael Kaiser, sitting high and comfortably on one of the counter’s bar stools. Your gaze trails down to his hand where you see a peek of his crown tattoo— and would you look at that? He’s holding a can of your Coke Zero.

“Oh, so that’s why my life was going sideways again,” you feigned a sigh in disappointment, making sure it was loud enough for him to hear, “because you’re back.”

In your unwanted years of knowing this guy, you’ve soon realized that none of your words, no matter how sharp or snarky they get, would ever faze him. Evidence would be how he just openly chuckled at your remark. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I missed you and your smart mouth, too. Don’t worry.”

“Trust me, worry is not in the list of emotions I would ever feel for you.”

“Well, does attraction make it to the list?”

Years ago, perhaps it would have. Not that he needs to know—no chance. Your silly childhood crush on him was your deepest, darkest mistake. You might be overdramatic, but this was Michael Kaiser, and god, you would rather get caught having feelings for anyone but him.

Rolling your eyes at him, you sneer, “You wish.”

“Oh, trust me, I do wish,” he mocks your tone.

“Fuck off.” 

“That won’t get rid of me, I’m afraid,” he shrugs before winking at you. You shook your head in annoyance.

You took the seat across from him and settled. You were about to lean to reach the box of pizza at the other end of the countertop, when Kaiser reached for it first and placed it in front of you.

You turned to look at him, half expecting a smirk or yet another wink from the blonde, but instead, he was preoccupied browsing on his phone as if his body moved on its own to attend to you.

You shrugged off the weird occurrence and turned all attention to the pizza and its heavenly scent sipping through the gaps of its box, just in time for Alexis to take the seat next to his best friend. You drowned the noise of their conversation as they started talking about last away games.

Your brother and Kaiser had been the most valuable players of your university’s soccer team for as long as you’ve remembered. They were two years older, so by the time you entered university, they were already making big names in the field. Rumors had it that there were already offers lining up at their feet.

If you come to think of it, it wouldn’t be this hard making friends if you would just be vocal about being Alexis Ness’ younger sibling, but the limelight and pretentious popularity it came with was something you wouldn’t wish upon yourself. You wanted real and genuine friends, not people who wanted to be around you because it was a step closer to your brother and his best friend.

Like earlier, Alexis’ voice came reaching your eardrums, snapping you out of your thoughts. After hearing what he had to ask, though, you wished you had a way to physically block out his words.

“Are you not going to get ready for the festival?” your brother asked, meanwhile, his dear friend seemed to take great interest in what you’re about to say as both of them peered over you.

“Not going anymore,” you said, as nonchalant as you could to play pretend.

“Why? You’ve been looking forward to it the whole week.”

Heat crept into your ears and cheeks as embarrassment filled you. Sure, you might not be prancing around being all excited about it, but if your brother was able to notice it, your enthusiasm must have been evident then. God, you felt like an utter fool now.

“It got canceled,” you looked away from them.

Alexis looked at you with furrowed brows, “What do you mean? It’s not–”

“My date canceled on me. I’m not going anymore to save face and not make a fool out of myself. There, happy?” you snapped.

Before you could even feel the guilt from bursting out unprovoked to your brother, you swiftly got up from the stool heading back to your room, leaving the two of them in the kitchen looking concerned contrarily. One with worried eyes glancing at your room hesitantly, and the other one with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.

It seemed everyone was testing your patience today, as for the second time, your ears rang—not from a last-minute cancellation this time, but from the persistent sound of your ringing phone.

Your heavy eyes fluttered open, weighed down by the sleep from your ignoring-the-world nap after the exchange with your supposed date and your brother. Disoriented and groggy, you reached out, fingers fumbling to check the caller deserving of your unrelenting fury.

Kaiser, the screen read, and suddenly, the urge to throw your phone at the nearest wall almost overwhelmed your senses.

But you answered the call anyway, because logic says that he was still your brother’s closest, and sometimes, that warranted a call that might be about him.

“I swear to god this better be important–”

“Get ready,” he interrupted.

“What?”

“Look out your window.”

Groaning, you rose to your feet, moving your drapes aside to see what awaited outside.

Outside your house’s gates, a midnight blue sports car, all too familiar, was parked across the driveway. Its owner leaned lazily over its door, one hand in his pocket while the other held his phone pressed to his ear, looking right back at you with that shit-eating grin.

“What the hell are you on?” you muttered into the phone.

You instantly closed the drapes after meeting eyes with him.

It’s infuriating—He’s infuriating. But damn, does he look good when he smiles like that. And it’s not helping your case that he was clad in loose-fitting denim pants and a black shirt, sufficiently showcasing both his tattoo and his lean yet toned build.

It’s sorcery how he makes simple and ordinary clothing look like it was screaming high-end and luxury. Only he can do that, you admit.

“As I said, get ready,” he repeated over the phone, “We only have less than two hours before your music festival or something starts.”

He’s taking me to it? “Why?”

Only one word in response, yet the two of you understood what you’re pertaining to. Silence filled the line for a moment before you heard a subtle click of his tongue.

“Because you look ugly when you sulk,” and he hung up.

You should be irritated at him hanging up abruptly and calling you ugly, but for some reason you don’t know, it puts a smile on your face. 

The first one today.

Kaiser wishes he had a bigger car— which one would deem ridiculous, given that his car could easily match the price of two or even three minivans.

But if it meant having you sit not so close that your scent infiltrates his senses beyond his sound judgment, he’d gladly trade his lambo for a minivan any day.

You were intoxicating— not akin to the grip of liquor, because it would be inadequate in comparison. But rather intoxicating in the same way as the irresistible magnetism that beckons a madman to its vices.

And he must be really mad because you weren’t even sitting shoulder-to-shoulder close to him. You’re sitting comfortably at the passenger seat, a good distance in between, and yet he acts like a raging teenager who got locked up with his crush in the utility room. It is absolutely embarrassing, even for someone like him.

“Did Alexis ask you to do this?” you suddenly inquired, your gaze fixed on your side of the car.

Thank heavens you broke the silence first, because who knows what ungodly phrases he would come up with in an attempt of small talk with you?

“No. Though I bet he would have taken you himself,” he snorted, of course your brother would, “If our coach weren’t so pissed at him these days.”

Ah, so that explained why you hadn't seen Alexis around the house before hopping into Kaiser's car.

Momentarily, you turned to him. It was so swift that he might have missed it if he wasn’t so hyper aware of your every move in this damn confined space. “Is he in trouble?” you inquired to the blonde, your voice concerned and hesitant.

“Nothing you have to worry about, doll.”

“Stop with the nicknames,” you hissed, attempting to intimidate. 

Unfazed, he countered with a cheeky “Make me,” under his breath. His smirk practically audible, even without you glancing his way.

Silence overtook between the two of you once more. You fixated on the road ahead, noting the nearing destination as the glow of the festival stage lights peeked into view.

It’s your chance— your chance to release the words that have lingered at the edge of your tongue since he urged you to get ready almost an hour ago. You stole a glance at the man driving beside you. His eyes focused on the road, his left hand steady on the steering wheel while his timepiece-adorned hand rested comfortably on the gearshift. In another frame of mind, you might have found yourself lost in the rhythm of his long, slender fingers tapping against it. You snapped out of it before he could point it out.

You stole one last glance before turning away to whisper, “Thank you… Kaiser.”

Instead of saying welcome like a polite person would, your companion would of course, choose to say something as, “You owe me something now.”

Of course, you thought. Mentally rolling your eyes, you ask, resigning to his antics, “What do you want?” 

“Call me by my name.”

“Did you not hear? I said, thank you Kai–”

“The one you used to call me.”

Mikka.

It was a silly nickname you gave him– back when Alexis first brought him home for snacks nearly ten years ago. He and Alexis were eleven, and you were barely nine.

You remembered the blonde kid, all sweaty in his mud-stained clothes, clutching a worn-out ball by his hip, his gaze fixed on you with curiosity. “This is Kaiser,” your brother introduced, but the blonde stranger approached you, extending his hand.

“I’m Michael.”

“That’s… long.”

“What?”

“Your name– it’s long,” you echoed, looking up at him, “can I call you ‘Mikka’?”

“What?” Kaiser’s deep voice sliced through your reminiscence. “You had no problem calling me that before,” he pointed out.

“That’s before you beat up the boy you knew I like,” you scoffed at him, a familiar pettiness clouding your mind.

He chuckled at your retort, seemingly lost in his own memories. “Beat him up on the soccer field, you mean,” he corrected, though he wouldn’t particularly mind if it were an actual fight.

“Same thing.”

“Oh, come on! It was highschool!”

“Your point?” you countered.

“He was a snotface, anyway.” he rationalized.

“He was nice to me!”

“I suggest you rather get a dog instead— if nice is all you need. I heard dogs are fun to be around,” he sneered, “What do you think of pomeranians?”

You brushed off his question, preferring the depths of silence over the hypothetical responsibility of tending to a pup that bore more than a passing resemblance to him, both in appearance and, perhaps, in demeanor.

“I knew agreeing to come here with you was a mistake,” you sighed, exasperation lacing your words.

Surprisingly, Kaiser offered no retort. Taking his silence as a cue for your own, you settled into quietness, hoping for a peaceful remainder of the drive. Minutes drifted by until Kaiser broke the stillness with a whisper loud enough for you to catch.

“He was a slimy jerk,” he began, pausing as if hinting his careful choice of words, “and he was nice to you because he was trying to get into your pants.”

“How did you know?” you asked, meek and shy, fumbling with your fingers in your lap.  Seeking love advice and opinions from none other than the mighty Kaiser seemed absurd, but maybe, wisdom might sometimes fare well with age.

“Trust me when I say I know how boys can be,” he scoffed, a displeased furrow settling in his brows. “He wasn't the gentleman you thought he was.”

“And you? Are you a gentleman?”

Before you could stop your thoughts from escaping your rebellious mouth, the words spilled out like water through a breached dam. The lack of response from him compelled you to chew on your lip and fix your gaze on the road, refusing to spare even a glance his way, despite feeling his stare burning into the side of your face.

Meanwhile, Kaiser was aware he might be staring too long at your side for someone controlling a vehicle, but he couldn't help it. Not when you caught him off guard with a simple question, and especially not when you were trying so hard to avoid looking at him, your discomfort palpable in the air. You looked so cute—it made his mouth twitch.

Staring ahead at the road, he contemplated your question, needing no more than a minute to reach his conclusion.

When a man looks at his best friend's younger sibling in a way he shouldn’t, he’s not deserving of the title “gentleman.”

He was far from it, he concluded. With one last glance thrown your way before bringing the car to a full stop, he muttered in an uncharacteristically soft tone.

“Especially not one, doll.”

“Y/N! Over here!” a familiar voice cut through the cacophony, prompting you to scan the crowd until you finally spotted them.

Relief flooded over you at the sight of a familiar face amidst the crowd. Checking your phone had proven to be a wise decision; otherwise, you might have spent the night searching aimlessly through the vast expanse of the venue.

The venue stretched out before you was a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds that danced upon the senses. Laughter and chatter mingled with applause and the occasional roar of approval as performers graced the stage. 

Everywhere you looked there was movement and so much life. Yet amidst the bustling crowd and pulsating music, one figure occupied your thoughts more than anything else.

Kaiser's towering 6-foot frame loomed behind you, his broad shoulders carving a path of confidence through the crowd. He stood behind you like an immovable rock amidst a rushing river. And if your senses weren't deceiving you, you swore you felt the occasional brush of his hand against the small of your back, gently guiding you forward.

He was so close behind you that his breath on your nape soaked into your skin like ointment— warm to the touch, yet icy on your spine.

“Where's your date?” one of your blockmates inquired after the initial pleasantries were exchanged.

The question lingered, and suddenly, all eyes were on you. Mentally counting heads, you realized you were really on track to be the seventh wheel if you attended without a companion. Speaking of companions— you turned behind you with the intention of introducing Kaiser (not that they didn’t know him already), but your intention faltered when you noticed the scowl on his face.

“I’m the date, if you couldn’t tell,” he interjected. 

From his vantage point, he observed the widening of your eyes at his declaration. Yet, when he didn’t hear any immediate retaliation from you, he flashed you— and everyone else watching— a lopsided smirk. He sensed your blockmates’ curiosity lingering, some perhaps wondering if he was truly dating you. But none of them dared to probe further—maybe because he wasn't exactly the approachable type.

After a few murmurs of ‘oh’ and ‘really’ from your blockmates, they returned their attention to the stage, where the next performer was beginning their pre-performance monologue.

You, on the other hand, look like you were out for his blood from how you’re glaring at him. “Are you out of your mind?” you hissed under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

Yes. Perhaps he was. Irrationality had seized him upon hearing the question. After all, he was there with you, visible for all to see. Did they not see him? Did he look like a fucking chair to those people? Common sense must be a luxury these days, given its absence in this situation.

Yet, a small voice of reason within him attempted to intervene, suggesting that the question might have stemmed from genuine curiosity.

As his best friend's younger sibling, seeing the two of you together wasn't an unusual occurrence for those who attend the same university. They likely concluded that your presence with him at the music festival was simply a matter of normal friendship (which it was, but they don’t have to know that, nor does he desire for these extras to reduce it to just that).

“I’m helping you save face like you said earlier,” he tells you, still wearing that annoying smirk.

“How does telling them you’re my date help me save face?” If anything, you'd be hiding on campus after his stunt. You could only hope words won’t travel fast.

“Would you rather I tell them I'm chaperoning you because some jerk canceled on you?”

Your words stalled at the base of your throat, unable to counter his remark. That shut you up, much to your chagrin. He was right.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” he quipped, grinning at your silence. “Come closer, there’s a lot of people.”

You huffed in irritation and decided to ignore him behind you, determined to make the most of your experience here. You’d let this slide for now. After all, he was here because of you.

But it wasn’t too long before you realized that ignoring him would be as futile as trying to pluck roses without being pricked by the thorns. You knew very well that this man thrives in getting under people’s skin.

“You should be flattered.”

Genuinely appalled, you ask, “I’m sorry?”

“Accepted.”

If it wasn’t night time and the blaring lights were replaced by the sun, he could have seen the twitch that your eye did at his retort.

At this point, murder is a tempting option. Sure, he’s taller and much bigger in physique terms, but you have the rage for it. Just one more insufferable antic—one more word— from this man and the whole university will be mourning their star player’s demise first thing tomorrow morning. 

You took a deep breath to calm your murderous nerves, “Is that so? What part of telling people— oh wait, our schoolmates who are probably whispering behind our backs— that you’re my date, is flattering to you?”

The asshole had the audacity to shrug, “Calling me yours was.”

“Well then, you should be flattered. Not me.”

“You don’t know how flattered I am to be yours,” he mused.

If you didn’t know any better, his attempt at flirting might have sent warmth to your cheeks. But this was Kaiser— no one can tell when he’s being serious or just being his usual menace self talking shit like he’s employed to do so. Good thing you had better plans than spend it on his guessing games.

Just when you’re about to berate him once more, words halted on your throat because of a sight you least expected to see.

Han— the guy you’ve been talking to for almost a month now. The same guy who was your supposed date, to be more specific.

“What? Cat got your tongue, doll?”

If cats come in the form of a familiar man who’s a few good meters away, clearly having the time of his life dancing with someone, and clearly showing no signs of unavailability to go to a music festival he asked you to, then yes, it got your tongue.

You stayed silent far too long for Kaiser’s patience. Your lack of snarky clapbacks were starting to unsettle him more than he would allow. Shifting closer to you, he followed your line of sight to see what got you stunned in silence.

Recognizing what, or rather who, got your attention, he turns to you, his voice coming out too indignant, “Do you know that guy?”

“Do you?” you counter, picking up on his tone being all too casual as if they’re acquainted. 

“He’s last week’s opposing team’s goalkeeper,” or was it ‘striker’? He couldn’t recall, so he’s more or less incompetent to him. One thing he remembers, however, “and he hates me.”

You threw him a glance, “Not surprised.”

“And do I give a fuck,” he shook his head, “Why do you keep looking at him?” Don’t fucking tell me.

Your answer wasn’t any better to what he was starting to imagine, “He was… supposed to be my date to this music festival,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet.

You didn’t want to see the look on Kaiser’s face, fearing you might see pity, and so you nailed your gaze to the ground. Totally oblivious of the man peering over you rather softly.

“Why can’t he then?” he asks, voice an octave lower.

“He said they had late notice training, so he can’t come.” 

“Well, that better be his fucking ghost yapping with a brunette then,” he scoffs, looking straight to the lying man who canceled on you.

Sick of his face and sloppy dance moves, Kaiser turned his gaze back at you, only to be filled with rage because of it.

You look sad— and it made his blood boil. Not towards you, but for you.

“Y’know what? Let’s go there,” he urged, head pointing at where Han was.

Is he fucking crazy? You immediately shook your head at his scandalous suggestion. You might be feeling a little betrayed and angry, but rationality still had its hold on you— and it’s saying to not let Kaiser go with his idea. 

Instead, you tug on his forearm, eyes still on the floor before looking up at him, “Can we leave, please?” 

Kaiser was taken aback by your sudden meekness. He wasn’t used to this— to you, being all deflated and zoned out. He was used to your deadpan expressions and your eyes that seem to roll every time he utters a single word. He was used to you being, dare he say, feisty. 

And he would rather have you stay like that all day long, even when he’s the receiving end of it.

But this? You, saying please to him, of all people? He doesn’t like it. 

If this is how he gets to make you say please, then he doesn’t want it. Fuck that, and fuck that guy. How dare he.

Kaiser didn’t say anything back at your request, but you felt big calloused hands grasp on your hand still resting on his forearm. The next thing you knew, you were walking with him, shoulder-to-shoulder while his other hand was on yours guiding you to walk out of the scene.

“If I see one—just one drop of tear, I swear I am turning this damn car around.” 

Your thoughts abruptly halted at the sound of Kaiser’s threat—his ultimatum, rather. It sounded more like a promise than a threat, and you knew this man well enough to understand that he never ate his words.

You shot him a glance and snickered. There was no way in high hell you’d ever cry in the same space where he was. It was the last thing you’d ever do, even if it meant convincing yourself that what you saw earlier was just a mere look-alike of Han.

“It's nothing. We aren’t even a thing,” you dismissed, your voice flat.

“But you thought you could be,” he countered, and damn if he wasn't right. “How do you even know him?”

“We're kind of talking, well, sort of—”

“Kind of? Sort of?” he scoffed.

“God—it's like a talking stage or something casual, Kaiser! There, got it?”

“That's not exclusive,” he remarked, adding insult to injury.

Irritation bubbled in your throat as his interrogation continued. But even before you could unleash your venom, you caught yourself. He was right. And while this man had never brought you good, it wasn't fair to make him the target of your bad.

“Yeah, it's not,” you admitted, a dry, humorless laugh escaping you. You recalled the brunette he danced with earlier. “I wasn't exclusive material for his reputation, I guess.”

What reputation? “That’s bullshit.” He gritted his teeth, his hand itching towards the steering wheel, clearly tempted to turn back to the festival.

“You said it yourself, he’s an athlete,” you pointed out, “You people never like to go exclusive with someone.”

“You people? Oh, please. Do not insult me by comparing me to the likes of him.”

The sass in his voice drew a chuckle from you. It was amusing how he said it with genuine horror, as if the mere idea of being associated with Han was an insult. “Why? Are you telling me you can commit to someone exclusively?”

“Someone like who? You?” He met your gaze briefly, “Absolutely.”

What the hell. “Stop messing around,” you snorted, effectively ending the conversation.

He was playing a dangerous game, saying that to you. Did he even realize what it did? Did he hear your stupid heart hammering in your chest? It was too loud, too obvious, a frantic drum solo against your ribs. 

And the realization settled— he made your heart flutter. 

His words, so simple, so casually tossed out, had landed like a bomb, sending shrapnel through your carefully constructed walls.

Michael Kaiser, of all people, made your heart flutter.

Suddenly, the air felt thin, the car an echo chamber amplifying the frantic rhythm of your traitorous heart. You knew you should scoff, dismiss it as another one of his infuriating jabs, but the truth was like a hot coal lodged in your throat.

“I’m not though,” he countered, eyes steady on the familiar road ahead. He sounded serious– too serious. 

As you were about to retort back, the car lurched to a stop, announcing your arrival. You glanced out the window, the familiar sight of your house doing little to ease the tension that had coiled tight in your stomach.

“We’re here,” Kaiser announced, his voice a low rumble.

Hurried and flustered by the unexpected shift in the conversation, your clammy hands fumbled with the buckle, the metal cold and unyielding against your sweaty palms. You tugged, then tugged again, frustration building with each failed attempt.

“Easy, doll.” 

Before you could protest, a large hand swooped in, effortlessly unlatching the buckle with a practiced flick. The sudden proximity sent a jolt through you, making your breath hitch. You met his gaze, his eyes a blazing blue as he held your stare for a beat too long before turning away.

Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself. You reached for the door handle, pushing it open and stepping out onto the familiar pavement. Before slamming the door shut, you paused, turning back to Kaiser with a newfound resolve.

Crouching down to meet his gaze, you surprised yourself with the words that tumbled out. “Be careful on your way home and,” you paused, “Thank you... Mikka.”

The nickname slipped out before you could stop it, leaving a blush blooming across your cheeks.

Before Kaiser could react, you slammed the door shut, the sound echoing in the quiet street. 

Mikka. He repeats your words in his mind.

He watched you disappear into your house, a slow grin spreading across his face. Only when you were safely inside did he start the car, the image of your flustered face lingering in his mind.

Damn it, doll.

Meanwhile, you hurried to your room, clutching your chest where your heart still hammered a frantic rhythm.

Why did I call him that? you asked yourself.

The use of his nickname, a name you rarely uttered now, was a stark reminder that the two of you weren’t as close as you were younger.

It’s not a big deal, you tried to reason with yourself. He literally said you owed it to him, and calling it quits would be in the form of a stupid nickname. It doesn’t mean anything. Right— you were just returning a favor.

Your obvious self-deception was interrupted by the incessant buzzing of your phone, tossed carelessly on the bed. Picking up your phone, you opened one of the notifications, your breath catching in your throat.

It was a post on your university's gossip page, and there, plastered on the screen, was a picture of you and Kaiser. 

The image froze a moment in time, capturing him standing protectively behind you, his arms caging you against a barricade. Panic clawed at your throat. This picture, out in the open, could be misconstrued in so many ways. 

What were people going to think? Who took this photo, anyway?

Your eyes darted down the comment section, scrolling through a sea of unimaginable speculations, desperately searching for clues about the culprit.

Just then, a knock on the door startled you.

“Y/N? Can I talk to you?”

It was your brother— and his voice suggested he needed answers too.

Shit.

note. first mini series lmao xD will add cw as i go!

[lovebugism]

hi! reader doesn’t like kids at all, but somehow eddie’s child is just different and the cutest sweetest child who warms their heart

✶ ┄ MAYDAY ! [ the beginning ]

summary: when steve harrington brings you as a plus-one to a munson birthday party, he forgets to tell you it's for eddie's four-year-old, maeve. (1.8k)

pairing: dad!eddie munson / f!reader

tags: strangers to lovers (eventually), slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love, meet ugly-ish, fluff, girl dad eddie munson™, r is not used to being around kids (and it shows), baby blurb turned spin-off universe <3

When Steve Harrington invites you to a birthday party, he fails to mention it’s for a four-year-old. 

The tiny trailer is decked out in decoration. A fusion of black and rainbow, of bats and unicorns, of vampires and Tickle Me Elmo — like no one could land on a singular theme. 

Steve guides you into the home with a golden hand on the small of your back, his other clutching a sparkly black bag with Count von Count’s face on it. You stop very suddenly in your tracks. Happy 4th Birthday, Maeve! reads a handpainted sign draped beneath the ceiling.

You become very hyperaware of the whiskey bottle in your right hand, something you figured would be the most sufficient thing to gift someone you’d never met before. You just hadn’t expected the stranger to be a child.

“What the fuck, Steve?” you bite under your breath, glaring at the boy beside you. “I thought you said this was your friend’s birthday party?”

“Maeve is my friend,” he answers with a stupid shrug. “Though, to be fair, I did say it was my friend’s kid’s birthday party.”

He most definitely hadn’t.

“What the hell— I brought booze!”

“That’s okay,” assures a wild-haired boy with a pretty pink grin as he walks up to the two of you. The friend in question. 

Eddie Munson wears a silver ring on each finger and a thick leather jacket despite the warming spring season. His laughter sounds like sunshine. His smile is bright enough to give you a goddamn sunburn.

“Maeve’s been getting presents all day— It’s about time someone got somethin’ for me,” he jokes.

You grimace while the two boys laugh. “Sorry…” you murmur as you pass him the bottle, shrinking inside yourself in an attempt to hide from the moment. I’m never letting Steve convince me to leave the house again, you think to yourself.

Eddie shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. Seriously. I’ll go stick this in the kitchen— Make yourself at home.”

Your racing heart quells only slightly. He must be more of a good guy than Steve made him out to be, if he’s willing to keep you around after you brought booze to his daughter’s party. Though, you’ll contend that you were only half at fault for this.

Steve bites back a chuckle as he walks you to the back door, standing with you on the little wooden deck lined with sparkly streamers. There’s a picnic table off in the distance, covered in a bat-patterned cloth and set with Sesame Street-themed utensils. A small crowd of teenagers gather around it, and a couple of their parents, you figure.

The spring breeze only half soothes your burning skin.

“See?” he lilts, trying not to laugh and failing. “He likes you already—”

You swat his chest with a less than kind hand. 

“Ow!”

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Harrington, I swear to—”

“What’s your favorite animal?” a tiny voice asks from behind you, a smidge too loud and confusing their R’s with W’s.

You look over your shoulder, face flooded with horror. A kid with wild chocolate hair stands at less than half your height, wearing the tiniest Ozzy Osbourne shirt you’ve ever seen beneath a rainbow tutu. You don’t know what to say, so you just blink at it for a moment — at her.

“Hey, Maeve,” Steve greets with a curt wave.

The girl beams, missing her very front tooth. “Hi, Uncle Steve!”

“Wha— Huh?” you stammer mindlessly. ‘Cause you’re not exactly the best at talking to people your own age, let alone to children. They’re too honest. And too loud. And beyond still feeling like a kid yourself most days, you don’t have anything in common with them.

“What’s your favorite animal?” Maeve repeats in the same inflection, smiling until a dimple appears in her freckled cheek. “Mine’s a Hefflelump.”

“Hef… Hefflelump?” you echo quietly, only vaguely registering Steve’s laughter as he disappears through the screeching screen door, leaving you all alone. You’re definitely killing him for this.

“Yeah… From Winne the Pooh!” she says like it’s obvious.

“Oh… Okay…”

“What’s yours?”

You stumble over your words to find an answer. “Um… Uh… I don’t— I don’t know…”

“Everyone has a favorite animal,” she scoffs like some kinda critic with a speech impediment. She tilts her chin to her chest and peers up at you with a pair of doe eyes, so brown they’re almost black. You shift your weight on your feet, visibly uncomfortable beneath her unwavering stare.

“Maybe like a… A blobfish, or something?” you shrug.

Her tiny face screws in disgust. “Gross,” she spits.

You flinch. “What? Why is that gross?” you retort, crossing your arms over your chest, more defensive than you’d like to admit.

“They’re so ugly,” Maeve giggles.

“Why?” you squint. “‘Cause they look differently than we do?”

“No!” she laughs, loud and golden, just like her father. “’S ‘cause they’re so slimy.”

“Well— You— You’re slimy,” you stammer.

The wild-haired girl grins with all her baby teeth (well, besides the front one, anyway). “You’re slimy!” she echoes with a mischievous twinkle in her chocolate eyes.

The screen door squeals open again, the rusted hinges screeching in protest. “Who’s slimy?” a male voice questions from behind you, a smile audible in his voice.

“You are!” you and Maeve chorus at the same time. 

You whip your head around a second too late. Your heart drops to your ass when you find Eddie lingering in the doorway behind you. You stumble over your words while Maeve giggles. “Sorry! I thought— I thought you were Steve! I’m so sorry!”

A chuckle sputters from Eddie’s mouth. He’s nearly as grieved by it all as you are. “He just left,” he tells you with a lopsided smile, cocking his thumb over his shoulder. “I think he’s helping Wayne out front. They’re putting together Maeve’s d-o-l-l-h-o-u-s-e.”

His eyes flit upward as he tries hard to spell the word correctly. Upon your confused look, he says, “I can’t say it, or she’ll know what I’m talking about.”

“Right,” you nod.

Eddie crouches and holds his arms out for his daughter. Maeve’s tiny feet patter against the wooden deck as she rushes to him. He huffs at the weight of her — heavier than he remembers and getting bigger every day (which is weird ‘cause she was a newborn, like, a week ago). He grunts when he picks her up, propping her weight on his side.

“What were the two of you talkin’ about, then?”

“Blobfish!” she shouts with a beam.

Eddie breathes out a faint chuckle and turns to you. “She’s forcin’ you to pick a favorite animal, huh?” he wonders, then laughs a bit louder when you nod. “Yeah, she’s been doing that all day. It’s her new thing,” he says, nuzzling the tip of his nose into her curls. 

Realization seems to him then, and his brows furrow when he looks at you. His face, all twisted in confusion, is an exact replica of Maeve’s. 

“Wait— Your favorite animal is a blobfish?”

“That’s what I said!” the girl laughs.

You shift your weight on your feet and cross your arms over your chest. “I’m… feeling very judged in this moment…” you murmur under your breath, only half joking.

“I think that’s the most creative answer we’ve had yet, huh, Mae?” Eddie chuckles.

You scoff. “Well, I think Hefflelump’s pretty creative considering—”

The boy clears his throat, seeming to sense the rest of your sentence. His eyes widen in a lighthearted glare before he nods to the girl on his hip. Only then do you realize the words sitting on the tip of your tongue. You swallow them down immediately.

“Right…” you nod instead. “Nevermind…”

“Here—” Eddie huffs as he sets the girl down again. “—Go find Aunt Robin, alright? She’s probably decorating your cake as we speak.”

Maeve rushes off at the word cake, tottering on lanky, ungraceful legs. The two of you watch her go and linger in an awkward silence. Neither of you is quite sure how to make conversation without her there. You decide to start with an apology.

“I’m, uh, I’m sorry, by the way. Again,” you laugh awkwardly at yourself, scratching at the back of your neck. “I’m not… I’m not really… great with kids. If you couldn’t already tell.”

Eddie grins, pink and lopsided and pretty. You don’t feel deserving of the warmth swimming in his button eyes, glimmering beneath an early setting sun. “It’s okay. Seriously. You should’ve seen Robin and Steve the first time they met her— they were hopeless. And now they’re… Sort of alright, I guess.”

You force a faint chuckle. “Yeah, I’m— I’m just not used to being around them, I guess. I don’t even think I’ve talked to a kid her age since, like, elementary school.”

“I was the same way. ’Til I had Maeve and all…”

“Well, I couldn’t tell,” you assure him with a wavering smile. “You’re, like, a total pro. You’re great with her.”

He ducks his head to hide his blushing cheeks. The apples of them speckle warm and pink beneath the weight of your compliment. 

“Well… thank you,” he says, deflecting from your praise with that stupid, posh, D&D accent he always uses when he gets nervous. You don’t notice him grimacing at himself because you’re still stewing in your own embarrassment.

“And sorry for the booze, too. I seriously didn’t mean to bring— I mean, Steve didn’t even tell me that—”

“Stop apologizing,” Eddie chuckles warmly. “That part’s not your fault, alright? I don’t know if you know this or not, but your boyfriend’s a total idiot.”

Your face screws up. “Oh, he’s not— Steve’s not my boyfriend.”

The boy’s smile ebbs. “No?”

“No. No way!” you laugh before you mean to. “I’m pretty sure I’m just, like, his replacement best friend since Robin started dating Vickie.” 

Wide-eyed and distantly relieved, Eddie stammers like a teenage boy. “Oh. Right. That’s… That’s cool. Yeah.”

“Yeah…” you echo.

“Well, uh— I’m gonna see if Wayne wants any help,” he blurts despite knowing he’s been barred from doing handy work since he nearly drove a nail through his own finger. He just needs a way out, lest he keep stumbling over himself and lose all of his cool points with you. 

He saunters backward through the opened door and nearly trips over the frame.

You bite back a laugh. He forces a wavering smile. 

“But, um, I was thinkin’ about cracking open that bottle you brought. You know, after Maeve’s in bed and everything. If you— If you wanna hang around that long…”

The silence makes him as nervous as a teenage boy, all writhing and uncomfy in his skin. You nod in agreement, and his sparkling chest swells all over again. “Yeah,” you reply, lip quirked in a poorly hidden smile. “Sure. I’d— I’d like that…”

He smiles, all proud of himself. “Good. That’s… That’s good,” he stutters, then swallows hard and scurries off before you change your mind. 

Before he shuts the squealing screen door behind him, you hear Robin’s voice exclaim loudly from the kitchen. “What the hell’s a blobfish?!”

if u have any other ideas for hijinks these two idiots (and maeve) can get into, feel free to leave 'em here! (⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 3

Pairing: Millionaire!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Rating: E, 18+, Minors dni

Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Chapter Summary: You decide it's time to put yourself on Joel's radar.

CW: Age gap (Joel 45, Reader 22), dual POV. Specific warnings in small red below the cut, do not read to avoid spoilers.

WC: 10k. Sorry, grab a snack!

AN: I'm continuously surprised by the love, excitement and joy that this story brings anyone but me. That probably doesn't even make sense, I'm just lost for words, tbh. Forehead kisses to @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @joelmillerisapunk, and @milla-frenchy for screaming with me or pre reading this for me. @lotusbxtch gets a forehead kiss and a tip of the nose kiss for deep dive beta reading this, she's solely responsible for every semi colon.

Series Masterlist || My Masterist

I no longer have a tag list, please follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates to be alerted for future chapters.

Content Warnings: Flirty, alcohol consumption, mentions of sexual acts, kissing, mutual pining, reader being pinned against a wall, sexual tension, touching. Reader does have some description so may be considered more of an OFC.

The week after Joel removed you from his club goes by in a well-scheduled blur. You work your usual three days, cleaning mansions of people who don’t tip as well as Mister Miller. You pour yourself over LSAT study guides, practicing insane logic questions. You enjoy a coffee date with Jamie who asks you what happened the night at the poker game. You tell her a practiced lie that feels like acid on your tongue as it leaves your lips. You hate lying to your friends, especially her. You can feel that lie sitting heavily on the top of your stomach the entire time you’re with her, but you simply cannot afford to get fired with three years of law school on the horizon. You spend an evening with your roommate, Odette, watching Netflix and eating dumplings from her favourite spot, the only spot in Austin that has those little white paper boxes with the red writing. 

If you decide not to lie to yourself, on top of everyone else, you also spend at least an hour a day watching videos of women tied up and dominated, thinking of Joel goddamn Miller the entire time. Since learning his full name, and the name of his club, the Google searches you swore you’d stop doing have been much more productive. You’ve found multiple blogs and Reddit posts, not just about kink, but also about Joel. It turns out that he’s well-known in the kink and BDSM communities around the world, but is essentially changing the face of kink in Austin. 

One night, you get lost in a Reddit wormhole of women in Texas, and one in Paris, who have been a submissive for a man that sounds a lot like Joel. They don’t actually mention him by name but there’s advice on what he likes and doesn’t like, and how he never actually has sex with any of his submissives. It also sounds like some of these women pay him to be their dom, and, based on the conversations in the comments of one thread, it seems like he has a few submissives at the moment, and majority of their interactions happen at the club. 

 The club. Fuck, Jamie wasn’t kidding when she said JMK was exclusive. Anyone can join, assuming you can pay the yearly membership fees that, according to Reddit, are around $80,000 per year. From the minimal, cryptic information you find, Joel Miller is the main owner and he has two business partners. One you assume is his brother that you served the other night, but the third you are unable to find any information about. 

Since everything you find online is up to interpretation, it’s hard to say what is and isn’t true. According to one disgruntled poster, once you become a member at JMKink, there are a lot of rules to follow. Everyone has to get tested monthly; it’s highly recommended that women are on birth control; and even if you’re married to the guest you bring, men must wear condoms. You can’t just bring anyone in with you: every member and their guest has an app, and the only way to get that app is from a QR code and an assigned activation code. According to another poster, the app is full of waivers and consent forms. You can’t stop the shy smile that crosses your face when you remember how concerned Joel was with your consent the first time you met. 

The Monday before your usual every-other-Tuesday shift at Joel’s, you find a blog post about becoming a submissive, and it’s like it was written just for you. The writer explains how she had a hard time shutting off her brain and how, by the end of the day, she was so exhausted from making decisions that all she wanted was someone to tell her what to do for once. This led to her and her husband exploring a sub/dom partnership. Now, she feels lighter and freer; they’ve both discovered new ways to get pleasure outside of the idea of sex that society feeds us. Being a submissive isn’t always about orgasms or pleasure; it’s helped her build confidence, and she’s found that as they progress, that little voice that tells her she isn't good enough has stopped being so loud. 

After reading through the post a few times, you shut your rose gold laptop and stare at the wall behind your desk. You feel seen, heard even though you didn’t speak. At first, you found yourself feeling ashamed of getting off to these videos, like there was something wrong with you for being turned on by it, but it’s really that ability to let go of control that you crave, the feeling of someone else making the decisions for once. You want that, but more so, you think you need that, and badly.

As a firm believer of ‘everything happens for a reason,’ it all comes together for you. You aren’t even nervous as the thought consumes you. If Joel shows up at his house, tomorrow I’m going to ask him to teach me. 

On Tuesday, you do as you always do, following Joel’s instructions to a tee while listening to a podcast. However, today you only wear one AirPod in hopes of hearing that familiar and comforting engine rev that signals him either coming or going. Every creak or pop of the house causes your heart to flutter, but it’s never him. Much to your chagrin, Joel doesn’t come home. 

Inside the envelope is that expensive matte black paper again, ‘Thanks -JM’ neatly written along it. 

Great, you think to yourself sarcastically, we are on initial terms again. 

Twelve hundred dollars is tucked into the envelope this time, you roll your eyes after thumbing the crisp green bills. The first tip you ever got from him felt sincere, but after walking in on him, and everything since then, it’s feeling more and more like apology money. You shouldn’t complain; people would kill to make this kind of money, but everything would be so much easier if he’d just fucking talk to you.

Your fingers run along the thick, rich paper that he uses as company letterhead. You can’t explain it, but the paper feels like Joel. It’s rough and thick, yet has a vulnerability to it, like you could easily destroy it with just a pinch of your fingers and a flick of your wrist. Your mind flashes back to his club the other night. He was literally begging you to leave, you can still hear it, the pleading in his voice as he said, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me”. Your fingers trail across the golden ink of his neat handwriting and then open the paper the rest of the way. At the very bottom of the page, in shiny black print similar to the JMK logo at the top, is a phone number. Your heart slams against your ribcage as your eyes scan across the numbers.

  When you get home, you unfold the note on your kitchen counter and pace the three or four steps it takes to walk the length of your small kitchen, never taking your eyes off the paper, looking at it like it’s a live bomb or like it’s going to disappear if you let it out of your sight. This is it: you could call the office, make an appointment or something. You’d probably have to lie, but you just need to see him; you need to make a case for yourself. Your stomach lurches, throat tightening at the thought of being in the club with him again. You open the freezer and grab the bottle of tequila, taking a big swig right from the bottle. It’s a cold burn and you clench your eyes as you swallow it down. Your body shivers involuntarily.  

You dial before you can talk yourself out of it and before you know it you have an appointment under a fake name to speak to Joel tomorrow afternoon before your study group meets. You take two more large gulps of tequila after hanging up the phone. 

Fuck, this is really happening. You take another large sip of the frozen tequila for good measure, your nose scrunching up at the taste. 

Joel’s office isn’t attached to the club, it’s in a smaller building across the street and that has seemed to tamp some of the nerves that are vibrating your very core. Still, you can stop from nervously smoothing the wrinkles that have formed on the short, flowing skirt of your white sundress as you sit on the red velvet couch across from Joel’s receptionist. She is a small woman with a chin length bob, she’s probably in her late fifties and you wonder if her kids or grandkids know that she works for the owner of a kink club, or maybe she’s part of the community too. You’ve done copious amounts of research; kink isn’t just for young people, and you suppose Joel isn’t exactly young either. For all you know, she very well could be a dominatrix in her spare time. 

She says your fake name in a soothing tone as she stands and walks towards the tall black door, pulling it open effortlessly. “Go on in, sweetheart. Joel’s ready for you.”

You smile at her sweetly, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously as you walk over the threshold to try to convince the millionaire whose home you clean to dominate you. The air in his large, bright office feels heavy and thick. Blood rushes through your ears as he looks up at you from his seat. He slips off his 1950’s style black horn rimmed glasses and places them on his desk. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he assesses you. Your heart lurches, knees trembling as you take a few nervous steps towards his desk. As his eyes meet yours you feel it again, that exposed and naked feeling that only his gaze seems to be able to cast. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn such a short dress, but it’s an unseasonably warm March day and even before leaving your apartment you were sweating in a mix of nervousness and excitement. 

You see his lips move, but you can’t hear him over the pounding of your heart. You stop just past the door, then hear it click shut behind you. Joel’s silky lips move again and this time you hear your name followed by a calm, “What’re you doin’ here?”

The words come out before you even think about them, you practically yell them at him, “I want you to teach me.”

His hand waves to the chairs across his desk. When you don’t move he harshly says, “Sit.”

You rush across his expansive office, the plush carpet feels luxurious under your shoes. When you reach the black leather chair you sit on the very edge of the seat, your knee nervously bouncing up and down in time with your heart.

“You want me to do what?” He asks hesitantly, leaning forward in his chair. He looks absolutely beautiful in the late afternoon sun - orange hues reflecting off his tanned skin, the few greys along his temples glistening like the moon on the ocean. He’s in a black dress shirt again, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. You noticed today that he’s wearing a black watch and a gold ring on his right ring finger. Between his accessories and the veins that line his toned forearms your mouth goes dry.

“I - umm, I want you to teach me.”

The last word has barely passed your lips when he scoffs out, “No.”

Your face falls, “Joel, please. I’ve been doing research and I’ve decided that, well, that I want to be…that.”

He places his large palms on the desk, the square black diamond in his ring glittering in the sun, and pushes himself up. You crane your neck to look at him as he slips his hands into his pockets, his eyes already locked on yours. His intense eye contact wraps you up in a weighted blanket of safety and comfort, which is a dangerous and vulnerable place, a place that has the ability to rip you in half, much like you could do with that company letterhead he left you. He walks slowly to the other side of his desk. Once in front of you, he leans back onto it, keeping his hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored black dress pants. 

“You can’t even say it.” He challenges. 

You furrow your brows, ready to confront him like you always seem to do. In the few interactions you’ve had with Joel, more often than not, it’s been him trying to tell you what to do, you fighting him over it, and then him ultimately winning. It’s infuriating, but not this time. No, this time you’re going to win. You have valid reasons to want this, and they’re all backed up by your research. You are leaving this office as his submissive. 

“I can too!” 

He shrugs his broad shoulders nonchalantly, “Say it then. You wanna learn how to do what, sweetheart?” 

You sit up tall on the edge of the chair, crossing your arms under your breasts, praying your cheeks don’t flush as you finally admit it out loud. “I want to learn how to be a submissive.”

“No.” One of his meaty hands comes out of his pocket, waving you off as he says it again.

“Please!” You plead, “I want to learn how to be a sub.” 

Joel actually squirms at the sound of you being so needy. He lets out a harsh ‘fuck’ under his breath and then whispers your name, “I can’t do this with you.”

Got him, you think to yourself, failing to fight the smirk as you lower your voice and sweetly beg, “Please, Mister Miller?” 

Joel ‘Your-Consent-is-Most-Important’ Miller is not a small man: his broad shoulders take up almost an entire door frame and he’s easily nearing six foot four, but at the sound of you calling him the one name he’s asked you not to, he moves faster than your brain can comprehend. You gasp as he lunges towards you, his hands landing on the arms of the chair, his wide shoulders pushing you back as he cages you in. Your exposed back hits the back of the chair, your short skirt riding up your thighs slightly. He is practically on top of you and for a second you can imagine that this is what having sex with him would look like. His knuckles blanch from gripping the arms of the chair so tightly, his eyes are practically black, and that familiar flush he gets when you challenge him paints his neck and cheeks.

His voice is deeper, thick with arousal, rattling your bones as he speaks slowly, “I said not to call me that. You can’t even…You can’t.” He shuts his eyes and takes a slow breath in through his nose. His tone softens as he opens his eyes, “No, I ain’t doin’ this with you, sweet girl.” 

You practically writhe in your chair. Sweet girl. He’s terrifying and commanding and so fucking beautiful like this. He obviously has a soft spot for when you beg, so you soften your eyes and stick out your velvety smooth bottom lip enticingly before whispering, “Please, Joel.” 

He lets out a groan as he pushes himself off the chair and walks towards the large wall of windows behind his desk, his hands resting on his tapered waist. He avoids your gaze as you sit up, squeezing your thighs together tightly to calm the need at your core. “Lemme set ya up with someone else. My brother Tommy. You were gettin’ him a drink at that poker game.”

“I remember,” you mumble, looking down at your hands like you always do when your lack of confidence gets the best of you. You can’t let that self-doubt creep in now, not when you’re this close. You look back towards his broad back. “But I really don’t want anyone else.”

“Why?” He spins towards you, the lighting behind him gives him an almost ethereal glow. There’s absolutely no denying it, Joel Miller is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

You tuck your hands under your legs, simply stating, “I trust you.”

“You don’t even know me. I could be a horrible guy.”

You let out a sad laugh, shaking your head at him. He’s right, you don’t know him, but you have a feeling about him and you consider yourself pretty good at reading people. “You’ve never given me reason to think I couldn’t trust you. Even that first day. You were so calm and apologetic.”

Joel presses his lips in a thin line, eyes raking over you. You subconsciously slip your bottom lip between your teeth, and a muscle in his jaw flexes. “How old are you?”

“Twenty two,” you immediately regret lying; the avenue of trust is of utmost importance between a submissive and their dominant, so you quickly add, “Almost, I turn twenty two on Friday.”

 “I can’t do this.” He croaks and you can’t help but feel a little bad. You’ve put him in an uncomfortable position and his voice sounds defeated. 

“Please. I always felt I needed more but,” you stand up and take a few slow steps in his direction. “But…I didn’t know what more was and I - I think it’s this.” You audibly swallow pleading, “Please. I need you to help me. I want you to help me. Teach me.” 

He holds his hands up and steps back as you inch closer. A silent call that signals you to stop or that he doesn’t trust himself, not here, not with you. “Jus’ let me set ya up with Tommy. You’re his type.” 

Your heart sinks and an acidic taste lines your tongue. Of course. You aren’t that tall, slender icy blonde girl he had strapped to his desk. No, you have curves, and stretch marks along your hips, your boobs are a B cup on a good day. He can get whatever woman he wants, why would it be you? You look down at your hands, pushing back the nonexistent cuticle on your right thumb. This nervous habit of yours used to drive your mom crazy, ‘you’re going to have no skin left soon’ she’d lecture, but you can’t help it. The immediate result of the nail bed looking clean and perfect is like a dopamine hit. It leaves you with a feeling of accomplishment. The problem is, the initial confidence you had about this decision on Monday night has dwindled and you’ve been so anxious about this meeting that every single finger has a nicely pushed back cuticle. 

It’s silent in the room for a while, you shut your eyes as you sheepishly ask,  “Am I not attractive enough for you?”

“No!” He says insistently and without hesitation. His hand runs through his beard, a faint scratching sound fills the room drawing your eyes open and away from the skin of your thumb. As they land back on him you wonder what his patchy facial hair would feel like between your legs or along the soft skin of your stomach as he kissed you. His voice softens, “That’s not it. I just - I’m sorry. I jus’ can’t do this, sweetheart.”

You feel your chance to become the woman you want to be slipping through your fingers. Your plan is failing and for once in your life you don’t have a Plan B, this is the only plan that makes sense to you. Sadness creeps into your throat, “Why?” 

“‘S not a good idea, sweet girl,” he answers, his soft brown sugar flecked eyes reaching out to yours. 

His face and voice seem to be at war with his words. He’s saying no, but there’s a sadness in his eyes and a caring undertone to his voice. You’re not sure how you know it, but him calling you sweet girl means something to him. “Because I’m not your type?”

He shakes his head, that same curl falling into his eyes as it did in his foyer the other day. “That’s the problem, you’re exactly my type.”

Hearing that you’re this beautiful man's type should feel like you’ve won the lottery, but the way his shoulders slump as he says it only builds that lump in your throat. As you swallow the sadness down, his eyes travel to your neck, watching as the muscles flex and relax with the motion. “I - then why?”

He lets out a long breath and as he walks to the door he says, “I ain’t havin’ this conversation. I said no. And someone who is cut out to be a submissive would just take that answer for what it is.” 

“You’ve made it clear that I’m not a submissive,” you counter and walk towards the door. He cracks the door open and you step in close to him, unconsciously taking in his leather and ash scent before adding, “Have a nice night, Mister Miller.” 

Joel

The door feels like a feather behind his hand as he slams it shut - your body, warm and already vibrating, trapped between him and the solid piece of wood that separates the two of you from his receptionist. He made himself a promise in his rear view mirror the other week; he had to cut this off, create distance. He needed you to be just his house cleaner. Because everytime he looks into your eyes he feels the same way he felt at seventeen when he met Tiffany in that garage. Everything about you oozes sweetness and innocence, his sweetheart, his sweet girl. He didn’t think he was capable of feeling that way again. And he definitely should not feel this way for someone who is younger than his own daughter.

His large frame looms behind you, forcing your chest and forehead to rest against the door. He uses his foot to spread your legs wide. A breathy gasp passes your lips as your hands scramble for purchase against the wood grain of the door. He keeps pushing your legs apart, wide enough for your short white skirt to ride up your creamy thighs. Thighs he’s imagined wrapped tightly around his head as he makes you scream. 

Joel takes a small step forward, caging you completely, making it so you’re completely at his mercy. He can smell the sweet scent of your arousal growing between your thighs; he knows if he reaches a calloused finger to the gusset of your panties they’d be soaked through. His cock is hard as steel, pressing against the zipper of his pants and the small of your back. You’re practically panting and he fights to keep his breathing steady when really he wants to mirror the quick, uneven pace of your breath. This is much more serious and intimate than when he had you trapped in the chair. This is dangerous. This could lead to more.   

His strong fingers wrap around your dainty wrists. He loves the way you don’t fight him as he pulls them above your head, gathering both your wrists in one of his hands, pinning them to the door roughly. His free hand draws a slow line down your arm, then along the sensitive skin of your neck, and down your spine. Goosebumps break out over your skin and you instinctively arch your back into him, a desperate whine passes from your lips between laboured breaths, and that sound nearly buckles his knees.  

His lips come to the shell of your ear, his beard tickling you as he speaks in a slow and commanding tone. “Do you feel what you do to me when you call me that. I’ve asked you not to. Multiple times.”

Your mint and lavender scented shampoo fills his nose as he nudges at you to tilt open your throat to him. He revels in how easily you oblige, cocking your head to the side like the good little girl he knows you are. He continues, lips just a hair away from your pulse point; he’s sure if he pressed his lips to it he’d feel how hard your heart is racing. “But I don’t want you to stop. In fact, I fucking love that you haven’t stopped.” 

Your soft skin is warm against his rough fingers as they continue their trail down your body, running over the firm globe of one of your ass cheeks. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard, distracting himself from the urge to spank you for calling him Mister Miller yet again. Finally, his fingers find a home on one of your thighs. He brushes lightly against your soft inner thighs, small little touches jumping from one leg to the other. The little involuntary twitches of your body and the needy little gasps of air you suck through your teeth has his cock straining painfully against his zipper. He’s aching for you in a way he hasn’t felt for years. 

“You infuriate me with your insubordination and it makes me weak,” he mutters. “Makes me absolutely insane. I can’t stop fucking thinking about what’s underneath those clothes, and after seeing your perfect breasts and your little pink nipples… fuuuuck, baby. All I can think about is how good they’d look with my handprints tattooed on them after I slap them while you orgasm. Can’t stop thinking about how wet your little pussy must get. How tight she would be around my fingers as I claim her as mine. How fucking delicious she must taste. How goddamn sexy your cries of pain and pleasure would sound.”

Your whole body shudders against his. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you and he knows he needs to stop before he crosses a line, but the way your body responds to him is precisely how he likes it: pliant and ready. His mind reels with all the naughty things he’d like to do to you. If he reaches just a little bit higher he could finally know how you sound when you come, how silky your cunt is, how you taste. He runs the tip of his hooked nose down your neck, the light citrus of your perfume replacing the scent of your shampoo. 

“That what you wanna hear?” Joel continues. “How fucking weak you make me? How desperate? I can’t do this because once I start…I ain’t gonna be able to let you go. Ain’t gonna be able to stop. Never gonna be able to have any other little play thing. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. If I start this, this is it for me.”

Joel releases your wrists with a growl and walks away, carding his fingers through his curls and looking out at the cityscape as the sun begins to dip behind the tall buildings. He doesn’t look back, he can’t look back or he’ll fucking crack. He’ll haul you over his shoulder and take you into his club. He’ll show you everything right now and he won’t stop. His eyes flutter closed as he takes controlled breaths to slow his heart rate, the unmistakable sound of his office door opening and closing behind him. 

You 

You yank the door open and walk as fast as your legs will take you, your mind swirling, every emotion trying to win for first place. You’re painfully turned on, you can feel how soaked your panties are. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. It’s like it’s been carved into your brain. Only you. You jam at the elevator close button as your lungs scream for fresh air, and as you step out into the warm spring night you suck in breath for what feels like the first time since you made this appointment last night. 

Your phone vibrates in the small purse you have across your body. He doesn’t have your number, you remind yourself as you reach for your phone. Jamie’s name across your slightly cracked screen. “Hey!” 

“Are you ok?” her voice is thick with concern.

Your chest feels tight, “Ya, why?”

“You sound like you're out of breath.” 

You laugh a little, “Oh. I was..” fuck, what was I doing. “I mean I am walking. Like on a walk.” 

Even a toddler wouldn’t be convinced by your lie, and Jamie isn’t either as she gasps loudly on the other end before whispering, “Were you having sex?”

“No! God no!” Your clit twitches at the thought of how close Joel was today. “I’m on the street, can’t you hear the cars.” 

“Ok. You do need some sex though,” she laughs. 

“Jamie,” you sigh, “I have to get to a study group. What’s up?” 

She giggles devilishly. “Wellll - It’s your birthday weekend. I want to throw you a party at this really amazing club on Friday.”

“Umm, ya. Sure. Nothing too crazy though, right?” 

“Promise you can keep your top on this time, prude.” She says teasingly and you laugh. “It’s called Mystique. The owner is an old family friend and she gave us a sweet VIP booth and bottle service, all completely free!”

You slide your key into the door of your SUV to unlock it, “Ok. Let’s do it.”

“Good, because I already invited the girls.” You sigh and your phone buzzes in your ear as Jamie’s computer dings on the other end. “Oh, weird. Your regular every other Tuesday clean just requested for you to go on Friday. Weren’t you just there yesterday?” 

Joel. You say dreamily in your mind. 

“That’s shitty,” Jamie continues, “That’s your birthday. The shift is only 4 hours, but I can offer it to someone else if you want.” 

“No!” It comes out too eager and you remind yourself to chill the fuck out as you put her on speaker phone and open the app. “I mean, no, that’s ok. I need the money and my calendar shows 11 to 3, lots of time to get ready!” 

“Text me when you’re done with your study group and we’ll hammer out the details for Friday night. We didn’t get to celebrate you turning twenty one with your insane schedule -”

“Hey!” You exclaim, pretending to be hurt.

“Ya ya, I know,” her voice an amused sarcasm as she continues, “The master plan to graduate early. Which you did. So can we please make this the best celebration yet?” Even without being able to see your best friend you know she’s dancing excitedly on the balls of her feet while giving big green doe eyes. 

Friday rolls around quickly, and you aren’t sure what you’re looking forward to more; a much needed night out with your girlfriends or the possibility of Joel being home today. You’ve tried not to think about how his body felt against yours, but every few hours you found yourself with your hand between your legs, rubbing tight little circles on your clit until you came to thoughts of him, whispering Mister Miller like a church prayer.  

Pulling up to his house today feels strange. He requested an extra clean this week just minutes after you asked him to teach you how to sub and after finding out that your birthday was today. You haul your stuff into his house, letting out a frustrated sigh when you find it quiet and empty. You click open your app and he’s asking you to dust and vacuum the basement, as well as wipe out the fridge. You look down at the app confused. He’s never asked you to clean the basement, and the fridge? He doesn’t cook. The eleven thousand dollar fridge is basically just a decoration to fill a gap in the countertops. 

You pop in your airpods and head downstairs. The cozy white carpet of the stairs feels like plush clouds under your Keds. As you round the corner of the stairs you see everything that makes someone's house a home. So this is where he keeps it all, you think to yourself. 

The short hallway from the stairs to the large open concept basement is covered in photos of Joel at all stages of his life. The first picture that catches your eye is a teenage baby faced Joel and a beautiful young woman sitting on a hospital bed, she’s smiling at the camera as Joel looks down at the tiny bundle of pink blankets in her arms. He looks so happy and soft, and it ignites a small flame of jealousy. Not at the woman, but at the happy little family.

As your eyes scan all the pictures you see that baby at all ages. There’s a picture of her holding a trophy as big as her with little cleats and shin guards on. In another, she and Joel are holding a big fish, her toothless smile bright and brilliant, while something in Joel’s eyes looks sad even though his plush lips are curved up in a sexy smile. 

Another picture is of the little girl sitting on her mom’s lap; the woman doesn’t seem as vibrant in this picture. The next one to catch your eye is her holding a cupcake with a candle in the shape of the number sixteen, then him in a pressed black suit and her in her high school cap and gown. The last picture is similar, except it’s a college graduation photo. 

As you peel yourself away from all the pictures you haven’t managed to look at yet, you face the main living area, a large open concept space. There’s a cozy grey sectional facing the big screen TV, shelves of DVDs surround it and you can only imagine all the movie nights the two of them had down here. There's a pool table along the far back right side of the room and to the left are a bunch of guitars, both acoustic and electric, hanging on the wall. You walk towards the guitars, there’s a stool and a small table beside the amp. An open notebook with lyrics lays on the table and as tempting as it is to read it, you look away. This space is who Joel is and he’s obviously trusting or testing you by sending you down here. He did tell you that you didn’t know him, and that he could be a bad guy, but everything here screams wholesome family man. 

You dust and vacuum, then fluff the couch cushions and fold the blankets nicely. There’s an empty glass on the side table, so you grab that and wash it at the small wet bar before placing it with the other glasses. You take one last longing look at the notebook, it’s tempting but decide you are right to not read it. It’s none of your business what he writes and sings about. You picture him there, dressed casually in sweat pants and t-shirt, his large fingers plucking with a practiced finesse at the strings, you wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor with a cup of coffee and a book. The two of you being independently together on a Sunday morning. 

Thoughts of the two of you like that are dangerous; being his submissive isn’t being his girlfriend. You’ve been very good at compartmentalizing, mostly as a coping mechanism to your past, so you find a metaphorical little box in the back of your mind to stuff all those feelings and thoughts into. As you gather your cleaning supplies, you take one last look around. maybe this was his way of showing you that you can’t have a future with him, that he’s done with the kids-and-marriage part of his life. None of that matters to you; you don’t want kids and marriage, you just want a partnership, and the support and comfort that comes with it. You want to become a lawyer, and eventually a judge, and one day sit on the supreme court and defend everyone's civil and human rights. That’s the goal, the only goal.  

From this point on, any feelings for Joel Miller go in that box. If he ever changes his mind, he is my dominant and nothing else. You push the lid on the feelings box and run through your life plan as you head up the stairs. Law school and lawyer, then a relationship before judge and supreme court. That’s the plan, it’s always been the plan.

Once you’re in the kitchen, you pop open the fridge to see a single red rose. You lose a fighting battle with your face, smiling huge from ear to ear. You grab it and close the now empty fridge, bringing the rose to your nose to breathe in the sweet and powdery scent. The black and red envelope sits on the shiny marble countertop. You place the rose down and pop open the envelope. You pull out fifteen hundred dollars and a black business card. Your brows knit together as you inspect the card, flipping it over. A QR code for the JMK app, an activation code, and a note that says “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.” 

You practically rip your phone from your back pocket and scan the QR code. You dance nervously on the balls of your feet as the app downloads. With shaky fingers you create a username and password, then type in the activation code. A bunch of permissions pop up, and while the baby lawyer inside of you screams that you need to read them, you’re too eager, so you hastily click accept on all of them. A profile with your newly appointed username splays across the screen. Right below your name it says “Beginner Submissive” and you roll your eyes. You upload the hottest selfie you can find of yourself to be your profile picture, smirking at what you imagine Joel’s reaction will be when he sees you in that tight fitting gold dress, a picture Jamie took of you on New Year’s Eve. 

On the top right of your screen are 3 little lines, you open the menu and have two options. ‘Assigned Dominant’ and ‘Limits and Waivers’. You are eager to fill out whatever Joel wants on this app, but none of this will feel real to you until you see his name as your Dom. You giggle as you click the first menu. Holy shit, you think as the new window loads, this is going to happen, he’s going to do it. 

Your heart freezes in your chest, and every ounce of excitement and happiness drains from you as you read ‘Assigned Dominant: Tommy Miller’.

When you get home, you open your JMK app again, looking at the assigned dominant screen in hopes you made a mistake. But there it is, clear as day, ‘Tommy Miller’. You lock your phone in frustration and toss it onto your unmade bed. Why would he do this? You’re sure that everything in the limits and waivers menu would have been a yes if Joel was your dom. But Tommy? Not that there’s anything physically wrong with Tommy. He’s definitely attractive, but he’s not Joel and you thought you made that perfectly clear. 

After you shower you've decided you’ve cooled off enough to continue in the app. Tommy is still not Joel, but you want this for yourself, right? And it’s not about pleasure or attraction, it’s about the escape, and more importantly, it’s about having someone to push you and help you grow.    

You click the ‘Limits and Waivers’ menu, a whole quiz comes up where you can rate your interest in different sexual and non sexual acts on a scale of one to five, and secondary checkmark if you’ve already done those things. You scroll through the list, this would be easy with Joel, all fives, all ‘highly interested’, or so you think. As you scroll through the list you get some real fetish level stuff - diapers, feet, scat play, being hung from hooks. You know enough not to kink shame anyone, but none of that interests you. As such, you rank them as a one, not at all interested.

You scroll back up to fill in all the stuff you’re more interested in. 

Spanking, five. 

Whips and Crops, five. 

Paddles, five. 

Nipple Clamps, five, fucking five hundred at this point. 

Bondage, another five hundred. Vibrators, five. 

Butt Plug, three - ya, that one surprised even yourself, but it’s Tommy, not Joel. 

The little box to click if you’ve done those things remains unchecked. You aren’t a virgin, but the small handful of college boys you’ve entertained had the same two or three moves, all of which left you unsatisfied. 

Odette bangs on your door, and you jump as your phone goes flying from your hand as she barges in. “Let’s get ready! Repeat twenty one, baby!”

You scramble off your bed to grab your phone before she does, one of your hands in a death grip on your towel, “Fuck, you scared the shit outta me.”

“Oh god, you were watching porn again weren’t you?” She laughs as your cheeks flush crimson. She wanders to your closet and opens the doors, “We gotta find you something real hot for tonight, you need to get laid.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” you sing nonchalantly, wandering to your vanity to run a brush through your wet hair.

A few hours later and you’re all ready to go. Jamie and Laren came over to pre-drink and do their hair and make up. The four of you blasted nineties Shania Twain while drinking rosé and doing shots of cheap tequila. You pick a floor length black dress with a slit that goes almost to your hip and drips low between your breasts and leaves your back bare. You leave your hair down, curling it loosely before applying minimal makeup, flirty false lashes and a vibrant matte red lipstick. The packaging says that it's guaranteed not to smudge for up to twelve hours. 

“We’ll test that tonight on drinks and men,” Laren says as she steals it from your hand and puts it on her full, pouty lips.

Jamie surprises you with a limo. Before getting in you swipe your JMK app open and save your half-finished preferences. Tonight is not about Joel or Tommy; tonight is about you, and you deserve to be celebrated.

The table Jamie managed to secure for your birthday is perfect. You’re just off the dance floor, but raised up so that you can see the entire club. The music is loud and the room is dark, dimly lit with light pinks and purples. As you settle into the booth a young icy haired blonde girl in small black shorts and a lacy bra wanders in. “Hey babes! I’m Jade, let’s get these bottles going! Here’s the menu.”

Her eyes fall to you as she hands the bottle service menu and you both freeze. It’s her, the girl from Joel’s desk. The thump of the music fades and all you can hear is her moans and cries, the squelching of her pussy as Joel finger fucked her hard and deep. Shit, fuck, why me. She smiles at you, “Oh hey! Good to see you again.”

A chorus of, ‘again?’ and ‘how do you know each other?’ comes from your friends, all of their wide eyes staring at you.

“We don’t really,” you rush. “Just a mutual acquaintance really.”

Luckily, she gets the hint and just nods along. “What are we getting to drink ladies? I’ve heard it’s on the house so pick something expensive!”

You pick a bottle of Clase Azul tequila, Jade saying she can make different cocktails with it so you’re not all just doing shots. After a few rounds you find yourself alone in the booth while your friends go to the bathroom. Jade sits on the black leather seat beside you. 

“Look, I just want to say that I’m sorry for what you saw the other week. Joel sort of forbade me from seeking you out, but if you’re in my section at the club I work at then I’m not really breaking any rules.” She’s even more beautiful up close, no fucking wonder Joel wants to give you to Tommy. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. But you see it now, why he’d pass you along. You can’t compete with a woman like her, and from the sounds of it Joel has more than one gorgeous, tall, slender blonde at his beck and call. 

“No, it’s ok. I’m actually learning to be a sub soon.” You smile at her, trying to tamp down the jealousy that’s threatening to choke you.

“No way! Joel is amazing, I only see him like once a month now but you’re going to love it.” Suddenly your entire body feels like an open wound, and the lime and salt left on your hands from tequila shots burns through you. The back of your eyes burn, frustration and jealousy don’t mix well with Rosé and tequila. You blink a few times to stop the tears. 

“He actually set me up with Tommy,” you croak, “Said I’m more his type.”

Just as she opens her perfect pink lips you hear the unmistakable opening to your all time favourite Shania Twain song, and as if your friends appeared from thin air the four of you yell, “Let’s go girls!”. The icy blonde pats the top of the table in your booth with one hand and holds her other hand out for yours. You climb up onto the table, your friends getting on the chairs. 

Every insecurity dissipates from your body as you sing loudly with your friends, swaying your hips to the music. You surrender yourself to the genius that was Shania Twain and Mutt Lange. As you break into the chorus for a second time, a glint of silver across the club catches your eye. Standing on the other side of the dancefloor, leaning against the bar top, is Joel Miller. 

His eyes are locked on yours; he’s wearing brown dress pants and a white short sleeved button up shirt, the top few buttons are left undone and it pulls at his biceps perfectly. He looks so sexy and casual, hair pushed back as he swirls the amber coloured whiskey around in its glass. He smiles devilishly, shaking his head jovially at you as you put on a show for him. As the song ends he crooks his pointer and middle fingers at you, silently calling you over. The simple motion of his fingers makes your pussy flutter, wetness slicking your thighs since you decided to forgo underwear tonight. Risky choice with the high slit of the skirt but suddenly it’s feeling like it’s the best decision you’ve ever made.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper to your girlfriends as they help you off the table. They call for more shots and you refrain from all out sprinting to Joel. 

“Quite the show you put on up there,” he says, grabbing your bicep like he did at the poker game and pulling you gently along with him.

“You didn’t seem to mind.” You twist your arm out of his grasp and stumble. You’re definitely well on your way to being drunk, but you don’t want him to know that.

He grabs for your waist to steady you. “Careful, you’re drunk.”

“I’m not. And even if I was, I’m celebrating, so I’m allowed to be drunk. Not allowed to be your sub, but allowed to be drunk.” His eyes darken and you know you’ve crossed some sort of undrawn line, but you’re at that reckless sass point in your tipsiness and you really don’t care. A saccharine sweet smile crosses your face as you plant your hands on your hips.

“You sure you wanna play this game, sweetheart?” He practically growls.

“I’m not your sweetheart, I’m Tommy’s,” it comes out poutier than you expect. You spin on the balls of your feet and head back to the dance floor. As always, you can feel his eyes on you as you walk away. When you approach the dance floor you see a handsome man about your age looking at you. A quick glance over your shoulder confirms Joel is watching, you grab the hand of the stranger and say, “Let’s dance.”

As all young, drunk boys do, he obliges. You spin and press your back in this body, grinding your ass into him and keeping your eyes locked on Joel. How did he find you here? Why would he be out at this particular club, unless of course he’s keeping an eye on the icy blonde woman. She confirmed they only see each other once a month though, so why? Is he following you somehow?

The boy's hands move to your hips, traveling up your abdomen. You wink at Joel, pulling your hair to the side and tilting your head so the boy behind you has access to the same spot on your neck that he had in his office. Just as his lips start to lower Joel snaps. Got him, you think. He takes a few long strides onto the dance floor, pulling you away like you’re some sort of toy, like he’s a caveman coming to take what’s his. You let him pull you, yelling an apology to the boy on the dance floor.

Even though you’re happy to go with him, you can’t let him know that. “Joel, stop it. You can’t kick me out of here too.”

He takes you down a quiet, dark hallway, barely illuminated by the red glow of the EXIT sign. “I own half this place, baby. So I can.”

You twist your arm free from his grip, “You’re the bane of my existence, Joel Miller.”

“Why haven’t you filled out your app yet?”

You scoff, anger and annoyance starting to replace the happy feeling you had when he pulled you from the dance floor. “Are you stalking me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Doms can see where their subs are at all times if they accept the location tracker on the app.”

Shit, all those menus that you just clicked ‘Accept All’ to at the beginning. Of course your dom would be able to find you, depending on the relationship they can control everything you do. “You’re not my dom!” You state.

Joel rolls his eyes. “I know. Tommy told me you hadn’t filled it all out yet and where you were. So, why haven’t you filled out the app?”

You lean back on the railing along the wall and slide your feet from your heels, placing them on the cool tile of the floor to soothe the ache in your arches. Your hands come back to grip the railing. “It’s none of your business.”

“Sweet girl, in this case it literally is my business. The JM stands for Joel Miller.”

This time you roll your eyes and then mumble, “Because I don’t want Tommy. I don’t think I’m going to fill it out anymore.”

Joel leans back against the railing across the small hall from you, pinching the bridge of his noise in annoyance, “Please. For me, can you just fill it out?”

“For you? You made it clear you don't want me. I’m filling it out for Tommy.”

He crosses his arms, biceps bulging even more against the tight fabric of his short sleeved button up, if he’s not careful he’s going to go full incredible hulk on that shirt. Not that you’d mind.

“That’s not what I’m sayin’ and that’s also where you’re wrong. You’re fillin’ that out for you. If you’re fillin’ it out for anyone else, then you’re doing this for the wrong reasons.”

You let out an unimpressed sounding huff, “I’m not.”

His lips press into a tight line as he considers his words carefully; Joel is old enough to know not to argue with a twenty-one year old who’s had tequila. “Ok, you’re not. So then why do you want to be a sub?”

He watches as your whole body seems to deflate, there’s a shift, almost like desperation in your body. Sadness lines your eyes as they meet his and your voice comes out small and uncertain. “Because I’m exhausted, Joel. I - I spend all day making decisions, and studying, and learning about civil rights law. I’m always having to come up with a plan A, and B, all the way to plan Z sometimes. And then,” your head falls back to the wall as you continue speaking to the ceiling with your eyes closed, “Then I do it all over again the next day. I can’t shut it off, my brain. It just keeps going and going. It's so loud, so constant, so fucking overwhelming and there’s no escape.”

You fall silent and he steps forward, slipping his large hand behind your neck and bringing your gaze to his. You continue, fighting against the boulder that’s forming in your throat, “I don’t think I’m good enough. Or strong enough…Smart enough. I want to see for once that I am, want to see what I can overcome. For once,” you sigh heavily. “For once I just want someone to tell me how well I’m doing.”

Joel’s eyes fall to your lips, his voice a hoarse whisper, “Fill out the app.”

You take a deep breath. You feel lighter after finally getting to confessing all of that to him. That was your plan for his office the other day, but something about him flusters you and you were completely knocked off the rails by that special unknown thing Joel has over you. You whisper, “I don’t want to do this with Tommy. Please, Joel.”

Joel’s forehead comes to rest on yours, you can see the golden flecks in his dark eyes at this proximity. He smells like mint, and that same ash and leather from his office the other day. You should ask him right now why he let you in his basement today, but he speaks before you can. “Can you please, just for once, show me that you can listen?”

“Kiss me,” you hum, trailing your hands up his strong arms.

He stiffens under your touch. “What?” he asks dumbfoundedly.

“Kiss me and I’ll go home right now and fill out the app,” you whisper, inching your lips closer to his. 

“You’ll go home, fill out the app, and you will not touch yourself.” It’s not a question, it’s a deep command.

Now it’s your turn to be confused as you say, “What?”

He crowds his body closer to yours, pulling his face back slightly so he can take you all in. You’ve never seen this expression before, that flash of darkness from the first time you called him Mister Miller in your car has permanently etched itself into your mind, but it’s almost like he’s transitioned into full dominant Mister Miller now. “If you want to convince me to be your dom, it’s not going to be through just a kiss. So prove to me that you can listen, prove to me that you can be a good girl. ”

The wetness between your legs starts to coat your thighs at the sound of him asking you to be a good girl. You clench your thighs together as his forehead meets yours again.

He continues, his voice just as commanding, “If I give you this kiss, you’ll go home alone, you will not touch that dripping little cunt, and you will fill out the app.”

Your pussy is throbbing with need. You should have known better than to sass him so hard tonight. Someone as competent and experienced as Joel would know exactly how to punish his sub when they were acting up. You nod your head and hum in agreement to his demands.

“Ask me nicely.” He murmurs.

“P-please…kiss me, Joel.” Butterflies assault  the inside of your stomach.

You didn’t think it was possible, but he manages to crowd you even more, your entire body pressed firmly against his. Every skin cell is screaming for his attention, every nerve firing off signals making you hyper aware of anywhere he’s touching you.

“Ask me again using that name I told you not to call me,” He knows he’s playing with fire, but at this exact moment he doesn’t care, he fucking loves the way his preferred dom name sounds coming off your lips. 

“Kiss me, Mister Miller. Please?” It’s airy and desperate, your knees feel weak below you and it feels as if you can’t get a full breath in. The anticipation is killing you. 

“Why?” he growls. Growing up you were always afraid of dark spaces, but if there were any monsters in this hallway they’d be running scared at the timbre of his voice right now.

Your back arches instinctively into him. You’re safe here, Joel Miller is your safety. “Because I need you, Mister Miller. Please. Just one kiss…then I’ll do anything. I promise. P-please. I need to feel you on me, Mister Miller.”

Joel bends slightly, his hands come to the back of your thighs and he lifts you, slamming you against the wall. You squeal, arms flinging around his neck as your ankles hook around his waist. He pins you to the wall with his hips and lets go of your thighs. Both of you are practically panting, his cock is hard as steel, pressing against his zipper and your bare pussy. Your skirt is covering you from exposing yourself to him but something about the glint in his eye when your bodies connect makes you think he might know you don’t have any panties on. 

His hands peel your arms from around his neck and he pins them with one hand above your head like he did in his office. You whimper and grind your hips against him. His free hand wraps around your throat, holding it gently. 

“No,” he growls and it takes every ounce of self control you have to stop your hips. “Say it again.”

He watches your mouth hungrily as you lick your lips and you fight back a moan. He can feel your pulse firing rapidly under his calloused fingertips. A needy whisper passes your lips, filling the miniscule space left between your bodies. “I need you, Mister Miller. Please kiss me.”

With that he slams his lips against yours. It’s a desperate and heady mess of tongue and teeth, your moans being swallowed by his greedy mouth. You tilt your head to allow him in more. His tongue devours every inch that it can reach. He nips at your bottom lip before diving back in. He takes whatever he wants from you and you let him. For the first time in years your brain is quiet. No anxiety about the quickly approaching LSAT, no thinking of whatever practice question you’re stuck on. That nagging fear of being rejected from all the law schools you’ve applied to goes silent. The worrying voice that tells you you’re not good enough disappears. Everything you are is replaced by whatever Joel gives. 

You grind down onto him as you flick your tongue against his; he’s so rough yet so very soft. His tongue tastes like mint and whiskey. You can feel your orgasm building, it’s going to happen embarrassingly fast at this rate. You feel light headed from lack of oxygen and the slight push of his fingers into the side of your throat. More, more, more, you yell in your head.

Joel breaks the kiss and puts you down on your feet, holding you steady as you find your legs again. His lips are puffy and even though it’s not the time to be thinking of this, you realize there isn’t a single drop of red lipstick on his face, so it really will last twelve hours without smudging. 

His thumb comes to your face, swiping along your bottom lip gently, “Put your number in my phone, sweet girl.”

He holds his brand new iPhone Max out to you and you tap your number in with shaky fingers. He sends a quick text when you hand his phone back and then he kneels in front of you, helping you back into your heels. As he stands his hand trails from your ankle, all the way up the slit of your skirt to settle on your clothed hip. “Go get your stuff and go home now, baby. There’ll be a car waiting for you out front.”

He pats your bum gently as you walk on shaky legs back to your VIP booth. You feel like a newborn giraffe as you make your way to your table. 

“Where have you been?” Jamie proclaims, holding up a tequila shot for you.

You wave her off, “I think I’ve had too much. I’m gonna go but I want you girls to stay. Enjoy your night for me.”

It takes a few minutes but you convince your friends to stay and that you’ll be fine and already have a ride arranged. As you exit the club there’s a gorgeous blacked out town car parked in front. An older gentleman in a suit looks at you and nods, “Good Evening, Miss. Are you the young lady Joel Miller has asked me to escort home?”

You nod back, trying to act like this is an everyday occurrence and not the most outrageous thing that’s ever happened to you. As soon as you get home you change into your most unflattering set of pajamas, hoping that if you feel unsexy then it’ll stop that insistent throb between your thighs. Joel was so fucking close again, and this time there was no underwear in his way.

You slide open the app, Tommy Miller is still set as your dom, but you go through the preferences carefully and answer as honestly as possible as to what you want. You try to focus on the questions even though you can still feel Joel's throbbing cock pushing against you, and his warm hands around your wrists and throat. You can still taste him on your lips. You shake the ghost of him off of you and remind yourself again what you want from this, aside from mind-blowing orgasms. 

You fill out every section and then hit save. Just as you are about to lock your phone and try to fall asleep your phone vibrates, the JMK app as a notification.

‘Your Assigned Dominant has changed to Joel Miller’

Your heart pounds behind your rib cage as you stare at the notification, your head feels fuzzy, possibly from the booze, or that kiss, but you can’t believe your eyes. You close out of the app and go back in, staring at where Joel’s name has replaced Tommy’s. Just as it all starts to feel real you get a text message from a number you don’t have saved. You click on the message app.

“No coming until I say so, I know you weren’t wearing any panties tonight. Messy little pussy ruined my pants. Go to sleep now, my sweet girl.”

[sugarcoatedstarkey]

Green Eyed

Pairings - Rafe Cameron x Reader (Jj x reader & Jb x reader)

Summary - You want Rafe to admit you’re his girl so you set out to make him Jealous.

Warnings - drinking, language, oral, sex, choking, scratching, name calling, slight manhandling. 18+

The party was in full swing, red cups lined the kitchen bench and the stench of tequila wafted through the vents. You sat upon the couch, pressed between Rafe and Topper. Both of them talking above your head while you watched your best friend flirt with her coworker, you loved people watching. Especially at parties where they really let loose and show you their hidden personality.

“It’s rude to stare '' Topper jokes, his arm resting behind your head casually. Ignoring the glares Rafe was throwing his way, this usually caused an argument between the two of them. Rafe would say ‘don’t touch my girl’ and Topper would throw the ‘she isn’t your girl until you make her your girl’, it would just spiral from there. Honestly it was kind of draining, Rafe always telling people you were his girl but never officially making you his girl.

“So Topper, do you think Rafe is jealous?” You're adding fuel to the fire, smirking up at Rafe who’s brows are scrunched together in annoyance. You could practically feel the anger radiating off his broad frame.

“Why yes y/n, I do think he is jealous” Topper chuckles, his fingers dropping to your shoulder giving you a small squeeze. Rafe scoffs angling his body to face the both of you, anger still riddled his features.

“Please… I am not jealous” he states, no hesitation to his words. Your heart drops, did he really mean that? Or was he fucking around?

“Oh really?” Your eyebrows raise at him, a challenge. You were down for a challenge, you’d show him. “You wouldn’t mind if I did this then”.

Your lips are on Toppers before Rafe can even respond, your tongue invading his mouth. Your hands cup his jaw as his own hands greedily pull you in by your lower waist.

You feel his body move from beside you and when you pull away he’s storming through the party, fists curled at his side in anger. “That worked”.

“Sorry, I should have asked if that was okay” you say, giving Topper a soft smile which he reciprocates. “That’s alright, I’m down to make Rafe jealous any day. Bro needs to be knocked down a peg or two” he jokes, watching his best friend throw back shot after shot. The both of you laugh at how quick he was to leave, your feeling rather cocky until he’s pulling the girl you have such a deep hate for to his lips.

The breath is knocked out of you at the sight, his hands are feeling all over her body. She’s fucking loving it, practically humping him like a goddamn dog. He’s pushing her against a wall and slipping his fingers under her dress, the anger is bubbling within you.

“He’s a dickhead” Topper says beside you, his hand runs up and down your arm in a comforting friendly sort of way. “Don’t worry, I’m going to win this thing” you state, pushing yourself off the chair and storming into the dance floor.

There was no one else Rafe hated more than JJ Maybank and you knew he would be around here somewhere, your tapping Kiara on the shoulder giving her a smile which she reciprocates surprisingly. “Do you know where JJ is?” You ask, you don’t like your odds with her. She was fiercely loyal to her friends and hated Kooks to the core. She was a hit and miss when it came to being her friend, something you’ve dealt with since you were kids. “Probably outside smoking a joint”.

She’s turning back to her friends before you can ask anything else, you look back over at Rafe one last time and set out on your hunt.

Back inside Rafe is pulling away from the girl in front of him, turning back to the seat you once occupied. Grinning to himself when he sees you're gone, pushing the girl's skanky hands away from him and stalks back over to Topper. “That was low bro” Topper tutts, shaking his head at Rafe who rolls his eyes in response. “Where did she go?”.

“Oh you don’t want to know” Topper grumbles, Clearly unhappy you were going to use a pogue instead of a Kook. He was all good with this little game but didn’t like the idea of the pogues. “Tell me”

“Your not going to like it bro”

“Just fucking tell me!” Rafe shouts, fisting his friend's shirt in anger. “Went to look for Maybank”.

Rafes face is pure red, the vein in his neck threatening to burst. He shouts a few curse words and drops Topper back on the couch, storming his way through the house.

You're kissing JJ Maybank, someone you never thought you’d kiss. He always jokingly said how much you wanted him and would say he’d rock your world, you’d be begging to be a pogue, you just didn’t expect to be dropping to your knees in front of him.

“Right here?” JJ stutters, aware that you were not at all in private. Anyone could step behind the shade cloth and see you on your knees with his cock in your mouth. “Don’t be scared” you purred, stroking his cock slowly emitting a low groan from his chest.

Your tongue swirls around his head, swallowing him deep into your throat. Your cheeks hollow around him, tongue gliding up and down his shaft. He’s a moaning mess, fingers curled into your messy hair. Leaning against the wall for support, he was not surprised with how good you took his cock. “I always knew your pretty mouth was good for something” he groaned, rolling your eyes at his words you pushed him to the back of your throat, spit trailed down your chin.

Rafe was about ready to beat the absolute shit out of JJ, eyes staring hard from across the garden. His anger was radiating off him, his body shook with rage. “Fuck” he screamed, causing the bodies in the garden you scatter from him. Not wanting to be caught in the crossfire of Rafe Cameron.

The moment you hear his voice, you move faster against JJ, it only takes a few more strokes of your tongue and you're pushing him away and angling his cock to his exposed stomach. He’s shooting his load all over himself, eyes hooded and breath labored. He watched you pull yourself to your feet, wiping your mouth with your thumb. “Thanks” you breath, spinning in the spot you walk away from him and towards where Rafe and Topper stood.

You should feel slightly afraid with the way he’s staring at you, his eyes are dark with anger and the veins in his arms are straining hard. “Like the show?” You smirk, patting him on the chest. His fingers grip your wrist tightly and worry floods your veins at the tightness, screwing your face up in pain. Topper's hand comes up to squeeze Rafe’s shoulders, reminding him where he is and who he’s touching.

He lets your wrist go instantly but doesn’t say a word, you expect him to cave and admit he is jealous and finally ask you to be his girl. Instead he is once against stomping away, you roll your eyes hard and turn to Topper.

“He’s so damn stubborn! What the fuck!” You exclaim, snatching the drink from Topper you skull the half warm beer and pass him back the empty bottle. “I need something stronger”.

A fair few shots later, you're dancing like an absolute mad woman with Topper and your best friend. Glancing around the room looking for Rafe, expecting him to be lent against the wall watching. “Where is Rafe?” You question Topped, he shrugs and goes back to dancing.

You step away from them in search for him, suddenly feeling nauseas that he’s fucking some one else up stairs.

Your opening doors and searching high and low for him, the last bathroom stares you in the face. You knock but no one says anything, gripping the door handle you open the door. Rafe’s eyes meet yours and evil smirk paints upon his face, your eyes drop to the floor where you're supposed friends kneels in front of him. His cock burried deep in her throat, tears of pleasure soaking her cheeks.

You're slamming the door shut and running away from the bathroom, tears are threatening to spill. Topper and your best friend are nowhere to be seen, searching the crowd for anyone to hide with.

“What’s wrong” John B is questioning, his arm comes around your shoulder pulling you in for a hug. It was no secret that you and John B got along, he was the only pogue who didn’t just look at you as a piece of shit or a piece of meat. “Rafe”.

That’s all you need to say, John B nods and pulls you up the stairs. You follow closely behind him, walking into a room unoccupied. Moving over to sit on the bed. “He’s just so infuriating, he won’t admit he’s jealous, he won’t ask me to be his girlfriend” you blurt, covering your face with the palms of your hands. “I am purposely going out of my way to make him jealous and he just one ups me, I just caught him getting a fucking blow job from Beck! She’s meant to be my friend!”

John B takes a seat next to you and pulls you into a hug, your fingers crunch up the material of his shirt in anger. Hiding your face in the crook of his neck, he lets you complain and mumble into his shirt for a few moments until he pulls you away.

He’s kissing you to stop your rambling, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. Moving your body to straddle him, his hands run up the length of your thighs. “Let's make him jealous and you’ll even get an orgasm out of it”

You're nodding your head and pressing your lips to his, grinding your hips into him. You can feel him growing beneath you, your wetness begins to soak the material of your panties. Your grabby hands bunch up his shirt until he’s throwing it over his head, your fingers dancing across his chest and abs.

Dipping your hands low to unbutton his shorts, you step off him and pull your dress over your head. Your breasts sat bare, John B’s eyes trained in on your hard nipples.

“Just to make Rafe Jealous” you state, he nods his head and you step towards him. He grabs you by the waist and pushes you down onto the bed.

Rafe is wild, running around the house and outside looking for you. Topper follows close behind him, they both search for you. “You took it too far bro, if you just told her you were jealous she wouldn’t have run off” he says, rolling his eyes at his best friend. Rafe comes to a stop and turns his body, running the palm of his hand down his face. “Shut the fuck up… I already know that! She’s mine okay and I’m going to show her that she’s mine!” He growls, storming back off again. He runs up the stairs, pulling open doors. He just about falls to his knees at the sight of you laying upon the bed, somebody’s head between your thighs. Your face screwed up in pleasure, explicit moans fall from your open lips. His hand shoots out to stop Topper from walking in and seeing you naked upon a bed, your head turns to the door in shock at the sound of Topper grunting.

You're coming around John B’s tongue at the sight of Rafe watching, his eyebrows creased and he steps into the room. “You’ve had your fun, now get out before I break your goddamn face AGAIN” he growls, his eyes don’t leave yours. He knows if he sees John B’s lips glisten with your arousal he will pummel him. He watches as you sit up slowly, waving your hand towards John B. “It’s okay” you say, giving him a look of ‘this is what I wanted’, he nods his head and pulls his shorts back on and stumbles out of the room.

You reach for your dress, but Rafe is quick to snatch it from you. “Give it back” you exclaim, reaching for the material. Your bare chest presses to his, you could feel the thud of his heart rattling against you. The heat from his anger radiated from his body, he dropped the dress and enclosed his fingers around your throat.

“You know I don’t like to share” he growls, he walks you back until the back of your knees press to the bed. Tightening his grip around your throat, watching your face flush red. You let out a choked cry scratching at his forearm, he lets go slightly and pushes you down on the bed. “You were jealous Rafe, just fucking admit it!” You shout, you dig your nails into his forearm causing him to pull away from your throat. “Fucking admit it Rafe! Fucking admit that you want me to be your girl! If you don’t, I’m done” you warn, you press your foot into his chest and push him away from you. He stumbles back into the wall giving you the opportunity to grab your dress and run around the side of the bed.

“Admit it… I’ll put this dress on and I’ll walk out that door. You’ll never see me naked again” your chest is heaving, anxiety bubbles in your stomach. You weren’t sure he would admit, he was stubborn and could be such an asshole when he wanted to be. You weren’t sure you could take it if he let you leave, you were in love with him.

You both stare at one another, you begin turning the dress inside out. Before you can slip your arms back into the holes he is once again ripping it out of your hands, grabbing your jaw instead.

“Your mine… I own you” he growls, smashing his lips to yours. A moment of weakness takes over and you kiss him back, reaching around his neck with both arms. “Wait Rafe no.. Rafe stop” you mumble pushing on his chest, he wasn’t going to get away with it again. “Fuck! Y/n, I love you okay! You're my girl.. your mine!”.

You forget how to breathe, staring at him with wide eyes. You hadn’t expected him to say he loved you. His thumb caresses your bottom lip, your breath fanning over him. “I love you to” you manage to squeak out, your lips are on each other again.

Your naked body pressing against his, his greedy fingers grab and pull at your skin. His fingers reach between you to cup your cunt, already dripping for him. “Just because I love you doesn’t mean I’m not going to punish you for letting fucking John B touch you!” He growls, biting down on your neck. You let out a squeal, legs opening just enough for his fingers to slip through and into your hole. “This pussy better be wet for me and not that fucking pogue” he states, his eyes have darkened with lust. His fingers roughly thrust deep into you, you let out a hiss when his thumb circles your throbbing clit. “Answer me”.

“It’s.. it’s wet for you Rafe!” You cry out, he drags his tongue down the length of your neck. Dropping just enough to enclose his mouth over your nipple, biting and sucking. You're trembling around him, nails digging deep into the skin of his shoulders. One of his hands holds your leg up, exposing your abused cunt to him.

“That’s it you dirty slut, fuck my hand. This is the only goddamn hand that’s going to be inside you until you die”

His fingers abruptly stop, pulling out of you sharply. The sound of your dripping cunt is heard over your gasp, your orgasm fizzles out leaving you high and dry. “Rafe! What the fuck!” You cry, he ignores you and begins taking his clothes off. His cock stands tall, he lets out a hiss when he fists the base. Pre cum drips down his hand, the tip is a deep red calling out to be sucked.

Your eyes meet again and he is quick to snatch you up, throwing you onto the bed like a rag doll. Moving your body so you were on all floors, ass up high and head down low. “I’m going to show you who fucking owns you and this sweet fucking pussy, do you understand me?”.

You're nodding your head furiously, your hair covering your face. A moment of sweetness he reaches down to gather your hair up and swipes it to the side exposing your face to him. That moment is quickly gone and he’s gripping your hips, he doesn’t give you a chance to steady yourself. Slamming his cock deep inside of you, no matter how many times you have fucked him he always stretches you out. Your cunt burns from the intrusion, his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips. His own hips meet your ass roughly, his palm pushes against your back stopping you from looking back at him.

Your breath gets caught in your throat as he pounds into you, his cock hits so deep you think you can feel him in your guts. Your cries are muffled by the blanket, tears stream down your face as you chase your high once again. “Fuck your pussy never ceases to amaze me”.

His grip is tight and you're sure you’ll have bruises in the morning, he’s relentless, letting all his anger out on your pussy. “So fucking wet”.

His words just cause a waterfall between your legs, dripping all over his thick cock. “Fuck… Rafe! Fuck!”.

Your walls are sucking him deep, pulsating around him. “Please.. oh god please” you cry, you want to cum so bad it’s to the point of pain now. It’s stirring in your belly, toes curling and blacked out vision.

“Not yet”.

He’s pulling out of you again, clenching your pussy down on nothing. That orgasm so ready to explode fades away again, he grips your hair and pulls you from the bed. He manhandles you until you sit upon his lap, his cock teasing your lips. “Ride me”.

It’s an order, and an order you shall take. You're sliding down his cock, bouncing against him for dear life. “Fuck.. that’s it your dirty slut! Taking me like an angel but really you're the devil”.

He’s kissing upon your neck and chest, leaving behind dark red bruises. Marking you as Rafe Cameron’s girl. You did not care, you wanted everyone to know you were his girl. Your tits bounce, pussy swallowing him until you can’t tell where you start or he ends. Buried so deep within you, you feel full. “Such a Fucking perfect pussy hmm”.

“Yeah.. oh god Rafe! I can’t take it! Please please Rafe… please let me cum” you beg, gripping onto his shoulders as you bounce hard and fast. “Go on, cum on this cock. Show me how much you love me”.

You do as you're told, you chase that high. You chase it until blood drips down his shoulder blades, your body trembling above him. “Oh Jesus fucking Christ.. oh fuck! Oh my fuck—”.

You screams of pleasure can be heard from the first floor, your eyes squeezed shut, Rafe has to physically move you above him as you black out from the pleasure. His own release following, burying himself deep inside of you.

It takes you a few moments to come back to reality, your forehead pressed to his shoulder. Taking deep breaths to steady your heart rate, moving just enough to look him in the eye.

“You called me a slut” he’s quick to fall back into the usual Rafe he was when around you. “I didn’t mean it”.

“Good because if I’m a slut so are you… you let my friend suck your cock” raising your eyebrow up at him in amusement, he closes his eyes for a split second and looks back at you. “I think we are even”.

“Yeah alright, let’s call it even. So you do love me?”

“I do love you”

“Suppose I love you too”.

Tag list- @laylasbunbunny @h34rtsformilli @lydiasxxsworld @hallecarey1 @mountloverr @outerbankspov @cameronmedia @crunchy-leaves77 @vigilanteshitposting @pedrisgatorade @phoenixssugarbaby @rafemotherfuckingcameron @s-we-e-t-t-ea @rafesthroatbaby @alltoomay @moremaybank @drewstarkeysbae @mrssturnioloo @darleneslane @tierra-0604 @xo-hayleyy-xo @ethereal0810 @eliana772 @gabys-gabs @applelovesposts @starkey-zegras @definitelynotholly-blog @renmpsworld @delicatepiratecloud @hdhdhsy @speedycomputerfury @tiacordelia02 @loverofdrewstarkey @bbycowboi @teresalesbian @imnotpretzelsstuff @its-ria-07 @jscameron @rafegirly (If you no longer want to be tagged please let me know and if you want to be tagged please let me know)

[expirednukacola]

ORANGE COLORED SKY 🏜️ || Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader

𐚁⊹₊ ⋆☆

My first fic about this bonafide work of ART! AKA The one and only, Cooper Howard / The Ghoul. This MAN has everyone lined up to get a taste so I am here to deliver! This is also a little surprise for @lexiway121!!! Reader is fem and in her mid-ish - late-ish 20s in this fic! This will also be a two part fic!! ..Maybe even more. SUMMARY: reader is little miss janey’s babysitter (cooper is going to need all the help he can get ESPECIALLY DURING A DIVORCE) and reader was invited to the kids birthday party (seen in the beginning of ep 1) as cooper’s plus two just to keep an extra eye on janey and the horse/sugarfoot. everything was nice until.. FLASH! BAM! ALAKAZAM!

chapter 1.5 : here!

og gif made by: @lousolversons !!

“Flash! Bam! Alakazam!”

“Out of an orange colored sky!”

The birthday party was going perfectly! You and Janey were standing somewhat near Cooper as he did his lasso tricks on his beloved horse, Sugarfoot. The birthday boy, alongside with his plethora of friends, were all staring and gasping in awe as the cowpoke twirled the lasso up and down to where he was inside of the spinning circle of rope. Cooper noticed their precious, little reactions and smiled back at his audience, a tender yet low chuckle escaping his throat.

Seeing how happy he looked and smiled as well, your cheeks became a tad bit blushed.. definitely from the L.A. heat — and that’s when Janey looked up at her and noticed how you, her babysitter, were smiling at her dad.. “Twitterpated..” -Was what the seven year old mumbled under her breath; she really needed to slow her roll on asking her dad what certain words meant. You, on the other hand, didn’t quite hear what Janey mumbled so you jokingly decided to peep out a little, “What was that, sweetie?” and all you got in response was an “innocent” little “Nothiiiiiiiing!”

After a few minutes of continuing his lasso show, Cooper got off his trusty stead and adjusted Sugarfoot’s saddle with such care while Janey rushed over to try and help her father. “Alright, birthday boy,” The cowboy said while looking at the VERY excited kid, “Let’s get a photo of ya up here on Sugarfoot.” As Cooper picked up the boy to place him on the horse while his daughter held onto the reigns, the birthday boy’s dad and his buddy, aka Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dipshit, start talking about Cooper Howard.

“Why the hell is Cooper Howard workin’ kids’ birthday parties?” The dad’s friend muttered as he held onto a bottle of some pretty cheap beer, and the dad responded with the most embarrassing answer known to man, “What else? Alimony.” The asshole said nonchalantly before he went back to nursing his shitty bottle of beer. That made Cooper whip his head around to look at the father with his mouth slightly agape, flabbergasted he would even bring that shit up at his kid’s party. To make things worse, sweet Janey popped up and asked the billion dollar question.. “What did they say, dad?”

Cooper looked down at his precious little angel with a quiet yet warm voice, “That I’m lucky to have such a good helper like you.” Poor, innocent Janey didn’t know what was going on between her Dad and Momma. All she knew was that she would have some very long weekends with her Momma and her Grandma and then she would go back to stay with her tired Dad.

Knowing what Cooper was going through and hearing those horrible words come out of that assholes mouth, you glared at the boy’s father so hard that he could fucking feel it. The dad looked back at you and rolled his eyes, pointing at you while muttering, “Some people say he cheated on his wife with his kid’s babysitter.” That was the last fucking straw and you wanted to smack the living daylights out of him. “Are you fucking kidding me, you goddamn pig-” You muttered but Janey quickly grabbed onto your hand with that same sweet smile she always had.

The anger that boiled inside of your body slowly began to simmer down into nothingness as you moved out of the way so the dad (AKA the head honcho of being an asshole) could take a photo of his son on top of the horse with Cooper standing next to him and little Janey holding onto the reigns, “All right- You ready?” The dad positioned the camera and even though the kid had a smile that was brighter than the 4th of July, the cowboy’s smile seemed.. off. Usually, Cooper would have these sweet dimples on either side of his mouth when he would smile real big for photos or when his daughter would do something extraordinary.. But those dimples weren’t there for these pictures.

Click!

After the photo was taken, the cowpoke carefully lifted up the giddy child from the saddle on Sugarfoot to the soft and lush green grass beneath them. Cooper was just about to check up on you and his daughter, but- “Hey, honey- Honey! Get with Cooper. Let’s get a picture.” -Mayor Asshat of Assville motioned the man to stand next to his wife. Though Cooper was a little awkward about the whole ordeal, he quickly posed up next to the wife and had that fake smile on his face once more.

Click!

“Aw- Coop, Coop, Coop! Do your thumbs-up.” The jerkwad ordered and right as you were about to intervene, Cooper (sorta) stood his ground and quickly responded with, “..Yeah, you know, given the state of everything, I prefer not to, if that’s all right.” But guess what? Señor Shit-for-brains wasn’t having it because being an asshole was in his damn genes. “Why not?” asked Count Fuckhead-ula, “It’s what you’re famous for.” he added right after but his wife, the one with common sense in the relationship, told “Bob” to drop it.

“We- uh.. We gotta get this rodeo on the road.” Cooper said with his head tilted slightly downwards towards the vibrant green grass beneath his worn leather boots while the boy’s mother handed him a check. Quickly, you grabbed onto the reigns that hung from Sugarfoot’s neck and clicked your tongue to get the horse to start walking. “..Well that was just fuckin’ lovely, huh Sugar?” Muttering solemnly under your breath, you walked alongside the sweet stead, tying the beautiful horse up to a tree so it wouldn’t run loose.

A good 5 minutes roll on by like a tumbleweed and You were walking around with Cooper by your side.. while the two of you were picking up giblets of trash left behind by some kids and adults. “I never thought that I was going to be doing this at a kid’s birthday party, Mr. Howard. Picking up trash after people is not what I had planned.” You stood back up after having to bend over to pick up an empty bottle of orange flavored Nuka Cola. “Oh yeah? What did you have planned, missy?” Cooper looked over at you with one of his eyebrows raised up and a smirk growing on his lips.. those gorgeous lips alongside those beautiful hazel eyes- “Uhhh- I don’t know? Maybe mingle with some of the parents and swipe myself a piece of cake. I heard it was chocolate cake.” A little smile grew on your face but your blooming happiness all went to waste when you saw “Bob the Shit Talker” staring at both of you through the window.

“But for a grown ass man to talk shit about us with his lil buddy and then having us pick up trash left by him and his guests was definitely not on my list.” You angrily sneered at the man who continued to glare at you two through the window before letting out a loud and deep sigh. Cooper, God bless this sweet man’s soul, quickly stood up and looked at you. “He did.. what? I knew he was talking shit about me but he and Mr. Clean were talking about you? ..Fuck- It was that rumor again, huh?”

The sweet-hearted cowboy looked up at the sky as if he were silently praying to God himself to smite down that piece of shit before he looked over at your slightly blushed to make sure you weren’t boo-hooing over something that wasn’t even true. He knew you didn’t have to answer him because the look of embarrassment on your face was all he needed to know.. but at least you weren’t crying.

After a few minutes of some much needed silence, you both made your way back to Janey, who was eyeing that delicious chocolate cake as she wrapped her own little lasso around her hand. You saw how Janey was looking at that cake.. and you started to look at the cake the same way the little girl was staring at that frosted piece of heaven.

“Why didn’t you do it?” Janey’s words snapped you out of your hungered staring contest with the cake. You looked down at the little girl that was looking at her father, who was now crouched down next to her. “The thumbs-up.” Oh shit.. She just accidentally busted open a huge ass can of Marine flashbacks for Cooper. At first, he tried to make her forget about it by telling her it was “grown up business” but those sweet, sweet eyes of hers were just too much for his heart to handle.

You crouched down next to the girl and gently placed a hand on her upper back, gently rubbing your thumb against the material of her button up’s collar. “Honey.. The reason why your dad doesn’t like having his thumb up is because-” Your words were cut off from Cooper clearing his throat and placing a hand on your shoulder, immediately making you shut up so he could be the one to explain it to his daughter. The older man explained what they taught him when he was in the Marines to his daughter, telling her that he and his fellow marines would hold up their thumbs whenever a bomb would drop. If the cloud of smoke was smaller than their thumbs, they had to run for the hills.. and if the cloud was larger than their thumbs, they wouldn’t even have to worry about running.

“..Who wants some cake?” You chirped out awkwardly while standing up, brushing your hands against your top before placing them on your hips. Janey’s eyes immediately lit up with absolute joy from the thought of having a slice of cake, and she quickly nodded her head with her hands clasped together. “I’ll see if I can snag you girls a couple o’ pieces, ‘kay?” The infamous cowboy stood up as well and walked inside of the house and you decided to join him to grab your own slice of heaven.

FLASH!

Once Cooper grabbed his daughter a slice and you grabbed your own, you two rejoined his little angel once more but instead of seeing her sweet smile shining brightly on her face, you were both met with her holding up her thumb and a horrified look on her face. Her body was trembling, her bottom lip was quivering, her eyes were tearing up, and when she spoke, she sounded like she was looking Death itself straight in the eyes..

“Is it your thumb or mine?”

…

“It’s just a fire..”

You could hear the dread in his voice and the sound of her little heart pounding against her ribcage as you followed their gazes to a.. large cloud of smoke and destruction. Your own heart start to rapidly beat profusely inside your body and your eyes widened in terror as a wave of radiation started coming your way. Everything felt as if it were in slow motion as you and Cooper both decided to crouch down to clutch Janey close to your bodies to shield her from any harm.

As the wave finally passed through, the glass windows shattered into millions of shards varying from large pieces to microscopic fragments and felt one of the medium sized pieces plunge itself into the side of your calf. “Oh GOD!!” A horrifying shriek of pain found its way from out of your body as Cooper quickly scooped both you and his daughter up in his arms, quickly running towards his much needed horse, Sugarfoot.

BAM!

Dread pulses throughout your body while your eyes darted across the scene around you — Parents with their sons and daughters in their arms, people running around aimlessly like ants after a menace of a child stepped on their nest, and the screams and cries of frightened young children wanting to go home. You’re pulled out of your frightened state when Cooper tried to push you up on Sugarfoot after he placed his daughter up on the saddle. “Cooper.. Cooper! No!! Get Janey out of here! You have to get her out of here!!” You pushed yourself away from him and stumbled back, your limp leg giving its all to keep you somewhat supported.

“Y/N- Get on the damn horse! I can’t just leave you here!” He tried to pull you back towards him but you limped back away from him once more. “You need to get her out of here, Coop.. Please.” Tears welled up in your eyes and they fell down your cheeks when they became too heavy for your eyes to hold. “Please.. Go- Get out of here!!” You pushed him away and back towards the horse, and you swore you saw him shed a lone tear.

As more bombs fell from the sky, you watched in grief as your beloved cowboy hop on his horse and grabbed on the reigns, immediately whipping them a little to signal Sugarfoot to get the fuck out of there — away from the chaos and away from the horror.. away from you. You dropped to your knees as you bawled your pretty little eyes until there were no more tears to shed.. and when you heard the faint whistle of a bomb dropping nearby.

ALAKAZAM!

This was the end, you thought. The end of the world, the end of your life, and the end of everything and everyone that you loved.. and the beginning of a new age: The beginning of a nuclear fallout. As you kneeled down on the green grass that was way too vibrant to be real, you tilted your head upwards and looked towards the sky, smiling one last time before your skin began to burn, your insides feeling as if they were being cooked at a thousand degrees, your voice becoming rasped and broken as you screamed in complete and utter agony. You took your final breath of irradiated air underneath that hideous orange colored sky.

THE END ..?

—————

thank you so much for reading the first chapter of Orange Colored Sky! i hope you liked it as much as i did and i hope you can excuse the.. nicknames i gave “bob” at the beginning (he deserved it though! he was an asshole for absolutely no reason.)

TAG LIST: @lexiway121

[wood-white-writer]

“Didn’t mean to make your heart Blue” || [1/…]

- OPLA!Buggy x F!Reader

“So, I don’t blame you if you want to bury me in your memories,”

— Mitski, "Goodbye, My Danish Sweetheart"

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live Action) x F!Reader

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends. Years have passed since you last saw Buggy following the dispute that you thought ended your friendship. When you finally reunite with the blue-haired menace you once considered your closest friend, it’s under less than “friendly” circumstances.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Canon Typical Violence, Slight Canon Divergence, Buggy is an asshole, The reader used to go by "Cross-Hairs" in the past.

A/N: I’m basing this primarily on the LA! version of “One Piece”, as I’ve just recently begun to watch the Anime.

Luffy, for his unyielding devotion towards his dreams of becoming the King of Pirates, evidently lacks the sense of foresight required of a pirate to successfully navigate the seven seas. Then again, it's nothing new.

You’ve always known. The kid's been a hazard to society even in his youth; no filter between his brain and his mouth despite the ungodly amount of food he pushes between his jaws. You used to watch him make his proclamations in front of Shanks' merry band with little more than vaguely piqued interest, indifferent to the youthful albeit naive optimism he exhibited.

Shanks, meanwhile, always used to find his demeanor endearing - “He’s a good kid. Let him dream,”

And so you let him. You watched him dream for the next ten years, making sure that his dreams didn't catch the wrong kind of attention until he was old enough to hold his own weight.

However, back then, Luffy's actions seldom warranted any real consequences. Save for the incident with the Bandit and the Sea King, he's rarely been in any real danger prior to his debut as a pirate.

An unruly child spouting declarations of desiring to become the next “King of Pirates” hardly would’ve caused more of a ripple effect than to make other people shake their heads and laugh. And if it did, you were there to make sure it didn’t.

Now, not only has his actions earned you the ire of the Marines by stealing the Map of the Grand Line, but it has also garnered the attention of other opponents. Far more dangerous ones than the likes of Alvida or even that Axe-Hand Moron.

It was only a matter of time.

So when you find yourself waking up in a wooden cage with the rest of your reluctant crew mates, accompanied by a head-throbbing headache at that, your first instinct is to heave an exasperated sigh.

"Goddamn it."

"Oh, you're up." It's Luffy. He looks unharmed, albeit disoriented, not too unlike yourself. "How're you feeling?"

"Like I just snorted a bottle of rum through my nostrils." You get up into a crouching position, eying your surroundings, which doesn't leave much up for inspection considering your cage consists of broad wide planks. "What the fuck happened?"

The last thing you recall before being knocked out was a Jolly Roger in the distance, too far away for you to make out properly. So, not Marines, but pirates.

You can't tell if that's a good or a bad thing.

"Think we wouldn't have told you if we knew?" The swordsman - Zoro - replies with a deadpan look of boredom on his face as he attempts to peek through the cracks in your confinement. You have half a mind to tell him where to shove it but opt for a more quiet approach.

It's during moments like these when you realize you actually miss that scrawny pink-haired kid with the glasses - Koby. He never spoke to you like this. Granted, he was probably intimidated by the way you were always hovering behind Luffy like a silent guardian, but he didn't provide unnecessary comments like Bounty Hunter over there does.

Small blessings and all that. Very small.

You provide a solid kick to the plank on Zoro's right side without warning, catching him off-guard and earning you a short-lived glare. The planks loosen considerably, probably not meant to contain you for long.

Meanwhile, you listen half-heartedly to Luffy and Nami as they discuss the potential identities of your captors.

"They're not marines," Luffy assures her. "Before I got knocked out, I saw a Jolly Roger. We've been captured by pirates."

You glance at him from over your shoulder. "What'd it look like?"

"I don't know, it looked ... like ..." he pauses in thought. "A skull with crossbones, and a red ... dot? It almost looked like a nose, if bones could have noses, but they don't."

The blood in your veins freezes up, as does the rest of your body until their voices blur into nothing.

You've been keeping occasional track of him in the years that's passed since you parted ways, and when he amounted to a considerable bounty on his head, his signature Jolly Roger was hard not to miss on his wanted posters.

-------

"I didn't know there were so many pirates."

You tilt your head at the wall decorated with various wanted posters of different pirates, some more torn and discoloured than others, some more dead than others. You can't find your own amongst them in Shells Town, but then again, it has been some time since last you were on the Marines' radar. More likely than not, your poster is hidden somewhere underneath the several layers of—

"Hey, there's yours!" Luffy damn-near exclaims in wonder and points at— Oh yeah, there it is, right above Foxy's poster, a little yellow around the edges but still holding strong.

WANTED Dead or Alive "Cross-Hairs" 25,000,000

"Oh, wow, a 25-million bounty. That's a lot of berries."

The image is well over a decade old, taken back in your early twenties, and you were much more easy to identify back then. You were sharper in some angles, softer in others, compared to the present.

You look different now. Less robust, a little older, but no less dangerous in the grand scheme of things. Your sharp eyes remain the same, a trait Gol D. used to remark upon with a mischievous glimmer in his own eyes.

"You have eyes sharp enough to cut through steele," he'd say and ruffle your hair. A sense of loss perforating your being at the memory.

Despite being in your thirties, age tends to alter the appearance of most people, and you consider that a pretty good advantage right about now as you're standing surrounded by an army of Marine officers. Given the fact that you've spent the last couple of years away from the sea without a trace or clue, the World Government probably assumes you've died or gone into hiding.

Be that as it may, they didn't even bother to decrease the bounty since last time. How odd.

While Luffy spends a few moments admiring your old picture like a child that just learned their relative is some kind of famous celebrity, Koby is less than enthralled by this revelation.

"T-That's one of the highest bounties in the East-Blue." He is hesitant to look up at you. "What did ... What did you do to earn it?"

"A little here, a little there. Kicked a few asses, stole a bit of treasure along the way. Nothing too bad." You admit with a half-assed shrug as you continue to inspect the various posters.

For the boy's peace of mind, you won't go into the less ... child-friendly details regarding your reputation. About the way you used to fight to the blood with most of your opponents, Marines and pirates in equal measure. How you'd stand victorious atop a pile of broken limbs and pleading sounds from the defeated crowd.

"Yeah, yeah ..." Koby agrees with a feeble nod. "There are way worse pirates on the Grand Line."

Your gaze happens upon a particular wanted poster, and your demeanor stiffens. Not enough to notice from an ordinary point of view, but it does nonetheless.

His sharp cerulean eyes and bright red nose seem to mock you from his picture, and a heavy feeling settles in your heart. A feeling of hurt and betrayal you've long since thought abandoned in the corners of your heart. Not even the loss of your old captain could hope to compare to it

You snap back to Luffy, your voice a little strained as you speak though you desperately try to cover it up. "Are we done here, Luffy?"

------

It's your fucking luck it had to be him of all people to come after Luffy first.

Why him?

Fuuuuuu—

"We don't need to fight." Luffy's voice snaps you back to the present. "I can talk to them, pirate to pirate."

"Not with this one," you whisper more to yourself than anyone else. The only one who seems to catch onto this is Zoro, but the moment he opens his mouth to ask, Nami beats him to it.

A discussion regarding the duality of piracy quickly causes you to lose all interest in the following sequence.

You don't trust either the thief or the bounty hunter as far as you can throw them, and the feeling is mutual in both parts. Sure, they proved useful in getting rid of the Axe-Hand, and have had thus far been tolerable enough for you not to throw them overboard.

Still, Zoro recognized you on the spot where the Marines failed to, and though Nami doesn't, your status as a pirate is enough reason for her to distrust you.

As mentioned, you don't trust them, but Luffy does, and his lead is the only one you'll follow. This is his voyage, and you’re not here to keep him from making mistakes unless you consider them particularly vital. If this bites him in the end, then you'll be there to keep him afloat.

After all, you made a promise to your old red-haired friend.

"Look after the lad for me, will you? Help him achieve his dream."

With no patience left to wait to get the fuck out of here as quickly as possible, you prepare to kick through the planks. Just then, the top piece of your confinements unfold, and what you're greeted with is the pinpoint definiton of a fever dream on acid.

Tightrope walkers swinging in the air, acrobatics performing acts of impressive feats, someone fire-breathing, and-- was that a guy juggling on a unicycle passing you just now?

A circus troupe. You've been captured by a fucking circus troupe.

"Oh, what the actual fuck?" Is all you can manage to mutter, a sentiment Zoro surprisingly agrees with if the nod he adds serves as any indication.

The troupe has an audience, you come to observe in the distance. They're clapping and cheering on cue with the sign being held in the air, yet they look ... wrong. Forced. Puppets with strings embedded in their limbs, so to speak.

You narrow your eyes in distaste at the view. The hell has he been up to as of late?

In the midst of the enforced round of applause, a voice gradually makes itself more and more prominent through the masses. Deeper and huskier since last you heard it, but yet painfully known to your ears.

"No, no, no, NO! Stop clapping!"

And then he appears. The ringleader himself, exasperated as he throws his arms out to each side and effectively silencing the crowd.

"No, stop! This is all wrong!"

You momentarily forget to breathe as you watch him come into view from behind the audience. He's taller than the last you saw him, that's for damn certain. Must've hit a second growth spurt in your absence because, while you were relatively on equal foot in your youth, he now seems to have grown a head or so taller than yourself.

And like yourself, he's changed, and not inherently for the better. It's a relative statement considering that the life of a pirate is oftentimes a hard one, but it's a fact nonetheless. The years have not been any kinder to him than they've been for yourself. He still has the same hair, the same general appearance, but he's changed.

Out of the three of you, Shanks seems to have had it the easiest in recent years, appearance-wise. He never lost his smile or affinity for the brighter things in life, even when he had his damn arm chewed off.

Meanwhile, you lost your dreams, and he seems to have lost everything you recognized about him in your youth. His smile, his laughter, and even his stance had been replaced by some replica that fails to hold a candle to the original one.

This is a show master, not your friend. Then again, you haven't been friends for a long time now.

Still, changed as he may be from an outward point of view, Buggy's eyes have not. They're clear like the seas, just as they were long ago. (And his nose, of course. How could you forget?).

You can't tell if that's a relief yet.

You're not a fearful person by nature, having lost the distinct ability years ago. Now, however, you feel the tremors vibrating through your ribcage at the sight of him. That's why you decide to turn your face slightly to the side for now, hoping to prolong the inevitable.

Fortunately, your presence evades Buggy's notice for just a while longer as he berates his crew. "The spotlight was late! You completely missed my entrance!"

The sound of said spotlight changing its focus can be heard.

"And where, oh where, was the dancing lion?"

Good! While he's occupied, maybe you can find the right moment to grab Luffy and get the hell--

"Hey! I know you! I saw your wanted poster in Shells Town!"

... You want to dig a hole in the sand and bury yourself right about now.

"You're the clown guy! Uhm ... Binky, right?"

Buggy, you scream inside as you suppress the urge to yank Luffy by the shoulders and shake him until all of his limbs drop down on the ground. Fuck Shanks and fuck the promise. He's Buggy the fucking Clown, and you did not have to go out of your way to pinpoint that fact!

In your internal state of dismay, you settle with trying to locate potential escape routes. Maybe a hole in the walls of the tent, or an absent-minded guard by the entrance. You're stronger than most, with years of experience behind you, but you're not capable of fighting your way through a crowd with three tagalongs so seamlessly.

"Buggy," the man of the hour states as he approaches, still having failed to notice you. "Buggy the Clown."

No one says anything, which he takes as a sign to continue on with - what you personally regard - as a moronic long line of titles.

"Buggy, the Flashy Fool." Still nothing. He raises his arms, like a lost puppy begging for scraps of recognition. "Buggy, the Genius Jester."

Seriously, what's with him and all the names? He’s always been … overdramatic, but this cuts the cake even for him.

"Wow," Luffy seems genuinely impressed, a stark contrast to his companions, who would rather be anywhere than here. "You have a lot of names. I bet everyone in the East Blue knows who you are."

A range of gasps echo from the unwilling audience, and you finally snap your head to the front in alarm. Fuck, he couldn't have used a better word than that. Granted, Luffy didn't mean it in that context, or even that word, but it doesn't matter.

Another thing that hasn't changed about Buggy... And that very same thing might as well be what snaps him out of his theatric act.

You thought Buggy finally would've noticed you by now, seeing it as you're finally willing to face him, but his eyes remain eerily glued to the kid.

"What did you just say?" Buggy asks, calmly.

Way too calmly for your liking.

Oh, no.

Luffy blinks in confusion. "Just that everyone knows who you are?"

You notice the clown lunging before Luffy does.

In the span of a second, you plant yourself between them, the only barrier between him and the clown's rage. You don't move an inch even as Buggy closes in with his gloved hand outstretched towards the boy, having not yet registered your sudden appearance until his fingers are inches from your face.

Your eyes finally lock, the blue in his eyes more prominent now than ever. Almost two decades since the last time you saw each other, and Buggy ceases his attempted assault as though time itself freezes.

At first, there is nothing in his eyes but surprise. Anger. Maybe even a trace of admiration towards the one who dared stand against him. Hot and burning beneath his irises, like glowing embers left behind in a dying pyre.

Finally, there is recognition, and the fire reignites warmer and scorching more than ever before.

He doesn't say anything at first, and neither do you, but the glare in your eyes conveys the message loudly enough that even the performers and troupe members alike know not to interfere.

"Leave him be."

You think of what to say, what you can say, after years of being silent. A simple “Hi” will not suffice, and considering the way of which you parted, there is little room for confessions.

Then, Buggy begins to laugh.

It starts out as a whisper of a chuckle, then gradually develops until he's full-out holding his stomach in wheezes, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes and smudging his make-up.

He points his arm up as he tries to contain himself, and the guy holding the APPLAUSE-sign picks up on the subliminal message. Everyone in the place begins to laugh, both the captives and the captors, so loudly this time that it makes you feel small in a way you haven’t felt since you were a child.

You glance cautiously around yourself, sharing brief looks with your companions before the noises abruptly stop, having most likely been forced to do so.

When you look back at Buggy again, he's smiling wider than ever, but his eyes hold no genuine humor. No, there's an unidentifiable emotion swirling in the depths of his blue eyes that you fail to decipher before he speaks.

"Well, well, well! Isn't this an unexpected surprise?" He raises his arm to gesture to you, as if you're an exotic exhibition behind a display case for everyone to behold. The spotlight is now aimed at you, momentarily blinding your vision.

"Ladies and gentlemen! It is my honor to present to you, the one and only, the myth, the legendary 'Cross-Hairs'! The Beast of the East!"

Applause rings again in the air as Buggy continues.

"She was famous throughout all of East Blue for her many endeavors, with a bounty greater than even yours flashy truly." Admitting that fact looks like it physically hurt him, but he prevails. "And then, almost ten years ago, after her biggest heist yet, she just POOFS!" He snaps his fingers and lets them slowly decline for dramatic effect. "Vanishes out of the blue. Leaving the seas for an unforeseen amount of time."

It would seem like you were keeping track of each other all along.

The next words Buggy utters are so hushed that only you hear them, and his smile is gone.

"Then again, you do have a track-record of leaving things behind, haven’t you?"

Oh, the fucking nerve of this guy. You take a step forward, clenching and unclenching you jaw so much your teeth feel on the bring of cracking. How dare he? How fucking dare he?

You’re about to shout back at him, argue, throwing every caution to the wind just to correct him and scream:

("You're the one who left me, remember?")

Before you can, something taps your right shoulder. Thinking it's Luffy, you turn around, and the last thing you recall before it all fades to black is an air of red dust clouding your vision.

[poeticpascal]

Home (Joel Miller x Barbie!Reader)

Masterlist | Request here!

Summary: When a deep sense of loneliness overcomes Cowgirl Barbie, she leaves Barbieland to find whatever poor kid it is that's making her feel that way. Of course, she could never have expected just how much light Sarah would bring to her life, and she certainly didn't expect the things her grumpy father would teach her about love.

Word count: 10.6k

Warnings: Barbie movie spoilers, angst, angry Joel (he's insecure and protective), descriptions of loneliness, lots of fluff!

A/n: this is literally my Magnum Opus. Reader is Cowgirl Barbie. I truly hope you love this as much as I do 💖

Barbieland has been very different since Stereotypical Barbie left. Good different.

The Kens have jobs now, proper jobs, not just ‘Beach’ or ‘Surf’. They’re not the most competent workers Barbieland has ever seen; they get too distracted trying on new overalls at the building site or throwing paper aeroplanes at each other in the offices. But they’re trying, and you have to admit, it’s pretty adorable seeing them so excited to head off to work each morning.

Barbieland has laughter now, true laughter, not perfect giggles but the kind that brings tears to your eyes and makes your belly hurt. It has crying, proper full-bodied sobs that rack through your chest, aching in a good way. And it has life. Fervent, overwhelming, painfully brilliant life.

It’s magnificent, even the really hard bits. Which there are a lot of.

Like losing someone you really, really love.

Stereotypical Barbie - Barbara, as she’s known now - had been your best friend. Your Dreamhouse was right next to hers, and every morning you’d float down to the streets together, where she’d hop into her little pink car and you’d mount your pony and ride into town. It was perfect, a sweet little life surrounded by pinkness and joy, and if you’re being completely honest with yourself, you miss it.

You bonded over how displaced you both felt. Neither of you really had a thing, a specific job to do. She was Stereotypical Barbie, and you’re Cowgirl Barbie. Destined to wear dusty denim and cowboy hats for all of eternity; not a doctor, not a physicist, not an astronaut and certainly not the president. Just a cowgirl.

And there aren’t even any cows.

That was what brought you and Stereotypical Barbie together; you both felt slightly unsure of the world, however perfect it may be, and you found friendship in that.

So when she left, that hurt. 

Because she found purpose.

Purpose in feeling, and knowing, and living.

Purpose in things you could only dream about. And what you hate the most is that she was right.

It feels good to hurt. It feels good to have that pain in your chest, that ache in your cheeks when you’re not quite done crying yet. That emptiness that fills the space where flowers had once bloomed.

It feels like shit to miss your friend, and it feels incredible to have loved someone so much that you miss them.

And that’s the beauty she brought to your life. To all the Barbies’ lives.

But it still goddamn hurts.

About as much as the strange thoughts of loneliness have hurt the past few weeks.

You’re never alone in Barbieland; there’s always someone there, a friend, a listening ear. A million other Barbies who genuinely care.

But the feeling is so strong, so heavy in your gut, that all the Barbies and Kens and Allens in the world can’t take it away.

Which only calls for one thing.

“Your friend had the same problem, you know,” Weird Barbie says, walking round you in circles like prey. You gulp; she’s significantly less ‘weird’ now, what with her fancy job at the Capital and the whole ‘awakened Barbies’ thing, but she certainly kept some habits that set you a little bit on edge.

“How do you mean?” You stutter, trying to keep up as she continues to stalk around you and make strange gestures.

“First came the depression-” she pulls down a presentation screen from god-knows where, one decorated with the typical Barbie anatomy and annotated with the same notes Weird Barbie is now recounting. She points to the head, ‘depression’ scribbled beside it, and stops in front of you.

“And then-” she moves again, rotating to the other side of the screen and pointing to the drawing’s legs. “-came the cellulite.”

She pauses, seemingly waiting for some big reaction, but you just stare. Sure, cellulite was feared back then, but almost every Barbie has it now, and it’s really no big deal. “...okay?” you posit, slightly more concerned as Weird Barbie’s face falls at your reply.

“Damn, I guess we really are doing things differently now.” Her surprise is dropped quickly, as she continues to explain what it means to be overcome with these awful feelings so quickly.

“In the end, sweetheart, there’s only one way to fix this.” She leans in uncomfortably close, making you gulp. “You gotta go to the real world.”

You had a feeling she’d say that. 

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

When you arrive in the real world, there’s really only one person you can go to. The one person you’ve missed more than anything.

She was your best friend, and yet standing here on the doorstep of an apartment that looks nothing like a Dreamhouse, you can’t help how nervous you feel.

She’d given all the Barbies her new address, in case any of them managed to sneak into the real world, so she mustn’t mind that you’re here. But she’ll be so different now, so human, and you’re still just a Barbie with a jaunty cowgirl outfit and a sunny disposition.

Your worries are immediately washed away when the door flings open, and before you can even see who it is, a pair of arms are tightly wrapped around your neck and you’re pulled in for a big, warm hug. But you know who it is, and you hug her back immediately, tears welling in your eyes as you finally hold your best friend again.

Barbara pulls back, holding your cheeks in her hands, almost like she didn’t think you were really there. “I can’t believe you’re here!” She grins, hugging you again with a giggle. “I missed you so much.”

“Oh, Barbara, I missed you too,” you cry, not wanting to let her go. 

“What are you doing here?” She asks, and you finally relax your arms, taking in how much she’s changed. She isn’t wearing anything pink, or sparkly, but a white blouse and nude pants that look very professional. Very human. Very different.

You don’t reply to her question, unsure of what the answer even is, and that alone makes her worried. So she takes you by the hand and leads you into her apartment, one painted white with sweet pictures on the walls of her with Sasha and Gloria, and some other women you don’t recognise. It makes you a little jealous.

She leads you to the kitchen, sitting you on a bar stool and pouring tea for you both. You go to drink it, holding the cup away from your mouth and tipping it, but she quickly jumps up shouting “no!” and pulling the cup down.

She laughs, making you laugh nervously too, and explains you need to hold the cup to your lips and sip. “Are you sure?” you ask, staring down at the liquid and tentatively trying to drink it, the warmth on your tongue foreign but sweet. 

“Yep! That’s how we drink here. I know it’s weird but once you get used to it, it’s so good.”

You smile, putting down the cup and looking back at your friend. “Things are pretty different here, huh?”

Barbara smiles, nodding her head and swinging her legs where they hang from the stool. “Yep! Isn’t it great?”

“Yeah, it is,” you reply, with a fraction of the excitement. You push a loose strand of hair behind your ear, knocking your hat slightly which you quickly correct into place, acutely aware of yourself in the presence of someone who’s changed so much. “Do… do you ever miss us? The Barbies?”

She grimaces, making you regret asking as soon as the words leave your lips. Her eyebrows sink into concern, and she sets her tea down beside yours, taking your hand and squeezing it tightly.

“Every single day. Of course I miss you - I even miss the Kens!” You both giggle, and you’re reminded of how things were before. 

You have to admit, you almost asked your Ken to come with you, but he was having so much fun in Barbieland now that you couldn’t bring yourself to take him away from it.

“I’m so sorry I made you feel that way.” Her eyes have welled up now, and guilt hits you like a truck.

“No, no, I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m so happy for you, truly.” You smile, and you know she knows you mean it. “I just… I feel so lonely. It’s like a big hole in my chest, all the time. No matter what I do, no matter how many girl’s nights and big blowout parties and days on the beach, I just feel lonely. And it’s even worse without you here.”

Barbara holds your hand tighter, and something you said seems to have caught her attention. “You mean you felt like this even before I left? Before the Kendom?”

You nod, sheepish, and her eyes squint in thought. Then, as if a lightbulb has gone off in her head, she gives you her trademark big white smile and excitedly shouts, “I know what you need to do!”

She jumps off her chair, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking LA. You stand there for a moment, taking in the view, the overwhelming sights and sounds of rushing traffic below you. It’s beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

“You need to find the little girl who’s playing with you,” Barbara whispers, watching your amazement. 

“Isn’t that what you did?” You ask, finally pulling your eyes away to face your friend. She nods, her smile just as bright and honest as ever, and it makes the idea of facing this big wide world seem a little less scary.

“I’ll come with you, we’ll go find her, and we’ll figure out what’s been making her feel so lonely.” 

“Will you really come with me?” 

You already know the answer; of course she will. She’s the kindest person you know. Of course, all the Barbies are the kindest people you know, but that’s a technicality you don’t feel like getting into right now.

“You know it,” she grins, and you can’t help but grin back as you think about what an adventure this is going to be.

“How will I know where to find her?” You ask, looking back through the window at the huge world on the other side of the glass. How could you possibly find your kid?

Barbie tugs you to face her, straightens your hat and looks directly into your eyes, making you focus. “You gotta be really calm, okay? Just close your eyes, clear your mind, and find her memories. And then try to figure out where she is. That’s how I found Sasha!’

You nod, not quite sure how this is going to work, if this is going to work. But you try anyway, squeezing your eyes shut and doing your best to shush all the noise and confusion in your head, desperately searching for anything that could help you find your kid. You get nothing, ready to give up after a few minutes of emptiness, when suddenly - there it is, the faintest hint of a memory.

“Dad, can we have a movie night tonight?” Sarah asks, watching as Joel paces the room, frantically searching for his other shoe.

“Yeah, sweetheart, course,” he replies. She smiles, heading over to the TV stand and already searching for a film to watch, giggling as her Dad begins to lift up the couch cushions. 

She looks down, seeing the shoe hiding just behind the stand, and rolls her eyes as she picks it up and throws it at him. “How’d you find it?” He mutters, scoffing as she just laughs at him, though a matching grin is etching its way onto his lips.

He slides on the other shoe, grabbing his wallet and keys and heading over to give Sarah a kiss on the head. “When will you be home?” She asks, and he offers a guilty smile that doesn’t make her particularly hopeful.

“Soon as I can, Sarah. Around 8? 9 at the latest.” She nods, forcing a smile and letting him go, and Joel’s out the door in a flash with a final shout of “Love you, honey!” and a slam of the door.

The memory changes, then.

It’s nighttime, and Sarah lies alone on the couch, a movie playing that she doesn’t seem to be really watching. Her eyes flicker up to the mantlepiece, where the clock reads 10:13, and she sighs. 

Then she stands, traipsing into the hallway and towards the front door, where the key hangs in the lock. She turns it, unlocking the door and leaving the key on the sidetable, then picking up a piece of mail that had been left there.

“51 Mulberry Road

Travis County

Austin, Texas

Dear Mr. Miller, we are writing to solicit your contracting services for our new development…”

Sarah groans, throwing the letter back on the table and muttering “more work, great.” She retreats upstairs, slamming the door behind her and climbing into bed…

You’re pulled out of the memory by Barbara’s voice, filled with excitement. “Can you see her? Do you know her name? Do you know where she is?”

“Sarah” you mumble, still dazed. “Sarah, her name’s Sarah.”

Barbara squeals, clapping her hands together before calming herself and urging you to continue. “And? Where is she?”

You concentrate, trying to remember what was written on the letter you saw. “Er… Texas. Yeah, she’s in Texas. Mulberry Road. Is that close?”

She pulls a face, a yeah… no kind of face, then grabs a big book from under her coffee table and flips it open. You watch in amazement as she scans the pages and pages of maps inside, until she shouts, “a-ha!”, pointing to a spot on a page titled ‘The United States of America’. “Here it is. We’ll need to fly there.”

A nervous excitement brews in your tummy, your eyes glued to the little spot on the map labelled Texas. The spot where Sarah lives, with her Dad. The place you’re destined to find.

“Oh, and don’t get freaked out… but men fly planes here.” Your head snaps up, confusion painting your face, and Barbara just nods at your reaction.

“Seriously?” You ask, wondering if she was just playing a prank. “Is… is that safe?”

She giggles, putting the book down and grabbing your hand. “Yep, there’s a lot to get used to here. You’ll see. Now come on, we need to pack our bags!”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

And so here you are, on a flight to Texas, on your way to find Sarah and bring an end to her loneliness. 

Barbara tells you all about the real world. How different yet wonderful it is, how much there is to do and see and feel. She’s at university now, getting qualifications to be a psychologist and work with young girls who are struggling. It’s brilliant, but strange, you think - qualifications aren’t needed in Barbieland - anyone can just do anything. Well, the Barbies can. And the Kens really do try.

The journey is filled with new and exciting things, but it’s scattered with memories of Sarah and her dad that pop up in your mind at random. You see everything; their best moments, their worst, the times they’ve laughed and cried and screamed. 

You can see the first time she chose you. She was smaller, much smaller than she is in the more recent memories, and her Dad seemed friendlier, then.

“Alright, honey. Which one d’ya want?” Joel asks, smiling as Sarah’s eyes scan shelf after shelf of Barbies. 

“You should get this one,” he jokes, picking up a doll labelled ‘Builder Barbie’. “She’s just like your daddy!”

Sarah giggles, shaking her head and crossing her arms. “You’re not a builder, daddy! You’re a cont-ac-er.”

Joel’s heart warms, both at how much she loves his job and won’t accept a vague similarity, and her attempted pronunciation of the word ‘contractor’. 

“Well then, which one, babygirl?”

She spends a few more moments looking at each option, before her eyes widen, landing on one a little further away to the left. She stands up on her tippy-toes, grabbing the doll and admiring it, giddy.

“This one, Daddy! I want this one!” She shows him the doll, waving it in his face but not letting him take it, protective already. It’s a Cowgirl Barbie, one clothed in denim and brown leather, with cliche cowboy boots and a hat. 

“She’s just like you, Daddy.”

Joel pulls a face, looking back and forth between Sarah and the doll. “How in the hell is she like me?”

Sarah scowls, pointing to the cowboy hat and explaining, “she’s a cowgirl! And you’re a cowboy!” 

“I ain’t no cowboy” Joel retorts, shaking his head and leading Sarah over to the cashier’s desk. “When have you ever seen me in one of them hats, huh?”

Sarah giggles, itching to take the doll out of the box, and Joel knows she’ll do it the second he’s paid. “Maybe you can borrow hers, daddy, and be a proper cowboy.”

He rolls his eyes, though the smile hasn’t fallen from his face for even a second. He pays, watching with joy as Sarah scrambles to rip open the plastic, finally pulling out the doll and hugging it the whole way home while making up stories of ranches and horses and pistol duels - she was certainly her father’s daughter.

“Barbie? You there?” Barbara pulls you out of your thoughts, staring at you as you finally turn to look at her. 

“Sorry, I’m here. Just…”

“Keep getting memories, huh?” 

You nod, looking out the plane window and into the skies. She still seems concerned, but lets it go, returning to her magazine and letting you be with your thoughts. 

More memories swirl in your mind; you can see Sarah’s first days of middle school and high school, her most vulnerable moments of crying in her room and talking to you like you were the only one who’d listen, her relationship with her dad and how he’s become more and more distant over the years.

Sarah slams her bedroom door behind her, falling on the bed with a sigh. She sits back up, her eyes falling on the Cowgirl sat on the shelf across from her, growing dusty as she plays with it less and less.

She’s 14 now, too old for dolls really. And yet, that Barbie had been there with her through her toughest moments, and even now, it was comforting to have her there.

“Dad’s at work. Again.” She says, half to the doll, half to herself. “It sucks.”

She dives into her backpack, pulling out a small box and opening it up, the newly-polished watch inside glistening in the light from the window. 

She takes it out, delicately, and turns it around to see the engraved lettering on the back. 

‘No matter what, we have each other. I love you, Dad. From Sarah x’

She smiles, quickly placing the watch back in its box, not wanting to damage it before she could even give it to her Dad. “You think he’ll like it?” She asks the doll smiling at her from the shelf.

“I just… I just want him to know I love him. And that I know he doesn’t mean to be gone all the time.” 

She stands, picking the doll up from the shelf and brushing the dust away, carefully readjusting her little hat and smiling at the piece of her childhood. 

“I’ll give it to him tonight. If he ever comes home,” she sighs, lying down beside the Barbie and taking a nap, knowing she had a long wait ahead.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

“Alright, here we are!” Barbara chimes, pulling up to the house you’d been looking for. 51 Mulberry Road. 

“Are you nervous?”

“Hell yeah I’m nervous,” you quip, the fear plainly stated in your wide eyes. What if she doesn’t like you? What if you can’t help her feel less lonely? What if this just doesn’t work?

“Look, I’ve been there,” she replies, knowing exactly how you feel. “You’ve gotta remember that you’re her Barbie. You’re her friend, and she’s yours. It’s all gonna work out. My only advice? Don’t expect her to thank you for making everything amazing for women. Trust me, it does not end well.”

You giggle, remembering the story of when she first met Sasha, and hope Sarah won’t be quite as mean. You feel a little better, and thank Barbara for her support, grateful to have your friend back.

“Alright, I’m gonna go and get a coffee. If you need anything, call me, okay?” She hands you the little flip phone she bought, having shown you how to make texts and calls on it to her iPhone. You nod, thanking her again and stepping out of the car, the nerves building up as you hear her drive away and you’re left alone in front of the house.

You take a deep breath, your boots clicking on the path as you make your way up to the door, supported by a big wooden patio and a bench out front. It reminds you of home a little; your western-themed Dreamhouse, clad with old wooden floors and southern-style windows.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you raise a hand and knock, waiting with baited breath before you hear footsteps on the other side and the door swings open.

And there she is. Sarah.

She’s a little older than she was in the most recent memories you saw, around 16 now. She’s tall, with a purple cardigan on and pretty blue jeans that you’re jealous of already. Her smile is bright, precious, and if you didn’t know better you’d think she was a Barbie herself.

“Can I help you?” She asks, looking you up and down with a slightly confused, but still polite expression. 

You stall, the introduction you’d prepared completely forgotten, your mouth just opening and closing like a fish out of water. Sarah’s expression becomes one of concern more than anything, and she reaches out a soft hand to touch your arm, making you jump.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” she pauses, looking you over again. “Sorry, do I… do I know you?”

You stumble again, trying to find the right words, and she must see how genuinely nervous you are because she searches behind you into the street, then pulls you inside and shuts the door. “Come on, you need something to drink.”

She leads you to the kitchen, a beautifully decorated but old fashioned room with porcelain tiles and wooden beams across the ceiling. You trace your fingers across the counter top, looking around in awe while Sarah pours you a glass of lemonade. 

Your eyes fall to the corner of the room, where her school bag sits, and a familiar-looking cowboy hat pokes out. You walk towards it without thinking and pull out the doll, admiring the little plastic version of yourself.

“Oh, that’s - that’s not what it looks like. I’m not… I don’t play with dolls anymore, obviously, I just…”

Sarah’s voice trails off, and you assume she’s embarrassed, but when you turn to face her you realise it’s not that at all. She’s staring at you, then the doll, then back at you, with a cocktail of confusion and realisation on her face. 

“You’re dressed… you look exactly like her. What -“ She’s cut off by the front door slamming shut, and a familiar voice shouting down the hall, “Sarah? I’m home.”

Her eyes widen, quickly looking for somewhere she to hide you, the stranger she’s invited in, panicking as her Dad’s footsteps get louder.

But it’s too late. Joel stands in the door frame, staring at you, then shooting Sarah a look that says, ‘the fuck is this?’

“Dad, I can explain-“ he cuts her off, staring you in the eye and taking a step towards you. He looks older than he did in your memories - not in the way that Sarah does, but in a tired way, like he’d worked a hundred years and counting. Grey curls wash over his head, matched by a silvery beard and sunken eyes, and for all the Kens you’ve known in your life, you don’t think you’ve met anyone as handsome as him.

“Who the fuck are you?” He asks - no, demands, one arm protectively stretched in Sarah’s direction.

“I- I’m- Barbie. I’m Barbie.” You stutter, clutching the doll a little tighter in your hand. Joel’s face scrunches angrily, and he looks at Sarah again, who just shrugs.

“You’re fuckin’ what?” He asks, clearly unimpressed.

You panic, holding up the doll to your face, showing him the obvious similarities between you. The same clothes, same hairstyle, same eyes. 

“You know, Cowgirl Barbie. Sarah’s Barbie,” you explain, a little more confident now, hoping they’d accept your explanation.

Your hopes are quickly dashed as Joel asks Sarah, “do you know this clown?” 

His arms are clenched, and you try not to worry about what’s coming next.

“No, Dad, but-“

He cuts her off. “So you just invited this crazy person into our home?” 

He’s shouting now, and you recoil, remembering Barbara’s first experience meeting Sasha. You wonder if this is worse.

“Dad, don’t talk about her like that,” Sarah shouts back. It makes you feel at least a little better, but it’s too late. Joel’s incensed, shouting about stranger danger and how you’re probably an escapee from some mental asylum, how weird it is that you know what dolls she owns and how to dress like them. 

“- and you” he looks directly at you now, pointing. “You get the hell out of my home and you don’t speak to my daughter ever again, you hear me?”

Tears stream down your face as you nod, throwing the doll onto the counter and running past Sarah and Joel and out of the house. You can barely make it out the front door, stumbling against the columns on the patio, before making it just far enough onto the grass outside to stumble to your knees and let yourself cry properly.

That same, overwhelming loneliness fills you again, tearing deep into your chest and only adding to your pain. Your shoulders shake, and you try to remind yourself of what they teach you at Barbieland; crying is good, hurting is good. It means you’re alive.

But it really doesn’t feel good right now.

You can hear the faint sound of the door opening and closing, but you don’t really register it, not until you feel a soft hand on your shoulder.

You look behind you, meeting Sarah’s apologetic eyes, and you try to wipe your own of their flood of tears. 

“Oh no, I’m sorry, I must look horrible,” you laugh, though it’s forced.

Sarah smiles, sitting down in front of you, knees crossed. “I think you look beautiful.”

And that makes you really smile.

You giggle, pulling off your cowboy hat and setting it on the grass beside you. Your denim jacket feels a little hot now, too tight, but you try to ignore the feeling and focus on getting your breathing back to normal.

“Is it true? Are you really… her?” 

Sarah’s question is soft, like she doesn’t know quite which answer she wants. You only nod, fiddling with your hands in your lap.

“You’re Barbie?” She asks again, and you can tell she’s expecting a reply this time.

“Cowgirl Barbie,” you answer, still only looking at your hands. 

“God, you know, when Stereotypical Barbie came here, she had such a good time. Mind you, that was in LA, so -“

Sarah cuts you off with a gasp. “Wait, that was real? I heard about that! It was all over Twitter - Barbie and Ken on roller skates in LA, Barbie in a pink cowboy outfit-“

“Yes!” You exclaim, excited - “she told me all about it! She chose the cowboy outfit ‘cos it reminded her of me, you know. We’re best friends.” 

You’re showing off a little now, but you don’t care - it feels good to talk, to be believed.

Sarah watches you in awe. “Wow. So this is, like, real. This is real? You’re Barbie. Where’s Ken?”

“Oh, he had to stay back at home. Well, he didn’t have to, he would’ve come if I asked him to. He’s really sweet. I just… I didn’t wanna be a burden.” You explain, grateful he hadn’t seen you crying like this now you think about it.

“But isn’t he, like, your boyfriend? I’m sure he wouldn't mind.” Sarah replies.

“Oh, he isn’t my boyfriend,” you giggle at the thought. “No, no, we don’t really do that in Barbieland. Everyone’s their own person and makes themselves happy, no need for boyfriends and girlfriends. Even the Kens!”

“Rad,” Sarah grins, liking the sound of Barbieland. “So… why are you here?”

You reply honestly, there’s no use in skirting around it anymore. “Well… I feel what you feel, Sarah. And when you’re sad, and lonely, I feel that too. That’s why I came, to help you feel better.”

“Oh.” It’s all she says.

“Why do you feel like that?” Your tears have stopped by now, your face left red and puffy. You try not to start up again as you watch her face twist at your question.

“Just… stuff. With my dad. He’s never here anymore, always at work. It used to be just me and him against the world, you know? And now it feels like… like it’s just me.”

You pout, rubbing a hand on her knee. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean it, Sarah. You always have each other, just like the watch says.” 

You smile, trying to be as comforting as possible, but it’s quickly wiped away by the look of shock on her face. 

You’re about to ask her what’s the matter when a southern drawl sounds from behind you, “how do you know that?”

You turn, facing Joel who stands on the steps of the porch, a hand on the railing. Your nerves set in again immediately, and you turn in on yourself, trying not to cry.

“Um, the watch, the one from Sarah. That’s what it says, right?” You can see that very watch strapped to Joel’s wrist, the glass broken, and he brings his other hand to touch it. 

“No one else knows what’s written on that watch,” Sarah says, and you whip around to face her, “holy shit, this is really, really real, isn’t it? You’re her?”

You just nod, and she lets out a laugh, springing forward to hug you. You yelp in surprise but hug her back immediately, revelling in the feeling of wet grass hitting your back. Sarah pulls away, looking up at her Dad with pleading eyes, “come on Dad, you know this is real. She’s real. We have to let her stay.”

You sit up again, grabbing your hat and standing, facing Joel though your eyes stay trained on the floor. He’s silent for a long time, thinking, before he grunts and you can just about make out a whisper of “fine” as Sarah celebrates and leads you back into the house.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

You stay there a few days, mostly keeping out of Joel’s way. They set you up in the spare bedroom, but Sarah comes to get you most nights, and you stay up together having sleepovers and telling stories.

You tell her all about Barbieland, about the beautiful beaches and all-woman Supreme Court, the Dreamhouses and the perfectly blue skies. She tells you about her life, the latest drama at school, about Brad the boy who won’t leave her alone and Jenny, her best friend who definitely fancies Brad. It’s incredibly exciting, and you wonder why you never left for the real world sooner.

Barbara’s ecstatic for you, of course; she’s staying in a nearby hotel for as long as you need her there, you even plan to introduce her to Sarah soon.

You wake up one morning, covered in a duvet somewhere in the corner of Sarah’s room, a host of her other old toys laid out where she’d been explaining each one to you last night. You wondered if there’s a Thomas The Tank Engine Land, too.

There are voices downstairs, and for all the rules of politeness and social expectations you’ve learned, you can’t help but tiptoe to the top of the landing and listen in to the conversation. To make sure Sarah’s okay, more than anything.

“Oh come on, Dad. It’s just one day!” Sarah almost shouts, though it’s obvious she’s trying to keep her voice down. They both are.

“Sarah, I gotta go to work. How the hell am I meant to keep a walking-talking Barbie doll entertained for 7 hours, huh? You want me to talk about makeup and glitter?” Joel’s voice is thick and annoyed, though he’s noticeably gentler when he talks to her.

Sarah scoffs, and you can’t see her, but you know she’s rolling her eyes. “She’s more than that, Dad. She’s smart, and she’s caring. Just - just do this for me, okay? And as soon as I’m back from school, I’ll take her off your hands.”

You can’t see them, but you hear their footsteps walk a little closer to the stairwell. “Fine, fine. Whatever. You better go and wake her up then, cos I gotta leave in 20,” Joel resigns.

You see the top of Sarah’s head from your view between the bannisters, and quickly hurry back to her room and under the sheets. She enters, sitting beside your spot on the floor and whispering, “Barbie? Hey Barbie, wake up!”

You feign tiredness, lifting your head and smiling at the girl. “Oh hey, Sarah, good morning.”

She giggles, and you’re quickly aware of your bedhead, something you never experienced in Barbieland. She talks as you grab a brush and fix yourself up.

“So look, I gotta go to school today. But my Dad agreed to take you with him to work so you’re not on your own… is that okay?” 

She must see the slight panic in your eyes,  as she quickly scrambles to reassure you. 

“I know he was a bit of a hot head when you first met him, but he’s just… protective. But he’s sweet, really. Just give him a chance.”

You think about it for a moment. Barbara is still staying nearby, and you know she’d come and hang out with you while you wait for Sarah to come home if you asked. But then again, maybe it’d be good to spend some time with Joel/ It’s obvious that a lot of what brought you here comes down to their relationship, and if you can help to fix that even just a little bit, then your journey will have been worth it.

“Okay,” you answer, giving Sarah a small smile. She grins, standing up and grabbing her school bag before shouting over her shoulder as she leaves the room, “great! He’s going in 20 minutes… better get ready!” 

You gasp, jumping up from your little nest on the floor and searching through the duffel bag Barbara packed for you of outfits to wear, all western-themed of course.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

Car rides with Joel are… awkward, to say the least. 

He drives in silence, no radio, just the slow drone of traffic outside echoing between you, whistling through the open windows.

His car is very different to the ones in Barbieland. It doesn’t have an open top, the seats are worn and rough to the touch. The smell of coffee and cigarettes hangs in the air, and though you’re not used to it, you still find it comforting. Safe.

You reach for the radio, looking for a tune to play and maybe even sing - you’re sure that’ll cheer him up. But he stops you, not hurting you at all but batting your hand away and finally taking his eyes off the road.

“Don’t touch that,” he grunts, and you shrink back in on yourself again. He recoils a little, like he’s trying to appear less aggressive, and refocuses on the road.

“Sorry,” you mutter, shy.

He shakes his head, resting his elbow on the window beside him and readjusting himself, clearly uncomfortable. Whether it’s you or just the way he’s sat, you don’t know.

“‘S fine,” he mutters, barely audible. You nod, unsure of what else to say after that. You’re not looking at him, though you can see his movements in the edge of your peripheral, and you’re certain you can see him glancing at you every couple of minutes.

He finally speaks again after a long span of silence. 

“So…” he starts, tentative. “Is it hard to get here? From- from Barbieland?”

You turn, though he isn’t facing you, eyes trained on the road. You keep looking at him anyway - this is progress at least.

“It’s pretty simple. First you drive, then you cycle, then take a boat, then a rocketship, then you stay in a campervan for a little while, then a snowmobile and voila! You’re rollerskating into LA.” You grin, recounting your adventure into the real world, happy to be able to share it with him. You’re not sure what it is about him, but there’s just something inside of you that’s desperate for him to get you. To care. 

Joel just grunts, rubbing his thumb and forefinger between his brows, and you’re worried for a second that he doesn’t believe you, again. But he doesn’t press, instead he seems to be thinking, and then he asks another question.

“How do you get back?”

“Gotta do all that in reverse,” you answer, giggling. You’re sure you can see the slightest pull of his lips, the hint of a smile, but it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared.

You decide to try and engage him, let him talk. “Do you like what you do? For work?”

He just grunts again, and your shoulders sink, giving up. He doesn’t want to talk to you. 

You decide not to press him further, but you can see him continue to glance at you a few times out of the corner of your eye, and there must be something in the air because he sighs before talking, a vulnerability in his voice.

“I used to. My Dad did it, contracting. Used to take me and my brother out every weekend and show us the trade. And when I started my business, that was good. Things were good. Now…” he trails off with a sigh.

“Things aren’t good?” You ask, trying to be careful. Trying to encourage him. 

He nods. “Things are different, now. Busy. It’s a hard business.”

You don’t reply, not because you don’t want to, but because you’re not sure how. Joel doesn’t seem to mind. After a few moments, he pulls up at a red light, switching gears and finally looking at you properly. 

“What do you do? In Barbieland?”

“Cowgirl,” you reply, being the one to avoid his gaze now.

“Cowgirl?” He repeats, and you only nod, offering a small smile and waiting for his reaction.

“So is that, like, on a ranch?” 

He’s switching gears again, cruising through the now green light and continuing the drive, muttering something about ‘almost there’ as you arrive in an upscale neighbourhood, lined with huge houses and cars that even the Barbies don’t have.

You shrug, self conscious, but you answer him. You owe him that. He did it for you. 

“No, just… you know. I wear the hat, and the denim and the boots. And I just… cowgirl. That’s what I do.”

He nods, and for the first time since you met him, you’re not nervous about what he’ll say next. You feel comfortable with him, safe even, and you’re not sure what it is about this little drive that’s flipped that switch, but you think he might feel the same way.

“Does it pay well?” He asks, a playfulness in his tone that you haven’t seen in him before. It’s like he’s lit up over the course of your conversation.

You grin, meeting his eyes properly now, where he draws away for a moment at a time to check the road but lets his gaze fall back on you straight after. 

“Better than contracting,” you sass. You’re not sure where the cockiness comes from, whether you’re matching his tone or you just feel that comfortable with him, and for a moment you’re worried you’ve offended him with the joke.

But then he laughs.

It’s not hysterics, but it isn’t an amused ‘huff’ either. It’s like a giggle, a bright, giddy laugh that spreads across his face and makes his eyes light up like stars in the sky. It’s beautiful. It’s sweet.

You tell him as much.

“You have a pretty smile.”

He slows a little, his mouth quickly reigning in its smile and his chest no longer bubbling with that sweetness it had before. But he doesn’t look angry, or offended. He looks as though he’s not quite sure what to do. Like no one’s ever told him that before.

“Thank you,” he whispers, the words quickly blowing away with the wind through the open window. You smile in reply, and he watches, neither of you seeming to notice that he’s stopped the car and you’ve reached your destination. Neither of you move.

And then he says the sweetest words you’ve ever heard. 

“So do you.”

It’s gentle, mumbled so lowly you almost think he doesn’t want you to hear it, and yet it hits you in the chest like a lorry. 

You’ve been told that before, of course you have. You’re a Barbie. Whether it’s the other Barbies complementing one another, or the Kens trying to flirt, or Allen just being the nice guy he is, you’ve heard those words before. 

But you’ve never heard them like this, like they’re hard to say, but they need to be said anyway. 

It’s powerful.

You smile again, so does he. You stay in the car a little while longer, in silence again, but it’s a silence laced with comfort and feelings you don’t know how to label. Until he finally breaks the spell, climbing out of the car and helping you out on your side.

He spends the day showing you his work, how to plan builds, how to measure up wood and mark all the right places to cut it. You learn there’s a key named after Allen, and Joel snorts when you tell him how excited you are to let him know that. He even lets you hammer a few nails, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your heart flutter when he puts his arms around you to guide your movements, his breath in your ear.

And things are good after that day. Really good.

The three of you spend time together, as much as you can, almost like a family. You’ve never experienced family before, true family, but when you’re sat on the sofa with Sarah on a cushion on the floor and Joel to your side, just out of reach, you wonder if this is what it means to be home.

Of course, you quickly understand what Sarah means when she says she’s lonely. You know exactly where that feeling in your chest is coming from, because the times he’s with you are so fleeting, so far and few inbetween, that it feels like gold dust when you have him and like a black hole when you don’t.

And it’s only been a week before you realise just what it means, these feelings, and how they’re not like anything you’ve felt before.

Sarah reads you like a book, cornering you one day as you play dress up in her room. 

“So, you like my Dad?” She asks, a knowing smirk already painted on her lips.

You splutter for a moment, trying to think of a rebuttal, but you give up because you know she has you nailed down. You know she knows.

“Is it that obvious?” You wince, making her grin spread even further. 

“Only, like, all the time,” she laughs, and you flip down on the bed dramatically, making her laugh more. “You know he likes you too, right?”

You sit up again in a flash, eyes wide and searching hers. She raises a brow as you stare, your mind racing - she wouldn’t joke about that, would she? “How do you know?” You ask.

She rolls her eyes, taking a seat beside you on the bed. “Oh come on, man. It’s so obvious. He always talks about you, Barbie said this, Barbie did that’.” She mocks his deep southern drawl, making you giggle. “And he’s always looking at you.”

You blush - you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed. You suppose a part of you just never let yourself believe he could feel the same way.

“What do you think I should do?” You’re nervous now, unsure of yourself. Unsure if this is real.

Sarah smiles, a cheeky sort of grin that doesn’t make you feel particularly at ease, and pats your knee with her hand. “Leave it with me.”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

She calls you down that night, late, not long after Joel came home from work. You switch off the documentary you were watching, something about the animal kingdom, one that amazed you with all the creatures that walk the earth around you. 

You tiptoe down the stairs, calling out Sarah’s name when you can’t find her in the front room, confused. You hear her again, distantly, like she’s outside, and you follow the sound through the kitchen and out the back door, where you’re greeted with the alluring smell of a sizzling barbecue.

“What is this?” You ask, stepping fully outside and taking in the scene. The backyard, usually overgrown and unkept, is littered with fairylights that wrap around the patio columns and line the fence right down to the end. The Miller’s barbecue is fired up, with an array of vegetable skewers and sausages and burgers cooking on top, Sarah proudly stood beside it in her apron while Joel watches, concerned.

Joel. He’s sat at the little table she’s put together, a round glass one with mismatched chairs on either side. He’s dressed up - his hair looks neater than usual, like he’s put extra care into styling it properly. His shirt isn’t plaid, or denim; it’s a light blue colour that matches the brown of his eyes so wonderfully. He looks nervous.

“Hi,” he says, gentle and soft. Your eyes must be wide and confused, because he doesn’t say anything else, just looks at Sarah for support. She rolls her eyes - again - and puts down the tongs she’d been using to flip the burgers. 

“You two are so boring pining over each other. So, I’ve set up a date!” She grins, turning back to the food without a care in the world.

You nod, taking another step forward, looking back toward Joel and not bothering to fight the smile that spreads on your face. 

He doesn’t fight his, either. 

You reach out for the chair opposite him, but before you can, he’s standing up and pulling it out for you, his eyes meeting yours.

Not one of the Kens have ever pulled out a seat for you, you think, thanking Joel and sitting on the little chair. He returns to his own seat, clearing his throat and pouring you a drink; red wine, a new favourite of yours since he introduced you to it. 

Sarah plates up the food, setting it down in front of you in a dramatic waiter-style fashion. 

“You’re certainly my daughter, huh?” Joel asks, pride in his eyes as he looks at the food, which you have to admit looks pretty damn good.

“The student has become the master,” she quips, and your heart melts at the sweet moment between the two. 

“Now, you two enjoy. I’ll be in my room. If you need anything… get it yourself. The kitchen is literally right there.”

You and Joel roll your eyes as Sarah bows out, laughing at her own jokes and giving a final wave as she heads into the house, leaving you both alone.

“So,” you begin, unsure of what to say.

“So.” Joel mimics, though you don’t think he plans to say anything after that. He’s not one to initiate conversation.

But then again, people can change. 

“You look really nice,” he says, his eyes so heavy set on you that it makes you feel flush. You look down, at the old baggy top you’re wearing over grey sweats, and you’re suddenly self conscious compared to his nice shirt and carefully-put hair.

“I don’t,” you reply, embarrassed. “I look like a mess.”

He interjects immediately. “No. You don’t. How could you? I mean you’re literally - you’re -“ he can’t find his words.

You finish the sentence for him. “A Barbie.”

“Yeah.”

You’re not sure why it makes you feel the way that it does. Sad. Like you’re not quite real to him, a novelty. He sighs, and for all the time you’ve spent with him by now, you can’t read what’s going on behind the man’s eyes at all.

You sit in silence for a short while, enjoying Sarah’s food, drinking wine. There’s something hanging in the air, heavy and strange, and neither of you know how to address it.

It surprises you when Joel finally breaks the silence again. “Do you miss home?” He asks, pouring you another glass.

You think for a moment. You answer honestly. “I don’t know.” His eyebrow quirks, motioning for you to continue.

“There was a time when I’d have never even dreamed of leaving Barbieland. When I didn’t want anything to change. But things are different now, since Ster- since Barbara left. Everyone thinks differently, feels differently. It’s a very different place. And suddenly everything that made me love Barbieland doesn’t matter to me anymore. The perfect wardrobe, the perfect house, the perfect life. None of that matters. It’s the things here, in this world, that matter.”

“What things?” Joel asks, and it’s only now that you notice his hand has migrated across the table, holding your much smaller one. You wrap your fingers around his, revelling in the small squeeze he gives you, fighting back a smile.

You’re staring at your interlocked hands when you answer. “Family. Purpose.” 

You look at him. “Love.”

He breathes out, like he’s letting something go, something that made him scared but doesn’t anymore. You squeeze his hand.

The rest of the night goes smoothly. It’s sweet, comfortable. It’s nice. 

Until you put your foot in it.

“Do you still feel lonely?” Joel asks, the buzz of red wine making his drawl even heavier.

You smile, glossy eyes doting on him, hands still intertwined. “Well, I felt lonely because Sarah felt lonely. So… no. I feel good.”

Joel frowns, his head tilts. “Do you know why she felt like that?”

You’re not sure how to approach this with him. It’s something you’ve thought about, pondered for days, turned over and over in your mind with no good resolution.

You know exactly why she felt like that. She told you as much.

My Dad’s never here. He’s always away, working. I don’t see him.

But you also know it’s a truth he won’t accept. Not easily, at least.

“Well,” you begin, treading lightly. “I think she just… misses you, Joel. Misses her Dad.”

He’s confused. He pulls away from you, his grip on your hand loosens. “But I’m here.” It’s an assertion, challenging your suggestion.

“I know, I know. But you’re not… you’re not here. You come home from work late, you’re tired, you go to bed. You wake up and before we can even say ‘good morning’ you’re out the door again, going to work.”

His jaw flickers, in that same way it did when you first met. He’s angry. 

“I do what i have to do to support my family,” he grumbles, fully retracting his hand now. You feel the loss of his touch instantly, in your heart. 

That same loneliness sets in again, but it’s not Sarah’s anymore. No, it belongs solely, wholly, to you.

You try to placate him. “I know, Joel, I know. I get it. I just -”

“Just what?” He interrupts you, and you pause, scared to speak. Scared to mess this up.

“She needs you to talk to her. She needs you to listen to her. She needs you to hold her and let her know she’s not alone. She doesn’t see that right now, Joel.”

He doesn’t reply, just stares into space, arms folded. Guarded.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“‘That how it works in Barbieland? Everyone gets what they want, everyone’s happy?” He asks, agitated.

You shake your head. “No, Joel, I-”

“‘Cos that’s not how the real world works, sweetheart. Everythin’ ain’t perfect. The trees ain’t made of cotton fuckin’ candy.” He sneers, mocking you, and the words pierce through you like knives.

“And I ain’t taking parenting advice from no Barbie doll.” 

That really, really hurts.

And it makes you angry, because for all your faults and weaknesses, being a Barbie certainly isn’t one of them.

“Why are you being so defensive?” You ask, your tone rising to match his. “You know I'm right. All that girl wants is her Dad, not a stranger who’s barely there, not a ghost that puts food on the table but won’t even come home on time for her. She wants her Dad, Joel.”

He stands, slamming his palms on the glass with so much force you fear it’ll shatter. He doesn’t shout, but his words are sharp, pointed, and they land exactly where he intended them to.

“You have no idea what it’s like. You’re stuck in your fantasy world, where everything’s pink, but you haven’t got a clue what it’s like to live in the real world. So why don’t you head back to your special Barbieland and leave the actual living, the hard parts, to the rest of us, huh?”

Tears threaten to spill on your cheeks, your eyes burning from the strain of holding them back. “Joel, you don’t mean that-”

“Yes, I do. Just… just get out of my house.” 

He walks away from the table, crossing his arms and facing away from you, staring out into the night. You nod, to yourself if no one else, breaking your strength as a sob racks through your body. You clasp a shaking hand to your mouth, not wanting him to hear you, but you see the way his shoulders clench. He heard. 

He doesn’t react further, though. Doesn’t turn. Doesn’t make sure you’re okay.

So you do what he said. You leave.

You stalk past Sarah, wiping away the onslaught of tears that have taken hold now, ignoring her as she shouts between you and Joel. “Guys? What’s going on?”

She doesn't follow you upstairs, choosing to give you space and speak to her Dad instead, you think. You text Barbara, asking her to pick you up, and shove your clothes into your bag as quickly as you can in spite of your blurred vision and the messy hair that covers your face. 

You’re not sure how long it’s been, you’d have only thought seconds if you didn’t know Barbara’s hotel was at least 10 minutes away, but you hear her beep the horn from outside and follows its direction.

Sarah’s waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. You look down the hall, where Joel sits at the kitchen counter, arms still folded and head down.

“Please,” Sarah begs, “don’t go.” She’s crying, and it makes your heart hurt more.

“I have to.” 

You try to move past her, but she stops you, blocking the way with her body. “Sarah, I have to,” you repeat, choking on your own sobs.

“Why?” She shouts, hot tears staining her face. “My Dad told me what happened. You’re right. He’s wrong, he’s always wrong. He’s never here, but you are, and now you’re leaving me like everyone else. Like my Mom.”

Your nose scrunches. More tears fall. Your chest hurts. “I’m not your Mom, Sarah. And your Dad… he loves you. He loves you so much. Promise me you’ll remember that, okay? He loves you. I love you.”

She doesn’t stop you when you try to leave again. You all but run out the door, the once comfortable night air now painful as it hits your wet cheeks, ice cold. Barbara looks at you with more concern than you’ve seen her with before, more than when she discovered the Mojo Dojo Casa Houses, but you say nothing as you get in the car. You just stare straight ahead, and she drives.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

“I’m so sorry, Barbie. I never thought it’d end like this.”

Barbara’s holding your hands, reluctant to let go. You don’t know when you’ll see her again. “It’s not your fault,” you reply, and it’s true. It’s not her fault. It’s yours.

“And it isn’t yours, Barbie,” she retorts, like she can read your mind. You just nod, unconvincing, but she doesn’t push it.

You hug her, for the millionth time since she took you home from Joel and Sarah’s house, since she flew back to LA with you. And now here you are, at Venice Beach with your roller skates on, going back to the place you’ve always called home.

So why does it feel like you’re going anywhere but?

“Thank you for everything, Barbara. I mean it.” You pull back, wiping a tear from her cheek and smiling the best you can, your own tears rolling down your face like the skaters behind you.

She smiles back, and though she doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t need to. You know she loves you. You know she’ll miss you.

And with that, you pull away, pushing on each skate until you’re rolling away from the real world and back into your own. Back where you belong, where you’re supposed to be. Where you’re actually wanted.

There are people pointing, laughing at you as you skate past them, but you don’t care. You haven’t cared about anything since last night.

You can see the snowscape ahead, the next part of your journey. Your next step towards Barbieland and a world of pink perfection.

A world that isn’t the same to you now.

You’re nearly there, about to switch skates for the snowmobile, when a familiar, desperate voice comes from behind you.

“Barbie! Barbie, wait!”

You brake, skates screeching on the ground, as you turn to search for him in the crowd.

And there he is, Joel, clinging to a ramp on the left side of the park with the most ridiculous pair of neon green roller skates you’ve ever seen.

“Joel?” You call, immediately rolling over to him when you realise how much he’s struggling. If you weren’t so filled with the joy of seeing him here, you’d laugh at the state he’s in; eyes wide and legs falling beneath him, clearly not used to roller skating. “What are you doing here?”

“I- I wanted to- jesus, if I could just stand up-” You giggle, and he shoots you a look, which just makes you laugh harder. You help him up, laying a gentle hand on his chest as he nearly falls again, your other hand clinging to his waist as he finally finds his balance.

He’s blushing, embarrassed, but there’s something else in his eyes as they finally settle on you and he sighs. “Barbie, I’m so sorry.”

You’re not sure where to look. At him, at your hands, at those ridiculous roller skates he’s wearing. Of course, you can’t pull your eyes from him, anyway.

“It’s - it’s okay. You were right anyway, I’m not-”

“No, no,” he interrupts, placing both hands on your cheeks and quickly stumbling as he loses his balance again without the support of the rail. You hold him, giggling as he almost brings you both down, though you manage to keep him upright and he laughs right there with you.

“Jesus, this is embarrassing,” he finally huffs, and your head falls against his chest. When you raise it again, he’s already looking at you, with those big brown eyes that you never want to forget.

“I wasn’t right. I was an asshole. A huge, insecure asshole.” You try to shake your head, to disagree, but he doesn’t let you. “Just let me say this,” he begs. You let him.

“You were right. I haven’t been there for her. I haven’t been the Dad she needs me to be. I’m just… I’m just scared. Of not being good enough. Of letting her down. So I work, and come home late, and leave early, and I convince myself it’s the right thing to do. But I’m hurting her. And I hurt you.”

There’s pain in his eyes, and it pains you as if they were your own. 

“I haven’t seen Sarah this happy in a long time,” he continues, resting a hand on your cheek again, carefully this time. “Barbie, I haven’t been this happy in a long time.”

You don’t know what to say. You take your hand from his waist, tentative, making sure the other one is stable on his chest. You place it over his where it rests on your cheek, folding your fingers around his own, and turning to press a gentle kiss into his palm. He mumbles something, you don’t hear what, but from the look in his eyes you think you know.

“Don’t go,” he begs. “Don’t - don’t go back there. I want you here. You belong here.”

You look into his eyes. You know he means it. 

And so you do the only thing that makes any sense in this moment. 

You kiss him.

You’re careful to keep him upright, but he seems to have stopped caring about that; instead both hands are on you again, frantic, holding you tight like he never wants to lose you again.

When you finally break the kiss, neither of you pull away from one another, your foreheads connected and breaths intertwined. 

“Okay,” you gasp, pulling on his shirt. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

Joel closes his eyes again, sighing in relief as you finally release your other hand, touching it to his neck and feeling the rapid pulse that beats against it. You’re holding one another so closely, so tightly, that there’s no way he can fall now.

“You’ll come back to Texas?” He asks, like he still doesn’t quite believe you.

You nod again, giggling at the joy that spreads on his face, though it’s quickly muffled when he kisses you again. And again, and again and again until you’re breathless and sweaty and no longer sure which of you needs help staying upright the most.

You help him turn, wrapping your arms around his waist and supporting him as you try to make your way back across the park, and only then do you see Barbara and Sarah stood to the sidelines, watching, smiling.

You realise Sarah has her phone out, pointed at her Dad, and you’re pretty sure Joel sees it too but before he can say anything, he slips again and falls flat on his bum on the floor, bringing you right down with him.

You gasp, cushioned by his chest and his protective arms around you, laughing hysterically as he groans and sits up. You watch as his face turns from pain into anger, his eyes fixated on something ahead, and you think you know what it is-

“Sarah! Delete that video right now!”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

Tag list: @vickie5446 @skysmiller @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @letmehavemyfictionalmen

[corroded-hellfire]

Jack & Coke - Eddie Munson x Reader

Collaboration with my darling @munson-blurbs

Summary: When your best friend Eddie betrays you, you head to The Hideout for a drink—and maybe something more.

Note: This is what comes from late night conversations and texts that say “I had another angsty eddie thought.”

Warnings: angst, family issues, smut, p in v, age gap but both parties are well over 18, oral, m receiving

Words: 4.8k

“And then you put your middle finger riiiiight here,” Eddie explains patiently, tongue slightly poking out of his mouth as he adjusts your grip on the guitar neck. “Perfect. Now, give a little strum.”

The A-chord doesn’t sound as good as when he plays it, but it’s an improvement since you’d started this impromptu lesson half an hour ago.The fact that butterflies flapped their wings in your stomach every time he touched you didn’t help your concentration, either. 

“I still like it better when you play,” you tell him shyly, lifting the guitar and handing it back to him. “You’re, like, a natural-born rockstar.”

Eddie grins, leaning back against your bed. “Yeah, well, you can’t teach this kind of bad-assery,” he teases, booping you on the nose playfully and inadvertently sending a shockwave of shivers down your spine.

You’re about to muster up the courage to nudge him back when you hear the front door open.

“I’m home!” Andrea shouts obnoxiously, making you roll your eyes. You miss the initial flash of fear that washes over your best friend’s face, mistaking his grimace for a mutual dislike of your older sister.

You know that everyone has issues with their siblings; even ones that are close-knit still have their share of rivalries. But your relationship with Andrea goes beyond the usual bickering. Since you were very young, Andrea has bullied and tormented you incessantly. As kids, Andrea would break her old toys and tell your parents that you did it, that way they would buy her newer and better toys. From the moment that Andrea hit puberty, she was the “hot one.” Never mind not being the “pretty sister,” you had to deal with being invisible because all eyes were glued to Andrea. Then you practically were invisible when you started high school and Andrea pretended she didn’t even know you. It didn’t matter that you’d never ratted her out for all the times she snuck out of the house after your parents went to sleep. But any little thing you did wrong, Andrea went straight to your parents and snitched. It probably wouldn’t have mattered if you squealed on your sister anyway since she was quite obviously your parents’ favorite.

When boys did talk to you, it was because they wanted to get to your sister. Some of them thought treating the little sister as a charity case would get them into Andrea’s pants. The only time it was ever different was when Eddie Munson started talking to you your freshman year. He plopped down next to you at your lunch table and started talking to you about the copy of The Hobbit you had been reading. At first you thought this was another ploy to get to Andrea through you, but the longer he talked about things far nerdier than the book in your hands, you figured this guy might actually just want to talk to you. It was an odd and gratifying feeling. The first time you’d mentioned that you were Andrea’s sister, Eddie actually seemed surprised. “You two share blood?” he said. “She’s a goddamn tornado that destroys everything in its path. And you…you’re like a rainbow.” It’s the greatest compliment you’ve ever gotten. 

As your friendship with Eddie grew, you began to tell him more about how Andrea treated you. How she’d hurl the meanest, most vile words your way with no provocation. You didn’t need to provoke Andrea, she was constantly on the offensive. “Why does she treat me like shit all the time?” you’d ask, and Eddie would reply, “She doesn’t need a reason. There’s just venom in her blood.” 

Andrea was the walking embodiment of those luminescent fish that were so beautiful and shiny on the outside, only to lure the smaller, weaker fish in so that it could crush them. Her jet black hair was always shiny and never a strand was out of place. No blemish ever dared to appear on her skin, leaving her with the smoothest, most glowing complexion. Her curves seemed to be perfectly sculpted, defying anyone to not look at her and either want to be her or want to be with her. Obviously, it was impossible for you to keep up with her current flavor of the week. 

“Are you going to play for me?” you ask as Eddie just sits with the guitar in his lap. You scoot until your thigh is pressed up against his. It would be so easy to tilt your head and rest it on his shoulder. The comforting scent of cigarettes, Old Spice deodorant, and a hint of weed floods your senses as you try to be as close to him as you can—without being creepy about it, you remind yourself. 

“I, um,” Eddie mumbles, his eyes watching your bedroom door intently. “I thought you said your sister wasn’t going to be home?”

“I didn’t think she was,” you say with a shrug. “But you know Andrea, she does whatever the hell she wants. Maybe she met her quota for making children cry today and decided to come home early.” 

Eddie nods and looks back down to the guitar in his lap. He swallows so loud that you’re able to hear it, which has you raising your eyebrows. 

“Look, I know she’s demonic,” you say. “But she probably doesn’t even know we’re in here. Besides, if she was going to torture someone, it would be me, not you.”

“I don’t want her to hurt you. I’d rather she hurt me, actually,” Eddie says, still looking down at the guitar in his lap. More words rest on the tip of his tongue, but the bedroom door flying open stops him. 

“I said, I’m—oh, hi, Eddie,” she trills, giving a tiny wave. “Come back for round two?”

Round two? You glance over at Eddie, waiting for an explanation, but he just turns beet red and sheepishly drops his gaze. 

Andrea takes in the puzzled look on your face and laughs harshly. “Aw, did your best friend not tell you?” There’s nothing but malice in her tone, and you feel like a rock landed in your lower abdomen. “Well, let me fill you in.”

“N-No, I should…” Eddie starts, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “I swung by yesterday…I forgot you’d picked up that extra shift…”

Andrea rolls her eyes impatiently. “Write a goddamn novel, why don’t you?” she snaps. “I’ll summarize: you weren’t home, I was, and Eddie and I hooked up.”

“H-Hooked up?” The butterflies now have lead wings, and you feel the bile rising in your throat. 

“We slept together,” Eddie clarifies softly at the same time that Andrea quips, “we fucked.”

You try to blink back the tears that mist over your eyes. Your sister knows how you feel about Eddie; you weren’t naïve enough to tell her, she snooped through your diary and has been teasing you about it ever since. And while Eddie has no idea about the massive crush you’ve been harboring, he certainly is aware of how awful your sister is. His betrayal stings one thousand times worse. 

“Your bed is really great for sex,” Andrea sneers as you stumble to your feet. “Not that you’d know.”

This has to be a nightmare. You’re going to wake up at any moment, and the idea of Eddie and Andrea sleeping together will be a figment of your overactive imagination. It has to be, there’s no other explanation. But when you glance down at Eddie and see the shame that fills his face, you know. It’s real. Your best friend betrayed you in possibly the worst way he could have done so. All to get his dick wet.

“What the fuck?” It’s all that you can get out of your mouth. You suddenly feel like you’ve run ten miles. You’re lightheaded, your pulse is racing, and sweat is beginning to break out along your hairline. Eddie sets the guitar down and stands up. He reaches for you and you flinch away and pull back from him. The look of hurt that flashes in his eyes would normally make you want to wrap him up in your arms. But now? Now that you know that he fucked your sister in your bed, you don’t want him to ever touch you again. 

“Sweetheart, I’m—”

“Don’t you fucking call me that,” you snap. Looking past him, you can see your sister’s face is full of glee as a self-satisfied smirk settles on her lips. “What was in it for you, huh? Just to hurt me?”

Andrea scoffs and brings a hand up to her chest, reminding you of a southern belle clutching her pearls. “Are you insinuating that I don’t have feelings for dear Edward?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Yeah, Eddie, you want to say, that’s the girl you slept with. 

“I would never insinuate that you have any feelings at all. Pretty sure you were born with a lump of coal in your chest instead of a heart. Come here, I’ll stab you with my letter opener and we’ll see the black blood come fucking rushing out,” you seethe. 

“Always so dramatic,” Andrea says with a sigh. “That must be why Eddie doesn’t reciprocate the silly little crush you have on him.”

Eddie’s eyes snap to you, and at any other time, you would’ve said him finding out is the worst possible thing to happen to you. But that’s been usurped now, so you really don’t care how he’s going to react. 

“Must be,” you retort, “or maybe he’s only into psycho bitches.” Clenching your fists, you turn to face Eddie. “I hope her pussy was worth it.” You storm over to your bedroom door, pushing past the both of them. Before you leave, you spin around to face the traitors. “I never want to see either of you again.” You don’t wait for either to respond; you just grab your bag and rush out to your car. 

You’re not sure why you drive to the Hideout; maybe it’s because you still want the comfort of Eddie, but you tell yourself it’s because the drinks are cheap and payday isn’t until next week. 

“I’ll take a Jack & Coke, please,” you tell Lou. The bartender nods, and you add, “you can put it on Eddie’s tab.” He is the reason you’re drinking, after all. 

The thought of their bodies melded into one, him holding her the way you’d only dreamed he’d hold you—it’s too much to bear. And now, like an idiot, you’d left them alone to do it again. 

Lou slides your drink over with a small smile, the most affection you’ve ever seen from the usually stoic man. You down the drink, and then another, frowning when you get the urge to break the seal. 

“Be right back,” you mutter to no one in particular, hoisting yourself off of the barstool and traipsing towards the restroom. You get a decent glimpse of yourself in the mirror: eyes still slightly puffy from when you’d been crying in the car, mascara smudged and smeared. A flick of the makeup wand has you looking a bit perkier already, and you practice your smile a few times before walking back out. 

Lou has another drink ready for you, cocking his head towards the other side of the bar. “Paid for by that gentleman over there,” he informs you, raising his eyebrows. 

You look to where he’s motioning and see a gorgeous older man giving you a little wave. His black t-shirt clings to his muscular frame, and you can’t help but notice the way his biceps ripple with each small movement. He looks to be in his mid- to late-forties, but his hair doesn’t show any signs of thinning. Short brown curls cover his scalp, cropped closely at the base of his neck. His upper body is covered in tattoos, and you immediately wonder where else he has ink. 

You saunter over to him, batting your eyelashes flirtatiously, just as you’d watched Andrea do countless times before. “I guess I should be thanking you for this drink,” you say, giggling and taking a sip. 

“Pleasure’s mine,” he offers, grabbing his green Heineken bottle and taking a swig. “Looked kinda sad, and pretty girls should always have a smile on their face.”

“It worked.” You rest your hand on his bicep, surprising yourself with your own brazenness. Or maybe it’s just tipsiness?

“You gotta name, pretty girl?” the mystery man asks, and you tell him. “Pretty name, too. Damn,” he muses. “I’m Jack. Just, uh, moved back to Hawkins a coupla days ago.”

“Moved back? So you don’t need the welcome tour?” you pout, earning a chuckle from him. 

“Pretty girl, I’ll take you up on anything you offer.”

You consider his proposition. “Let me finish this drink and we’ll see.”

His hand rests on your thigh as he tells you that he’s got a job lined up at the local power plant—immediately reminding you of Wayne, but you push the feeling down. You allow yourself to get lost in his sky blue eyes, somehow both haunting and comforting. 

You kill out your third drink, contemplating ordering one more. Either Jack was paying, or Eddie was, so all you had to worry about was how drunk you wanted to get. 

“What had you all upset earlier, hm?” Jack asks, running his thumb along the denim above your knee. “Don’t tell me it’s some stupid boy.”

“Fine, I won’t tell you then.” You giggle again—you can’t seem to stop giggling around him. “He’s not worth the time.”

Jack shakes his head. “He’s not. You don’t need to play his games. What you need,” he says seriously, “is a real man.”

“And where can I find one?”

His lips crash against yours hungrily, gently parting them with his tongue. He tastes like the hoppiness of beer and stale cigarettes, but you don’t mind. 

“That tour you mentioned earlier,” he murmurs in your ear, “can the first stop be my place?”

You give him a pout, leaning forward into his space, just enough for him to get a peek down your shirt. “I don’t know if I can wait that long.”

Jack looks around the bar, doing a doubletake when he sees the bathrooms in the back corner. He slides from his seat and takes one of your hands in his. There’s a smirk on his face as he walks backwards towards the bathrooms, tugging you along.

“Just as impatient as I am,” he says. “We shouldn’t wait any longer then.”

Without taking notice of if it’s the men or women’s room, you follow Jack in as he nudges a bathroom door open with his elbow. He’s quick to lock it behind you and his hands are instantly on you, grabbing at your waist as his mouth finds yours again. The kisses are urgent and sloppy, no teasing, just devouring one another. Your hands move down to his beltbuckle, making quick work of it and working on the button of his jeans. Strong, large hands grope over your chest as you shove his pants down, but just as you break from the kiss to get down on your knees, there’s a loud banging on the bathroom door. You’re startled and grab onto Jack’s arm, and he’s quick to wrap it around you reassuringly.

“Not in my bar!” Lou shouts through the door. 

Well, you think, can’t show my face at The Hideout again. Your face is burning in embarrassment as Jack huffs an awkward chuckle and resituates his belt. 

“I guess my place is the first stop on the tour then. That is, if you still want to?” Jack’s eyes meet yours, obviously wanting to convey that if you’re no longer interested, that’s fine. But a little embarrassment was nothing compared to how you felt earlier in the day.

“I want to,” you say. For emphasis, you grab the back of his neck and give him a kiss that proves how much you want him. When you pull away, there’s a dazed smile on his face that may be the most endearing thing you’ve seen all day. He takes your hand in his and slowly opens the bathroom door. Luckily, Lou isn’t standing on the other side of it, but you’re sure he’s not far off, watching to make sure the two of you leave. 

You force yourself not to look over at the bar as you and Jack head towards the door. It’s not like you think the bartender will tell anyone, but you can’t bring yourself to meet his eye at the moment. Jack’s car isn’t the nicest, but that’s not something you ever cared about anyway. If it gets you from point A to point B, that’s all that matters. The gentleman that he is, he holds the passenger’s side door open for you and you slip inside. He practically runs around to the driver’s side and it makes you let out a soft giggle. When’s the last time someone seemed this eager to spend time with you? And seem to be genuinely enjoying it?

The ride to his place is only about five minutes, and Jack makes sure you stay in the car until he can come around and open the door for you again. The apartment complex isn’t the nicest either, but what was in Hawkins? His place is on the first floor and you watch his hands as he fumbles with his keys. They’re large, calloused, from what you can only assume is years of work. Staring at them just makes you want to have them all over your body even more. 

As soon as he swings the door open, he’s all over you again. Frantic kisses keep his lips connected to yours as the two of you clumsily make your way to his couch. The material is worn, but not dirty, and you find yourself once again fumbling with his belt as he sits on the cushions.

“Picking up where we left off?” Jack teases, throwing his head back in ecstasy as you get back on your knees and take him into your mouth. The saltiness of sweat and pre-cum hits your tongue, his cock edging towards your throat when he brings his hands to the back of your head and helping you find the perfect rhythm.

“J-Jesus Christ,” he hisses, bucking his hips slightly and watching the tears involuntarily pooling along your lash line. “First time back in that dive bar in years, and I managed to find the girl who gives the best head in Hawkins.”

As if to prove his point further, you cup his heavy balls as you lick up and down his shaft. You keep at it for a few minutes, swirling your tongue around his overly sensitive tip before he pulls away.

“You’re good–too good; but ‘m not gonna lie to you,” he admits when you stare up at him with a puzzled expression, “I don’t bounce back as fast as those college guys you’re probably used to, and I gotta be inside your pussy tonight.”

You nod, tugging your shirt above your head as he helps you shimmy out of your jeans. “Like what you see?”

Jack doesn’t answer right away; just unhooks your bra and watches it fall to the floor. His gaze immediately snaps back to your bare breasts, beckoning you over to straddle his waist. His hard length presses against your lace panties, and the two of you moan in tandem.

“I don’t think you need these,” he mumbles, running his thumb over the lace before tearing them off completely. His middle finger easily finds your clit as he makes slow, deliberate circles.

You can’t help the way you grind against his touch, begging him to stretch you so good. The finger drags through your folds before he slips it inside you.

“So wet already, hmm? Pretty girl must need another finger.” You cry out in pleasure as his forefinger breaches your hole, pumping faster until you feel the familiar tension building in your core.

“N-Need your cock inside me,” you manage, barely able to formulate a thought, let alone a coherent sentence. 

He reaches into the pockets of the pants he discarded and fishes out his wallet to grab the foil-wrapped condom tucked away. Your eyes watch hungrily as he slips it over his cock, fucking his fist a few times to make sure he’s ready for you. His other hand grabs your waist and helps guide you until you’re hovering over his cock. Slowly, you begin to slide down, both of you letting out a groan as he first enters you. The stretch feels so good and from the way Jack’s squeezing his eyes closed and biting at his lower lip, you’d say it feels good for him as well.

“Shit,” he mumbles. “Gives the best head and has the tightest pussy.”

Your only response is a whimper as you lower yourself even further, letting more of his cock fill you up. Once you no longer need your arms to steady yourself, you brace your hands on Jack’s chest. When your hands meet the fabric of his shirt though, you frown. Unable to form words as he finally bottoms out inside you, you tug at the dark material of his shirt, hoping he gets the hint. Reluctantly taking his hands off of you, he maneuvers out of his shirt and tosses it on the floor with his jeans. Most of his chest is covered in ink and you find your eyes trailing the different designs as you rock your hips back and forth. You slide your hands down to rest on his abdomen, since there’s no tattoos there, and you can get a better view of the artwork above. A snake is curled near his right collarbone and a little beneath that there are some sort of wings, but you’re not sure if it’s meant to be an angel, a bird, or something else. On the left side of his chest there is a bird, and it looks like a crow. There’s also a small “E” down near his heart that you can only assume is for an old girlfriend. 

Jack starts rocking his hips up to meet yours and it has your mind completely forgetting about the tattoos as you close your eyes in pleasure. His hands feel rough where they rest on the skin of your waist, but it feels so good when he slides them around to the front and grabs your breasts. You give a particularly hard thrust of your hips when his thumb grazes over your right nipple. There’s a breathy chuckle below you as he sees how sensitive you are to his touch. 

“Feel good, huh?” Jack asks. Breaths becoming more shallow, you nod your head. That’s not good enough for him, though. He gently pinches your nipple, just enough to get your attention, not enough to hurt. “Use your words for me, pretty girl.”

“It’s good,” you say. “So fucking good.” 

“Tell me how it feels.”

“So deep,” you say through a moan. “You’re so big. I feel you everywhere.” It’s true. He’s definitely the largest you’ve ever been with, and in your position, it feels like he’s splitting you open. His arm wraps around your middle as he adjusts himself so he’s sitting up more, your faces closer together this way. As your eyes slip closed again, his lips settle on yours, licking into your mouth hungrily. His teeth graze your bottom lip and it causes you to moan into his mouth. 

“You’re close,” he says. It’s not a question, but a bonafide statement; he already knows your body all too well. “Cream my cock, pretty girl. Just let go f’me.”

The coil snaps as he thrusts into you harder and faster than before. He spills into the condom with a groan of your name but doesn’t pull out right away. You keep him inside you as the two of you catch your breath, coming down from your highs.

“I should go,” you murmur, realizing that there is no way in hell that Andrea won’t rat you out for coming in late and smelling of sex. “Could you give me a lift back to the Hideout so I can get my car?”

Jack nods, discarding the used rubber in a nearby waste bin as you get dressed. You start to look for your underwear before remembering how he destroyed it, and it has you getting wet all over again. 

He kisses you one last time in the bar parking lot. “Sorry I couldn’t stick around for round two,” you tease, “but maybe I’ll catch you here another time?”

“I sure fuckin’ hope so.”

You’re in your bedroom a few days later, frantically searching through your cassette collection for your favorite AC/DC tape. It’s not in the “As” section, where it would normally be, and you realize with a sinking feeling in your stomach that you’d left it at Eddie’s a few weeks ago.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you mutter. He was the only one allowed to borrow it–you’d gotten it signed by Angus Young when you saw the band in concert, and it meant everything to you. You needed it back.

The drive to Eddie’s trailer seems to fly by, now that you’re dreading facing him. You knock on the door once to no answer, but his van is parked in front, so you knock again, louder this time.

“I need my AC/DC tape,” you snarl as soon as he opens the door.

He rubs his face, combing his fingers through his hair. “Can I drop it off later? And then maybe we can talk?” he asks meekly.

“No.” You shake your head and put out your hand. “Go get the tape and give it to me now.”

Eddie glances around the trailer nervously, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Look,” he starts, “now’s really not a good time…”

You scoff. “Why? Are you fucking another one of my family members? A cousin or something?”

A brief look of hurt flashes across Eddie’s face. He shakes his head and looks down at his feet before meeting your eyes again. “No. No, I wouldn’t…” he trails off with a sigh, sensing it’s useless—and he’s right. “My dad’s here.”

That’s one of the last things you expected to come out of his mouth. Your eyebrows raise in shock as you stare at him. Eddie hadn’t seen his father in years. Didn’t want to, according to him, no matter how many times his dad reached out. The relationship was tumultuous to say the least, but you felt you never had the right to offer any advice since you couldn’t relate to his situation. And Eddie never asked, so you weren’t going to say anything. 

“Your dad?” you ask, just wanting to clarify. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says. He keeps speaking, but movement in the trailer behind him catches your eye. You blink a few times to make sure you’re seeing what you think you are. An airy giggle bursts out of you, drawing both the attention of Eddie and the man in the living room—Eddie’s father, apparently.

“What?” Eddie asks, brow furrowing in confusion. He looks behind him to see his dad, then back to you, unsure of what is making you laugh. “What’s so funny?”

Eddie’s dad stares at you, eyes widening as he comes forward to stand next to his son at the door. The shit-eating grin on your face must be confusing both of them, but it’s wholly impossible for you not to find this whole situation highly amusing. 

“Eddie?” his dad asks. “How do you know the pretty girl from the bar?”

Your ex-best friend’s gaze shoots to his father, head moving so fast that the curls whip around his head. Seeing them next to one another, you can see the resemblance. About the same height and build, same nose, and both covered in ink. Their curls are roughly the same color even if one has brown eyes and one has blue. 

“W-What?” Eddie asks, looking from his dad back to you.

“Hi, Jack,” you say, giving the older man a wink. 

“Wait, what the fuck?” Eddie asks, the color draining from his face. You wait a beat while the realization sets in. “She’s…he’s…” He turns back to you. “You fucked my dad?”

You laugh, shrugging as you reply, “Guess so.” You waltz past your bewildered friend–ex-friend– grabbing Jack’s hand as you lead him back to Eddie's bedroom. 

“Wanna help me look for my tape?” you ask, hooking a finger through his belt loop and you bring your lips to whisper in his ear, “and maybe we can see about that round two?”

Jack grins, grabbing a handful of your ass as he follows you. “Looks like we found the next stop on our tour.”

[f1letters]

midnights (3am edition) - masterlist

A collection of stories inspired by lyrics of the one and only, miss Taylor Swift.

note: regarding the stories, some of them are not inspired by the entirety of the song but only by some loose verses (due to their content) PLEASE check the warnings before reading (as there are stories with some tw)

lavender haze | mv1 (2.8k)

"I been under scrutiny, you handle it beautifully"

summary: after winning his second championship in another controversial way, max needed her by his side more than ever as the media tried to tear him apart

maroon | cs55 (4.3k)

"how the hell did we lose sight of us again? sobbing with your head in your hands, ain't that the way shit always ends?"

summary: they both knew their relationship would ruin them both, but they couldn't stop themselves from running back to each other every goddamn time

anti-hero | cl16 (3.6k)

"I wake up screaming from dreaming, one day, I'll watch as you leaving"

summary: no matter how many times charles told her she was more than enough, this misogynistic world kept giving her reasons to run away (driver!reader)

snow on the beach | ls18 (3.2k)

"you wanting me tonight feels impossible, but it's coming down"

summary: nothing would ever compare to the feeling of simultaneously falling in love with each other

you're on your own, kid | pg10 (4.1k)

"I wait patiently, he's gonna notice me. it's okay, we're the best of friends"

summary: after what she thought was the best night of her life, she came to the realization that she was nothing but one more girl on his list

midnight rain | gr63 (3.1k)

"chasing that fame, he stayed the same, all of me changed like midnight"

summary: what happens when he decides his career will always be more important than their relationship?

question…? | ls18 (3.4k)

"did you wish you'd put up more of a fight when she said it was too much?"

summary: she was just planning a fun night out with her best friends, but an unexpected reunion changes everything

vigilante shit | pg10 x cl16 (3.4k)

"you did some bad things, but I'm the worst of them"

summary: revenge is served cold and it tastes especially sweet when it involves his best friend

bejeweled | ln4 (2.7k)

"and I miss you, but I miss sparkling"

summary: after a triple-header where they couldn't see each other, things got even stranger when her boyfriend seemed totally uninterested in spending time with her. so, she took matters into her own hands

labyrinth | aa23 (3.9k)

"uh-oh, I'm falling in love. oh no, I'm falling in love again"

summary: it's safe to say she wasn't expecting to fall in love so quickly after just ending a five-year relationship, but alex albon was just everything she needed without even realizing it (russell!reader)

karma | lh44 (3.6k)

"karma is the guy on the screen coming straight home to me"

summary: seeing her toxic ex was never fun, but maybe it was less fun for him when he realized she was currently dating the GP winner on the screen, who happened to be his favourite driver

sweet nothing | sv5 (3.0k)

"all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing"

summary: after years of battling infertility, seb was still by her side. he didn't need anything else but her... but maybe their lives were about to get a little more crowded

mastermind | cs55 (3.8k)

"what if I told you none of it was accidental?"

summary: it all started when she saw him across the room and she knew right away she wouldn't give up until he was hers

the great war | dr3 (3.9k)

"my hand was the one you reached for all throughtout the Great War"

summary: after the media was filled with cheating rumours involving her husband, she faced hard times trying to rebuild what was left of their relationship

bigger than the whole sky | ms47 (2.9k)

"i'm never gonna meet what could've been, would've been, what should've been you"

summary: guilt consumed her alive when she lost the baby she initially didn't plan on having... maybe the outcome could've been better if she did something different, she thought

paris | eo31 (3.2k)

"romance is not dead if you keep it just yours"

summary: maybe their family and friends didn't understand all the secrecy of their relationship, but why risk ruining what they had when they lived happier than ever inside of their own bubble?

high infidelity | mv1 x ln4

"do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?"

summary: she knew it was a mistake getting involved with her boyfriend's best friend from the beginning, but she only realized how wrong it really was when she got confronted by the one person she should've been faithful to

glitch | ms47

"we were supposed to be just friends"

summary: they were supposed to be just friends with benefits, but things started to feel real when they found themselves travelling to each other constantly... behind her brother's back (vettel!reader)

would've, could've, should've | dr3

"and I damn sure never would've danced with the devil"

summary: when daniel thought his career was about to skyrocket in mclaren, he chose not to have anything to do with her anymore. two years later, regretting everything, he looked for her, only to find out she was a single mom to a beautiful curly-haired girl

dear reader | cl16 (2.8k)

"to a house, not a home, all alone cause nobody's there"

summary: when two strangers meet by fate in the same bar with the same goal - to drink their feelings - maybe they discover that they are actually two halves that fit together perfectly

[chvnnie]

Deserving

han jisung x reader

word count: 3k

genre: smut — MINORS DNI

warnings: switch!jisung, switch!reader, mentions of alcohol, smoking (cigarettes — jisung), mentions of weed, jisung gets slapped, kinda enemies to lovers to kinda friends to lovers???, jisung refers to reader as his “property”, dirty talk, unprotected sex, mutual orgasms, rough but ✨sweet✨ and really i think that’s it? if i missed anything, PLEASE LET ME KNOW.

summary: is there really much of a difference between hate and love?

a/n: if y’all have any issues, take it up with @j14sung!!! it’s all her fault!!! also no breath play? in one of MY fics? what is happening

this is a work of fiction. this fic in no way represents han jisung as a person or stray kids as a whole. you are responsible for the media you consume. please read responsibly.

taglist: @lix-ables, @rachalixie, @agustd-essert, @gibbysupremeacyisreal, @katieraven, @miamormi, @woahfruity, @hugs4chan, @stranger-thighs, @beautifulcolorgarden, @scottmcallisdaddy, @whatudowhennooneseesyou, @humayraaaa, @americanokisses, @djeniryuu, @epiphanynaffit

The back patio’s railing really needs to be replaced. White paint falling off in mid sized chips, shudders in even the lightest breeze. This has to be a safety hazard; it’s shocking the fraternity hasn’t been fined for this.

So when Jisung leans against it, the creak of the wood can be heard over the heavy bass of the music. He flinches slightly, praying that tonight is not the night it decides to crumble. Once he realizes that he is stable, his shoulders relax, digging in his jacket pocket for the half empty pack of cigarettes.

He’s really not much of a smoker; the smell lingers, making all of his clothes smell like the mistakes he continues to make. Still, when he’s a little drunk, he can’t help but reach for the crutch. Placing the stick between his lips, cupping the flame so the wind doesn’t blow it out. One click, two click, three — god, he needs a new lighter. Can you tell how often he smokes?

It’s necessary for tonight. Jisung can’t face the idea of going back inside that party without a little buzz. Something to distract him from the fact that you showed up.

You were expected to show up. The circles you run in are so similar. If Jisung is invited, chances are, you are too. That’s not really the issue.

The issue is the goddamn mini skirt you walked in wearing. The issue is the thin strapped crop top that’s so tight, he can tell you’re not wearing a bra. The issue is that fucking silver waist chain, decorated with pretty metal hearts. Hugging your hips perfectly.

The issue is that you didn’t come to the party alone.

From the back patio, Jisung looks through the kitchen window. All of these people, most friends of his or at least friendly to him, careless. Happy. Not worried about a single thing, dancing and drinking like the night isn’t going to end.

Like he’s not shivering outside. A scowl fixed on his face as he watches you and this guy pass the window, in search of the bottle of vodka you like.

Fuck. This cigarette isn’t enough to numb this shit.

Stubbing it out with his boot, Jisung decides to go back inside. Maybe he’ll play pong with Lix, or smoke with Changbin. There has to be something inside to distract him. Navigating the crowd, he barely gets into the packed living room before there’s a hand on his arm, halting him from going any further.

“There you are.” A sickening sweet voice says, and he has to close his eyes so she doesn’t see him roll his eyes. “I’ve been looking for you!”

Someone from his chem class. Not very notable; she’s pretty, sure. Smart, though she always seems to be asking him for help with the easiest assignments. He doesn’t really care for her. Voice grating, her interest overwhelming. But that made her easy. All he had to mention was the fact that he was going to be driving past her place, and she was begging for a ride on his bike.

It was timed perfectly; Jisung’s motorcycle “conveniently” parked outside of the lit building. Right where you have class on Thursdays, ending at noon. The same time his chem class gets out. There was no way you could miss him putting an extra helmet on the girl.

Especially considering the way he wet his lips. Smiled. Waved at you. Making sure that you saw the girl get on his bike. The look of annoyance and distaste was so satisfying. Jealousy. God, it looked so good on you.

Was it worth it, though? Jisung was sure that move would be the end of this back and forth game the two of you have been playing — that you would reach your limit, lash out. How dare he take another girl on his motorcycle? What kind of fucking player flirts with you nonstop just to turn around and get another girl wrapped around his finger?

Or, at least, that’s how he expected you to react. He never thought you would retaliate.

Pulling his arm out of the girl’s hold, he glances down at her. Bored expression on his face. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I thought we could dance a little.” She moves in front of him, inching closer and closer until her body is practically pressed against hers. “Maybe you could take me for another ride—“

Over her shoulder, he sees you. Leaning against the wall in the corner, sparkly eyes staring at the guy who stole you. He has a hand resting by your head, leaned down. Whispering something to you that makes you laugh.

Oh, come on. That guy? You can’t seriously think he’s funny.

He barely hears the girl continue to go on, telling him all the things they could do when they get back to his place.

“Look.” Finally, he makes eye contact. “I’m not interested.”

She looks almost shocked, as if he hasn’t been fully checked out of the conversation the entire time. “What? But—“

“All I did was give you a ride. I don’t want to fuck you; don’t you think you would have seen my sheets sooner if I had?”

A hand strikes his face, hard. The rings making his cheek sting. Head turned to the side, he hisses in pain, temper rising like the color of his cheeks.

“Fuck you, Han Jisung.”

Fine. Maybe he earned it. He did use her. But what he thinks is really unnecessary?

The fact that you saw the whole thing. Smile on your face as you huff a laugh. Lips parting, mouthing something to him.

Deserved.

It’s like rubbing salt in a wound, the way you grip this guy’s jacket. Pulling his body into yours before you tilt your head back slightly, and bring your lips to his.

All the hard work he did to numb himself, the jealousy, the possession, the anger, fades in less than a second. A dull warmth climbs up his body rapidly, the blood vibrating beneath the skin. The entire party fades, silence replacing the joy. The fast, steady sound of his heartbeat the only thing Jisung can hear.

That, and the sound of his footsteps.

Just like you, Jisung grabs the guy’s jacket. Expect from the back, and not to kiss him. With an unnecessary amount of force, he pulls him off of you, shoving the taller man to the side.

Before you can even say anything, he glares at you. “Enough.”

The sounds of that fucking asshole’s protest are nothing more than an annoying buzz. Like the sound of a fly, something easily drowned out as Jisung grabs you by your wrist. Pulling you out of the party and onto the back patio.

It still smells like cigarettes outside. When the backdoor slams shut, your body is pressed against it.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Jisung—“

“What the fuck are you doing?” His voice has dropped a few octaves, a foreign sound to the both of you. “Who was that?”

God, you’re so annoying. Giving him the exact the same he gave you when he put that girl on his bike. You’re so fucking pretty. “What, you can give desperate girls a ride but I can’t bring another guy to the party?”

“Oh, you can.” Jisung agrees, nodding his head though his face is still cold. “But to let him touch you?”

“You don’t—“

“He’s lucky I didn’t fucking break his jaw.”

Your eyes narrow at him. “I’m not your property, Jisung.”

It’s his turn to laugh. Low, chilling. Tongue in cheek as he smiles at you. “Yes, you fucking are.”

He waits. Bracing himself for another slap to his already sore, possibly bruising cheek. After all, it is what you think he deserves. Instead your eyes drop to his lips, lingering only for a brief second before they flicker back up.

“Take me back inside.”

The two of you barely get upstairs before your bodies are twisting together; Jisung’s hands in your hair as you let your head fall back. Tongue rubbing against your own, sweet moans filling his mouth.

Neither of you know who’s room you’ve stumbled into. Does it even matter? Your body is against his, the smell of your perfume giving him the buzz he’s been chasing all fucking night. The world around Jisung doesn’t exist when you’re his entirety.

“I’m so sick of you.” You gasp, pulling your lips from his. Hands eagerly slipping under his jacket, you shove it off from the shoulders. “You’re so arrogant—“

“Yeah?” He huffs out, smirking when you shiver from his touch. Chilled hands under your pathetic excuse for a top, pushing the fabric up. “What else?”

“You’re an ass.” His shirt is next, buttons hardly hanging by a thread as you yank it open. “So fucking entitled—“

“Mm, I am.” Teeth nipping at your jaw, thumbs flicking over your nipples. Under his touch, he can feel your goosebumps rising. His touch driving you just as insane as you drive him constantly.

“Y-you—“ it’s getting harder to speak; his touch making you melt despite your best efforts not to. “You are such—“

When he looks up at you, you’re rendered speechless. Every strong opinion you’ve ever had of him fizzling away, extinguished by his gaze. Brown eyes blown out, darkened with lust and loss of control. But something. Something about the way he’s looking at you.

Jisung first met you in algebra. The first day of freshman year, in that class that started before the sun even fully rose. Three days a week, ninety minutes. Far too much time spent in a prerequisite class.

You were the last student to arrive, forced into the remaining empty seat at the back of the class. Right next to Jisung. Your hair was still wet, a pimple patch stuck on your left cheek.

Ever since, he was helplessly in awe of you.

Almost four years have passed, and he still looks at you the way he did when you first met. When he pretended to lose his pencil just to talk to you. When he would wake up earlier than necessary just so he would be the first face you would see when you arrived. All this time, and he’s always looked at you the same as he did when he fell for you.

It’s just taken you this long to realize it.

“I hate you.” You whisper, though the taste those words leave are disgustingly bitter.

Jisung gives you a lazy smile, not convinced even in the slightest. “Take off your fucking skirt.”

He makes you keep the waist chain on. The second your skirt falls to the ground, he’s yanking off your panties, sitting down on the end of the bed before making you straddle his lap. Lips catching yours, he keeps one hand on your hip, twisting the chain around his fingers, while the other slides down your back. Grazing over your ass, riding up the side of your thigh. Memorizing your body with his fingertips as a path is drawn to your core.

He moans louder than you when he starts to trace your folds. The slick makes it easy to feel you, taking his time rubbing from your clit to your entrance. Your fingers are tangled in his hair, tugging lightly when he starts to circle your hole.

“So wet.” Jisung mumbles against your lips. “Is this what I do to you, pretty?”

If time has taught you anything, it’s that he’s nothing but a tease. The circles are slow, hardly pressing down. Giving you just enough pleasure to make you whimper without actually entering you. Over and over he traces the shapes, not satisfied until you’re whining his name.

And then, he takes it all away from you. Moving his hand before you can grind down on it, chuckling when you yank at his strands in protest. He was so close, you fucking asshole. Why would you—

Jisung shushes you, bringing the pretty whines to an end as he pushes the wet fingers into your mouth. “Stop fussing. Let me play.”

You should bite his fingers. Take the control that rightly belongs to you. You’re not to be toyed with like this — but there’s a reason why you never fully pushed him away. Why you dealt with the torment, the push and pull, why you never told him no.

When he looks at you like he is now, starry eyed in wonder, there’s a feeling that only he gives you. One that’s been sought out, but never replicated. Only Jisung can make you fall hopelessly with just a look.

With a nod, your tongue works around his fingers. Lapping them clean, letting the weight on your tongue soothe you. Bringing you a peace you’ve been longing for since the day you met him.

“That’s my girl.” He mumbles, pushing his fingers back a little further. Stopping only when you gag around them, twitching in his lap. “So good for me.”

He lets go of your chain, working on the button of his jeans while you’re occupied. Once satisfied, he eases the fingers out of your mouth, entranced with the way drool clings from them to your lips. He takes the hand to his now freed cock, working the spit and slick mixture over his length.

Your eyes followed each movement, watching the slow motion of his fist. It’s almost shameful for you to admit how long you’ve been thinking about this moment — what he would look like. Taste like. Bigger than you expected, a girth that makes the breath catch in your throat.

Jisung catches your staring. “What, baby?” He coos in almost a condescending way. “Want my cock?”

God, there’s only so much more you can take of his incessant teasing. Rolling your eyes, you place your hands on his chest and push him, forcing him onto his back. Jisung tries to sit back up, but you keep one hand firm between his ribs while the other grabs his cock. Tugging with a firmer grip that he was allowing himself, causing his head to roll back and Adam’s apple to bob.

“Stop fussing.” You mock his earlier words, positioning yourself over his length. “Let me play.”

It’s almost too fast. Sinking down fully without giving yourself a proper chance to stretch. The sting runs up your legs, making your lower stomach ache where the tip hits. Your lips are parted, a breathy gasp overshadowing Jisung’s deep moans. His hands come to your hips, nails digging into your skin and fingers lacing through the waist chain.

“Fuck.” His voice could be a growl, head heavy as he looks up. Staring at where you’re sat on his cock. “Goddamn, baby, you feel so good.”

Dizzy from the pain, room spinning from the need, you use the hand planted on his chest to lift yourself up. Almost allowing yourself to get to the tip before slamming back down, skin slapping against skin. It’s not enough — falling into a pattern of slow upwards, but quick downwards. Teasing and chasing at the same time.

Jisung helps by lifting your hips, taking the exhaustion off your shoulders so you both can enjoy.

“I like the way you look underneath me.” You chuckle, words broken by pants. “It’s cute.”

He bites his lip and smiles, pinching your hips hard enough to make you yelp. “Don’t get used to it.”

Walls fluttering around his cock, heart bursting from your chest at the implication. Knowing this won’t be the last makes it even better, driving you to move faster and faster.

Moans have to be heard on the first floor, both of your throats turning raw as you cry into the unfamiliar bedroom. Jisung has started to us his hips, tongue between his teeth as he fucks into you roughly.

Stars are starting to dance in your field of vision, an ache in your core spreading through your body. It tingles your toes, shakes your thighs. Body almost falling limp at the yet to come.

“T-tell me.” You say, gasping when Jisung hits the perfect spot.

His brows furrow, sitting up on his elbows. He’s close, too — the tremble of his lip is a dead give away. “What? Tell you what—“

“Who—“ your nails dig into his chest, eyes squinting shut as tears start to sting them. Everything. Everything is fuzzy, and he is solid ground. “Who you belong to—“

“Fuck. I’m all yours.” He groans, barely letting you finish your request before he responds. It’s so easy for him to say, giving into your every wish. “I’ve a-always been, baby.”

With his words, you crumble. The ache overbearing, making your body start to fall slack. Jisung is quick to pull you into his arms, chest to chest as the rhythm of his hips slow. Working you through your orgasm and bringing him to the apex of his.

He smells like sweat, cigarettes, and oaky cologne. His hands are soft as they rub soothing circles on your back, lips feather light against your shoulders. When your name leaves his lips it’s like a hymn; your praises filling the heavens and earth.

“Okay?” You ask Jisung breathlessly.

His laugh could outshine the sun. “More than.” Having grown used to his cold, teasing demeanor, it’s almost as if you’re with a different person completely. The soft, gentle side of him blooming for the first time. Only because you were there to help it flourish. “You?”

“‘kay.” You mumble, nuzzling into his neck. “Better than, actually.”

A hum in response, more kisses to you shoulder. The party carries on beneath your feet, buzzing with excitement. Not a care for the world around them, no attention paid to what’s happening beyond their little bubbles.

Like Jisung isn’t in a perfect state of peace, the heat of your body helping ground him to reality. You’re here. You’re his. What does he need to numb?

When you turn your head, you accidentally bump into him. Tip of your head hitting his swollen cheek, the pain making him groan. You apologize profusely, cupping his face and kissing the now bluish marks left by rings.

That. That could use some numbing.

[sirenologyyy]

MODERN ATWOW BAND HEADCANONS !

✹ summary : in which i'm slowly crawling back to my avatar hyperfixation and i decided to make a band au!except I'm right (or not take this with a grain of salt hehe) and I frl can't see them playing any other roles

✹ author's note : let this not flop in eywa we pray 🙏 and yes, Daisy Jones and the Six is my favorite book, how did you guess?

✹ warnings : mentions of bleeding, scabs, swearing obv

It all started one balmy afternoon when Lo'ak and Spider were blowing off their biochemistry homework lying down on the floor staring at the cieling fan undeviatingly oscillate above them. Then, Lo'ak suddenly sits up from his spot causing Spider to look at him.

"What's up?" Asked Spider.

Lo'ak looks at him, a newfound determination in his wide eyes. "Dude, what if we start a band."

Spider frowns. "A band?"

"No, but hear me out for a second." says Lo'ak bristling in his spot as Spider sits up.

Although wary, Spider hums. "Alright."

"Think about it, school's almost over, we barely know anybody in this town, are we seriously gunna hangout in the beach all summer trying to make friends?"

Spider chuckles. "I think I'm missing the point where that's a bad idea."

"Spider, come on bro- look at us, we're losers alright? We're practically throwaway fish to the kids at school- but if we start a band, who knows how many people'll wanna be a part of it, we'll score a couple of life long friends AND it'll be our one solid excuse not to be at home" Lo'ak's riposte was proving to make sense, with a toothy smile to cap it off, but of course Spider- considering he was two years Lo'ak's senior had to pop his bubble with the pragmatic pin of reality.

"I don't know dude, it sounds kinda lame." Spider replies hesitantly, propping himself up by his elbows. "We've been trying to start a band since 7th grade, we always end up calling it quits on the 3rd week."

"This time it'll be different."

Spider scoffs. "Uh-huh? How "

Lo'ak nudges his right shoulder upwards. "We'll ask Neteyam to help."

Spider shoots him yet another look. "If he doesn't want to help?"

"We make do," Lo'ak shrugs. "What's wrong with a two man band?"

"Almost everything." Spider snorts.

★ lo'ak ──────── electric guitar

when they used to live back in high camp, he found an old silvertone in their attic that used to belong to jake during his marine days along with scores of 70's rock bands' songs on yellowing paper fraying at the edges and folds.

He spent 3 months learning a song with 4 chords by ear and performed it at the school talent show

When he got into 6th grade he did not only beg, for an electric guitar he GROVELED. He suddenly wanted to do all the chores in the house, he suddenly got C's instead of D's in tests, it was terrifying because who the hell WAS this and what did they do to the real Lo'ak???

Jake and Neytiri didn't give him one until he was 13. Jake just picked him up from school one day and all of a sudden just asked: you wanna get that electric guitar?

LO'AK WAS OVER THE GODDAMN MOON.

got a classic red stratocaster.

The first song he ever learned to play on the guitar was buddy holly by weezer...

Come on you guys what were you expecting

likes picking at his finger scabs and does it until neteyam or tsireya tells him off.

has multiple guitar picks but always uses this specific one he made into a necklace and wears it everywhere.

THEN PROCEEDS TO LOSE SAID GUITAR PICKS

tuk keeps hiding them around the house waiting for lo'ak to lose his mind.

he can play any song by ear, just watch.

plays around with riffs more often than not.

★ neteyam ──────── back up vocalist / lyricist

never even wanted to join the band but was bullied into joining (kiri joined when he said he wouldn't just to spite him)

has perfect pitch (are we surprised though)

YOU'D SNEEZE AND BITCH ASS CAN FIGURE OUT WHAT NOTE IT'S AT.

uses it to nitpick Lo'ak when he's straying from the original pitch.

lo'ak will then threaten to cave his face in with his capo.

his favorite artists are frank ocean and kendrick lamar.

no one in his entire school woulda guessed he could sing. Nobody.

was made to sing in family events... (iykyk)

loves musicals. his favorite's Hamilton...

Jake and Neytiri took him to see Hamilton once in New York when he was 11, he's never been the same since.

HAS MAJOR FUCKING STAGE FRIGHT I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH. HE WILL NOT GO ON STAGE UNTIL YOU SMACK HIM IN THE HEAD SO HARD HIS BRAIN RESETS AND SUDDENLY HAS THE BALLS TO FACE THE AUDIENCE.

Once he's out there though he totally changes, he gets more confident, when he's really feeling it then his braids start flying everywhere... it's becoming an issue really, he might take someone's eye out with how solid his hair beads are...

hurled his guts out one time before they had to perform at the end of year school fair.

★ kiri ──────── pianist

there are always four types of gays. English Teacher Gays, Art Teacher Gays, History Teacher Gays, and Music Teacher Gays.

Kiri was definitely the last one.

lo'ak got her a shirt that says "key master" with her face horribly photoshopped onto the keys of a piano.

she burned it the night she got it.

til this day lo'ak never knew what happened to it.

Suki Waterhouse as Karen Sirko in the DJATS live action? Brain chemistry = altered

Stevie Nick's and Lindsey Buckingham's performance of Silver Spring in Fleetwood Mac's Reunion concern in 1997? = Roman Empire.

was in the school choir and would play the piano in their choir director's stead.

has been playing the piano for 9 years but always gets confused when asked to play a flat or a sharp (it takes her 4 tries to figure out where C minor is)

her favorite piece to play is over the waves by juventino rosas.

when she wants to show jake a new piece she's been working on, by the first minute he's out like a fucking light. SHE'S JUST THAT GOOD.

also when she wants to play a piece with too many chords she never wanted to play it in the first place.

once she messes up she's definitely one of those people who spams the keys.

one time when she was playing a piece her fingers cramped mid-song and she freaked out.

★ spider ──────── drums

his dad's military friends taught him how to play the drums.

lo'ak dared him he couldn't do a drumroll for an hour.

spider did it in two and a half but stopped cuz he got hungry LMAO.

impresses kiri with various drumstick spins, it dosen't impress her.

practically worshipped that one vine of those two kids.

was definitely one of those kids that played with overturned pots and pans and pretended it was a drum set (it annoyed the hell outta norm)

once lost his drum sticks and used chopsticks (ps. they weren't the same)

scribbled their band logo on his bass drum and was very proud of it.

INSISTED they would call themselves "the seven skxawngs"

nobody listened to him.

when they held auditions for their drummer he went "You guys know I can play the drums right?"

has never watched whiplash.

uploads drum covers on his tiktok account with 70 followers.

makes dumb jokes if the others can't figure out a certain chord or note he'd go "guys maybe it's at H!"

the most chillest person in the band though frl.

somehow always manages to pull??? The amount of game this man has solely just because he's the drummer is wild.

they once performed at an event with 50 people and Spider was wearing addidas slides the entire time and nobody noticed.

★ tsireya ──────── main vocals/lyricist

When I tell you this kid can SING SHE CAN SING.

frl the real life ariel I swear evrrytime she opens her mouth everyone's wishing on her downfall because she's such a talented singer, her vibratro is so measured, her runs are so clean, she's just so UGHHHH.

is such a theatre kid oh Lord.

was made to sing at family events too (it's practically a canon event atp guys.)

has a special journal where she writes her song lyrics that she takes with her everywhere (give her 5 minutes and she can write a song with just her hand as paper and eyeliner as a pen.)

joined in singing competitions when she was a kid and when she was 10 joined a televised singing competition and managed to make it to the semi-finals.

it's why she's the lead singer of the band anyway.

she always has pearls threaded into her hair every time they perform and it's been her signature look ever since.

her voice is fucking angelic ya'll istg.

is a soprano. enough said.

is amazing at reading sheet music.

she and neteyam wrote 3 original songs that the band performs everytime they get a gig.

aside from singing she can play piano and violin too.

she's a fucking wordsmith too like she's so eloquent and knows all these big words and she's good at expressing her pent up emotions through songwriting.

the literal it girl. Everyone in their band gained more popularity ever since they opened for a popular band from L.A. but everyone in their high-school knows her name. Everyone.

her vocal control is amazing.

she really knows how to liven up a crowd.

★ aonung ──────── rhythm guitar

has been playing guitar since he was 7.

took up guitaring because his dad introduced him and tsireya to playing instruments at a young age.

collects guitar straps.

neteyam's always on his ass about if what he's playing sounds right or not (50% of the time he's not)

it isn't practice without neteyam and aonung almost throwing hands at least thrice.

almost always smokes while practicing.

oddly enough only has one guitar pick and he hasn't lost it yet unlike lo'ak who buys new guitar picks every other month.

obsessed with black nailpolish, you won't see him go on stage without black nails istg.

he didn't even audition for the band. He was just always there at the Sully residence to pick Tsireya up from practice until one day Tsireya told him to come inside the house, when he did he finds out they needed someone for rhythm guitar and that Tsireya let it slip that Aonung knew how to play.

he's been a part of the band ever since.

he's just incredibly good with his fingers, enough said.

after the first time they performed their first gig at some girl's house party, he, rotxo, and lo'ak got high on the rooftop of Aonung's house (yk until Lo'ak slipped and started dangling from the gutters and fell into the pool)

his outfits always eat every time they perform.

james hetfield the goat.

always experimenting with new riffs and runs and adds them to the songs mid-performance and without any warning (just to piss neteyam off)

★ rotxo ──────── bass guitar

the glue and heart of the band frl.

the sweetest basist you'll ever meet.

his family actually owns a popular guitar shop in Awa'atlu, he first started playing the guitar at the ripe age of 5.

Bro is a prodigy but dosen't want to admit it.

aonung bought his first guitar at rotxo's family's shop, they hit it off ever since.

Always brings his baked goods to practices (then kiri devours the entire tray when you aren't looking)

actually fucked up his audition for the band but then Lo'ak found him sobbing in a janitors closet and gave him a second shot at an audition with just Lo'ak and Spider and he was able to redeem himself.

(really only auditioned cuz he played bass, they were finding a bassist, and not because kiri sully was their pianist)

is an introvert but he's so fucking funny that you wouldn't suspect it.

can perform riffs in his sleep (no he actually does though it freaks aonung out when he spends the night in his place.)

kiri made him a resin guitar pick with fragments of coral from the beach when they had their first date.

has a "maturing is realizing bass is the superior instrument" tshirt.

one time wore finger condoms so his scabs wouldn't re-open and bleed all over his guitar 😔

loves playing deftones on the bass.

has chronic "guitar face"

[jessmaybank]

My best friends brother series; Part 1 - Bubbles & Trouble

Series masterlist

Outer banks masterlist

Pairing(s): Rafe Cameron x fem! Kook reader.

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: After you had been left heartbroken by a fellow kook, you decide to let loose at the Cameron house per Sarahs request. Little did you know, your best friends brother may be the only one there to pick up the pieces.

Warnings: alcohol use, swearing, mentions of sex (smut in the next parts)

AN: In the words of Victoria Justice, my best friends brother is the one for me…

“Y/N please don’t cry! We both know he didn’t deserve you” Sarah protests through the phone, eager to help her best friend.

“I know, I know. But with her? Seriously? You have to be kidding” you cry, tears streaming down your rosy cheeks, painting your skin with your mascara.

After a year together, your now ex boyfriend Jake decided to cheat on you. Ironically, it was with the girl he always told you not to worry about. Turns out, when a man says “don’t be stupid, she means nothing to me. I love you Y/N” what they actually mean is “I’m ganna fuck this girl upstairs at a party whilst you and your friends are all downstairs looking for you”

Dick.

“Why don’t you come round tonight. My Brother is having some friends round for drinks in the hot tub and he said I can join, I’m sure he won’t mind if you come with” Sarah says.

You weigh out the pros and cons in your head, and decide that alcohol, your best friend and her brothers cute friends beats rotting away in your depression pit of a bedroom any day.

“Well, I do need a drink. I’ll be round later, love you Sarah” you say, a small smile creeping up on your face for what felt like the first time in days.

After a rocky patch In their relationship, Rafe and Sarah have actually been getting on relatively well recently. Although you don’t know much about Rafe considering you have been best friends with his sister since you were little, you did know he could be difficult at times. You always made conversation with him at his house or at parties to be polite, but nothing substantial ever came of it. His looks made up for his dry conversation, but you knew Sarah would kill you if you ever went near him.

A few hours passed and you pulled up to Tanny Hill in a blue bikini accompanied by some denim shorts. When you lazily knocked on the door, you were greeted with a topless Rafe. His defined muscles along with his tanned skin definitely made him a sight for sore eyes.

“Y/N hi, Sarah told me you were coming” he says, and you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker up and down your dainty figure somewhat subtly.

What takes prominence over that however, is the smile on his face which is half genuine and half full of pity. Great, Sarah has told him.

“Hey, yeah I hope that’s okay” you say.

He mutters a quick of course and ushers you into the kitchen. You agree almost immediately when he offers you a drink, which he takes notice of.

“She’s just getting changed upstairs. She’ll be down in a sec” Rafe says, when he observes you scanning the room for Sarah.

You smile and mutter a thank you as he puts a drink on the counter in front of you. As he’s about to leave to join his friends in the garden, you grab his arm.

He turns around with a confused but sincere look on his face, his blue orbs dazzling with intrigue.

“Uh look, I’m assuming Sarah told you about my breakup. I don’t want any pity okay, I just wanna get drunk and forget about it. So please, no more sympathy looks. I would actually prefer it if you were your moody self” you say.

Rafe chuckles, and you mirror his actions. His blue eyes burn into your own as he studies you. He’s always thought you were adorable as you always acted shy and innocent around him. Until now, however, he’s never realised how goddamn beautiful you were.

“Sure, I get it” he replies. Without thinking, Rafe brings his muscular arm up to your face, dragging your stray strands of hair from the front of your face behind your ear. The gesture was an attempt to comfort you without using words. Rafe was never very good at using his words, and he would much rather show someone how he felt than tell them.

Your body felt like it was set on fire as he touched you, the small action turning your brain into mush.

The two of you snapped back to reality as the sound of footsteps became louder and louder. Rafe cleared his throat as he pulled away from you, and you instantly grabbed your drink, the desire for alcohol increasing by the second as you looked everywhere but at him.

“Y/N!” Sarah shouts, pulling you in for a hug as she reaches you.

You return a hello as you embrace her petite frame. Your eyes accidentally catch Rafe’s as you hug Sarah. The smugness radiates off him as he sends you a wink, a smirk crawling on his tanned face before he walks out into the garden.

You realise his sympathy towards you was indeed short-lived as he’s back to his normal self. You mentally curse. Maybe pitiful looks we’re the better option after all.

The next hour or two consisted of you, Sarah, Topper, Kelce and Rafe crammed into their luxury hot tub. Everyone was pretty drunk by this point, which you blamed on Kelce for making everyone play drinking games. You even had to kiss Topper during a game of truth or dare which was extremely awkward for everyone involved.

Rafe had been sending you flirtatious looks all night, most of which you have returned with a glare. It’s like he’s trying to get you into trouble. The worst part about it though, was that it took a lot of self restraint not to play along and indulge in his suggestive actions.

“Okay, okay, last one I promise. Rafe truth or dare” Kelce says, before finishing the rest of his drink. You’ve lost count of how much you have drank tonight. It turns out drowning your sorrows is a pretty effective method for solving your problems.

“Dare” he says without hesitation, and you admire his braveness.

“I dare you… to kiss Y/N” he says with a smirk. Oh no.

“Gross!” Sarah yells, her body swaying to the music in the background. It was clear she was the drunkest out of all of us.

Your eyes widen as you realised what Kelce has just said, eyes practically popping out of your skull. Rafe swaps places with Topper to sit next to you, and as you turn you head to face him you notice his eyes turn dark with lust.

Before Rafe could make a move though, Sarah leans over the hot tub to throw up. You’ve never been happier to see someone throw up, and you mentally thank Sarah for never being able to handle her drink.

“I think that’s enough for you tonight” Topper laughs at the blonde chucking her guts up before him.

Sarah’s words are slurred as she tries to reply, and Kelce and topper carry her out of the tub and into the house, putting her into bed.

As the three leave, you can practically feel the tension rising between you and Rafe. You know you should just get out and call for a ride home, but part of you is burning to know what his full red lips would feel like against yours, or how good it would feel to have him inside of you.

You subside your dirty thoughts as you start to get out of the hot tub, but Rafe stops you by pulling you down onto his lap so your back is against his chest.

You don’t know wether to freeze up, or relax under his touch, a flutter of adrenaline pulsing through your veins as you sit on the lap of your best friends older brother.

“What are you doing” you breathe, the rise and fall of your chest an indication of your fast beating heart.

“I think you know what I’m doing” he whispers in a low and raspy tone in your ear. His hand runs up and down your thigh, and you can feel your arousal spilling out of you at his seductive words.

Rafe grabs your jaw and turns your face towards him. Once again his eyes are filled with lust and if you weren’t already sitting down, your knees probably would have buckled.

You don’t know weather it was the alcohol or weather you just wanted to do it, but you welcomed his kiss. The kiss was slow and his lips were soft, which was unexpected, but you loved it. His tongue teased your own as his hand ran down your neck and then into your hair. This kiss held more passion than anything you had experienced with your ex the whole year you were together.

When you felt Rafes fingers run over the place you wanted him the most, you snapped back into reality. He’s your best friends brother, what the hell are you doing.

“Fuck, we can’t do this” you say, pulling away from him.

Needing to get out of this situation, you spring up out of the hot tub, grab your towel and your belongings and rush inside, ignoring Rafes protests for you to stay. You texted Sarah that your leaving, saying that you’ll call her tomorrow and that you hope she’s alright.

Rafe sat there for a while, waiting for his erection to go away before he could find his friends. For some reason, although the had just been rejected, he just couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning with you and him.

In honour of buzzcut Rafe being all over my tik tok feed today, it’s only right I came back with another fic! Im hoping this series has about 5 parts. Enjoy bitches!

[callhermyname]

you're not going | eddie munson x reader, pt. 1

summary: basically the same plot of s4 ep.1; you see Eddie and Chrissy at the picnic table and get the wrong idea.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 5.2k

warnings: MDNI!!; reader is bisexual; tiny bit of fluff, but mostly angst; Robin being the ADHD poster girl she is; crying, mentions of blood, assault, child abuse; THIS IS A STRANGER THINGS S4 REWRITE, I DID NOT CAME UP WITH THE STORYLINE!! let me know if i missed something.

a/n: this is part 1 of my stranger things s4 rewrite, so if you want to read more, you can help me by liking and rebloging this post, following my blog and telling me if you like it! If you haven't read the prologue, you can read it here. also, excuse any grammar errors, english is not my first language.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You've all been through a lot. After Will went missing, a couple weeks after you met Eddie, your life has never been the same, and probably will never be. Your first year at Hawkins High was hard after all the shit that went down, and you were closer to the other teens and the kids now, but you really wished you could talk to Eddie about it. You felt like he would understand.

The year after that was a little better, all things considered. After Nancy dumped Steve and he and Dustin became… friends (i guess?), you and Steve got really close too, so no one dared to talk shit about you like they used to — they knew better than to upset the girl Steve Harrington treated as a sister. When Steve and Robin started working together, the three of you became peas in a pod (especially after Robin ended up learning about the upside down and El and all that). She was your best friend, someone you could talk to about anything, and she could talk to you about anything too. When she came out to you, you felt like you could also come out to her (as bissexual) and with that you, her and Steve became best totally platonic friends.

—

"Dustin, for fucks sake, Steve has been honking outside for 10 minutes, we're gonna be late, what the fuck are you doing in there?" you banged at your cousin's bedroom door.

"Don't come in! I'm naked!" he yells back.

"You know what? We're not doing this again, I'm not losing my ride because of you, you can bike to school." you grabbed your backpack and headed out the door.

Swearing at Dustin under your breath, you make your way to the backseat of Steve's car.

"What took you so long?" Steve looked back at you "Wait, where's the little butthead?"

"He's probably talking to his girlfriend, I don't care. If he's gonna be late, he can be late. I'm not losing my ride."

"Looks like someone's in a mood today huh?" Robin teased you as Steve started the car.

"Nah, the little shit might get on my nerves but you two always end up cheering me up. Unless Steve starts talking about whatever girl he's taking out this weekend, then I'd rather just eat a handful of broken glass."

"Oh my god, that's EXACTLY what he's been doing since I got in the goddamn car!" Robin turns back to look at you, holding her hands up to her ears "If i have to listen to him talk about having sex with Linda for one more second i swear to god-"

"Heidi! I was talking about Heidi! How can you complain about me talking about something you're not even listening to?"

You just can't help but laugh at them arguing like an old married couple. You love them so much it almost hurts.

"At least I'm actually doing something with my dating life, unlike the both of you." he said in a sarcastic tone.

For the next five minutes he and Robin went back and forth about how she can't just ask Vicky out and how she definitely should ask Vicky out because of the whole "people who like boobies" thing. You space out for a second and snap your head as you hear Eddie's name.

"What about Eddie?" you ask, trying to get back to the conversation.

"See?" Robin snaps "One second she's totally inside her own little head and as soon as someone mentions him she starts paying attention. How does that not qualify as having the most heart-wrecking massive crush on someone?"

"Shut up!" you bite back, trying to defend yourself, but obviously failing, because she was right.

"Ladies, ladies! Calm down, there's no reason to get feisty. You're BOTH chickening out, not asking Vicky and Eddie out. Though I actually see where Robin"s coming from."

"Steve, c'mon-" you try yet again to tell him you're not chickening out, but he doesn't want to hear it again.

"No! Look, you listen to me, how on earth do you manage to take down three military trained Russians and still be afraid to ask him out?"

"It's not that simple!" you frown, now starting to feel like a little girl pouting over your parents giving you a lecture.

"Yeah, sure," Robin snorts "you only hang out alone with him pretty much every day to help him study so he can finally graduate"

"You know what?" you snap at them "I don't have to justify my non-existent love life to either one of you. I'm just gonna keep pretending I don't have feelings for him. Who knows, maybe he'll ask me out? That's a possibility!"

"Okay, okay. We'll drop it." Steve says, lifting his hands from the wheel for a second, in surrender.

"We just care about you, babe" Robin follows his lead "You know that, right?"

"I do."

— 

You and Robin sit at your regular cafeteria table, a couple tables away from the designated Hellfire Club table, where Eddie is yelling at Dustin and Mike about something, making it a little hard to listen to what Robin is talking to you about.

"Seriously, I'm really worried about Max. I mean, we all know she's been depressed since Billy… y'know. But she was way off today at the pep rally, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I guess" Max was to you what Dustin was to Steve, something between a friend and the little sister you never had. "I've been begging her to talk to me, to tell me if there's something I can do, but she just won't-"

You lose your train of thought when you see Eddie climb up the table, walk across it, jump off it and yell nonsense around the cafeteria.

"God, he's really worked up today, huh?" Robin says, turning her head back to look at Eddie's little scene.

"I wonder what Dustin and Mike were talking to him about. He threw at least five mini pretzels at each one of them while he was yapping about something." you chuckle and roll your eyes when he catches you looking at his performance and gives you a smile and a quick wink. "He's kinda funny when he gets mad at them."

"Funny. Right." Robin turns her head back to look at you. "You obviously think he's just funny, not cute or anything else."

"Dude, you said you'd drop it!"

"I'm sorry!" she giggles "It's just hilarious when your cheeks turn all red just because he smiled at you. You look so silly!"

You watch as Eddie pulls Dustin and Mike by the collar of their Hellfire shirts and pushes them away from the table, both of them running off the cafeteria like they're in a rush. Eddie turns around and walks towards you.

"Okay, now shut the fuck up. He's coming our way."

Eddie heads towards you with slow dramatic steps, leaning over and resting his elbows on the end of the table, an evil grin on his face. 

"Hey ladies. Whatcha talkin 'bout?"

"Nothing much," you turn to face him, now with a playful little smirk of your own. "just watching you make a fool of yourself yet again. Quite the show you got going on there."

He gasps, spreading his palm over his chest, like he's offended by you calling him a fool.

"A fool? How dare you. And yes, thank you for recognizing my performing talents. It is one of my many gifts, as you know."

"Sure do", you remember the days long D&D sessions you attended when you used to be a part of the Hellfire Club. His theatrics flooding the room as he masters his most diabolical campaigns, standing up on his wooden carved throne and emphatically yelling the lines he'd written and planned for weeks, his voice echoing the drama club room, his eyes round and wide sparkling at the dim light as he smiles with pride over one of the only things he actually felt like he was good at.

"We miss you at the club, y'know?" his voice snaps you out of your trance. He sounds almost sad.

"Yeah, I miss you guys too. But you know, I really needed the job at Family Video." Now you sound sad too. "It's a shame my shifts are not scheduled as Robin and Steve's. Can't even make plans without risking the odds of a last minute shift."

"Study sesh still up today after class right?" he quirks a brow.

"Sure!" you try not to sound too excited, but judging by the look Robin gives you, it seems like you failed.

"Great! It's a date then." he flashes you a big smile, giving you a quick kiss at the top of your head. "Thanks sweetheart, you're the best. See ya later!"

With that, he turns around to get back to the Hellfire table. Robin looks at you with something that looks a lot like pity in her eyes. "Ouch. That 's gotta hurt."

"A little." you shrug. "But it's okay, I guess. Better than not having him around."

"Oh, for the love of GOD, just ask him out already!" she says, a little too loud.

"Sure. When you ask Vicky."

"Hm. Touché, I guess."

—

You were walking out the door, headed to your and Eddie's usual study session spot at the picnic table in the woods, when Dustin and Mike approached you.

"What are you doing tonight?" Dustin asked.

"Uh… I don't know, maybe watching the game? Robin is playing with the band and Steve is taking his date, so I'll probably just tag along with them after we get off work. Why?"

"We need a sub for Lucas at the end of Eddie's campaign tonight." Mike explained. "Can you come?"

"Pleeeeeease?" Dustin begged, before you could even think about the question. "I'll clean your room for the whole spring break!"

"Dustin, you don't even clean your room. My room is always tidy, there's no way you can make it cleaner than it already is."

"I'll do the dishes everytime my mom asks you to do it! I'll clean the cat's litter box! You name it, I'll do it. Just… please?"

You couldn't help but laugh. Dustin was offering to do all those things for you, when you'd actually join them for free. Getting to hang out with Eddie was already enough to get you to agree to fill in for Lucas, but the extra bribe from your cousin sure was welcome. 

"Okay, fine. But hey, no telling your mom about our deal okay? You know she does not like it when you take care of any of the cat related chores. She knows the cat's terrified of you."

"Deal!" he jumped up and down like an excited little kid. "Thank you thank you thank youuuu!", his voice slowly faded away while he ran to wherever else he was going to now, Mike following shortly after him.

You made your way through the woods, even though you knew you were a little early. You always liked to be at the picnic table a little before Eddie, to set up your textbooks and make a checklist of all the topics you'd be helping him with that day. You wouldn't consider yourself very smart, but you always got good grades at history and literature, so Eddie asked you if you could help him study. He really wanted to graduate this year, and part of you hoped it was because he would get to graduate with you. He always talked about how school would suck even more if you weren't there anymore, so you decided to take a little of your time out of school and work to help him — not only for his sake, but also because it is the only time you get to be alone with him, close to him. God, you feel pathetic.

As you get closer to the spot, you hear his laugh. At first you're confused, because he never gets there before you and as far as you knew, he had no idea you'd always be there at least 15 minutes before him. Also, why was he laughing by himself in the middle of the woods? He usually only gets high after you're done studying, so you assume he's not high, which makes it even weirder. Before you could get close enough to ask him what was so funny that got him laughing like an idiot by himself in the middle of the woods, you hear another laugh. A girls laugh.

Silently, you walk slowly towards the picnic table, trying not to be seen. When you get close enough to see them without them seeing you, you recognise who he's laughing with. It's Chrissy Cunningham. You feel your heart drop as you watch him trying to make her laugh, the same way he always makes you laugh. What the hell is happening here? You can't quite understand what they're saying without coming a little closer to them, but you don't wanna risk getting caught, so you just watch as Eddie jumps and claps his hands and Chrissy laughs at his dramatic reaction at whatever it was she'd said to him.

You know you shouldn't feel this jealous, he wasn't your boyfriend or anything like that — hell, you couldn't even gather the courage to tell him how you feel —, and you knew Chrissy, she was a very sweet girl. She was always nice to you, even when the other cheerleaders would call you names and stick bubblegum to your hair, she was always the one to tell them to shut up and teach you a few beauty hacks in the bathroom to get the gum out of your hair without having to cut it off. But maybe that was exactly the point. She was so pretty, and so nice, you wouldn't stand a chance against her.

As Eddie turned around and playfully punched the tree behind him, you caught a glimpse of a small gathering of tiny wildflowers resting by Chrissy's side, at the bench she was sitting on — wildflowers like the ones that grow near his trailer. Did he get her flowers? Did he HANDPICK flowers? For her? —, and you feel a knot forming on your throat. He pulled at the neck of his shirt, exposing his chest tattoo and you felt your eyes filling up with tears. What was that about? Was he flirting with her?

Even though you knew it was not a good idea, you took a few steps closer, quietly, so you could hear the conversation.

"You should come see us!" you hear him say. "We play at the Hideout on Tuesdays, it's pretty cool. We actually get a crowd of about… five drunks."

You feel the hot tears start to roll down your face. You always try to go see him play at the Hideout whenever you can. You've been there the past three weeks watching them play. Why is he talking about it like no one watching them is actually important? Like you're not important?

"You know, you're not how I thought you'd be like." Chrissy laughs.

"Mean and scary?" he replies.

That was enough for you. It's not like he was doing anything wrong, but it felt like someone had punched you at your stomach. It hurts to see him treating some other girl the same way he treated you, the way you thought he treated you because he liked you, because he might like you back. You tried to not make much noise as you turned around and followed back the path you came from. There was no way you could sit and study with him like you were not heartbroken.

—

"Chrissy Cunningham?" Steve asked, still not quite believing what you'd just told them. "As in Jason Carver's little princess of Hawkins High cheerleader girlfriend Chrissy Cunningham?"

"Yes." you assured.

"Are you sure it was her?" Robin asked, also in disbelief.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Heard her voice, saw her face. It was definitely her."

"Shit, that sucks, I'm sorry." Robin tries to comfort you, reaching a hand to tap your shoulder.

"What the hell was she doing with him anyways?" Steve questions. "Doesn't she have a boyfriend?"

"Maybe she was buying some weed?" 

"Robin, c'mon." you chuckle, sadly. "Chrissy Cunningham? Buying weed? Be fucking serious."

"Yeah Robin, I hate to say it but it makes absolutely no sense." Steve agrees.

The three of you stay silent for a little too long and you feel your friends' eyes on you, looking at you with pity, and you hate it. Finally, after a few more seconds (that actually felt like hours), the silence is broken when the phone at the Video Family counter starts to ring. Robin walks away to pick up the phone and you feel Steve's arms wrapped around you.

"Look, I'm sorry about what I said earlier today in the car," he says. "I know I was a little too pushy and I know you're not chickening out. I know you're just afraid to get rejected, and us teasing you about it was not okay. I'm sorry about what happened too, with Chrissy and all. For what it's worth I still think there's probably a good explanation for it. I bet it'll be okay."

You hold back your sobs as you lean into your best friend's shoulder, trying not to stain his clothes with your tears. Even though you're still hurting, a good old bear hug from Steve always makes you feel better, like he squeezes together all of your broken pieces back into place.

"Hey, listen…" you feel Robin tap on your shoulder and you raise your head from Steve's chest. "Eddie's on the phone. He wants to talk to you."

Shit. 

"Tell him I'm not here!"

"Yeah I kinda already told him you were here, that's not gonna work."

"Shit. Fine."

You walk over to the phone and pick it up, both Robin and Steve following you to the front counter.

"Hello?"

"Hey, thank god I found you!" he sighs, relieved. "What the hell happened? I waited for you for like, half an hour and you didn't show up so I got worried because you're never late so I went looking for you but I couldn't find you anywhere," he rambles, like he does when he's nervous "so I- I went home and called your place but your aunt said you weren't there and I didn't know where else to call so I figured you were at work? Oh thank god you're there I was about to call the cops!"

"Yeah sorry about that, I was uh…" you look over at Robin and Steve, trying to come up with an excuse about why you didn't meet him like you'd planned earlier. "I- Robin! Robin had uh… band practice for the uh- tonight's the championship game so she asked me to fill in for her, sorry I forgot to tell you I was not gonna make it."

"But… wasn't that Robin who just picked up the phone?" he sounds confused. You look back and see Robin facepalming her forehead and Steve rubbing the bridge of his nose between his index and his thumb, shaking his head. Shit. You suck at lying. 

"Yes- yeah. She uh, she was at band practice but now she's here, she actually just got here. Yeah."

"Oh okay…" 

"Yeah, listen Eddie I gotta go now, talk to you later, bye!" you slam the phone back at the receiver, hanging up.

"Well, that went… well…?" Steve forces a smile.

"Sure!" Robin holds both of her thumbs up, also trying to look like she didn't think you just dealt with the situation in the worst way possible.

"Yeah sure. I'm gonna go home so I can cry in the bathroom now, I guess. Peace out." you said as you walked out the door. 

When you got home, you remembered you'd agreed to fill in as a sub for Lucas at Hellfire. Of course you did. Because you're just a stupid dumb piece of shit who couldn't pass any opportunity to follow Eddie around like a little puppy. So, you go looking for Dustin around the house to tell him you wouldn't make it to Hellfire, only to find out he's not home. You figured he's probably at Mike's, so you call the Wheelers'. 

"Hello?" Nancy picks up the phone after two rings.

"Nancy! Hey, is Dustin there? He's not home, I figured he'd be at your place with Mike?"

"Oh, hey! Yeah, they're upstairs, I'll go get him for you."

"Thanks Nance, I-" you got cut off by her screaming on the other end of the line.

"MIKE! PHONE FOR DUSTIN!" you hear her call. "So, you going to the game tonight? It's been a while since the last time we went out, we should do something after the game, I miss you!"

"Yeah, I miss you too!" you tell her. And you mean it. It's really been a while since the last time you two did something together. "I'm actually going to spend the night at Robin's tho. We can go to the movies tomorrow, maybe?"

"Sure! I can pick you up at 5, what do you think?"

"Sounds great, I'll see you then!"

"Great! Oh, here 's Dustin. See you at the game tonight!"

"See ya!"

"Hey, what do you mean you'll be at the game? Thought you were gonna come with us to Hellfire tonight" the other line now shifts to Dustin's voice.

"Yeah, about that, I'm not going anymore. Sorry."

"What? Why?"

"Something came up. Maybe you could ask Erica?"

"Erica? You know Eddie 's gonna lose his shit if I take her as a sub for Lucas."

"Yeah, I know, but it's her or nothing. Sorry, Dusty. I'll make it up to you okay? I promise."

"Fine. But you owe me one!"

"Big time, I know. Gotta go now, take care okay? See you after the game."

"Yeah, see ya." 

You felt bad about letting Dustin down. You really did. But you also knew you wouldn't last that much at Hellfire without crying, and that would be even worse.

After an hour or so of crying your eyes out, you decided to do your makeup. Even though you were feeling like absolute shit, you knew you couldn't look like absolute shit, and you usually get a boost of self esteem after getting your makeup done, and god knows you could use that right now. So, after spending half an hour doing your eyeliner on each eye, you changed into your jeans and your favorite little tank top, put on your old school black Vans, grabbed some random jacket that was hanging at the back of your chair and left to watch the game.

"Aunt Claudia?" you yelled from the front door, almost forgetting to tell her you were leaving.

"Yes honey?" she yelled back from her bedroom.

"I'm leaving to watch the championship game, probably will spend the night at Robin's, okay? You don't have to wait up for me." 

"Okay honey, have fun and be safe okay?" 

"Will do, see you tomorrow!" 

At the game, you sat right next to the band, Robin was right by your side and Steve was with his date a couple of rows back. You didn't really care for the game, you just needed to… not be alone. You and Robin had plans to go to her place after the game and watch The Rocky Horror Picture Show for the tenth time in the last few months so you could get Eddie out of your head. Before the game started, you watched as Chrissy and the other cheerleaders danced and jumped around the gym and couldn't help it when your eyes flooded up with tears again. As you tried to get yourself together, you felt Robin's hand on your shoulder.

"You okay?"

"Yeah just… fuck, I can't even hate her, she's the sweetest girl on the cheer squad."

Before Robin could say anything, everyone was standing up for the national anthem. And then you saw Tammy Thompson walking towards the mic to SING the national anthem. You held back laughter as you looked at Robin and then turned around to look at Steve, both of their jaws dropped.

"No way." Robin muttered, as she took turns looking at you, Tammy and Steve, not knowing exactly where to look at. As Tammy started to sing, you felt your eyes flood again, but this time, it was not because of Eddie or the thought of him with Chrissy, but because you were trying so hard not to laugh. She sounded exactly like a muppet.

"Oh my god I want to rip my ears out" you manage to let out without bursting into laughter.

"I told you. Muppet." you could see Steve mouthing over to Robin.

"Okay, she does sound like a muppet." Robin admits.

"Oh my god she does kinda sound like a muppet" you hear Vicky say in a low voice.

You watch as Robin and Vicky laugh at each other's jokes, until Robin lets her ADHD get the best out of her and starts talking faster than her brain's working. Even though she talks too fast sometimes, you think it's cute how she gets nervous around Vicky. They would make such a cute couple. 

After the game, you approach Lucas, giving him a tight hug. 

"That was absolutely crazy, Lucas! You just took the ball and threw it like it was nothing and then we were like 'oh god is he gonna score?' and then you DID i swear i don't think I'll ever understand how you did that so quickly, like you just-" Robin rambled, as she held her hands up, like she was tossing a basketball through the hoop. 

"That was insane, man. Really, you're a natural." Steve said like the proud mama he is to the kids. 

"Thanks guys. I-" Lucas started, but you heard someone call out to him.

"Hey Sinclair, you coming?"

"Yeah, I'll be right there!" he yelled back. "Look guys, I gotta go. But thank you so much for coming. It meant a lot to me."

The three of you smiled as he left to follow after whoever it was that called him. After a second, Robin turned to Steve.

"Hey, where's Heidi?"

"That's Brenda, Robin."

"Yeah, sure, sorry. Where's Brenda?"

"She uh…" he looked back at the crowd leaving the gym, like he was looking for someone. "She ditched me, okay? She left to talk to Tammy Thompson and then came back to tell me she was going to Tammy's to catch up or something like that."

"Ouch, ditched for Tammy Thompson?" Robin said, following Steve as he started to walk back to his car.

"Again?" you look over at Robin, the both of you laughing — not in a mean way, but playful, like the three of you always were.

"Ha ha, very funny." Steve bites back, sarcastic. "Any more jokes and the two of you are walking home."

As you walk over to Steve's car, you watch as Eddie and the rest of the Hellfire Club emerge from the drama club room, victorious. He waves at you, but you pretend you don't see it, turning over to Dustin, who's walking up to you.

"Hey, can I join you guys? Eddie said he's gotta go straight to his place tonight, so he can't drive me home."

"Steve's dropping us at Robin's, I'm spending the night out. But maybe Nancy can take you home?" 

"Oh, okay. Sure, I'll talk to Mike. See you tomorrow?"

"See you tomorrow. Night, Dusty!" you give him a hug and kiss the top of his head, watching as he runs off to catch up to Mike.

You turn around to Robin and Steve, puzzled look on your face. Eddie always takes Dustin home after Hellfire, why couldn't he take him home tonight?

You get in Steve's car and you exit the school's parking lot. You see Eddie's van a little ahead out the parking lot, where he always parks when he's doing a deal or up to something shady. As Steve drives past the van, you see Eddie holding the door open for Chrissy to hop in.

"What the fuck?" you say, maybe a little louder than you intended.

Steve and Robin turn to look at the direction your eyes were headed, also looking at Eddie as he closes the passenger door and Chrissy turns to reach for the seatbelt (and you think to yourself she probably won't find the seatbelt, because Eddie's van has no seatbelts).

"Oh shit." Robin mutters as she turns her head back to look at the van, now behind Steve's moving car.

"Hey uh…" Steve tries to get your attention. "don't- try not to think too much about it, it's probab-"

"I wanna go home." you cut him off.

"You sure?" Robin asks. "I already have the Rocky Horror VHS with me, we can watch Blade Runner too, I forgot to take it back to the store last week and I know you love it so maybe-"

"Please just-" you cut her off too. "I wanna go home. Please, take me home." you can feel your voice trembling and tears already running down your cheeks.

"Okay, it's okay." Steve talks in a soft voice, trying to calm you down. "We'll take you home."

The ride to your house is awkwardly silent, but you don't really care enough to be bothered by it. Your head hurts and your heart sinks to your stomach at the thought of Eddie taking Chrissy home. Not only because of your feelings for him (though, mostly because of it), but also because Chrissy is Jason's girlfriend. You know what Jason would do to Eddie if he finds out about this. It wouldn't be the first time Eddie gets beaten up by Jason and the rest of his party, and even though Eddie always came back laughing about his black eye, spitting blood and limping, you knew he'd spend the next few nights sleeping at the back of his van, so Wayne doesn't see him covered in bruises — so Wayne doesn't see him looking the same way he looked when his father dropped him off at the trailer and never came back to pick him up. You know he can take care of himself, you know he's strong enough to throw a punch or two, but  you couldn't stand the thought of him spending his days alone at the back of his van, not being able to see anyone because school was off. The whole situation made your heart ache.

As Steve pulls over in front of your house, you feel two pairs of eyes on you.

"You sure you'll be okay?" Robin asks, concerned.

"I'll be fine. I just need a little time, that's all. Thank you guys, for taking care of me. Sorry about the buzzkill. Get home safe, okay? I love you." you opened the door and climbed out of the car.

"We love you too. Call us if you need anything, yeah?" Steve says leaning over the car window.

"I will, I promise."

You open the door, hoping aunt Claudia was already asleep and that Dustin wasn't home yet. You tiptoe your way to your room and close the door, throwing yourself at the bed, not even bothering changing into your pajamas. Stuffing your face in your pillow, you cry yourself to sleep, hoping it was all a bad dream, but knowing it wasn't.

[katyawriteswhump]

hotter than hell

For @steddieangstyaugust day 9 prompt, Upside Down; @steddiemicrofic august prompt, plug, 437 words, and also inspired by @astrangersummer week 15 prompt Royalty AU (it didn’t end up as quite that, but the prompt def. inspired this…)

Word: 437 Rating: M CW: dubious consent Tags: post season 4, Eddie lives… sort of, angst, sex, breath play, tentacles (nothing too explicit in this word count, sorry?!?), monster eddie. 

Summary: Steve sacrifices himself to protect the kids from the new ruler of the Upside Down…

...

Screeching demobats wrenched Steve awake. The King of the Upside Down jumped his bones, and grinded him into the ashy ground. “Ready to have your world rocked?”

“Always,” mumbled Steve. “Tho’ isn’t it your world, Munson?”

“Sure is, Babe.” Eddie lightly bit Steve’s earlobe. Steve hissed, squirmed. “And you’re the heart of it.”

…

One month earlier

It didn’t feel like victory. They’d lost Eddie, possibly Max. But they’d vanquished Vecna. Why, despite Eleven’s efforts, was the Upside Down still leaking evil?

They journeyed back. Somehow, Eddie had risen as the new overlord—bat-shit crazy, more powerful than Vecna, and commanding demo-beasties with a flap of a bejewelled hand.

To Steve, he was the scariest monster yet. And HOT, DAMN.

They fled under scarlet skies—awash with wailing guitars and endlessly unspooling cassette-tapes—and through Eddie’s shattered trailer. Naturally, Steve climbed toward safety last. Eddie’s talons—he’d gotten claws to match the batwings—yanked him back.

“How about it?” Eddie lifted Steve clean off the floor in a chokehold. “Be my vanilla cupcake, Harrington, and I won’t munch their throats out.”

“S-seriously?”

“Stay,” commanded Eddie. “Stay… willingly. I saw you stripping my scales from me with your eyes. You wanted this bat-lord naked.”

True.

Plus, I glanced into YOUR scary-ass eyes and saw a shadow of the Eddie Munson who stripped my soul bare.

Steve was kicking wildly, blacking out. Eddie finally released him.

“J-jesus,” spluttered Steve. “The shit I do for those k-kids.”

The gate magically plugged up, silencing Dustin’s cries.

…

When Eddie made love, Steve got fucked by the whole Upside Down.

While Eddie used Steve’s mouth, a fat tendril plugged his ass. Those moistly undulating vines also squeezed around his neck, while roughly frisking his dick. Goddamn… Gnnng!

“Go!” commanded Eddie, and Steve was abruptly freed of the vines. Eddie lifted Steve in his claws and took flight, ramming himself home, screeching adoringly. Steve’s orgasm blew his mind, before Eddie’s lips, still butter-soft, kissed each broken part of him better. 

Okay, life could be worse.

After dozing, Steve stirred in Eddie’s lap. Eddie’s eyes were suspicious slits. “You okay, Princess?”

“Peachy.” Steve blinked. Shit. Did he call out for his friends in his sleep again?

“You… uh, want me to unplug the gates, Stevie?”

God, I miss them all so much.

Steve lifted his lolling head, seeking out that hint of soul in Eddie’s otherwise cold dead eyes. Still there. Not enough to let this monster back into the world. “I miss pizza.” He kept his voice light, un-wibbly. “Otherwise… Only need you, my King.”

Eddie grinned, pink lightning cracked, and his possessive kiss totally fried Steve’s brains.

...

Thanks for reading!

All my ST stuff on AO3

[starry-bi-sky]

ive been hesitating to ask this bc youve been on a roll with the clone^2au (which i am frothing over) but could i poke you for some childhood friend au? bc GOD i wanna see how danny reacts to reuniting w jason or how the rest of the batfam react to learning jason never told danny of his resurrection or wondering if dannys gonna put jokers dead body on a display/offering to jasons grave. i havent been normal about this since i first read it and was wondering. thank you for your writing.

RAAAAHHHH DON'T BE HESITANT I AM JUST AS FERAL OVER MY CHILDHOOD FRIENDS AU AS I AM WITH CLONE^2 I AM DELIGHTED BY THIS. Like.,,,, i literally love them,,, so much. I can't listen to The Crane Wives without thinking of them.

(which is my fault - the ao3 fic of them has literally only crane wives lyrics for each chapter title and summary (posted AND the ones not written) so of course im gonna associate with them.)

(if you wanna listen to some of their songs while thinking of cfau here are my recommendations: "Once & for All", "Here I Am", "Hollow Moon" is a Danny AND Jason song to me, this would be my go-to song for an animatic of CFAU if i had the skills for it. "Tongues and Teeth", "Curses" and "take me to war" is a heavy cfau danny song to me, and of course, "the moon will sing")

Like they're BEST friends dude, they're two sides of the same coin and when they were kids they would do this thing where their 'fingers crossed'/'double-crossed' was them hooking their index fingers in the fingers crossed gesture.

and i'm actually currently rewriting my original post into a more fic-like format, and when I'm done I'll post it on here under the cfau tag - with the original post still in tact. But its,,, gonna be so long dude,,,, the original behemoth was just over 9000 words,,, and I've written 3k words already of the new one and we haven't even reached Jason and Danny reuniting at the gala yet,,, i need to get back to that,,,

and then to answer your questions!! god im almost hesitant to answer because i dont wanna spoil the little fic i had planned for it but also like,, its not like im gonna spoil everything, right? and answering the questions isnt the same as writing the scene down so!!

i love danny and jason's reuniting, like i've thought about it SO much and I've thought about it happening after Danny kills the Joker. I know the reveal could have been before that, and it could have been equally just as dramatic but like??? Thematically, doing it after danny kills the joker is SO good. To me at least.

Because like?? Jason's been in somewhat denial about danny's plan to kill the joker for months. ever since danny told him that he wanted to at the gala. And from Jason's pov its not even technically a plan. He sees his best friend for the first time after five years and his best friend still isn't over his death. He hasn't stepped foot in Gotham since his funeral and now suddenly he's here.

And he's still so full of grief over his death that he tells a masked vigilante that he's going to kill the guy that did it, who lives in said masked vigilante's city. And danny's got that look in his eyes that Jason knows so well that means he's being serious. And yet he still doesn't know if he should believe him or not.

And then he does. Danny kills him. And Jason can't fucking believe it. And when he goes and sees Danny, Danny's hands are still covered in blood. And that reunion? God like a fucking firework show. Danny's so fucking angry, and pissed, and hurt, and so goddamn overjoyed that he's alive and here that he sends them both to the ground, and if he doesn't calm down he's gonna take out the power in a five block radius.

there's just so, so much yelling on Danny's end. And then so much crying, first from Danny and then them both. because god, you're alive. you're here. i've missed you so much. i'm never letting you out of my sights again.

and Joker's death! God I don't want to actually say too much about that, but the way I have it set up thematically makes me actually not want danny to take any part of the joker with him as an offering. and he may actually forego that particular ghost etiquette and offer something else as an offering to Jason in substitute to not bringing him the Joker's heart/head/ritualistic body part.

Because you know what the last thing a man whose been spending the last two decades of his life building himself up to be larger than life would want? A death that's unremarkable. :) and that's all i'll put on the matter for now.

and the batfam!! they technically already know that jason hasn't told danny he was resurrected, and plenty of them have mixed feelings on them. largely bruce and dick i think, considering they saw firsthand how close jason and danny were when they were kids.

Dick was honestly surprised at first when he found out that Jason hadn't told Danny he was alive - and on one hand he understands the reasoning for it, and on the other hand he isn't sure if it was such a good idea. Especially after he sees Danny again after he arrives back in Gotham and sees just how badly Jason's death was still affecting him. But it's not like he's going to try and convince Jason to tell him - he can make his own choices, even if Dick has questions about them.

Bruce has much the same thoughts as Dick, so there's not really much to add here other than he might bring it up once or twice to Jason like, vaguely. And then immediately drops it when Jason shuts him down. He might actually somewhat...?? prefer that Jason hasn't told Danny because that raises a lot of questions and could jeopardize their identities. However, again, Jason can make his own choices and there's not much Bruce can do about it other than disapprove from afar.

Tim who knew of Danny from stalking the Wayne family shares similars sentiments of being surprised that Jason didn't tell Danny, but again, yeah, understands the thought process to some extent. Doesn't bring it up ever.

Everyone else who hadn't seen firsthand how close Danny and Jason are don't really have much opinion on it -- Jason didn't tell his best friend he was alive, great, he also didn't tell them either so it's not like its that much of a surprise. It would've been more of a surprise to them if Jason had told Danny before he told Bruce and co. Damian may make a comment or two about Jason not telling Danny, but its not about how he can't believe he didn't tell him or anything like it.

[torialefay]

☀️ Everyday Idol 🌙 (Chapter 9)

✨ possible bangchan x reader (f), possible jungkook x reader (f)

✨ head on over to my masterlist if you haven’t checked out the previous chapters!

✨wc: ~8k

✨ friends to lovers? possible love triangle? obsession? angst and future smut??? a little fluff.

✨ summary: JYP Entertainment launches a new show and y/n somehow gets recruited. Even though she doesn’t particularly care about the outcome of the show, she does particularly care about one of the artists she met: Chris from Stray Kids. Does Chris feel the same or will a potential relationship with one of his friends overcome what y/n feels for him?

✨ warnings: cursing from time to time, smut!!!! 🔞

—————————————————————————————

Previous Chapter Recap:

Once Chan had reached the hotel, he gently stirred you awake and helped you get inside the lobby. He told you to text him once you got inside of your room so that he knew you made it. All you can remember was giving him a big, warm hug, before saying your goodbyes as you went upstairs to drift off to sleep.

When Chan arrived home, he went straight to get in his bed, knowing that he’d now be able to fall asleep. He quickly checked his phone to make sure he didn’t have any new notifications. He re-read your message saying that you were okay as he smiled. He quickly checked his bubble to ready through some messages from STAY before sending a “Good Night <3”. He checked his Instagram really quickly to make sure he hadn’t missed any messages.

What a fucking mistake.

There on his screen, the very first post, was an update from Dispatch. The title of the post read “Jungkook seen hugging mystery girl in front of JYPE building.” He zoomed in the tiniest bit to see any details of the girl that it might be. There was no mistaking that it was you. In the snap of a finger, Chan’s heart shattered into a million pieces. He knew he shouldn’t care. He knew it would be better this way. But he just couldn’t understand what had happened to cause you two making up.

He just couldn’t believe it. And so, he cried.

—————————————————————————————

Note: Character relations you can refer back to if needed.

Y/n- Changbin’s mentee

Anna- best friend, Felix’s mentee

Kara- Seungmin’s mentee

Sunnie- Han’s mentee

Mindi- Hyunjin’s mentee

Nisha- Lee Know’s mentee

Alyssa- Jeongin’s mentee

Jenna- Chan’s mentee

—————————————————————————————

Y/N’s POV:

Your eyes slowly forced themselves open as you heard the violent beeping of Anna’s alarm she’d set on her phone the night prior.

‘Goddamn it, turn that shit down,’ you thought.

As much as you loved her, that girl wouldn’t wake up for shit. Even if her phone was blaring right next to her head.

You groaned as you tried to collect your bearings enough to sit upright and plant your feet on the ground, rubbing your eyes with your hands before standing to let the blood rush down into your legs again. You made the slow trek over to Anna’s bed so you could silence the ear-splitting noise on her nightstand. After hitting the “Off” button, you reached down for her shoulder and shook, jostling the top of her body slightly. You stood and repeated the move until you were sure you saw both of her eyes blink awake and her mouth open just enough to let out a yawn.

At the end of her deep breath, she rolled over to face you. “Good morning sunshine,” she smiled jokingly. The coarseness in her voice hinted that she’d DEFINITELY gotten a good night’s sleep. You gave her a light-hearted eye roll before trotting back to your bed to sit down and check your phone.

“Soooo, what’d you do last night?” she asked once you’d settled in to check your texts.

‘Shit. Did I wake her up?’

“What do you mean?”

“Y/n,” she sat herself up on the bed to get a better look at you. Damn, morning hair is not her best look. “I literally woke up at 2:30 this morning and realized you were gone. I thought Jungkook really pulled one over and fucking kidnapped you or something until I checked your location and you were already back next to the hotel. Once I heard you come in, I was too tired and pissed at you for giving me a heart attack that I just went back to bed. Now, don’t lie to me. Where were you?”

You really thought you’d gotten out of that one. It wasn’t that you were ashamed that you’d been with Chan, but Anna always wanted to turn ‘nothing’ into ‘something.’ And there was NOTHING there between you two.

“Promise me you’re not going to make a big deal about it?” you asked, eyes silently begging her to agree.

“You know I can’t promise that,” she said sarcastically.

You took in a deep, very much annoyed, breath. That’s my best friend alright.

“I was out talking to Chan-” Before you could even move on to the next sentence, Anna’s jaw was on the floor with her arms flailed out to the side to grip onto the sheets beneath her.

So much for not making a big deal. It’s too early for this. But then again, you weren’t surprised.

“BUT,” you continued, your voice forceful now, “just as friends. I was anxious and he offered to talk me through some stuff about today. It just made me feel a lot better about everything. That’s all,” you said, matter-of-factly.

Anna paused for a moment. “So you didn’t talk about anyyything else?” she pried, her eyebrows raising on her forehead.

“Just random stuff,” you told her.

Her eyes told you she didn’t believe it. She pulled her mouth into a smug grin with her gaze still on you, acting as if she was waiting for you to go on.

“Oh shut up,” you said, smiling now while rolling your eyes. It really was nothing. Well… as best as you can remember before falling asleep.

Ready for the conversation to be over, you sprang to your feet and headed to the bathroom. “Do you need to pee before I shower?” you asked her while heading in.

She informed you that she was fine as you closed the door behind you and sat on the toilet. You scrolled through your latest messages. You’d gotten one from Jungkook last night that you guessed you hadn’t seen at the time. You pondered on the answer before quickly shooting a text back, just saying that you weren’t sure of your schedule yet, but you’d let him know.

Content, you flushed the toilet and hastily started up the shower.

‘Today is going to be a longggg day,’ you knew. You took a deep breath after you’d stripped yourself of your clothes and stepped into the warm flurry of water. All you could do was try your very best to wash the nerves away.

————————————————————————

Walking into the JYPE Building, you cursed as you almost tripped over the door frame, threatening to spill your coffee on the ground. Luckily you caught yourself and huffed out a relieved sigh. You heard the “plunk”s of yours and Anna’s shoes as you made your way across the white, hard flooring of the first level of the building, headed straight to the usual bulletin board plastered next to the large conference room. The laminated white piece of paper tacked on splayed the agenda for the day:

Group 4: Sunnie, Kara, Mindi, Nisha, Alyssa, Jenna, Anna, Y/N- Level 10 Conference Room #4

You wandered your eyes down further to check the group numbers’ agenda. ‘Group 1, Group 2, Group 3, Ahh Group 4.’

Group 4:

• 9:00 AM- General shooting; see group members and room numbers above for further reference

• 11:00 AM - 1:00 PM- Dance Practice

• 1:00 PM - 2:00 PM- Lunch break

• 2:00 PM - 4:00 PM- Vocal Lessons

• 4:00 PM - 6:00 PM- Individual Evaluations

• 6:00 PM - 7:00 PM- Placements and Debrief

‘Same as last time.’

“Alright,” you turned to Anna. “We’re in four on level 10. Same as last time.”

“Let’s do this thang,” Anna joked. ‘God, she really doesn’t let anything get in her way, does she?’ You smiled at your friend as you headed toward the elevator.

On your trek the few feet away to the elevator, you ran into Changbin and Seungmin who were also headed upstairs.

“Hey!” you both said in unison.

“Where are you guys headed?” Anna asked. Come to think of it, you weren’t sure if your mentors would be there for the beginning of shooting or not.

“We’re headed to Level 10. With you guys,” Seungmin said.

“Were y’all over there by the bulletin board too? Sorry, I didn’t see you,” you said, feeling rude that you didn’t notice and greet them sooner.

“Oh no, we get the schedules sent to us on our phones every day,” Changbin replied.

“Well dang, that would have been nice for us to have too, instead of having to rush to the bulletin board first thing,” you said half-jokingly, but half-annoyed. You all stepped inside as the elevator doors opened to take you upstairs.

“If they did that, it wouldn’t be nearly as dramatic for the cameras,” Changbin laughed.

“The cameras?” you and Anna asked synchronously. You both looked around the top of the elevator as the doors shut, and you began to ascend.

Changbin and Seungmin just looked at each other with shit-eating grins.

“Well I’m sure they had to have told you, but with everything else going on, maybe you missed it… Starting today, they have cameras up everyyywhere. Like… everywhere. In the practice rooms, the hallways, the front lobby, the cafe. And especially by the bulletin board. Sometimes they’ll even cut people and you won’t realize it until you look on the board that day…” Seungmin trailed off.

“Hey but at least they don’t have them in the bathrooms! Only just outside of them,” he taunted, trying to bring the mood up slightly. He could tell he had you and Anna both freaked out a bit now. Neither of you could really say anything, just stood there in silence for fear you’d slip up and say the wrong thing.

“You’ll be fine,” Changbin said, giving you a light pat on the back. “You’ll get used to it, promise… Plus, if you need anything, I’m pretty sure we’ll be there a lot of the time to help you.” He leaned down close to your ear. “And between you and me, we don’t ever really know what’s going on either. We’ve just gotten good at winging it,” he winked and nudged you on the arm.

You took a deep breath and shook your head up and down with a slight smile. “Thanks Bin.” As you said this, the elevator doors opened to the 10th floor.

As soon as they spread apart, you could feel the chaos that ensued. People hurriedly walking to their respective rooms, sound techs running back downstairs to grab equipment, hair and makeup crew getting to their respective stations, and camera men getting their equipment out of bags. Ten minutes til filming was set to begin.

You followed the crew to Room 4, which you were thankful to already be familiar with. The walls were all black except for one side, which was housed with mirrors from floor to ceiling, with light wooden flooring lying beneath your feet. You scanned the room to see that mostly all of the girls were here, along with most of the SKZ members.

As Seungmin and Changbin trailed ahead of you to find some of the guys congregated in the corner, you took a step back, grabbing onto Anna and heeding her to a stop. Off to the other corner of the room stood Jenna and Alyssa along with a couple of the other girls. Nothing out of the usual... Except for Jenna holding a bright bouquet of flowers delicately settled into a clear crystal vase.

Maybe it meant nothing. In fact, it probably meant nothing. Jenna was the type to show anything off if she got the chance, so if someone had given her flowers even a week ago, you were sure she’d bring them just to make some kind of a big deal about it. A kind of “ooo look at me, somebody loves me” moment.

Gag me.

But you couldn’t help but to think back to Felix asking if you’d gotten “your flowers from Chan”… And the scene you’d witnessed with Chan that night in the studio, just a couple of days prior. The packet of flower food on his desk, along with no flowers to show for it. The words he’d said to you when you poked him aboutit: “It’s not really like that- me and her. It’s really not what you probably think. I don’t want you to think that.”

So you know what… you trusted him. He’d been such a good friend to you. Why would he lie about that? That’d be the dumbest fucking thing to lie about.

‘It’s probably just her being her. And god knows who actually gave her those.’

Anna sensed your hesitancy and followed your gaze to fall on Jenna. She snorted, breaking out into a small laugh at the sight of Jenna clinging onto the vase, pretending she didn’t want anyone to notice. “That’s one pretentious bitch,” she mocked.

You couldn’t help but giggle at her words.

“What do you wanna bet she bought them for herself?” Anna whispered to you snarkily. You both giggled, but quickly turned your heads as Jenna’s eyes made contact with the pair of you.

“Ah shit, we better steer clear of the ‘chosen one’ over there until this is over with,” Anna laughed while taking your hand and beginning to walk with you to the circle of guys who were still standing and chatting in the corner. You could feel Jenna’s eyes peer into you both as you walked. And from your periphery, you watched as she slowly focused her attention back onto the group of girls around her with the fakest smile you’d ever seen.

“There’s my number one trainee!” Felix said jokingly as you and Anna joined the conversation. “It’s about time you two showed up!”

“Hush,” Anna rolled her eyes. “We’ve been here. I’m surprised you two aren’t late,” she laughed, pointing back and forth to Felix and Jisung.

Their eyes popped open wide with their mouths turning into defensive grins. “Just because I was late ONE time!” Felix bantered. “Let’s not count the times you’ve been late when you said you’d meet up with me!”

“Okay fine, fine,” Anna retreated. “But neither of us have anything on Han.”

“Heyyy, heyyy,” he said, faking being hurt, bringing his hands to his chest. “I’m getting better! I was here on time AND in a good mood today.”

“Awfully impressive of you. I’m touched, really,” Seungmin butted in.

You listened as the group continued their banter around you, smiling every time Seungmin and Changbin got a quick roast in.

They were too quick for their own good.

As you followed the conversation, you felt yourself perk up a bit as Chan walked in the room. A warm fuzzy feeling came over you that you’d always associated with him. With a big smile spreading across your face, you wanted to thank him for last night and for making you feel somewhat better.

‘Would’ve been nice to warn me about the camera thing though,’ you thought.

As soon as you broke off from the group to walk toward Chan, you saw him scan the room and find Jenna in the opposite corner. As he drew nearer, he paused for a moment, looking almost as taken aback as you had, presumably noticing the flower arrangement in her hands. His eyes drew wide for a split moment, then formed into a mild look of confusion, before putting his normal “Channie” face back on.

Once Jenna met his gaze, her eyes lit up. She quickly put the flowers down on the table next to her, ‘Thank fucking god’, before quickly making her way to Chan. You stopped yourself from walking any further. Whatever she had to say to him, you didn’t want to be there to hear it.

With Chan’s back to you, you couldn’t make out much of the conversation except a loving look on Jenna’s face and a big hug once she’d reached him. As she fell into his arms and held him in a tight embrace, a shy but bright smile washed over her. You could’ve seen that smile from a mile away. Her teeth were perfect. Fuck her.

—————————————————————————————

Once 1:00 rolled around, you were sweaty and panting heavily... Well, the panting kicked in about an hour ago. It was more of a dry heave now. With your hair tied up, you tried to act like you weren’t dying (at least while the cameras were on).

‘If every dance practice is like this, my knees are going to give out before I turn 30.’

The morning session had explained a lot. The filming crew had come in to record as you introduced yourselves and recorded your reactions from getting all the Everyday Idol info from none other than JYP himself. He really only hit three main highlights:

1. This would be your training group- you would do all songs and performances together (as if that wasn’t already blatantly obvious)

2. Later today, you would have evaluations to see what skills you retained and which position you would take in the group.

3. Anyone could be cut at any time, up to JYP’s discretion.

While they didn’t explain much, you figured that was part of the show- there were things that would be revealed to you later. But for now, you had enough to worry about. The morning sessions with filming and dance practice just now being complete meant you had one whole hour (wow) to get some food and relax before starting back up. You were silently thankful you’d have time to stop feeling all sweaty and gross before your vocal lessons. Luckily, it was only the trainees there today for the dancing and singing portions. You’d have died if all the guys had been in there too evaluating how you were based off of your first day.

You hadn’t caught a break all morning, so before finding Anna, you grabbed your phone to text Jungkook back about your date.

‘Cutie,’ you smiled to yourself as you felt your heart swell up.

It really did mean a lot to know that he was behind you in all of this. That in addition to having your new friends and mentors, that you’d have THE Jeon Jungkook to back you up… And to give you a little help, come to think of it.

‘He’s so precious.’

Putting your phone down into your pocket, Anna strolled over next to you.

“Well who’s got you feeling all lovey dovey?” she winked. “Chan or Jungkook?”

You felt yourself blush slightly.

“What makes you say that?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Hmm probably the fact that you looked like a big nerd over here smiling down at your phone,” she teased.

“To be fair, technically, we’re both big nerds now,” you raised an eyebrow at Anna, hinting at your new inside joke. Once the producers of the show found out you were both in medical school, they decided they were definitely going to spin it that you two were huge nerds and this process was going to turn you into new “cool” potential idols.

She started laughing heavily. “Hey, well at least nobody hates the nerds. Maybe we’ve got a shot,” she giggled as she joked.

As you both packed your things to head downstairs for some food, Anna pressed for more. “So you aren’t gonna tell me? If it was Chan or Jungkook?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh my goddd,” your voice raising as you went. “It’s not like that with Chan. It really isn’t. If you were there last night, I swear you’d know.” You threw your water bottle in your bag before zipping it up and standing.

Anna was already standing and waiting on you. “Alright, whatever you say, little love bug.” She took your arm in hers as you both made your way back through the hallways and toward the elevators.

———————————————————————————————————

After toughing it through the line at the cafeteria, you and Anna wandered around the big, open floor with rows and rows of tables that were half-way filled. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Changbin throw an arm up and wave it around, signaling for you to come that way.

You knew Changbin had big arms, but with him waving them around like that… ‘Damn, I need to hit the gym with that guy.’

Sitting at the table were the rest of the guys minus Seungmin and Jeongin, plus Sunnie and Kara. The usual crew.

You smiled and waved to everyone as you sat down across the table from Changbin, with Anna following suit next to you.

“Hey Bin,” you smiled as you settled into your seat. “Hey Channie!” you said, rotating your head the tiniest bit towards Chris who was sat right next to Changbin.

“Hey,” Chan said, giving you a half-assed smile before burying his face down into his phone.

‘Okay…?’

“So did you take after your mentor and absolutely kill your first dance practice or what?” Changbin asked, hyping himself up way more than he was you.

“Well if you couldn’t tell by how absolutely exhausted I look, I would say it was a little less than adequate.” You couldn’t help but be a smart ass back.

“I mean, I wasn’t going to say anything butttt.”

“Hush,” you reached across the table to playfully hit his arm before looking down at your plate and beginning to dig in.

“No really though,” you began, choking some food down, “this show is gonna kick my ass. I’m too out of shape for this,” you laughed.

“Me too. It looks like we’re dying out there,” Anna chimed in.

“Perfect. That’s exactly what I like to hear from my team!” Changbin said sarcastically.

“I swear we’re trying! But I’m serious, seeing your arms up and waving at me a minute ago made me realize… I’ve gotta go to the gym... If I can ever find the time with all of this. God I’m weak,” you said, holding your wrist in the opposite hand and rolling it around.

“You know you’re welcome to come with me any time,” Changbin said.

“You really mean it?”

He nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

“Then please text me the next time you go. I’ll need a very patient teacher.”

“I’m not sure I’d use ‘patient’ as a word to describe myself,” Changbin flashed a cheeky grin, looking off to the side. “But Chan’s been going with me,” he reached out a hand to pat him on the back, “and he’s about as patient as it gets.”

Chan looked up from the mention of his name, his eyes running anywhere but on you.

“Waya think Chan-hyung? Think we can take her on?”

“Uh.. yeah sure. Why not,” Chan mumbled before lowering his head once again to look at the phone screen above his lap.

‘What is up with him?’ You thought. ‘His sleep schedule must really be fucking with him.’

You decided to drop it and just leave it be. You thanked them for their offer before digging back into the food.

————————————————————

You trailed behind slightly as everyone at the table got up to head back upstairs at the end of lunch.

One by one, as everyone walked past, you gently brushed Chan’s black hoodie-cladded arm. He looked down at you with questioning eyes as you motioned for him to walk a few steps back with you, out of hearing range from the others. With a bit of hesitation, he trudged over.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, cupping the side of his arm with your hand. You looked into his eyes, searching for any type of hidden answer. Any emotion that you could get out of them. But you didn’t see anything. They were almost lifeless.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he tried to convince you. But there was no mistaking it. His voice, usually jubilant and full of brass, was now muddled over, monotone.

“Chan really…” you squeezed his arm a bit, “you just seem a bit off today. Did you sleep alright?” You watched as he lowly looked at your hand touching him, making no effort to lean into it like he normally would have.

“Yeah,” he dropped his head, letting his arm move move up to rub his hand along the back of his neck. “Yeah…” he moved his head back up. “I think I’m just tired. Don’t worry about me,” he forced out a tiny smile.

“I’m sorry if I kept you up later than you expected,” you offered him an apologetic look.

“No, no, it’s alright. I would have been up anyways.”

“Well then tonight, I guess we should probably try not do that and just go to sleep instead,” you joked.

“I guess so.” His voice sounded like it was almost gone.

‘What is up with him? Did I say something last night that I don’t remember? Something that would have put him in a bad mood?’

“And thank you for making sure I got home last night. I’m sorry I keep falling asleep on you. I promise it’ll never happen again!”

“Yeah, it’s cool.”

‘It’s cool? What the fuck?’ You just stood and looked at him for a moment. Who was he? Why was he acting like this?

“Chan really, what’s wrong? Did I say something last night that hurt you? Or did I do something? Maybe I don’t remember it after falling asleep, but…? But just- you’re not you right now. What’s the matter?” Your brows furrowed together, looking into his eyes for any kind of answer... His now lifeless eyes.

But in the snap of a finger, those same eyes filled with some new emotion. Anger? Irritability? Resentment? Some combination that neither you nor he could really discern?

“I told you, I’m fine, Y/N. Now can you please drop it?” he asked roughly, clearly exasperated. The tone of his voice made you draw back into yourself.

‘You’re not fine, but okay.’

“Alright, well I just had to ask…” You swiveled your head around the now-empty cafeteria. “We’d better go, I guess,” you said, motioning to the cleared room.

As you both walked toward the exit, you tried to make light conversation… Because the tension in the room was awkward as hell.

“Thanks for agreeing to help me out at the gym, by the way. I promise I won’t bug you the whole time. Maybe just to get started,” you smiled, trying to joke around.

Chan wasn’t having any of it. He just walked in silence for another moment. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it.”

‘Okay, maybe complimenting him will work? Getting him out of this rut?’

“You’re advice really helped me out today in dance practice. I mean, I’m worn out, but I honestly think I’m getting the choreo faster than the other girls.” You looked over to see his face still unchanged.

“And then on our final run through, I was the only one who didn’t make any mistakes! Not even one! And I was so excited, I was just standing there thinking ‘Oh my gosh, Channie would be so proud of me!’.”

At that, you saw him crack a little smile. A small one, but it was there.

“There he isssss,” you teased, smiling back. “So HOPEFULLY, I can still embody that Channie energy this afternoon with our vocal lesson… All I’ll say is they didn’t list ‘able to sing well’ in the job description when I agreed to this. I’m gonna need all the luck I can get.”

“Good luck then,” he said with a little better tone now in his voice. “You’ll do great.”

Those were the last words that were said before parting ways.

———————————————————————————

You stood anxiously on the same light wooden flooring, crossing your hands around each other in front of you. After lunch, your vocal lesson had went well, and then your individual evaluation.

Now, you just awaited your placement within the group. You tried your best to focus on the panel of people in front of you instead of the multitude of cameras next to them. JYP, the SKZ members, and the main vocal coaches and choreographers all in a line. Daunting… to say the least.

Of course Anna did phenomenal in her individual evaluation, and the panel in front of you knew that. Not only was she given the positions of main vocalist, sub rapper, and lead dancer, but she was also now going to be the leader of the group. And there was no one more deserving. She was bold, loud, brilliant, confident, entertaining- everything you could want in a leader.

You’ll never forget the look of shock on her face when they said the word out loud though. Anna knows she’s great, don’t get me wrong, but she doesn’t understand just *how great everyone thinks she is. She really has it all. When she accepted the positions with glassy eyes, big smile across her face, you couldn’t help but look at her like a proud parent.

But as the panelists had called you up one by one, you kept growing anxious at the thought of maybe not hearing your name. Out of 8 girls, only you and Jenna hadn’t been called up yet. It was all you could do to stand there nervously and twiddle your thumbs, hoping you’d done well enough to make it through this first day. Even if you didn’t care to win the show, you still didn’t want to get kicked out so early on.

‘It’s alright either way,” you told yourself while taking a deep breath in and closing your eyes. ‘You’re just fine either way.’

“Y/N,” you heard JYP’s voice call out. You felt your heart shift into overdrive.

Suddenly, you felt self-conscious, as everyone turned their heads in your direction. After one final breath, you made your way to the front of the room where the panelists stood. It wouldn’t be so intimidating if there weren’t so damn many of them… And if all the members weren’t here.

As you approached the group, you could feel a sense of solemness over them. ‘Oh fuck.’

But as you hauled to a stop in the middle, you guessed Changbin could pick up on your restlessness. He flashed you a warm smile and a slight wink, letting you know everything was alright. The little bit of reassurance that you needed.

You bowed slightly as you offered a shy grin and wave at the consortium seated before you.

“Hi Y/N,” JYP said again, now with a smile and a calm demeanor. He always spoke so slowly. It has you hanging on to every last syllable. “I wanted to start by saying how impressed I am with you. Both you and Anna,” he stopped momentarily to smile at her. “It’s not very often that I see people with this much natural talent who already conduct themselves so well. So props to you ladies.”

Even if you could hardly ever take JYP seriously (you didn’t know why, but something about him was just so funny to you), his words did mean a lot. You felt yourself start to relax a bit as the pulsations coming from your chest seemed to slow. You bowed your head as you slowly nodded and smiled, a small bout of appreciation for JYP’s words.

“Now, I had a very hard time trying to place you because we felt like you were skilled at many things,” he gestured down the panel. “As I’ve said before, things can change within the next two weeks, but for now, I’d like to place you as the main dancer, lead rapper, lead vocalist, AND… visual.”

You didn’t know what you’d expected, but- wow, not this much.

Your mouth dropped slightly in astonishment. A big goofy grin splayed across your face, unable to really say anything. You were sure your wide-open eyes gave away your disbelief. Down the row of people seated in front of you, you watched each of the members smile, with Changbin and Felix cheesing extra hard with two thumbs up. Out of the corner of your eye, you could make out Anna who was absolutely beaming, doing soft and excited mini-claps while biting her bottom lip from squealing in excitement.

“Wow,” you finally got out. “Thank you so much,” you nodded again shyly, smile still imprinted on your face. You felt for sure it’d be there forever now.

“I can’t wait to see what great things you do,” JYP assured.

You gave the panel one final bow before walking back to your original spot. On the way, Anna looked at you with an excited smirk. “Visual?!” She mouthed with a quick wink before giggling.

It made you let out a tiny chuckle too.

Once you were stood in your prior spot, you heard JYP call for the last contestant. ‘Ah here we go.’

“Jenna Thomas,” he smiled. The same smile he’d given to each of you. If this man had favorites, he wasn’t about to let it show.

Jenna followed suit from the girls before her and made her way to the middle of the panelists, smiling in front of JYP once she settled.

You couldn’t help but glance at Chan, now sitting so closely to her. You looked for any sort of expression in his face, but found none. His face was stone. No emotion to be found… Until Jenna spoke up with a “hello everyone,” and a wave. To that, he kept his head steady, but you noticed the slight flex in his jaw. He covered it up quickly, but you were quicker.

“Jenna,” JYP began, “you have a very unique singing and dancing style. It’s one we’d like to be able to bring out more. I’m excited to see what you can do from here. Right now, I’d like to place you as sub dancer, sub vocalist, and sub visual.”

Although you could only see her side profile now, you didn’t miss the slight twitch in her eye at the ending. The way her lip had the tiniest shake.

She did not like being called the sub visual.

“Thank you,” she said quietly as she bowed. She walked back to her previous spot, face lifeless. Like any ounce of feeling she could show would only be to her detriment. Much like Chan’s.

“Alright,” JYP said dramatically, standing himself up. “This is important, so I want you to listen carefully.”

That sentence alone got your full attention.

“Normally, we would have more time. But as you know, this process is a bit accelerated… By the end of the week, I would like for you to break off into groups of two, where I will have expected you to compose, produce, and perform a song that you feel best represents you and your partner’s character. Your mentors will help you as much as they can. You will have full access to the studios and all of the equipment, programs, and software that we use. We will have a showcase this Saturday for you to display what you’ve made and rehearsed... I know it seems like a lot now, but that’s the whole point of this, right?” He smiled a menacing smile. “I won’t see you again until Saturday. When I do, I want you to show me who you really are.”

———

Once the cameras cut off, you joined together in the room to talk with the girls about the results, then divided into smaller units to pair up for the showcase on Saturday. In retrospect, you thought you’d lose your shit at hearing about that. But you knew you’d naturally be with Anna, which cushioned the blow. And considering she’d already made a big enough impression for JYP to be tagging her as the leader this early on… well, you figured you’d be just fine.

Felix and Changbin accompanied the two of you as you stood talking, game planning what you’d do to start practicing. They let you know that you’d have some time built into your schedules for the next few days to work with your mentors, but that you’d all stay late afterward as well. Between your two mentors, you felt pretty solid that you’d have all the help you needed. You agreed that you’d brainstorm ideas tonight and then meet up tomorrow to start working on a song first.

As you packed up your belongings to head out for the night, you checked your phone. Just past 7:30. Perfect.

Although you were exhausted, you had told Jungkook that you’d see him. And it wasn’t that you weren’t happy to get to see him again… but the tiredness was already setting in.

You whipped your phone out to shoot him a quick text that you were about to head back to your hotel, but that you were super tired. You proposed doing something lowkey if that was alright with him.

Throwing your phone down into your bag, you took a deep breath, happy to finally head “home” and shower off the all the tension (and sweat) from the day.

——————————————————

After getting out of the water and into a fresh, comfy hoodie, you felt the slow creep of your muscles beginning to ache. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d exerted yourself so much in one day.

You rubbed along the muscles at the back of your shoulder as you walked toward the bedside table to grab the ibuprofen out. You had always been convinced (well, up until this point) that there was nothing ibuprofen and tylenol couldn’t fix.

You flung yourself down on the bed after downing them, moving your hands up to your face to rub circles along your forehead. You knew you needed to eat before you got the “hunger headache”. “Hunger headache” y/n is definitely a scary y/n.

“I feel like dog shit,” you heard Anna say from the bed next to you, mostly mumbling her words out.

“You and me both,” you sighed.

“Like I genuinely don’t think I’m gonna be able to walk tomorrow,” Anna dramatized.

“You better be able to walk because apparently you’re my leader from now on. If you can’t walk, then neither can I,” you giggled.

“You’re my little minion,” Anna strained out in her best fake-evil voice.

“I’m fine being your minion as long as you promise not to work me to death,” you laughed.

“From the looks of today, I won’t have to,” Anna muttered while stretching her arms and legs out. “Ughhh I’m so soreeeee,” she whined.

You felt your back muscles spasm just hearing the words. There was honestly nothing more you wanted than to lay in bed and have someone feed you.

“Are you still going out with Jungkook tonight?” Anna asked, flipping over to her stomach and propping herself on her elbows to get a good look at you.

“I guess so. I’m just so exhausted. And hungry,” you crossed your arms over your face.

“Well I’m sure Jungkook would feed you,” Anna rolled her eyes.

“No, I know. I’m just… I don’t know. I’m tired and honestly, I feel like seeing him tonight is gonna be too much for one day. I may just text and see if he would be okay if we didn’t do anything tonight. I just feel bad if I cancel plans.”

“Don’t feel bad. I’m sure he would understand being busy.”

“Yeah, you’re right…”

“Okay, HOW ABOUT you text him and tell him you wanna reschedule, and then me and you can absolutely gorge on some pizza and watch trashy TV until we pass out. You can’t tell me that doesn’t sound better,” Anna exclaimed.

“You do make it sound tempting,” you said, half-laughing. “Ughh, I think I’m gonna do it. Maybe I can just see him tomorrow.”

You felt all of your muscles tense and burn as you slowly raised yourself from the bed to take you cell phone off of the charger. Just a few texts to Jungkook.

You smiled.

“We’re good,” you told Anna. “Now please will you order a pizza before I die?”

“I’m already on it sister,” she said haphazardly, eyes focused in on her phone, presumably starting the order.

‘My girl?!’ Your heart started to beat a bit faster and you were sure you turned ten shades of pink. If butterflies in your stomach were real, you would have had an entire butterfly garden in there.

Instant embarrassment. Instant.

Fireworks. Fireworks in your heart. That’s the only way you could explain it. The way you kicked your feet and smiled at your phone, you looked like you’d transported back to middle school, thinking about your first ever crush. Your mind went blank, filling with nothing but bliss and hope. As you giggled under your breath, hoping you could hold out for a little bit before Anna noticed, you decided you could toy with him a little bit. See where this goes.

More fireworks. This time moving into your stomach and taking over where the butterflies used to hold residence.

Your stomach was doing somersaults. What to even say back to that? Keeping up the flirting wouldn’t hurt anyone, would it?

At that point, you’d had about all you could handle. Your heart was beating excitedly and you needed to clear your head from all the feelings that were floating around. You needed a break from your phone. As you sighed with a smile, you laid your phone on the bed beside you. You thought about that first flirty text. What it really would be like for Jungkook to be here right now. With you. FULLY with you. To have his body wrapped around yours.

Maybe he’d be running his hands through your hair or rubbing your back. Maybe you’d be clinging to his tight arms or tracing along the edges of his tattoos. Maybe he’d tell you how pretty you looked all cozy next to him. Maybe he’d adjust his arm underneath you to pull you closer into him. Maybe he’d look down at you with big eyes, tongue running over his lips to catch the metal of his piercing, tonguing it back and forth. Maybe he’d want you to do that to him too.

‘Jesus Christ, I need to get a grip.’

You made yourself sit upright, groaning as you went from the pain. When would this medicine kick in?

“Did you place the order?” you asked Anna who was still on her phone.

“Mmhm,” she responded absentmindedly.

“Okay, just let me know how much I owe you,” you said as you stood up.

You waltzed your way to the bathroom so you could brush through your hair and get started on drying it.

However, after getting product in your hair and getting it half-way dried, Anna interupted.

“Pizza’s here!” she yelled, her voice floating from the bedroom to the front door.

You didn’t care if your head was still wet. At this point, food was more important. You could basically feel yourself salivating. Your stomach rumbled just at the mention of food.

As you stepped out of the bathroom, the corner of your periphery revealed a confused-looking Anna with… well, not pizza, in her hands.

“Oh my gosh!” she squeaked, as she moved the basket from her hands to the small table in the front room.

You examined it over. A medium-sized basket wrapped neatly with a big bow around it. Inside was some chocolate, some snacks and candies, some pain relief medication, a heating pad, and… ‘Oh my goodness. How cute.’ Some pre-made packets of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows.

Your goofy smile gave it away. “I was just talking about how bad I wanted some hot chocolate the other day… with Jungkook," you beamed just saying his name. “On our date, I told him how I would always have it in this cold weather with my family. And how much I was missing them…” your eyes started to tear the tiniest bit at his sweet gesture.

Attached to the chocolate was a small note:

“Y/N, I hope you can rest up well tonight. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow! Please share with Anna! —Jungkook”

You giggled like a school girl as you quickly went to grab your phone from the bedroom and send a thank you text to Jungkook. This was the very last thing you’d expected.

*Send* ‘But I guess, expect the unexpected when it comes to this man,’ you let out a dreamy breath, letting your heart revel in his gesture.

Anna came strolling into the room and made her way behind you.

She cleared her throat before she began speaking. “I mean clearly you guys have made up and all, but are you sure you aren’t moving on from everything else too quickly?” She looked serious.

“What do you mean? It’s just a gift basket. I mean it’s sweet, but it’s not like I’m in an exclusive relationship with this man or anything.”

“No, I know. It’s just… I mean do we trust him? I’m not doubting your judgement, it’s just… you trust him enough to give him our hotel and room number?”

Oh fuck…

“I didn’t.”

————————————————

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tags: @lailac13 @freyjhasdesiredreality @shellyyy177