#thrift store living room ideas

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Samantha bought all the tables in a thrift store, painted them black w/chalk paint, sealed in gloss and accented in silver. The frames on the wall are fabric that she made pillows from, and there’s a dinosaur under the table on the left that she found at Home Goods and painted metallic green & silver.

[ja3yun]

Push My Buttons | L.HS

bodyguard!heeseung x rich girl!reader warnings: enemies to ???, angst, smut (mdni), car sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, choking, mentions of spit, possessive!hee, some violence, not proofread, anything else lmk! wc: 7.5k synopsis: lee heeseung has been hired as your personal security by your father. you and him don't see eye to eye, so when tensions rise at your best friends party, you both know how to push each others buttons. a/n: hi! this is a thank you for 1k! i still don't believe it if i'm honest because i don't think i deserve it but regardless, thank you all so much if you follow me! this is a little idea i had sitting on my laptop that i've decided to complete for this occasion so enjoy!

_____

Browsing through the racks of the Prada store, you can't help but feel acutely aware of the imposing presence of your hired security, stationed just two feet away.

"Do you have to stick to me like glue all the time?" you mutter, not bothering to meet his gaze.

“It’s my job, Y/N. You’d know what that was if you weren’t such a spoiled brat,” he spits back, his eyes rolling in exasperation.

Lee Heeseung was appointed by your father to ensure your safety during his frequent business trips. Unfortunately, your father's demanding role as CFO of a tech company keeps him away for extended periods. He doesn't trust you to fend for yourself, fearing that others might exploit you to reach him. Given your father's controversial reputation stemming from questionable business dealings, Heeseung's imposing presence is a constant fixture in your life.

Your bodyguard would be more tolerable if he weren't so insistent on being by your side every second. It's tiresome, really, how he clings to you like a shadow, never granting you a moment of solitude. If you go to the bathroom, he is right outside the door and if you dare try and sneak out the window - which you have tried numerous times - he is chasing you down the street, sweeping you off your feet and taking you home.

You had hoped that being only a couple of years older, he might adopt a more relaxed approach, letting you live your life a little, but you were wrong. Since the first day he turned up, he’s been nothing but a hoover, sucking the fun and freedom from your life all to keep you safe.

Sure, he probably knows deep down that he's a tad overbearing, but hey, he's clinging to this gig like a lifeline. Compared to his last job of being a bouncer at some dingy club, knocking back people with fake IDs and kicking out drunk people, your dad's cushy paycheck is like hitting the jackpot.

To Heeseung, you’re just some rich kid who has more money than sense, squandering it on everything and anything you deem a necessity at the time, only to then throw them away or forget about them. Considering he struggled to pay his rent before this job, he hates your whimsy ways with money. 

It's like you live in your own little bubble, completely disconnected from the real world. There are people out there starving and you’re buying thousands of pounds worth of clothes that you could easily get from a bargain bin for a fiver. 

Finally, you spare him a glance, “Just stand over there, okay? You really don’t have to be here and mess up my whole vibe,” you flail your arms around hoping the gestures will add some exclamation to your statement.

With a resigned sigh, he acquiesces, nodding, "In my line of sight at all times, got it?" He scans the area once more, on high alert for anything out of place, before reluctantly giving you some breathing room.

Heeseung blends in, looking through the obscenely expensive trousers which he is convinced he has seen the exact same jeans in thrift stores, just without the brand label. It’s a reminder of the contrast between you both; your lavish ways are still an alien concept to him.

He’s been in this role for 3 months and he won’t get over it, how different you both are. Your beliefs and traits are so starkly dissimilar that not once have you ever seen eye to eye. He doesn’t hate you, but he’s close to it. You always treat him with little to no respect and considering he’s only looking out for you per your daddy’s request, he would like to think you would be a little more grateful. 

Suddenly, his thoughts are interrupted by a lone figure approaching you, a slick smile playing on his lips. Heeseung’s jaw tightens as he analyses the scene in front of him, trying to speculate what the guy wanted, although Heeseung already knows his intentions.

You’re too busy trying to decide whether beige or cream looks better on you as you hold out two vest tops to notice the incoming man.

“I think you should go with that one,” the sudden boom of a voice beside you makes you jump and turn to him, clutching the clothes to your chest as you try to still your thumping heart, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, beautiful.”

Normally, you pay no mind to greasy men like him, but his cinched suit which was clearly tailor-made to fit and his sleek dyed brown hair was enough for you to give him a second glance. You can always spare some time for people who look good.

“Which one?” you ask, holding them back up at arm's length.

“The left one, I think you would look sexy in any of them, to be honest,” he smirks, thinking he’s being so smooth but you’re not really impressed by flattery. You know you look good, you see yourself in the mirror every day. Plus, he’s only trying to oil you up so he can either as you out or try and fuck you. The only one who genuinely gives you truthful advice or says you look good and mean it with no intention is Heeseung.

Your bodyguard is watching like a hawk, face steaming with anger as the guy puts his hand on your waist, holding one of the vest tops to your chest area. He’s already given the guy enough leeway by even letting him speak to you, but now he’s touching you, and Heeseung will be damned if he lets him get away with that.

With measured steps, Heeseung comes up behind you, licking his lips as hugs you from behind, “Baby girl, are you almost done?” he whispers loudly enough that the unwanted man in front of you can hear, “Who is this?” he asks, eyes now pointed forward.

The stranger's confidence falters under Heeseung's intense scrutiny, his eyes widening slightly as he realises the gravity of the situation. Heeseung's demeanour is unmistakably protective, his stance leaving no room for doubt about his intentions. His eyes are so dark that the boy knows that one wrong move will have Heeseung pouncing on him.

“I’m Woobin,” he says almost inaudibly. It’s amazing how quickly he resigned from his cocky attitude as soon as Heeseung made his presence known.

"Do you work here, Woobin?" Heeseung's voice is a low rumble against your ear, his lips trailing a path of kisses down your neck to your shoulder. His touch is electrifying, sending shivers down your spine as his hands caress your stomach, his thumbs tracing delicate patterns against the skin beneath your shirt

The butterflies in your tummy are fluttering around as if they’ve been disrupted from their nest by his touch. This is new, he hasn’t done this before, usually opting to just stand between you and potential danger. It's exhilarating and maddening all at once, the line between protection and possessiveness blurring in the heat of the moment.

Heeseung knows that if he simply said he was your security, it wouldn’t deter the man, he had to think on his feet. That and the way he touched you evoked something inside him, protectiveness laced with something else. 

“I don’t work here, I-”

“Then get your hands the fuck off my girl,” Heeseung interrupts Woobin, maintaining eye contact with him as he bites down a little on the nape of your neck, almost like he’s physically marking you as his own in front of a potential suitor.

Your head is in a frenzy, knowing that Heeseung is stepping far beyond his role of protection, yet, you don’t stop him. It would be lying to say that his lips didn’t feel good on your skin, the way his fingers lightly gripped the softness of your stomach gave you fanny flutters like nothing else; as he boldly stakes his claim, you can't help but feel a surge of desire mingling with frustration

But this is also the man that is currently cockblocking you right now, stopping you from getting Woobin’s number and potentially a good fuck that you’re clearly in desperate need of; why else would you be getting turned on by Heeseung right now? This is the man you cannot stand, he is the last person on earth you want to be with. 

Woobin awkwardly laughs and backs away, giving a slight wave to you as he walks out of the store, leaving you both in the thick silence.

As his form disappears into the distance, Heeseung stands by your side, his stare unflinching as he watches the threat go by, proud of himself for handling the situation quickly. Heeseung hasn’t let you go, his hands moving from your tummy to your waist, gripping it softly.

You don’t know what to do, still standing in a haze of shock and confusion, your eyes watching the back of Woobin with intensity. The man behind you didn’t even have to say much before Woobin was running with his tail between his legs.

Honestly, you know Heeseung can be intimidating, but this must have been a new level, even for him. You couldn’t see his eyes, yet, you know they held only room for intimidation.

Heeseung's attitude relaxes somewhat, but his protective stance remains firm. He slowly releases you from his grip, placing one last kiss on your neck for what reason he doesn’t know. 

You take a moment to compose yourself, internally dealing with the mixed feelings of the encounter before pure rage flushes over you, “What the fuck was that?” you seeth, twisting your body to face him.

“What was what?” he asks, unfazed by your angry demeanour. 

Slamming the vests back on the rack, you face him, your shorter stature suddenly being a hindrance as you try to act tough, “You know what! You just cockblocked me for no reason,” you ball your fists to the side of your hips, trying not to cause too much of a scene in the store. 

“Good. God knows what he had, he was a creep,” Heeseung’s face is stoic, not giving much of his emotions away which only serves to piss you off more. 

You wanted him to look a little bit sorry for overstepping, to say he was at least sympathetic towards your frustration. Instead, he just stands there, insulting the boy he didn’t even know.

Letting out a groan, you shut your eyes and unclench your hands, “I can’t ever have any fun with you around,” you try to calmly explain but as the words leave your lips, you begin to question why you’re trying to be civil in the first place. 

This man is the bain of your existence, the reason you haven’t had sex in months, he is utterly infuriating and here he stands in front of you with no remorse for ruining your life.

Heeseung nods, feigning understanding as he leans down to make eye contact with you, his nose almost touching yours, “I don’t know, baby girl, it seems like you were having a blast a second ago,” he says smugly, a half smirk creeping onto his face.

You beam red, embarrassment and anger mixing to create a shade of crimson you didn’t know you could make. He was frustrating, arrogant, irrational, rude, cocky, and overall just irritating. You hate Lee Heeseung.

Winking at you, he nudges his nose with yours before standing back up, his figure back to towering over you, “Pick the one on the right and let’s get a move on,” he says, tucking his hands into his pockets and taking one giant step back. 

It was like he was mocking you, giving you your space after infiltrating it as if he wasn’t leaving wet kisses on your neck five minutes ago. 

With a huff, you face the two vests once again, looking between both options, each one having its own backer. You bite your lip and contemplate over them, choosing the one on the right.

_____

As you apply your final coat of mascara, you take one long look in the mirror. You look great, everything about you falls into place perfectly, your hair and makeup only adding to your beauty while the dress you’re wearing hugs you nicely.

Obviously, you don’t tell Heeseung that you had a party tonight, knowing that he would lock you up like some Disney princess in your castle. If there was one thing Heeseung hated more than men coming into your zone, it was parties where tons of men could. 

The last party you went to was just before Heeseung arrived on the scene, the bodyguard now never letting you experience any joy or social gatherings that weren’t accompanied by him or a simple meet-up with friends. ‘There’s too much risk at a party’ he will always tell you.

A knock on your bedroom door almost makes you drop the mascara wand but you catch it before it causes disaster. 

“I’m coming in,” Heeseung’s voice travels through the door before he swings it open. His eyes trail over your body as he assesses the outfit, “A bit dressed up for a night in with me, no?” he tries to pass it off as a lighthearted joke but he knows he’s about to argue with you about your plans.

“Oh, y’know, just thought I would try and make an effort to sit in and watch Louder Milk for the nth time,” you roll your eyes, twisting the mascara shut and turning to face him.

Heeseung grumbles, “Let’s cut to the chase where you tell me where you plan on going and I obviously stop you,” he crosses his arms and tilts his head expectantly.

But you can’t let him win, not this time around. It’s your best friend’s birthday night out and if you miss it, you’ll never be invited to anything again; you can’t miss a 21st birthday party and expect there not to be consequences, especially not in your circle of friends.

You finish getting ready with a sense of purpose, carefully placing your lip oil and hairbrush into your YSL bag. "I've got plans," you announce, nonchalantly shrugging your shoulders.

His brows furrow slightly. "You never mentioned we had plans tonight," he remarks, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

"We don't have plans, Heeseung. I do. And you weren’t invited," you retort, your tone tinged with sarcasm as you shoot him a playful smirk.

He raises an eyebrow, trying to decipher your intentions. "A party? A date?" he ventures, scanning your attire and deducing that this isn't just a casual outing.

As you attempt to breeze past him, he swiftly moves to block the doorway with his arm, his muscles tensing as he grips the doorframe. You lock eyes with him, noticing the frustration brewing beneath the surface.

His jaw tightens as you stand your ground, a silent challenge passing between you, "Tell me where you're off to," he demands, his voice taking on a more authoritative tone.

You really need to get fucked because he’s suddenly turning you on, and his body starting to look like a jungle gym. Regardless of the fury and hatred for the boy in front of you, when he got angry, he was a new level of hot; it’s probably the reason you subconsciously push his buttons.

“I am going to Ryujin’s birthday party,” you confess, taking hold of his arm and trying to pry it from the wall, but he’s too strong and it doesn’t work. Even with all your efforts, it doesn’t budge.

Smiling at your feeble attempts to move him, Heeseung cockily leans on one foot, the other tucking behind his leg as he watches you struggle.

Undeterred, you try to slip under his arm, but he effortlessly scoops you up and returns you to your room, closing the door behind you with a practised ease. His years dealing with drunks at his previous job have endowed him with certain skills in handling runaways..

"Don't make this difficult, Y/N," he warns.

"You're the one being difficult! It's my best friend's birthday. Are you seriously telling me I can't go? I'm not in danger, you know," you retort angrily, frustration evident in your voice.

Heeseung understands that you're completely oblivious to the dangers lurking around your family, shielded by your innocent perspective. No one has bothered to inform you about your father's involvement in money laundering and his dealings with shady men. In your eyes, having a bodyguard feels like an unnecessary intrusion into your life rather than a protective measure.

"Listen, let's just imagine I let you go. Where is it?" he asks, a tinge of apprehension in his voice.

"Serenity," you reply, already sensing the tension building.

Heeseung's eyes widen in disbelief, "Serenity? The bar down by the loch? Are you serious?" he exclaims, his concern evident.

It was a losing battle the moment you opened your mouth. The bar isn’t known for its good reputation, it’s sleazy and grim, and despite its calm name, no one who occupies the bar could be considered peaceful.

Ryujin picked it simply because she likes to cosplay as a poor person sometimes, wondering what it would be like to live on the other side of wealth while obnoxiously spending a shit ton of money, completely rendering her ideas pointless.

You don’t agree with it but she is your best friend, the only person that gave you the time of day when you didn’t have a penny to your name all those years ago.

"I am not letting you step foot in that place," Heeseung asserts firmly, drawing a line in the sand.

“She hired out the whole bar, it’s not like anyone can just walk in,” you try to reason back but it doesn’t work as Heeseung’s resolve remains the same.

“You aren’t going, end of discussion. The whole neighbourhood is trouble and your friend is fucking stupid for this,” he scratches his jaw as the worst-case scenarios pop into his head. He might not like you but he really can’t stand some of the thoughts popping into his head, the urge to protect you growing stronger by the second.

The loch is a small part of town, mostly made up of deadbeats and criminals. Word spreads fast around there and there is a high chance the scums of the area know a bunch of snooty rich kids are going to be there for the picking.

You need to go, you can’t cancel any more plans so you need to think of something quick, “You can come with me,” you suggest, stepping closer to him. Would it be overbearing and annoying to have him there? Yes but at least you would be there. And it might actually be good if he was, after all, he is good at his job; you feel safe around him and the more he’s warning you away from Serenity and the loch, the more you’re starting to want his protection.

“I thought I wasn’t invited?” He raises his eyebrows sceptically.

Placing your hands on his chest, you trail them up to his shoulders, a pout forming on your lips. "Well, I'm inviting you now. Please, Heeseungie?" you implore, employing your best puppy-dog eyes and fluttering lashes in an attempt to sway him.

Typically, your pleading face doesn't work on him, but the combination of your hands massaging his tense shoulders and the endearing nickname starts to chip away at him.

"Fine. We can go for an hour or so, and then I'm taking you straight back home, understand?" he relents, already second-guessing his decision.

You squeal with joy, wrapping your arms around his neck and jumping up and down. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Finally, you've managed to reason with him.

Pushing you away gently, he clears his throat. "Be at the car in 10 minutes before I change my mind."

This is going to end disastrously.

_____

"Remember—"

"In your line of sight at all times," you finish, a hint of exasperation in your voice as you recite Heeseung's usual mantra.

Heeseung unbuckles his seatbelt with a grunt, his irritation clear as he mutters curses under his breath. He can't believe he's ended up in this mess, much less mocked by you. He is well aware that this is a recipe for disaster especially as he examines the area and notices gritty individuals prowling around the loch's borders, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

Heeseung is confident in his ability to handle himself; it's your safety that concerns him the most as he observes a suspicious figure crossing in front of your car.

You waste no time darting out of the car and hurrying to the club's entrance, leaving Heeseung trailing behind, a gust of wind in your wake.

"This fucking girl," he grumbles to himself as he parks the car and follows after you. He sees through your tactic—trying to get inside before him so he'll be left waiting outside while you venture off on your own. But he's not falling for it today.

He catches up to you just as you're about to give your name to the bouncer, his arm instinctively settling around your waist. The bouncer eyes Heeseung with a sceptical gaze, taking note of his attire and demeanour, which hardly scream 'rich kid bellend.'

As Heeseung squeezes your side, you shoot him a playful smirk over your shoulder. "Oh, this is my boyfriend. He's just trying to get into character for the place—dirty-chic and all that," you quip sarcastically, gesturing between him and the bouncer.

The bouncer chuckles at your comment, nodding in amusement. "You've done a good job. I almost mistook you for one of those creeps by the water," he jests, stepping aside to let you both in.

Heeseung doesn't react to your teasing or the bouncer's remarks. He's grown accustomed to such comments after spending the past few months with you and your friends. From being called shabby to poor, to filthy to crude, he's heard it all. Sometimes you apologise for your friend's words, but he knows the damage is already done.

It’s times like that that he has some faith in you, that you aren’t all diamonds and gold, that you do have a heart underneath it all.

Sticking close to you, you both end up at the bar ordering a gin and tonic for you and a water for himself. He knows everything about you by now, the constant watchful eye on you has got him to learn your favourite everything, so he finds himself ordering for you more times than not. That is, when you let him be actively seen with you.

"Can you vanish over there while I find Ryujin?" you ask, already scanning the room for the birthday girl.

Nodding, Heeseung points towards a nearby wall. "I'll be over there. If anything happens, remember to stay where I can see you. Don't run off; I will find you. And if you're going to the bathroom, come and get me," he advises, his tone firm as he leans down to emphasize the importance of his instructions.

"Yeah, sure," you reply casually, already making your way over to your friends at the other end of the bar, their excited screams and squeals guiding your path.

True to his word, Heeseung gives you space but remains vigilant, never taking his eyes off you. He's pleasantly surprised when three hours pass, and you're only on your second drink. Normally, he's had to carry you out of brunch with your university friends, and that's not even bottomless. Part of him thinks you’re remaining sober for your own vigilance, which makes him happy that you aren’t so reckless to get drunk in an unfamiliar setting around a lot of people you don’t know.

As the night progresses, Heeseung's gaze remains fixed on you from his position against the wall. He observes the way you interact with your friends, the genuine joy evident in your laughter and the twinkle in your eyes. Seeing you light up like this is a rarity, but it warms something inside him to witness you truly enjoying yourself.

Despite his reservations and occasional frustrations, Heeseung takes his role of keeping you safe very seriously. The thought of anything happening to you weighs heavily on his mind, not just because of the potential consequences from your father, but because he has come to genuinely care about your well-being. It's a realisation that surprises even him, how much he's come to feel responsible for you beyond just fulfilling his duties as a bodyguard.

Day by day, Heeseung finds himself spending more time in your presence. Even when he should be stationed at the front door, he often finds himself drawn to your side, whether it's watching TV shows together or cooking dinner. Sure, these moments are often punctuated by arguments over his choice of shows or the random spices he adds to your meals, but they keep things interesting, injecting a sense of spontaneity into his otherwise regimented routine.

And truth be told, he finds a strange satisfaction in winding you up, relishing the sight of the vein in your forehead protruding whenever you're exasperated with him. Despite the occasional clashes, there's an undeniable chemistry between the two of you, a dynamic that keeps him on his toes and reminds him that guarding you isn't just a job - it's become a massive part of his life.

Recently, he has become extra protective over you, the incident at the Prada store being a prime example. Men like Woobin are not the ones he should be protecting you from, but he can’t help it, you’re too precious to be led off by the likes of him.

Shaking his head, he disregards his last thought. You’re not precious, you’re a princess, a snooty diva with an attitude problem.

This is what he has to tell himself every day.

He watches you go up to the bar and sit on the stool as you order another drink, but his attention shifts to a familiar face in the crowd. Woobin - and he is walking straight for you. Like he hasn’t dealt with him enough today, it was almost as if thinking about him that manifested him straight into your lap.

As Woobin twists the stool you're sitting on to face him, Heeseung's grip on the empty cup tightens, his knuckles turning white with the effort to maintain his composure. He knows he can't just stride over there like he did at the store; he crossed a line then, kissing your neck was too far, and biting down on you to mark you was too far. But the possessive feeling that had simmered earlier resurfaces as he watches Woobin casually tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

His mind races with a mantra, a desperate attempt to keep his emotions in check. The real threat to you is outside, not in here. The real threat to you is outside, not in here. The real threat to you is outside, not in here.

But as he watches Woobin's hand graze your leg, Heeseung's resolve crumbles.

"Fuck this," he mutters under his breath, his anger boiling over as he pushes himself off the wall and throws his cup away. Without a second thought, he makes a beeline for you, determined to put an end to this unwanted intrusion.

You suddenly feel Heeseung's chest press against your back, his presence feels overpowering, his aura dark and intense. You glance at Woobin and notice the fear flicker back into his eyes, just like before, as Heeseung speaks with a menacing tone, "Have you got a death wish or something, mate?" His question hangs in the air, a clear warning.

Woobin takes a step back, but despite the quiver in his pupils, he refuses to back down. "She obviously isn't satisfied with you," he retorts, attempting to sound tough. "She hasn't even tried to bat me off."

You scrunch your face in disbelief at Woobin's audacity. His attempt to turn the situation on you is off-putting, and any attraction you may have felt towards him suddenly dissipates.

Heeseung's gaze shifts down to you, his eyes hooded as he leans in close. "Is that true, baby girl? Do I not satisfy you?" His words send a shiver down your spine, leaving you momentarily speechless. Before you can form a response, he leans even closer, his breath hot against your cheek as he whispers in your ear, "You better agree with me, or else I'll punch his lights out, right here, right now."

His threat hangs in the air, leaving you feeling torn between conflicting emotions. As you struggle to find the right words, Heeseung's lips graze the skin of your earlobe, sending a jolt of sensation through you. You're unsure whether he's doing this to turn your mind to mush so you can do nothing but agree with him or assert his dominance over Woobin, who watches with a flushed neck, clearly intimidated by Heeseung's display of possessiveness.

Nodding slowly, you side-eye Heeseung, “Y-you do,” you say quietly but as he bites down on your ear and you yelp, you speak up a bit more confidently, “You do satisfy me.”

“Good girl,” he whispers, placing one final kiss on your ear, “You heard her, so get the fuck away from her, or I will throw your body in the loch and no one will even care to look for you,” he challenges Woobin, threatening him like some gangster.

As Woobin backs up and mutters ‘This is not fucking worth it’, Heeseung smiles triumphantly, knowing he’s scared him off for good. Heeseung fixes your hair, gathering it all to sit nicely at the back, running his fingers through it as he silently warns any other men in the club that you’re no one but his.

You hate to admit it, but it turns you on a little.

But your responsible head twists back on and you understand what Heeseung has done again, “Heeseung,” you slap his chest and push him away, “Stop fucking babying me!” Standing up from the stool, you weave through the people at the club in search of the exit, Heeseung’s antics finally pushing you too far. 

"I am doing my job, Y/N," he shouts over the chatter and music, his voice barely audible amidst the din of the club.

"No, you aren't. That is not your job," you retort, your voice rising above the noise. "Pretending to be my boyfriend and scaring away potential fucks is not part of the remit!"

Your words hang in the air, heavy with frustration and disappointment. You push him away one more time, creating some distance between you before storming out of the club.

Fuming with anger and adrenaline, you make your way through the car park, your mind racing with conflicting emotions. Part of you resents Heeseung for his overbearing behaviour, but another part can't deny the thrill you felt with his protective display. It's infuriating to admit, but the feeling of his possessiveness is sending shivers straight down south, You hate that you're even thinking like this.

His touch on your ear and neck lingers in your mind, igniting a whirlwind of desire and confusion. You're not thinking straight anymore, and if Heeseung catches up to you, you're not sure how you'll react - whether it'll be pure anger or pure lust.

Either way, you need to get this steam out. 

“Y/N! Get back here right now!” he shouts, pushing past the men who are ogling your figure. 

As you hear his voice, something takes over you. You pull the first guy you see into a kiss, holding onto this jacket as your mouth moves against his.

Heeseung sees red, blood red as he watches you kiss the stranger. It’s reckless behaviour, your lips moving roughly against a guy probably twice your age but, of course, the guy doesn’t mind. He wraps his arms around you to bring you in closer. That gesture shakes Heeseung from his shock coma, his emotions fueling him.

But Heeseung can't stand idly by any longer. With a guttural growl, he yanks the man away from you, his anger propelling him into action. He delivers a punishing punch to the man's face, the force of it sending him crashing to the ground, sprawled across the gravel of the car park.

Heeseung doesn't stop there. He delivers a few more swift kicks to the man's prone form before turning his attention to you. Grabbing your arm with bruised hands, he hauls you towards the car, his grip tight and unforgiving.

"You're so fucking irresponsible," he seethes, his voice dripping with venom as he struggles to contain the storm of emotions raging inside him. The veins in his neck bulge with the intensity of his anger, his eyes flashing with a dangerous fire.

“Sorry if I want to have some fun,” you argue back, trying your hardest to release yourself from his firm hold.

As you both approach your car, he opens the door and shoves you in, “And kissing and fucking random guys is fun?” he slams the door behind you once he knows all your limbs are inside the vehicle.

Striding over to the driver's seat, he gets in quickly, locking the doors so you can’t make a quick escape. You don’t even attempt to try and flee, already knowing you’re only going to end up in a game of cat and mouse all night, and in this weather with your dress isn’t fun. 

“I’m 20 years old, nearly 21, I can fuck if I want to,” you shout back, slamming your hand on the backrest to hammer home your point. You are old enough and wise enough to make your own decisions, Heeseung is only there to make sure you don’t end up getting kidnapped or whatever it is your dad thinks will happen to you.

"It's not wanting to fuck that is my problem, it's who you want to fuck," he growls, his voice tinged with bitterness.

You want to slap him, angry that he doesn’t seem to get it, “I don’t get to fuck anyone thanks to you,” you retort back with venom laced in your voice.

His entire body turns to face you, his gaze piercing through you as he asks, "You want to get fucked?"

“Yes! Obviously!”

Heeseung lunges towards you, pressing his lips to yours in a matter of seconds to your answer. At first, you’re confused at what is happening, the unfamiliar feeling of his mouth melting into yours causes your head to thump.

But as he moves you to lay back, flicking the seat to recline all the way back, you find yourself chasing his body with yours, your lips like magnets as they draw themselves back to his. He tastes sweet, not like how you expected, you were presuming it’s the flavour of his vape he swears he doesn’t use.

Shuffling your way up the seat, you spread your legs so he can situate himself neatly in between you, knees resting against the edge of the seat for support, his hands roaming all over your body and his kisses never faltering. 

He was hungry for you, those tiny tastes of your neck served as appetisers before the main meal which was your mouth and tongue. Roughly, he brings one of his palms to cover your throat as squeezes, the consequential parting of your lips as you gasp gives him access to lick into your mouth. The grip on your throat is heavenly, just tight enough to make your brain go fuzzy but not to the point you think you’re in danger.

With a quick roll of his hips, you feel the outline of his cock being pushed onto your core, even through jeans he’s prominent, only building up your anticipation more. He does this a few times, each time the rough edges of his zipper rub your barely covered clit, eliciting a moan from you.

Heeseung's smirk widens at your response, his gaze flickering with desire as he watches the desperation in your eyes. Without hesitation, he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he repeats his question, this time with less anger and more longing. "You want to get fucked?"

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, your desire for him burning hotter than ever before. "Yes, please, Heeseung," you whimper, using your hands to hold his hips against yours as you rut yourself desperately against him, humping his length through his jeans. 

Heeseung almost feels bad for you, clearly, he underestimated how much you needed to seek release. No wonder you were willing to entertain someone like Woobin. He had to make this worth the frustration he has been causing you.

The pressure of Heeseung's hand around your throat tightens, eliciting a gasp from your lips as you struggle to catch your breath, "You sure you want to fuck a guy like me?" he hisses, his voice tinged with both agitation and desire, the intensity of his gaze burning into yours.

Despite the lack of air, you manage to choke out your response, your voice laced with desperation, "Yes, Heeseung, I need you."

A smug smirk plays across Heeseung's lips at your admission, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. "Oh, I know you need me, Sweetheart," he replies, his tone dripping with confidence. "You're staining my jeans as we speak." His words send a shiver down your spine, a potent mixture of arousal and frustration coursing through you.

But then his question cuts through the haze of desire, forcing you to confront the reality of the situation, "I'm asking if you want to go back to little Woobin now?" he taunts, knowing full well the answer already. He just wants to hear you say it.

With a shake of your head, you release your hold on his hips and begin to unbutton his jeans, determination blazing in your eyes. "No," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. "No, I only want you."

“Thought so,” he kisses you again before releasing your throat, focusing his hand's attention on ridding you of your pants while you work to get his trousers out of the way. He tugs your underwear down, tossing them to his side of the car before lining himself up at your hole.

Wrapping your legs around his hips, you try to push him to slip into you, but he keeps his hips rigid, only making you look more desperate for him. He taps your clit with the head of his cock, each time it slaps down, he echoes it with a tut.

“You don’t even know if I’ll fit,” his voice whispering in your ear as he licks the shell of it, “All those preppy rich boy cocks aren’t anything like mine,” he takes your wrist in his hand and guides you to feel his length as it sits neatly in your folds, “See?”

Whining, you pout, knowing he’s just teasing you for badness, “I promise I can handle it,” you say lowly, pumping his cock between your cunt and hand. The motion makes Heeseung hiss in pleasure, the feeling of his cock trapped only adding to his anticipation of being inside you.

He moves in for a chaste kiss on your lips, his touch soft despite the intense need between you, "I'll go slow," he tells you, his words a balm in the midst of the intense moment. Even in the heat of passion, Heeseung is driven by his instinct to protect you.

With one swift movement, he slides into your heat slowly, letting you stretch around him. Surprisingly to both of you, your pussy is accommodating him perfectly, the stretch a little painful but not unbearable. He shallowly moves his hips back and forth, watching his cock disappear into you further and further each time until he’s bottoming out and tapping your cervix lightly.

Heeseung isn't wrong when he tells you that no other cock you've had can compare to his. Every curve and ridge of his dick seems perfectly designed to hit every sweet spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. It's an otherworldly sensation, the way he gains traction with each movement, his confidence growing as he senses your comfort and willingness to take more.

"You're so tight, baby girl," he murmurs between kisses.

Lost in the throes of passion, you cling to Heeseung, your bodies moving in perfect synchronisation as you lose yourself in the sensation of him filling you completely. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, igniting a fire that burns hotter with each passing moment.

Heeseung's hands roam over your body, exploring every curve and contour with a hunger that matches your own. His touch is both gentle and possessive, his fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake as they trace the contours of your skin. The pads of his fingers roughly grab your tit that’s managed to escape your dress, twisting your nipple between his finger and thumb.

Your hands are in a similar position, running along his toned stomach under his shirt, trying to commit it to memory, just in case you never get to do this again. You wish this was happening with zero clothes in the way but the desperation between you both got in the way. 

As the intensity of your desire builds, Heeseung's movements become more urgent, his thrusts growing deeper and more powerful with each passing moment. You can feel the tension coiling within you, the promise of release looming on the horizon like a distant storm.

“You’re squeezing me so tight, Y/N. I won’t last much longer,” he admits, knowing that he’s close to the edge himself.

“Need it, I need you to cum,” you moan loudly, your hand leaving his skin to find your clit, rubbing it vigorously as you try and speed along your orgasm.

Your words drive Heeseung to pound into you faster, willing both of you to come undone together. The car shakes as you both speed up your movements, your hips trying to match his rhythm to create a deeper impact with each buck of his hips.

With a final, desperate thrust, Heeseung drives you both over the edge, sending you spiralling into ecstasy. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you, leaving you breathless and trembling under him, the ropes of his cum coating your heat. 

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he feels his cock swell and throb inside of you, “Cum with me, Y/N. Please.”

Circling your arms around his shoulders, you hug him close to you as his body shivers, still reeling from the aftermath of his climax. You lay like that for a few minutes, processing everything that just transpired between you both.

“Are you okay?” he asks, holding himself up to face you, one hand wiping your sweaty bangs from your forehead.

Nodding, you shut your eyes, massaging his shoulders lightly as you let bliss take over you, “I feel great,” you smile.

Heeseung grabs your pants from the driver seat and bundles them up, using them as a makeshift cloth to clean you up, spitting on them before running them along your swollen cunt, “We can’t do this ever again,” he says quietly, his breathing starting to regulate again.

“What do you mean?” you lean on your elbows, looking up at him with confusion, “Was it not okay?”

Of course, it was okay, Heeseung thinks your pussy might be the best he’s ever had, but it’s not logical to try and keep this fantasy alive. You were too different, this encounter was fueled by anger and rage between you both, hardly the start of a picture-perfect relationship.

He discards your underwear and pulls his own bottoms up, tucking his softening cock into his boxers and jeans, “It was great, but I’m supposed to protect you, not fuck you,” he says, shuffling back into his seat, starting the car.

“We’ll use protection next time,” you shrug, fixing your seat to sit upright, “It’s no big deal.”

Heeseung sighs, his frustration evident as he starts the car and pulls out onto the road. "You know that's not what I mean, Y/N," he replies, his voice tinged with resignation.

The rest of the drive home is filled with silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Heeseung's thoughts swirl with the fear of losing his job, the guilt of failing to protect you, and the sudden need to be inside you all the time.

“We forget about this, okay?” he asks, eyes flickering to you.

You nod in agreement, but a smirk tugs at the corners of your lips, betraying your true thoughts. Deep down, you know that you won’t forget about it, and this will certainly not be the last time you find yourself fucking Lee Heeseung - You'll make sure of it.

[sleeplessdreamer14]

𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝒾𝑒𝒸𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊

fandom: my hero academia

relationship: tenya iida x reader

summary: you left your jacket in iida’s room.

contains: mutual pining, unresolved romantic tension, fluff, opposites attract, thrifted clothes, like two lines of dialogue

a/n: @thecutestgrotto divider credit goes to

Study sessions hadn’t always been a thing between you and Iida, not until after moving into the dorms. You just lived too far apart to meet up every week like you did now, every Friday to be exact.

Iida had offered to tutor you earlier in the school year, but you always turned him down, wanting to at least try and figure things out on your own. But after you began to live in the same building, you finally accepted his offer and worked out a schedule for the two of you to meet up in the afternoon and go over any material either of you had trouble with.

Eventually, those study sessions began to evolve into hang outs with studying sprinkled in, switching between his room and yours every week. Despite you two having very different tastes in room decor, it look little time for you to grow comfortable in each other’s environments. You quickly learned his organization system and he gradually learned to just leave your clutter be… mostly.

This week’s study meeting was held in Iida’s dorm room, and when you had first walked through the door, you were sporting your iconic letterman jacket which you had gotten from a thrift shop not too long ago. It had become routine for you and your mom to stop by the thrift store when you would spend her days off work together.

Anyway, it wasn’t until about an hour after you had left to start turning in for the night that Iida realized you had left your jacket behind, in a small bundle on the floor near the foot of his bed. He was surprised that it took him this long to notice, considering he had actually watched you walk- or more rush out the door after you realized how late it had gotten. You had taken it off in the middle of studying since the fabric retained heat and you were getting a little warmer than you would have preferred, so he supposed that you must have been so eager to go shower and get to sleep at a somewhat decent hour that you simply forgot.

Iida’s initial idea to stop by your dorm room to give it back to you, but it was already pretty late and he knew that you tended to lock your door at night. Though he supposed he could simply text you, but you were probably already asleep, or at least drifting off, so he didn’t want to disturb you. It had been a long week and you needed the rest.

So he decided that he would simply return it to you tomorrow morning when he saw you again. And it definitely wasn’t because over the past few weeks, the more time that Tenya spent with you, the more it felt as though your study sessions ended too early and he just wanted to hold onto the piece of you for as long as he could. Of course not.

And that’s why he was lying on his back in the dark, holding the piece of clothing to his chest while staring up and the ceiling with nothing but the low hum of the air conditioner and muffled outside noises to fill the silence.

If he were being honest, Iida loved this jacket. Because despite it being previously owned, it was so uniquely yours. He could still remember the day you returned to the dorms with a skip in your step as you showed off your new duds, talking about how lucky you were to find it right at the front of the shop and have it fit you just right. Coincidentally, it even had the first letter of your surname on the front. There were a lot of things that Tenya had grown to appreciate thanks to you.

Like your piercings. While Tenya previously found them impractical and even a bit unprofessional, he eventually grew to like how they looked on you, especially after you had invited him to go with you to get your most recent one.

And the rings you wore every day, two on your left and one on your right. Honestly, he kind of just liked your hands. Iida had briefly held your hand a couple times before, to help you stand up or when one of you was leading the other somewhere. He wished he could do that more.

Turning over on his side, Iida closed his eyes and lightly tightened his hold on your jacket as his heart drummed in his ears.

No. Don’t do it. Don’t do it, don’t you dare do it.

But he did. Tenya brought the jacket closer to his face and inhaled slowly. Yep, there it was; your natural scent with hints of your shampoo around the back of the collar. It was nice, comforting. Sometimes when he went to bed after your study sessions, he could find faint traces of your smell on his pillow or covers of you had been resting there while working.

Tenya wished he could have more than this. More of you, and for longer. But if this was all he could have, then he could be content with that.

The following morning, Iida folded up your jacket before going to return it to you. While part of him felt a little disappointed at first about having to give it back to you, that feeling was overpowered by the smile on your face when he did. You slipped your jacket on and tucked your hands into the pockets, thanking Iida.

“Don’t worry, it’s no trouble at all.” he replied, hoping that the blush in his face wasn’t too obvious. It really did look perfect on you.

As you went your separate ways, you gently rubbed your arms and took a deep breath in, your face flushing a subtle pink as you picked up faint traces of Tenya’s scent. Looking back over your shoulder in his direction, you chuckled softly as you stared at him as he engaged in conversation with some of your other classmates, blissfully unaware of that fact that-

“You totally left it in his room on purpose, didn’t you?” Mina whispered as she approached you, a Cheshire Cat grin spread across her face as she quirked an eyebrow at you. You said nothing, only rolling your eyes and lightly shoving her by the shoulder, earning a giggle. You knew that she could see the answer in your face.

Maybe you did, but he didn’t need to know that.

[beomcoups]

F.U.C.K.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: ex!bf Seungcheol x fem!reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst, smut, small fluff, lovers to exes au, 18+

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.1k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You've been on and off forever and you couldn't leave him alone if you tried. You have an itch only Seungcheol can scratch.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex, oral, missionary, riding, praise, dirty talk, creampie, clit stim, multiple orgasms, a bit of overstimulation, Coups is a lover boi, angsty feelings about the relationship

𝐀𝐍: Thank youuuuu @hobeemin & @wongyuseokie for reading this for me and Beezy you are the best hype woman ever <3. Also thank you @aaagustd for making this sexy ass banner 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: 💿 F.U.C.K- Victoria Monet, Dirty Dancer- Orion Sun, Idea 686- Jayla Darden, Strings- iyla, Behind- Woodz, Forgive Me- Chloe x Halle, Art- Tyla, I Could Imagine- Alina Baraz, Good& Plenty- Alex Isley, Masego and Jack Dine, Skin Tight- Ravyn Lenae Steve Lacy, Idea 683- Jayla Darden, Body and Soul- Emotional Oranges and Biig Piig, Butterflies- Tyla, Between Us- Alina Baraz, Nasty- Tinashe, Under The Moon - Alex Isley, Jack Dine (spotify)

It’s complicated. Your Facebook relationship status has been that way for over a year. If someone asked, you wouldn’t know how to define your relationship with Seungcheol. You can’t say you’re just friends when the love is still there, but you can’t stay together longer to just work. Something happens, and you argue and split up. Months, sometimes years, can go by, and you feel like you’ve finally moved on, but all he has to do is call, or you have an itch that needs scratching, and there he is, ready to make it go away.

He stands there in front of you, his dark hair clipped and trimmed perfectly, highlighting the handsome features on his face: his dark, round eyes, high cheekbones, and plump pink lips. He comes dressed in a simple white tee and sweats, with an overnight bag in hand, as he knows he is staying the night. Seungcheol smirked as he walked in, placing a small kiss on your temple. 

“Well, hello to you too,” you say, shutting the door behind you. You watch him take off his shoes, walk into your living room, and admire the view of the city through your picture windows. You just moved into your high-rise condo a couple of months ago, and your job promotion allows you to level up in life and enjoy nice things for once. Your place looks straight out of a movie, with your tastes added. Your favorite color is blue, and you included it in your decor. 

“You kept the couch?” Seungcheol points at the royal blue sectional sofa with matching gold-trimmed throw pillows you bought from your favorite thrift store. “Yes,” you say proudly. “That couch is my pride and joy. We’ve been through a lot together.” Memories about the many times you spent together on the couch, clothed and unclothed, cloud your mind. He chuckles as you sashay to the kitchen, grabbing a bottled water. You offer him one, and he shakes his head, returning his attention to the city's shining lights. He’s been in your life for five years, meeting at a grocery store with both of your hands on the last bag of cherries. He relented, letting you have them in exchange for your number. You didn’t give it to him, hoping that you would see him again. At the time, you just moved to the city, and if you were meant to meet again, you would give him your number. A couple of weeks later, you did when you went to a birthday dinner with your former roommate. His eyes twinkled when you exchanged glances, and you felt like it was fate.  “You did it,” he felicitates you. “You did everything we talked about doing all those years ago. I’m proud of you.”

You would have late nights with him in your shitty old apartment, eating Chinese takeout in bed and talking about your hopes for the future. Seungcheol wanted to have it all: a nice house, cars, and riches beyond his dreams. All you wanted was a good life. You grew up poor, raised by a single mom who worked two jobs to ensure you had a roof over your head. You understood each other in that way, and it worked between you two for a while… until it didn’t.

“You got your high rise before me,” you appear beside him. “What does it feel like, being the top broker in your firm?”

“It’s nice,” he nods. “It keeps me busy.”

You knew that all too well. One of the reasons you broke up was time. His work felt more important than maintaining a relationship with you. You swear if someone called in the middle of the night, he would answer in a heartbeat. It’s not like you aren’t busy; you work on Wall Street. But you still made time to be with him at all important events and when it mattered most. The energy wasn’t reciprocated.

“I see nothing has changed,” you say, taking a swig of your water.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “I think I am ready for it, though.”

“Are you now?”

“Yeah. There is no point in having all of this if there is no one to share it with, right?”

You didn’t have to say anything back because he was right. What is the point of working hard, making more money than your parents could ever dream of, traveling, and having life experiences without having someone to share them with? It also incredibly frustrates you. Why did it take five years for him to get to this point? The back and forth, blocking each other on all accounts. Was it worth it?

You two are silent, watching the city lights twinkle in the distance. His fingers slip in between yours, pulling you closer to him. Just being near him makes your heart skip several beats. No one like him can melt you just by his touch and presence. Yes, he can irritate you to no end, but he also makes your soul smile.

“I missed you,” he says, gazing at you. 

“I know.” 

You kiss him, the magic stirring in your chest as he returns your feelings; sparks all around you two like fireworks. Your hands explore him fervently, pulling off his shirt and throwing it on your couch. He unhooks your bra, helping you out of your shirt and exposing your breasts. He bites his lip as he palms his growing bulge, the very thought of his lips all over you making you hot.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers. 

You take his hand and guide him to your bedroom, climbing over your king-size bed. He follows you closely, his index finger sliding up your thigh. It feels electric, having him touch you again after so long. You have tried moving on, going on dates, and having one-night stands here and there. But deep down, those people weren’t him. Seungcheol knows your body, what makes you tick, your boundaries, and what drives you crazy. It’s exhausting trying to find that chemistry with someone else. Too bad you can’t just make it work. 

He slides your shorts and panties off with one hand, your naked body being illuminated by the moonlight. He notices your sheets, trying to hold it in before succumbing to a belly laugh. 

“Cherry sheets? Really?” He says in between breathes.

“Come on now,” you chuckle. “You know I love my little house on the prairie sheets.” “I swear you were born in the wrong generation,” Seungcheol expresses, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “Yeah, maybe,” you muse over his words. “I’m glad I met you in this lifetime, though.” He admires you, his thumb caressing your cheek before he kisses you again. This time, it’s more heartfelt, your bodies hungry for another as each minute passes. His hand travels down to your inner thighs, spreading your legs apart and slowly entering a digit into your wet core. Seungcheol licks his lips, watching your eyes roll back as you unravel his arms. “Shit,” you moan. “Keep doing it just like that.”

“I’m going to do more than that,” he whispers in your ear. 

Seungcheol was already great with his fingers, slipping one more in you as his tongue played in circles on your neck, your sweet-smelling perfume intoxicating to him. He loves the way your brows furrow when he goes deep, your mind focused on nothing else but cumming all over his hand. You play with your clit, drunk on the pleasure he’s giving you, with your wetness pooling onto your sheets. You two are connected in a way, in your own little bubble surrounded by ecstasy.

“Fuck baby,” you pant as pressure builds up in your stomach. “I’m almost there.” He pulls his fingers out of you quickly, snapping you out of your zone, and you whimper in protest. He aggressively pulls down his pants and briefs, revealing his hardened cock already leaking with precum. He slides down to your entrance, his face nose deep in between your legs before he dives in; his tongue attacks your sweet nectar. Sensational couldn't even begin to describe how you feel. He eats you with an enthusiasm that almost makes you laugh despite the deep pleasure he brings you. “You taste better than I remembered,” he mouths. “Cum for me.”

Your body is at its brink, ready to fall, when Seungcheol slips his fingers in, working together with his tongue to make sure you hit that pool of ecstasy. Your hands grip his hair, and your orgasm hits you like cool water on a warm day. You feel him smirk against your thigh, leaving you with lasting, small kisses before lifting his face and revealing your essence on the lower half. You cover your mouth to hold back your giggles, and he rolls his eyes, leaning over and kissing your lips. “I’m not sorry,” you breathe. “You knew what you were doing.”

“You shouldn’t be,” he smirks. “Especially when I’m going to make you do it again.”

Seungcheol lifts your leg, pulling himself back as he rubs his throbbing dick against your entrance. Your eyes grow wide as he taps your sensitive, swollen clit, a mischievous grin on his face. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” he says as if reading your thoughts. “I’m going to start slow.” “You don’t want me to blo—” you start to protest. “No, I’ve waited long enough,” his deep and velvety voice serves as a warning. FUCK.

He enters you inch by inch, stretching you out the way you like, your fingers already gripping the sheets. You look at him through a hazy daze, his focus on burying himself deep inside of you, bringing you a deep satisfaction. You enjoy watching his Adam’s apple shift when he moans, his voice barely audible while he dives into you. You remember the first time you slept together; he had your legs over his shoulder, fucking you long and deep on top of your blue couch at your old place. You both didn’t intend for it to happen that way; you were caught up in the highs of seeing a band you both enjoy, and one thing led to another. His dick is long with a bit of a curve, fitting perfectly like your pussy was molded and made for him. No one has even come close. 

“Give it to me,” you breathe. “Please, I need you bad.” Seungcheol loves it when you beg for it, and he obliges, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper. Maybe it’s because you love him, but he is the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. The way his hips roll as he snaps into you, watching him come in and out of you with your wetness coating him, turns you on. Your hands grasp his face, your thumb slipping into his mouth as he fucks you silly. You can barely form words in your head, let alone say anything else but “fuck” and “make me cum”. He fucks you in a way that makes you have wet dreams and leaves you with a puddle in your sheets. If he were a Greek god, he would be Eros, the god of love and sex. That’s how bad he has you. “Turn over,” you grit your teeth. You lean up and flip him over, his throbbing cock still inside you as you are on top of him. You let your body take over, riding him while his hands are placed firmly on your breasts. You set the pace, and he follows, a harmonious rhythm between the two of you, your senses heightened to another level. You are on this incredible high, sliding on his shaft while you vigorously play with your clit, ready to cum. “Did you miss this?  He teases you as he grinds harder into you. “Did you miss sitting on this dick until you cum?” You nod fervently, your hand still playing with your clit, and you are ready to explode. 

“Fuck,” he grits his teeth. “I’m close. Let’s come together like we always do.” You erupt, screaming his name while he sloppily pumps into you, his hair sweaty and his succulent lips red from biting. He leans up and kisses you hard, your moans and words of praise swallowed and digested. Whatever you were going to say, he felt it more, your hearts beating in unison powered by your feelings for each other. He talks you through it, helping you come down from your high before he releases his own, spilling into you until he is completely spent. You’ve been on birth control for years, and Seungcheol is the only person you’ve let hit without a condom. It just feels so right with him. You roll off of him, collapsing on your pillow as you try and catch your breath. His breathing is relaxed, and when you gaze at him, his eyes are closed, already half asleep. You attempt to get out of bed, but he grabs your arm, pulling you close to him. 

“Stay,” he kisses your shoulder. “I sleep better when you’re with me.” 

You can’t deny him when he is in this state, pulling on your heartstrings like that. 

“Fine, you win,” you say without much effort. 

Glancing at the time, it’s after 12, and fatigue finally hits you at least. Snuggling into him, you fall into a deep sleep, but not before admitting that you still love him and would do anything for him. 

The sunlight is not kind as it peers through your windows and wakes you up a little after 9. You had forgotten to draw the curtains before you fell asleep, but you didn’t have much energy left after the night you had. You woke him up after three, sucking his cock until he exploded down your throat, and he returned the favor by eating you out until you were ripe from overstimulation. You made such a mess that you had to change your sheets and listen to him teasing you about your “old lady” sheets. Whatever, you liked them.

You rolled over, and Seungcheol was already awake, scrolling through his phone. He notices you and kisses your forehead before removing your blanket and smacking your ass.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he says, leaning back against the headboard.

You chuckle as you get out of bed, grab your silk robe, and walk into the bathroom. You feel sore; last night’s shenanigans are indeed catching up with you. You just want to lay in bed and relax, but you have this nagging feeling in your stomach. You could brush it off and deal with it later, but knowing you, you will overthink, turning it into something it's not. You have to know how he feels.

Finishing up in the bathroom, you leave to find him setting orange juice on your nightstand with a couple of ibuprofen. He is only dressed in his sweats and nothing underneath, your center aching for him despite the tenderness you feel.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, reading your look. You have never had a good poker face.

You sit down on the bed, take your two pills, and wash them down with orange juice. You allow yourself to get your thoughts in order. You're unsure what to say, but you know the conversation needs to be had.

“What are we doing?” you blurt out. “I love you, and you never stopped loving me. Why can’t we just get it right?”

The silence is too deafening for your liking. It would be like you to tear the band-aid off first thing in the morning. But you hate being in the dark, not knowing what the future will hold. You’re not saying that you have to jump the broom, but you have to know if there’s any chance he feels the same way you do.

“I-I-m sorry,” you shake your head. “I shouldn’t have sprung that on you first thing in the morning. Forget I said anything.” 

You attempt to leave the room before Seungcheol catches your arm and motions for you to sit down. Grudgingly, you do, sitting on your ottoman and facing him. “You didn’t even give me a chance to respond,” he complains. “You can’t always assume how I feel is something bad. Give me a chance.” You nod, knowing deep down he is right. “You are right,” He admits. “I love you, and this song and dance we’ve been doing for years is tired. I came to you last night because I missed you and I need you. You’re the only one in my life who has always kept it straight with me, even when you get on my nerves.” You smirk at his comment, knowing it’s true. “But we have also been apart for a long time, and as much as I want to jump back into our usual routine, I recognize we have grown up a bit and need to get to know each other as our different selves.” You nod slowly, mulling over his words, unsure what to say. “I also don’t want to see anyone else,” he breathes. “You are the only person I want to see, to do this with.” He points at the sheets, and you roll your eyes. It would be like him to somehow bridge it back to sex. 

“So…” your voice trails off. “What are we then? We are more than friends but not together? I don’t understand.” “I want to be with you,” he grabs your hands. “If we fight and storm off to our houses, I’d rather it be that then we break up and don’t talk for months at a time. I hate that.” You nod, finally understanding what he is saying. He is scared of the future, just like you are. But in this life, you would rather go through it with him than anyone else. You have too much time and feelings just to throw it away. “Maybe we can try talking to someone about it this time around?” You say. “A therapist or something? I want to be with you, and maybe working through our issues to understand each other better sometimes is what we need.” “Yeah, I’m open to that.” He hugs you, embracing you tightly before leaving sweet kisses on your face. You are deathly ticklish, and he knows it. He moves his kisses elsewhere until you find yourself in your bed, his body towering over yours. He leaves you one more kiss on your lips before laying his head on your chest. “We’re going to be okay,” he whispers.

You look down and smile, caressing the dark stresses in his hair.

“Yeah. We will be.”

[clefairysoup]

What yours and Ellie’s apartment would look like and why

All the photos are from Pinterest not mine! Reblogs and comments are very appreciated. I come bearing fluff. No apocalypse and I’m not sure if someone has done this idea, I haven’t seen anything but if someone has please tell me and I will delete this

The kitchen

This is the most average broke uni student kitchen I have ever seen, and it fits you two. Ellie bought magnets that say 'eat pussy all day' and stuck them on the fridge, she told you it’s a reminder for her to come get her other meal. Anyways ellie gives of vibes that the most cooking she can do to her abilities is sticking a nasty ready meal in the microwave. More under cut

dining area

your dining area is the most boring and small place in the apartment, you both simply have no care for it. Its just a table with 2 chairs that sits in the most random spot (your fucked when people come over). Usually you eat in the living room, only ever used when you feel bad for neglecting it, cluttering things on the table of random objects that you forget about or for stealing one of the chairs for something else. ultimately useless.

Bathroom

Simple but still shows sign of use. some cute plants and odd posters and stickers ellie insists of having on the wall. Ellie definitely manages to get water all over the floor when showering, even with the curtain and your like ??? Just me thatlikes those toilet rug things but then its also gross at the same time, because thats where you shit why do you have a rug on it. Ellie has a mug that says, 'Keep calm im a lesbian' on it that holds your tooth brushes.

Bedroom

Ellie’s lazy ass would NEVER make the bed, she just rolls right outta there. Got a whole shelf and drawer to your cds and vinyls, and the many different head phones and players. Shelves of all the comics ellie loves and your things. Cringy ass pillows all over the bed. Ellie also keeps her guitar on the wall.

Living room

Once again ellie removed the ceiling lights from the living because it didn’t match the vibe. You now have over 12 lamps scattered around the room, that you find in little thrift stores. 100% have a mini fridge because you guys can’t be bothered to take 4 steps to the kitchen. 100 pillows and the throws that you try to fold up but somehow just end up pilled in a ball back to how they were. You guys own tons of board games that Ellie keeps from her childhood.

bonus

Ellie owns a freaking plakat beta fish because I said so, and she’s also an autistic nerd (someone had to say it ). She loves her fish called Hester which is an astrology term for star, that she also is nerdy af about

I hope you enjoyed me talking about my wife of 3 years, Reblogs are very appreciated

[urmomschocolatemilk]

Simon Riley x Alternative!fem!reader

I went thrifting td with a friend and got this idea. Reminder that my inbox is open ghost headcanons and requests

If there was one thing Simon knew about you from the moment the two of you met, it was that you loved to sew. Almost every piece of clothing you owned was handmade or altered. You’d cut up shirts, using the lace or frill at the top and add it to another piece of clothing. You’d tailor dresses and shirts for your friends and family and always patch up Simon's on base uniform.  

You weren't sure what made sitting in front of the sewing machine, eyes trained on a certain strip of whatever you were working on that was so therapeutic but it was. Not only was it that you loved the art of sewing, but in-store brands never seemed to have something you liked, or fit your personal style, so being able to make your own clothing really came in handy.

Your birthday was coming around and Simon, being the best boyfriend he was, had already picked a restaurant and booked a reservation. What you didn't know however, was that he’d been learning to sew for the past couple of months because he wanted to make you a dress that you would absolutely adore. He knew nothing he could buy would cut it, and he also knew that you loved handmade gifts. So, he found that this was the perfect gift. 

Now Simon knew what you liked about your clothes and what you didn't. For example, you didn't like light tones because you felt they highlighted any hyperpigmentation you had. Or that you didn't like to wear dresses with too high a slit on the side because you felt that it caused the fabric to fall weirdly around your legs.

Even with all this knowledge Simon didn't want to get it wrong. He wanted this gift to be perfect and as previously stated, something you’d adore. So, he stole your sketch book, which contained every preview of a design you’d created in the past year and flipped through it. Taking mental notes of each similarity and alteration.  

The week after that Simon enrolled in a regularly scheduled sewing class to begin working on his project. Simon did feel out of place there, especially at the start. He was the only man there, let alone a 6’2 military buff, but the instructor didn't treat him any differently, and he didnt pay any mind to it either.

“You want this to be your first project?” the teacher asked when Simon first showed her the sketch. He nodded. “This is quite difficult for a beginner. You understand that, yes?”

Simon shrugged ‘It’s going to be a gift.”  

Every week, twice a week Simon showed up to class. He never skipped a session. He needed this dress to be perfect. It took a month for him to get it looking decent, and then another half month to get it looking perfect. It seemed he was a fast learner.  

Finally, he was able to take it home, and the first place it went was to the dry cleaners. He wasn't going to risk throwing his masterpiece, and more importantly, your gift, into the washing machine to get ruined. Then when he picked it up he folded it neatly and placed it in a gorgeous red velvet box he had bought.  

Hiding it was easier than Simon had expected it to be, considering that you lived together and every part of the house was easily accessible to you. The only thing you didn't ever touch was his desk. So, he decided to keep it there, placing it at the bottom of the desk cabinet and neatly stacking some papers and folders around it to keep it concealed.   

Finally, the day came around and you were just about ready to begin getting ready for dinner when he stopped you mid-way into the bathroom.  

“I want to show you something,” Simon said, taking your hand and sitting you down on the bed. You furrowed your eyebrows, slightly concerned.  

“Is everything okay?” You asked  

“Just wait here,” he told you, walking swiftly out of the room and into his office. Simon rarely smiled, like really smiled, but when he came back into the room, red velvet box in hand his lips were turned up in subtle excitement.  

“What's this?” you asked with a grin, taking the box from him and running your hand over the soft, plush exterior.  

“Your birthday present," he answers. Simon is nervous as he watches you lift the lid, placing it gently next to you and taking out the soft fabric in the box. Your lips part in awe as you realize what it is, and you pinch it at the top, holding it out in front of you and letting it unravel itself. He watches as your eyes glaze over it slowly, taking in every detail. You love it. 

“Where did you get this?” you ask, not taking your eyes off the beautiful piece of fabric. He swears he can see your eyes glittering in the light as you look at the dress.  

“I made it.” He states. You’re already smiling, but when you hear his answer, your smile widens. You look beautiful, he thinks.  

“You made this?” You repeat excitedly, your head turning to look up at him. He nodded. “This is gorgeous baby!” You were so touched by the length and effort he had put into something for you. You knew he didn't know how to sew so the fact that he learned to and took the time to learn what you liked and didn't like made your heart bloom with adoration.  

“You like it lovie’?” he asked. You nodded profusely, setting the dress aside as you stood and threw your arms around him. Pressing a kiss to his lips you answered.  

“I love it.” 

[lady-ashfade]

Can I place an order of Blueberry Pie with Villain Class 1-A. Please and Thank You.

Broken Shoes

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Villain!Au!Class 1A x College!Waiter!Reader. (Reader doesn’t have pronouns in this)

WORDS: 2.1k

WARNINGS: Yandere!Behaviors, Everyone is in their 20s, Posted Late, Dark!Romance, Reader Is Just From America But Any Race, Villan Au, Non-Quirk Au, Is the reader is claimed any pronouns tell me so I can fix it.

Bakery event.

A/N: I got a idea from the requester of what they wanted since it has taken me so long, thankful so much for them!!

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚ 🫐 🥧 ˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

The first incident was when your shoe feel apart on your way home, the bottom coming undo and looked and sounded like a flip flop. It was rough because they had been your shoes for years, they had to give up sometime. But you didn’t have enough money to pay for a new pair. The only thrift store was a long ways away from where you live and you’d never have the extra money for train ride. So you did what you could…And tried to make it work again. With glue and your sewing kit and then had something to last you a few more weeks.

You set up a new jar in your kitchen by the window, next to the bigger blue jar with the labeled “computer”, while this one was pink and for shoes. You worked at a shitty diner in Japan, a American experience which was perfect since you moved here in your late teen years from the US. The day belonged to collage classes for you’re own business degree to work in more places and maybe start a chain of your own. And after you worked as long as you could to make it through life.

“Mornin’,” you greet your manager. The older woman smiled as she took the rag and whipped off the white counter, the lights from the screens hitting her back to make her pink outfit pop. Hana was the nicest woman you ever met, she was shorter then you with a plump body, her age showing in her skin but her face remained chubby and almost wrinkle free. After any day you had, you knew her warm smile could make you feel better.

While helping around you both chatted about your day and how it went, her more leaning towards your story while making short answers for her day. So, you told her all about school and even some things you learned and studied before customers began the walk through the doors, one after the other and so forth. The conversation died and you did your job.

“Enjoy your evening!” You shout as the last pair of people leave and you lock the doors behind them before exhaling as your body grows tired. The night had come to a end as the moon stood in the darken sky to shine just a bit of light on the streets. Not like they need it with the street lights and building lights.

“Hana, I’ll be in the bathroom.” You shout. Making your way to the bathroom your feet drag as the night hits you like a ton of bricks. The rush hour today was busier then it had been in a few weeks.

Hana was in the back to punch in all the things that happened while taking the money out of the cash register to count it. Her eyes trailed up to the metal door where the trashcans stayed after someone had knocked. It wasn’t un normal to her since she gave a few homeless people food when there was some left over, so she figured it would be them. Her feet took her to the door and her fingers unlocked the handle, before pushing it open with a bright smile.

“Kenji, how can I help you?” She spoke to nothing but air.

Hana blinked her eyes a few times before realizing no one was there, not a person in sight just a empty alleyway. Now this was strange. The knocking was loud and had to be made intentionally. The one thing that made sense of it was when she looked down there was a box with a bow.

Hana brought it to the main room and set it on the counter, just in time for you to exit the bathroom with a sour look on your face. “You got a present.” She exclaimed.

As you examined the box you saw a card attached,

“To: Y/n.

Hope you can find this helpful, thank you for the amazing service.”

The first thought you had was, who could have sent it, before even opening the box. There was a older couple who commented on your shoes but they didn’t seem like the type, and a man in a suit also had his opinions on your attire though he seemed too stingy for that. But you stopped thinking to see what was inside and hoped it wasn’t to grand.

When your eyes hit the shoes they widened a bit, they were perfect. They didn’t look too expensive but brand new with no stains on them or nothing. They looked good to work in, to jog, and to do anything you wanted.

“I bet it was that yellow haired man,” Hana commented out of the blue. You turn your head and tilted it to the side, who was she talking about? You’ve seen so many customers with yellow hair…

“Don’t give me that look dear. The cute one who always stares at you, and never complains and has you talking for hours.” you blink a few times before placing a face to the scenario.

Denki? Yeah, you think that’s his name. He always comes in every other Thursday with the same order, same questions and never wants you to leave his table. He was a sweet man, but flirtatious and sometimes you think you’ve seen him before but never have a clue. Today he came in just as before, made a few flirty jokes that you played along to, and had to rush off since it was a full diner.

“Hmm, maybe. I’ll just have to wait and see if they reveal themselves.” You hummed before going back to cleaning.

That wasn’t the only time random gifts showed up.

Each couple of weeks a new one popped up out of the blue. You’d be in the library and looking of books to help your course studies but find non, or even looking them up on the computer and find out they are too expensive to buy on your own. Then, they show up where you sit each day in classes. No one would look your way, no one was suspicious. It wasn’t just school things, but it was the things you see in windows. You’d see something pretty, look at it and imagining wearing it, then walk away knowing your wallet couldn’t handle it. Your house started to be filled with things you didn’t even buy.

Weeks of things being left you started to grow more and more worried, things you didn’t speak about. And things arriving at your door step. The last thing that made you freak out completely was a computer, the best money could buy and the note made you break. “Ditch the jar, we’ve got it covered.” Who the hell knew about the jars you had? No one did, not even Hana knew because you knew she’d give you money. Someone knew where you lived- someone sent a gifted, someone looked into your apartment or went in to see the jars.

“We’ve got it covered.” Those words stuck into your head every day after.

The blinds to your apartment now remind closed, you took the money you were saving for a computer and got extra locks for your windows. And you never took the gifts that arrived anymore. If it was at class, you’d leave them, if they came to your door you’d say they got the wrong person, if it came to your work the dumpster ate it.

Soon the gifts came to a stop. Nothing show up anymore and you felt relief, like you could breath without worrying about being watched. You stoped looking around the place for suspicious activity, your life went back to normal — Shitty, but normal.

Just as you suspected — Things went wrong for the last time.

Nosies woke you up from sleep, you had been too tired to notice anything or actually think about your actions. So you went out of your bedroom towards the noise, no plan, no worries about your life, but tired and wanting it to end. So as you turn the corner of the hall you hear hushed voices.

“Dumbass— Shut up, you’re making too much noise.” Someone, with a deeper and more grit to their voice spoke. They sounded angry…Like a man you once met on a bus.

Someone whined in response. “Don’t be mean to him Kacchan, and you’re being equally as loud. Now, everyone quiet and lets get our darling and head out.” That voice was strange to you, it was high pitched and loving but there was something else to it.

A little bit of awakening hit you and you started to look around the hall for anything of use. Wait, everyone? — That means there are more people then the two who spoke. The only thing you had that you could hit somebody with was a umbrella but you had to make do.

So, you grab ahold of the handle and hold it like a bat, then go sprinting to the doorway and popping out to surprise who ever was there.

You probably should have thought of more threatening words….

“I don’t have much!! If you’re here to rob me you’ve chosen poorly, but if anyone touches my computer you’re dying.” and like that, you point at the people in front of your umbrella-bat.

Your mind acted so quickly that it just took in everyone standing in front of you. People you have met before. The man from the train with a darken snarl that’s the same.. Denki, the guy who flirts with you at work. Another man who is always nice and friendly when he enters your work, Izuku?

“Hey honey!” A squealing voice takes your widen eyes off the green haired man. The woman who spoke was someone who you’ve talk to at school, one of the pretty girls that sit below you, Mina Ashido.

“Wha… What are you all doing in my apartment?” Your arms held up the umbrella and body still stiffened and alert.

“Don’t worry, we aren’t here to hurt you,” Izuku smiles and walks aloug your kitchen table, “and definitely not here to rob you, most of your things, expensive things, came from us.” he slides the computer along the table towards you. It started to make a bit of sense of how you’ve been getting everything.

Denki and Izuku know where you worked and gave you the shoes, they had both been in the diner that day. Mina had given you the books you looked at in the library and saw were too expensive. And the mean blonde had saw were you get off of the bus. They must have all been following you.

“What do you want then?” You backed away from them. Your eyebrows frown and arms began to tremble in heightened fear and adrenaline of your life being threatened.

“We want you, sweet thing,” the rough one spoke and the nickname sounded strange from his mouth. “The question is,” he stepped closer as your inched backwards, starting a game of chase.

“Are you gonna’ make this easy or not?”

You hummed in fear of what’s to come and wanted to run. Your body was almost about to move before a warm hand covered your mouth and made you scream and wiggle against the chest that was pressed against your back.

“I told you not to bring weapons,” the person behind you snapped at the others, making them all roll their eyes.

“I wasn’t going to hurt them!” Mina shouted.

“The gun was for looks, had to look badass for my babe.” Denki smirked.

“I wouldn’t hurt them badly, my knife would only stab their horrible neighbors.” Izuku laughed.

“And why would I listen to you, old man?”

A sharp pain in your neck shot throughout your body as your limbs began to numb up almost immediately. Your vocal cords wouldn’t make any sound when you wanted to scream, your legs couldn’t run, there was no fighting back. All you could do was keep your eyes open for as long as you could while being picked up.

A older man had you placed in his arms. Dark long hair with gray at the roots, the same for his beard. He looked tired but deadly with the glare he gave them. You knew this man. He was a teacher in the lecture room beside yours, the same man you greeted each morning — The man you served coffee to on Saturday mornings.

“You know damn well what I’ll do if you hurt them, if anyone of you spoiled brats hurt them.” His voice started to get drowned out by ringing in your ears. You wanted to listen and to stay away but your eyes just felt too heavy to go on….

There wasn’t just five of them waiting for you to wake up again, but 20 villains going insane for you.

[applejuicebegood]

Hi gorgeous!! I haven’t gotten a chance to respond to your message about jason x booknerd!reader, but I wanted to quickly message and tell you that I’ve read it and I’m absolutely in love! You literally always come up with such good ideas, idk how you do it!! You’re awesome and ily!!

-(@midnightorchids)

Jason with a Bookworm!S/O

A/N: I know school has started back up for you again babe, so I don't blame you :((( I was originally planning to expand this for you, hopefully you can read this during a study break or some down time (i might repeat some stuff - just look away). It's IB exam season where I am so I share in your pain. Hang in there dude!! Summer is almost here!!

Masterlist

He's a vintage paperback and leather-bound kinda guy. Crime, Sci-Fi, historical-fiction/romance, magical-realism, and non-fiction are his go-to genres. Favourite authors include; Margret Atwood, Kurt Vonnegut, Haruki Murakami, Frank Herbert, and probably M.T Anderson. He's only a little pretentious about it.

He can spend hours in used book stores digging through the big plastic bins and stuffed cardboard boxes. You help him find specific authors or titles, your basket heavy with your combined finds. He'll carry the bags back to your apartment, his other hand tucked into yours as you gush about excited you are to sort and organise your new additions to your shared library.

He still has some books that Bruce and Alfred gave hm before his murder. Leather bond additions of the Liliad and rare printings of Dracula and Frankenstein. They have these little notes left in the front pages from Bruce that he couldn't bring himself to tear out or throw away entirely. And if you thought his home library was huge- wait until you see the book shelves in his old room.

Since he doesn't spend that much money on himself, he now has every chance to spoil you with your own special additions of your favourite stand-alone's, expensive book-marks, and lavish coffee dates where both of you enjoy your books over the smoothest of richest of espresso.

In the early months of your relationship, most of your dates were spent at bookstores, thrift-shops, and libraries. Your love quite literally grew from the yellowed, torn pages your would both get lost in.

Once his home library combined with yours, most of your bedroom and living room wall space became covered with his floor to ceiling bookshelves. Your bedside tables would each have a small stack of books that you were currently reading.

He absolutely loves how you look with your reading glasses. He thinks it's too cute when you push them up with the back of your hand, entirely focused on an intense passage. Your eyes going wide or your breath stopping at a beautiful line. Your adorable focused stare and sweet round cheeks are accentuated fully. He should be reading the book in his own lap but he's entirely distracted by you. You shut the book with a thump and immediately turn to him to gush about the chapter you just finished only to have his hands catch your jaw and bring your smiling lips against his. And suddenly, you forgot what you were going to say to him.

Jason finds lines and prose in his books that remind him of you and highlight them. He would keep them in a note stack on his phone, just to read them back to remind himself of your beauty. It's something that he could never put into words himself, hence one of the reasons why he adores reading so much. He can find the right order of words that properly express his infinite adoration and care for you.

I've explored this before but you guys have a set date once a month where you'll sit in each-others arms and just read all day. You'll curl up in one of his sweaters with one of your thick Sanderson novels and he'll tuck a blanket around his lap with his special addition of 'Little Women' open in his lap. He'll refill your tea mug because it's always hard to pull you out of your book during your reading days.

You'll order in some warm comfort food for supper and talk about your books respectively. He'll gush about how Jo March is such a revolutionary character and how Amy is actually a metaphor for the loss of innocence girls experience when attempting to emulate patriarchal standards of womanhood.

All while you gaze lovingly back into his eyes, your chin resting on your palm - wondering if a marriage proposal would be too sudden for your evening conversation.

[its-avalon-08]

op81 reader forgets theme anniversary sounds great! it's always the other way round so this is such a great switch

mismatched plates & fairy lights (op81)

the fairy lights oscar had strung across their tiny balcony twinkled softly, casting a warm glow on the room. he'd even snuck out earlier to get y/n's favorite takeout – the one they always got on special occasions. tonight was their two-year anniversary, and oscar's heart thumped a happy rhythm in his chest.

he set the table with their mismatched plates (the ones they'd gotten from a thrift store on their first date) and lit the candles he'd painstakingly hidden around the apartment. he couldn't wait to see y/n's face light up.

hours ticked by, and the takeout grew cold. disappointment, sharp and icy, began to creep in. y/n still wasn't home. he called her phone, but it went straight to voicemail. "hey, it's me," oscar's voice cracked slightly. "just wondering where you are. hope everything's okay."

he tried again, then again, each unanswered call chipping away at his excitement. finally, the door creaked open, and y/n tumbled in, a tired smile on her face. relief washed over him, momentarily pushing back the disappointment.

"hey, sorry i'm late," y/n said, kicking off her shoes. "work just went crazy today."

"no worries," oscar managed, a forced cheer in his voice. he helped her unpack her bag, the silence in the room heavy and unexpected.

they sat down for dinner, but the magic was gone. y/n was chattering about her day, but oscar barely heard her. his eyes kept flicking to the calendar hanging on the fridge, a stark reminder of the forgotten date.

finally, the dam broke. "y/n," he started, his voice thick with hurt. "is... is there something you forgot?"

y/n's brow furrowed. "forgot what?"

tears welled up in oscar's eyes. "it's... it's our anniversary," he choked out, the last word barely a whisper.

y/n's eyes widened in shock. "oh my god, oscar, I am so sorry! I completely forgot. work was just..."

oscar didn't wait for her to finish. the hurt was raw and fresh, and the disappointment he'd been trying to hold back spilled over. "yeah, work," he said, his voice sharp. he pushed himself away from the table and stood up. "i'm going to bed."

he didn't wait for a reply, just walked away, his heart a lead weight in his chest. he crawled into bed, the sheets cold without y/n's warmth beside him. tears streamed down his face, a mixture of hurt and anger. he loved y/n, but tonight, he felt forgotten and unimportant.

the next morning, oscar woke up to a blinding light. he squinted, then sat up in bed, his jaw dropping. their apartment was transformed. fairy lights, even brighter than the ones outside, twinkled everywhere. red rose petals, forming a heart on the floor, led him to the living room. there, stood y/n, wearing the same dress she wore on their first date, a nervous smile on her face and a beautiful cake in her hand.

"y/n?" oscar breathed, his voice thick with sleep.

"good morning, sleepyhead," she said, her voice small. "i know I messed up yesterday, terribly. but I spent all night making it up to you."

tears welled up in oscar's eyes. he rushed to her putting the cake down on the table and engulfing her in a hug so tight it almost took the breath out of her. "you have no idea how much this means to me," he whispered, his voice muffled against her hair.

y/n pulled back, cupping his face. "you deserve so much more, oscar. I can't believe I forgot, but seeing the disappointment in your eyes last night... it was a wake-up call. you make every day an adventure, and I never want to take that for granted."

oscar leaned in, his lips brushing hers. "I already forgave you the moment you walked in with that dress on," he murmured. then, he peppered her face with kisses, a mix of apology and love.

y/n snuggled closer to oscar, whispering, "thank you for letting me make it up to you."

he leaned in, peppering her face with kisses, each one a tiny apology. "this is perfect," he murmured between kisses. "more perfect than the fancy dinner I was planning anyway."

y/n laughed, tears glistening on her lashes. "you're unbelievable."

oscar grinned, pulling her close again. "and you," he whispered, "are the most forgetful, amazing girlfriend a guy could ask for."

he reached for a rose petal on the floor, tucking it behind her ear. "now, how about we eat this cake and make some pancakes together? the kind we burn a little and laugh about?"

y/n's smile widened. "sounds perfect. but only if you promise to wear that goofy grin the whole time."

oscar chuckled, pulling her into another kiss. "challenge accepted."

the rest of the day was a testament to the fact that grand gestures weren't everything. sure, the fairy lights and the dress were a beautiful apology, but the real magic was in the shared laughter, the playful teasing, and the simple act of being together. as they sat on the couch, their stomachs full of slightly burnt pancakes and hearts full of love, oscar knew that even forgotten anniversaries couldn't erase the strength of their connection. he looked at y/n, the fairy lights reflecting in her eyes, and whispered, "happy anniversary, y/n."

"happy anniversary, oscar," she replied, leaning her head on his shoulder. "and thank you for reminding me why I love you so much."

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

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[hellenhighwater]

Saw your garland post and I wanted to share a two budget Christmas decor ideas I did this year!

1 . Break down cardboard boxes and wrap them with gift wrap, ribbons, bows. Punch a hole in each edge and put some yarn through to hang it by and put them on the walls.

2. If you have extra picture frames or thrift some, put wrapping paper in the frame as the background and glue paper snowflakes to it as the focal point.

I'm not great at decorating but really wanted to try to make things special this year, and these two budget options helped me fill the walls of my living room for less than $5.

Thanks for the citrus garland instructions :)

This is extremely cute, and a great use of gift wrap! I'm answering publicly so people can use the idea if it appeals to them.

I personally cannot stand things that are gift wrapped but don't have actual presents in them, so I would have to...I dunno, wrap books or art prints for myself or something. I am like a toddler in this way. You know those little dollar store tiny presents wrapped in metallic foil that just have a styrofoam block inside?? They make me furious. At least be candy in there or something

Anyway this is adorable.

[chimivx]

That one fucked you over last year, this one is fucking you over this year, you had no idea she was involved with him, someone over here has been lying to you, you didn't mean to end up in that ones bed, he told you he loved you... Does anyone even trust anyone anymore?

👫 -> college!teez x fem!reader/oc {frat/sorority} #️⃣ -> 10k (part TWO of ten) ‼️ -> 18+, sexual content, drugs/alcohol, college life, all the drama, heavy angst, infidelity adjacent moments, mean boys, mean girls, mentions of anxiety/depression… IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW!

september 5th ~  friday ~ 1:06 p.m

The library in the center of Nasara’s campus could house a titan. Tall sculpted ceilings towered over you as you browsed the shelves that also towered over you. Spacious, every footstep echoed over the marble floors, the only sound to be heard from anyone who set foot inside. Two stories high, the building held history in the city of Delo before becoming the center of Nasara, the campus having been built up around the stone giant.

Classes started next week, Monday morning, and you’d be lying if you said the ATZ ban didn’t help you get a fabulous head start on preparations for the semester. The nights you’d spend dancing in their living room were spent with your sisters instead, putting plans into place and checking in that everyone had what they needed for their classes.

Which brought you here, the Conoscenza Library. There was one text book you needed for an Analytics class that you didn’t want to drop hundreds of dollars on. Thankfully, Conoscenza would let you keep it for the months you needed it. Now, if only you could find it. 

Securing your bag over your shoulder, an old leather thing, a vintage find in a thrift store thanks to Tori a couple months ago, you held onto the strap and rounded another row of shelves, having little luck nearing the end of the A section. It didn’t help that the shelves were several feet high, higher than you were tall. Taking a few steps backward against the shelves opposite the ones you were searching, you craned your neck to the shelf just out of reach and groaned aloud. 

There it was. Your Analytics textbook.

Nestling your brows over your eyes you stepped directly in front of it and reached up, stretching your arm as far as it would go, going as far as to lift yourself up on your tiptoes. Your fingertips brushed the front of the dusty shelf, nowhere near close to grabbing the book. Touching your heels back to the floor you exhaled heavily and tried again, getting only a smidgen higher than last time. Bad day to wear flat strappy sandals.

“Need some help?”

His voice came from around the corner, the warmth hitting you before the realization of who it was set in. Feet back on the floor, arms down by your sides, you squeezed your eyes shut and took a breath before turning to him.

Yunho, leaning against the shelves, wore a smile. His hair was pushed over his eyes, styled strategically, it just brushed his thin framed glasses. In a beige hoodie with a grey flannel overtop, he paired the fit with dark blue jeans and white sneakers. There was a chain around his neck peeking at you from the collar of his hoodie. Your eyes lingered there for a second.

He moved his hand, reaching up for the silver chain, twirling it around his fingers. His long, slender fingers. 

“What did you say?” you asked, forcing yourself to look him in the eye.

The smile never left his face, his perfectly squishy cheeks perked up while he watched you. “I asked you if you needed help.” He gestured toward the book with the fingers tangled around his chain.

Sighing, you glanced up at it, then back to Yunho and shrugged. “Yeah, I do.”

His soft laugh made your heart skip a beat, and you wished it wouldn’t. Crossing the row of books, coming closer to you he didn’t give you time to get out of the way. Caging you up against the books, he reached both arms up and effortlessly grabbed the textbook. Breath hitching in your throat, his scent had the power to charm you. A gentle musk mixed with something woodsy. Comforting. Exactly what he was. Exactly what he had the power to do. Comfort you.

Centimeters between you, he looked down with that same damn smile and handed you the book.

“Thanks,” you whispered.

Yunho whispered back, “Anytime.”

His sweet brown eyes shifted toward your lips and your heart sunk into your gut. “I’ll see you again, sometime.” Darting from in front of him, you started down the row of shelves, removing yourself from the situation before it became a situation.

“Rory,” Yunho called after you, his voice echoing within the section of the library you were in. Your feet had a mind of their own. You wanted them to keep going, but they stopped, and then they turned you around. With his arms out at his side he shook his head. “What’s going on?”

Taking him in, all you could see was Mina.

Their amazing summer dates. Their nights spent sharing their deepest thoughts with one another. Their movie-esque summer kisses.

Since Tuesday, these last couple of days spent with Mina, he’d hardly come up unless it was another member asking her about him. Keeping it to yourself, everything she’d shared with you, you didn’t even tell Tori. Mina’s business was her business, and in this world, everyone was in everyone's business. The sophomore didn’t deserve that. She deserved a good guy that didn’t come with drama, one who treated her right and appreciated her family. 

If any member of ATZ was going to do that, it was Yunho.

You’ve been friends with him long enough to know that he was a decent human being. You just wished he’d told you how serious this Mina thing was.

“The rules,” you said, keeping your voice low so it wouldn’t carry through the shelving. Yunho dropped his hands and rolled his eyes.

“Since when are you one to follow rules?”

He wasn’t wrong. It was you and Tori, rules didn’t exist for the two of you.

Swallowing hard, you shrugged. “Since I got really fucked over.”

Yunho took a breath, you watched his chest rise and fall. He started toward you, stopping when there was a few inches between you on the marble floor. “You were over him a month ago.” His half whisper struck you across the face.

“Yeah, because I was under you.”

He winced, glancing upward. “Can you tell me what’s going on, for real?” He looked at you, eyes full of something you despised. “Is it really the rules? I half expected you to sneak out and show up one of these nights, but… neither you nor Tori have. At least she tells Mingi she’s not coming.”

“I don’t owe you that,” you said, and it was as if your words physically hurt him with the way he changed his gaze. “We’re not in a relationship, we’re not dating.”

“We’re friends,” Yunho said, his hands flying out at his sides again. “Rory, what did I do?”

Stepping closer to him, closing the open air between you, you narrowed your eyes and tightened your lips. “Mina,” you whispered, and his eyes did that thing where they got all soft. “Mina, Yo.”

“Wh-What about her?” he stammered, his eyes frantically flickering from either of yours.

“You pursued her,” you said with a nod, stating the obvious. “Come on, genius boy. You had an entire summer fling with her, you met her family, you had dinner with them, then we fucked in the backseat of your car parked at the lake in Sicuro.”

Yunho blinked, a sort of shame overcoming him. “She told you guys a lot,” he said.

“She did,” you said. “And I have to act like we weren’t hooking up all summer.” The boy could write essays upon essays, and here he was before you, speechless. “I knew you guys were getting closer last semester and stuff, everyone had guessed that it would be you and her to pair off with one another.” He watched you with remorse, but not enough of it. “Tuesday night, at the party. Tori asked me where I went.”

“Outside. The noise was nauseating, Wooyoung pissed us off, and you had too much on your mind.”

“Exactly,” you said within a breath. Word for word, what you both said you would say. 

Outside. The noise was nauseating, Wooyoung pissed you off, and you had too much on your mind.

Which wasn’t a lie, you did have too much on your mind. Between Yeji becoming a dictator, Wooyoung forcing himself into your space all over again like nothing had happened and he hadn’t ignored you until this semester started, and now this thing with Yunho that couldn’t turn into anything because of the sophomore living in your house…

“I had Mina asking me the next night what we were talking about, if you were okay ‘cause she hasn’t heard from you,” you said. “I had to lie to my best friend. No one knows what we’ve been doing. After hearing about your lovey dovey summer, how can I say anything to any of them?”

Yunho creased his brow, slowly grazing a finger over the back of your hand where it hung at your side.

“No one can know we hooked up at the party,” you said, thinning your lips. Yunho wore something like a pout while he barely nodded his head. “I will not be a Yeji.” The circles he drew over your hand enticed you to flip your palm over, the tips of your fingers grazing the tips of his. “Mina likes you, Yunho.”

He exhaled, the space between you growing smaller with every passing second. “I like you, Rory.”

“I like you too, Yo,” you breathed.

His smile was pure. “I know you do,” he whispered, low and raspy, then pressed his lips to your own. 

It took three seconds for you to push him away, yanking your hand from his, pressing both to his chest. But, for three seconds he had you.

“Stop,” you sighed. He took a step back and touched his fingers to his lips. “We can’t do this.”

Yunho dipped his head back and groaned to himself. “Why?”

“It’s unfair,” you said. “To either of us. I’m not over Wooyoung and you have feelings for Mina.” Yunho shrugged, glancing about the library. “Don’t do that, you have feelings for Mina.”

“Do I?” Half a laugh came out of him. “It was a lot of work trying to keep up with all of that shit.”

Yes, him.

Yes, Yunho.

“That’s nice to hear,” you tightened your gaze on him, “That she was a lot of work. What does that make me? Easy? A floozy? A slut?”

He reached out his hands to hold onto your shoulders, caressing the fabric of your ITZ crewneck. “No, no, no,” he muttered, his head shaking entirely too fast. “Don’t say that, I didn’t mean that, I wasn’t implying anything.”

“Really?” Shaking his hands away, off of you, he held them to his chest and flipped his eyebrows over. “If Mina, the nicest girl I have ever met, is a lot of work… What does that make me?”

Taking a hand into his hair he blew air from his lips and messed with his locks. “Rory,” he mumbled, dropping his hand after gesturing toward you, letting it smack against his thigh. “It makes you Rory, the girl I’ve had a crush on since she sat next to me in that English class.” With a shake of his head he darted his tongue between his lips and said, “Wooyoung fucked you over, I won’t do that.”

Holding the book over your chest, grabbing it with both arms, keeping a line of defense between the two of you, you smiled. “Like you aren’t doing to Mina right now?”

Turning on your heels you left him behind, letting the hurt turn your heart ice cold… If you could call it hurt.

After Yeji and Wooyoung made it downstairs leaving you and Tori speechless in the doorway of Hongjoongs bedroom, Yunho was the first from the group of boys on the stairs to hurry up to where you were paralyzed in place. Seonghwa and Yeosang followed, of course, but Yunho was the first to appear. He took you in his arms, one hand cradling behind your head, fingers knotting in your hair. 

Tori was lost in whispers with Seonghwa and Yeosang, the three of them moving down the hall to give you a moment. She told them everything, between pulses of your heartbeat in your ears you could hear it in their gasps and disapproving groans.

Yunho held you until you started to cry. He held you, and played with your hair, and rubbed a hand along your back as you mumbled to him everything Tori had just told his friends. At some point the two of you ended up on the floor, Yunho leaning against the railing of the staircase with his too long legs stretched out along the hall. Sitting opposite him, one leg between his and the other bent so you could lean on it, you shared whispers, deciphering the entire situation.

There wasn’t much he could say to make anything better. Nothing he could do would fix anybody’s feelings, or make it all go away… But, his presence was enough. Aside from Tori, he’s been your longest, closest friend at Nasara, whether people paid attention to that fact or not. He knew a lot about you, and you knew a lot about him. You cared for him, you cared for each other.

And that made walking away from him all the more painful.

Despite the blurry lines this summer created, it didn’t feel worth it losing a friend.

Stopping at the end of the row you turned around. He was still there, hands in his pockets now, standing over six feet tall with his puppy eyes watching you walk away. Meeting his gaze, he didn’t falter. If anything, the corner of his lips perked up.

“I get it,” he said, as if he could see the gears grinding away in your brain. “I promise you, I do.”

“Then, what happens next?” you asked, fingers tightening around your textbook.

Yunho took a step backward and shrugged his shoulders. “You stay my friend.”

A breath corrupted your lungs. “And, what if we can’t do that?”

He narrowed his eyes and flashed you that smile. “We will,” he said. “We’ll try.”

september 5th ~  friday ~ 5:48 p.m.

[youknow everythin]: I think you should still try to come to the party tonight

[you]: there is no way out of this house

[you]: there is no such thing as sneakin around yeji

[youknow everythin]: …

[youknow everythin]: I have faith in you & Tori

[youknow everythin]: Especially Tori

[you]: thanks.

[youknow everythin]: You’re welcome <3

[you]: don’t ever send that heart again

[youknow everythin]: …

[youknow everythin]: …

[youknow everythin]: <3

Slamming your phone down on the marble counter Tori jumped a mile, the ice in her glass rattling. Leaning over the flat top you drug your hands over your face and groaned aloud, letting your fingers slide through your hair. 

“What happened?” Tori asked, cracking open a can of red bull, pouring it into the glass in front of her. 

Leaving the library around two, parting ways with Yunho, when you came back home you spent an hour or so in your bedroom, organizing and reorganizing what you would need for Monday’s classes. Tori popped in and out, working on her own tasks for recruitment and future events that would need to be announced soon, and then the two of you spent about two hours on the floor stalking Instagram accounts and talking about Isla, or Mina.

When it came to the sophomore you didn’t have much to say, but you forced yourself to give your input, some side of the story so you wouldn’t be suspicious.

Tori was your best friend, but she’d never know what happened with Yunho.

If Mina didn’t spill her heart out it’d be a different story.

“The guys want us at ATZ tonight,” you said, giving her a knowing look. 

Tori crunched the can in her hand and walked around the island to throw it away, her mind working, then she returned to her glass, took a sip, and bobbed her head.

“Who’ve you got on the phone?”

“Yunho,” you said. “I saw him at the library earlier.”

Tori sipped her drink, nodding some more. “Mingi has said some stuff, too.”

“Like what?” Your voice was small. Quiet. Almost afraid.

“About us not being there,” she said, setting the glass down. Lifting a hand she adjusted her nose piercings and shrugged. “You and I, Yuna and Ryujin… They want us around. Mingi said Yunho’s even brought up Mina, but I dunno if we’d get her to sneak out.”

“She’s too ‘good girl’ to sneak out,” you mumbled, pointing your eyes to your phone screen that lit up. youknow everythin at it again. Opening the message, you scoffed.

[youknow everythin]: Please come to the party tonight <3 <3 <3

Typing back a mile a minute, you didn’t catch Tori circling the counters to end up at your side.

“What’s with the hearts?” she asked, startling you. Locking your phone you dropped it to the marble and shot her a glare. “Sorry,” she giggled. “You weren’t listening to me, I wanted to see what was so interesting.”

With a deep breath you groaned. “Nothing is interesting, I’m just being pestered by a grown adult with the mentality of a four year old.”

Tori screwed her face up in confusion and twirled around where she stood, her long waves brushing over your arm. She hopped up onto the counter, saving her drink from spilling, from experience. “Yunho has the mentality of a four year old?” About to sip from her cup, she cut herself short, eyes going wide, “You sure you aren’t talking to Wooy-”

A rash laugh blew through your lips, your eyes blazing into hers. “I’m sure!”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, then waited four seconds before sipping her Red Bull. Your phone lit up again, Tori looking at it this time. “youknow everythin,” she sang like a song, swinging her head to look back at you. She was telling you something. Under the little smirk that grew she was saying something, and it was threatening to turn you red. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked to break the silence that was deafening, you’re certain only for you.

Shaking your head the slightest, you shrugged. “I guarantee you I am not.”

She laughed once. “How are you not!?”

Glancing to your hands hovering by your phone that has lit up again, you messed with your fingers and muttered, “I got a lot on my mind.”

Tori leaned toward you, a hand grabbing onto your shoulder. She gave you a shake, and then another to get you to look at her, and when you did, she whispered, “We’re going to that party.”

[youknow everythin]: I miss you. I just want to see you. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to… I understand, you know I do. You just feel like my best friend right now, I don’t want to lose that.

september 6th ~  saturday ~ 12:03 a.m.

ATZ’s house stood three stories tall on the corner of the street opposite ITZ, three blocks south of the sorority. In the dark it was menacing, and all the more enticing. Large with tall, thick white pillars holding up each balcony of every floor. The exterior was a muted grey, making the shadows bounce off of it in the nighttime. The ceiling’s beneath the balconies were painted a pale teal blue, the light pouring out the windows illuminating the color giving the house a glow that pulled people through the front door.

Like moths to a flame.

The balconies wrapped around the entire house on the first, second and third floors. Every room had one, each boy blessed with the freedom of an escape if their president ever decided they were to be confined to their bedrooms for the time being while their favorite pastime was off limits.

Standing under the street lights before yours, you swallowed a sigh. The faint pulse of music and people’s chatter greeted you like an old friend. One you haven’t seen in three days. The drama. Glancing to your left, Tori wore a grin tapping away at her phone.

“Is this crazy?” you asked, throwing a hand toward the house. Pursing her freshly glossed lips, she looked at you without a change of face and she nodded.

“Oh, absolutely,” she said. “Especially becau-”

“Okay, I’m good, I’m good.”

The voice behind you, coming closer to you, boiled your blood ever so slightly.

Tori, ecstatic, shoved her phone in the pocket of her bell bottom jeans and clapped her hands together. “Thank god, I’m so excited for you.”

Turning on the balls of your feet, you forced a smile. “You’ll be fine, Mina.”

The sophomore, in a denim mini skirt and a pink long sleeved crop sweater, returned your smile. Hers was real. “He texted me,” she said in a rush, seemingly bouncing on her feet. “He apologized. For what I was talking about the other night.” Tori, lost, looked between you both.

“Apologized?” She scrunched her brows together. “What happened?”

Mina turned her chin, her hair swinging just below the gorgeous curve. “Nothing crazy,” she assured your roommate. “He’s just been distant, that's all. I mean, I understand. Aurora told me the other night that it could be the stress of coming back to school, preparing for the year… Normal stuff like that.” Mina shot you the smile. “It’s what he said,” she nodded, “That he just has a lot on his mind.”

Tori put a hand on Mina’s back, her eyes pointing to the ground for all of a second. “Let’s go find him,” she plastered her grin back on her face, looking to you for support. “Meen’s at an ATZ party!”

Laughing along with them you took Mina’s hand and Tori took the other. It gutted you that neither Ryujin or Yuna were tagging along, both grumbling about not wanting to get caught, and it’s too soon, you’ll get found out, give it time to settle first…

A part of you agreed. It was too soon. Knowing all the boys definitely knew about the ‘rule’ now too, tonight was guaranteed to be insufferable. Pair that with the fact that you’ll have to be around Yunho and Mina, and you’ll have to put up with Wooyoung, all of the above wanted to force you back into the safety of your bedroom where you could rot in your sweatpants and lock the door and never have another social interaction again. But, alas, here you were in a tight dark blue dress that Tori suggested you wear so you match her strapless tube top, being forced into many, many social interactions that may or may not possibly worsen your situation.

At the moment it was controlled.

You and Yunho were on the same page. You wouldn’t talk about it with anyone, you would move on. Your friendship would go back to the way that it was before anyone got drunk and handsy, and life would be good. Time would pass and things would go back to normal. Time will pass, and one day you won’t have butterflies in your belly while you walk up the steps to his front door with his consort in hand.

Mina and Tori babbled together, words you couldn’t process, not as the heavy white door swung open. Noise flooded the night air, twisting your gut with both adrenaline and anticipation. Mina’s hand tightened around yours, triggering you to look at her. Wide eyed, she wore a smile, taking in the stretch of a man who opened the front door.

Tan cargo pants with a skin tight black cut off tank tucked into them, Mingi grinned something silly, his light hair already hanging in front of his eyes, messy just the slightest. Two metal studs lived in his ears, matching the ones in Tori’s third hole on her lobes. He squinted in the night, the light inside not much brighter than the porch.

“Where’s your glasses?” Tori half scolded with a giggle, pulling her hand from Minas to topple forward onto her man. Her arms swung around his neck, his catching her around her waist. He squeezed her, lifting her off the floor while he pressed a thousand kisses to her cheek. “Makeup! I have makeup!” Tori squirmed, attempting to escape his grip.

Mingi put her feet on the floor and maneuvered her underneath one arm, extending his other into the house, an invitation for you and Mina, who’s hand you realized you were still holding. Tori dabbed at her cheek, muttering things to Mingi only he could hear. 

“Ladies,” he said, the smile never leaving his cheeks. “Pleasure to see you, come on inside.” Mina surprisingly took the lead, dragging you behind her up the step into the sticky air of ATZ. “Oh, stop,” Mingi bickered with Tori, his focus turning down to her. “So what if I did mess it up? You tryna impress someone else here?!”

A long hallway greeted you, extending many, many feet down to the end of the first floor. It was littered with people either stumbling into the next room hand in hand, or wandering toward the kitchen that resided in the back of the house behind the tall staircase pushed up against the wall to the left. The lights hanging from the spacious ceilings were all original, deep orange colored stained glass, and they were off for the night. The dim glow came from the room to the right, through the rounded archway accented with a thick brown hand carved wood.

ATZ hadn’t changed a lick since it was established. The dark walls, the dark hardwood floors, each generation left it alone. It was like stepping into a time capsule. A mesmerizing, charismatic, delightfully musky scented time capsule. It was clean, put together, and so undeniably sexy. As were the nine men who resided in the floors above.

Mesmerizing, charismatic, and so undeniably sexy.

Losing Tori at the door with Mingi you allowed Mina to pull you along, her head turning every which way as she took everything in. Glancing back you deemed her safe and in good hands, the two were already liplocked, Mingi walking Tori backward toward the stairs, both of his hands slipping into the back pockets of her jeans. You’d see her in an hour.

“Damn, Mina, it’s just us,” you said, turning back to the sophomore who yanked you down the hall, dodging bodies as she did. Eyes turned to follow you. Both of you. Suddenly this plan didn’t feel so good.

Her brown bob whipped your way. “Okay,” she breathed, taking notice that Tori disappeared. The wedges she wore on her feet came to a stop, one of your sandals jamming into the back one abruptly. With them on she stood an inch or so taller than you, and in this moment she looked down at you with a spark in her eye. “Is that what happens? Here?”

Holding back the face you wanted to make, you instead tilted your head. “What do you mean?”

Mina glanced up and around at a group of seniors you’ve seen before at these parties brushing past you with a happy greeting. Smiling at them, you shot them a quick wink before returning your attention to the sophomore still holding your hand. 

“They went upstairs,” Mina said, lifting her eyes to where Tori escaped.

“Yeah,” you said slowly. “But, they always do. She’ll be back, she’s okay.”

Mina huffed a laugh, meeting your eyes. “I know she’ll be back, I just…” She flitted her head about nervously, blinking a trillion times, emphasizing on something she wasn’t telling you. “You’ve been upstairs before?”

“No,” you pushed from your lips in a composed hurry. “Not in the way Tori goes upstairs, let me say that again. I have been upstairs, but not to fuck.” That was the truth. She cringed at your use of word, it made you laugh. “Oh, Mina.” Her lips pursed. “You don’t have to go upstairs if you don’t want to. I think I know what you’re thinking about.” Yunho. “You can say the words, it’s okay.”

Waiting until the hall cleared for a few seconds, Mina leaned closer to you, so close you could make out all the beauty marks on her smooth skin. “I’ve never… Done it before.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding. Placing your other hand on top of hers that clung onto you, smiled. “That’s okay.”

Chop chop, Tori and Mingi. 

In and out.

Hurry it up.

“I mean,” Mina glanced to the floor, collecting her thoughts before her shining eyes came back to yours. “I’ve done the other stuff. You know, I’m not a prude even though I probably come off as one.”

You shook your head, crinkling your lip. “You don’t, you don’t.”

Little bit.

“What happens if he wants to go upstairs?”

Well, that question shouldn’t hurt as much as it just did.

Gulping, you tossed your shoulders up, letting them fall as you shook your head. “That’s up to you to decide, Meens. If you’re ready, and you want to go, you go. If you don’t wanna, you say no.”

“Will he get mad if I say no?” Her whisper hurt you in a different sense this time.

You tapped her hand. “It’s Yunho. He won’t get mad. And, besides, if he did, Hongjoong would have him kicked out in seconds. Their president doesn’t fuck around here. Especially when it comes to that.”

She took in every word that fell from your mouth, nodding along in tiny. Letting it marinate in her brain, she pulled her hand away and smoothed out her sweater that danced above her belly button, a few inches of skin exposed between the soft fabric and the denim of her skirt.

“You’re right,” she said. “Thanks, Aurora.” Responding with a smile, she returned it. “I’m sorry, I feel like I’ve been sort of, up your… Up your ass.” She said the word at a whisper, her smirk growing straight after.

Narrowing your eyes, you pressed a hand to your chest in fake shock. “Mina… Watch your mouth, for fucks sake.” The giggles that erupted immediately eased all of the tension that had built up around the two of you. Tension only you noticed, you hoped. “If you wanna stay with me tonight, that’s totally fine. We just have to be careful of pictures and stuff like that, but I’d love to help you get more acquainted with this place, it’s so fun to-”

“Ror!?” The most beautiful voice traveled halfway down the hall from the kitchen, where you and Mina had stopped. Looking over Mina's shoulder, you had no time to think before feet barrelled down the hardwood, arms wrapped around your waist and you were in the air, thrown over a shoulder. “No fucking way, I GOT HER!” The leather vest wearing, bulky bicep animal who grabbed you whirled around, facing you toward Mina as he took off for the kitchen.

Smiling ear to ear, Mina followed behind him, trying to keep up. Swatting at his back you groaned and flipped your hair backward, praying that the top of your dress hadn’t ridden down. Pressing your lips into a line, you flatlined your brows, letting Mina know this happened every time. She cupped her cheeks and laughed. You caught her eyes traveling down the backside of the leather wearing monster. This really was a whole new world for her.

Tucking those thoughts away, you turned your chin to catch a glimpse of the man who held you. Slicked back, neatly cut black hair lived atop his head. He kept it shorter in the back and along the sides. You caught a glimpse of necklaces around his neck, probably hanging down his chest over the bare skin showing through his vest that was definitely unbuttoned. You could feel it on your thighs.  The pants he wore matched the top, the low rise waist hanging right at the base of his hips, accenting the curve of his ass, the leather hugging his muscular thighs just right.

“You slut,” you laughed, lifting a hand to slap him where you knew he liked it. A sweet, shameless sound came out of him, echoing in the end of the hall as his head tossed backward. His hands slid down to your thighs, gripping your bare skin below the hem of your dress. Letting out a yelp at the shift of weight, he simply laughed within his chest. His fingers squeezed the soft skin between your legs, obviously having to adjust every few seconds, he couldn’t get a good hold. It tickled, and as much as you tried to hold back your giggles and squirms, the way his fingers knew how to move was too much. “Down, San!”

More boys and girls moved up and down the hall as he carried you, Mina absorbing every single second of every single moment, though it seemed like she was looking out for what you warned her about. Everyone who ducked out of San’s way looked up at you, either in shock or with a laugh. Every face that came and went you had seen before, so it seemed thus far you were in the clear. It was normal, this was normal.

ITZ girls at an ATZ party? Normal.

San dressed in some ridiculous get up with eyes glued to his dick? Normal.

He turned into the kitchen full of a small group of people, the hanging chandelier in here also dimmed like the living room. Sliding his hands up your body, over your ass, to your waist, he lowered you to your feet with an energy so forced your knees gave out, but his hands caught you. Around your back they held you, big and strong, and he hovered above you. A sideways, shit eating grin graced his pink lips. A singular strand of black hair fell over his forehead, the smallest, most attractive accent for his sharp features.

“You’re a dick,” you said softly, smiling up at him. His moves were on purpose, they always were. San was calculated, he was quick. He could pick up your next move before you’ve even thought about it. 

Flickering his eyes to your lips, he softened his smile and breathed through a laugh. “Nice to see you too, Ror.”

“You can let me go now,” you said, and he obliged, swiftly pulling you steady on your feet. 

Taking a finger below your chin, he drug the digit under your jaw with a smirk, and then his body was his, and yours was yours. “Drinks?” he asked with a brow raise, making sure to look at Mina as well. “Hi, pretty,” he smized with a knee buckling head tilt, and the sophomore blushed. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

“She’s off limits, Sannie,” you muttered, fixing your dress. San pointed his gaze to your fingers at the hem of the blue fabric, then to your eyes.

“I know,” he said, his voice flowing like sultry music. “I’ve been debriefed.”

“Debriefed?” Mina asked, taking all of Sans' attention. His dark eyes ate her up, shamelessly fawning up and down her body, ending on her eyes that were all too wide and innocent for the man standing in front of her. San wore his thoughts on his face, you knew exactly what he was thinking about at this very moment. Thankfully, Mina did not.

“You’re Yunho’s girl,” San tipped his chin back, looking down at her. With the smallest gasp, Mina snapped her jaw and whipped her chin to shoot you the look of surprise. You forced a smile onto your lips. 

So, that was the story in this house, too.

“I am?” Mina nearly squeaked.

San’s smize turned up to a hundred, his heat quite literally filling the air. A tiger ready to pounce.

“San,” you stole his focus and actively watched the lust somewhat leave his eyes. “Those drinks would be nice.” Taking his bottom lip between his teeth, he nodded, caught one last look at Mina then started behind you, pausing at your side for a moment more.

Looking up into his siren eyes, the deepest, clearest chocolate brown, you kept the San mental shield up as he said, voice low, tickling your skin, “You’re not off limits, Ror.”

“San,” you whispered, giving him the most polite look you could conjure up. “We’ve talked about this.”

The smallest pout found his gorgeous, kissable lips. Taking a hand to your bare shoulder he watched his own finger as he drew circles over your skin. “You’ll tell me when,” he whispered. Only his eyes lifted to look at you through his lashes. “Right?”

“Right,” you nodded once. “You have a house full of people, Sannie.” Putting a finger on his chest, you drug it toward the waist of his leather pants, entirely too low, and tugged on the fabric when your finger hooked in it. San watched it, his brows furrowing above his eyes with the subtlest inhale through his lips. “You look all cute, does no one wanna play with you?”

“Someone already has,” he whispered, looking to you with just his eyes. 

“Mm!” you hummed happily, giving him a smile, one he returned. “See, you don’t need me.” His jaw tightened. Taking your finger out of his pants, you placed your hand over his cheek and drug your thumb over his cheekbone. “Drinks, Sannie. Please?” Widening your eyes ever so slightly, his shaky inhale and twist of his lips made you smile, too.

He didn’t need to say anything, he spoke with his eyes. Taking off into the depths of the kitchen, around people standing around, leaning on counters talking, he’d be back. He’d find his way back. He always did. Spinning in a small circle, watching him go, when you faced Mina, almost forgetting she was in the same room, you find that she found a way to keep herself occupied. 

“Oh, Aurora!” She wore a smile, an excited smile. “Look who I found.”

Yunho stood in the archway beside her focused on San and where he wandered off to. As if on defense, he snapped out of it when Mina called your name, smiling down at her. It took him a couple beats to look your way, but when he did it was as if his gaze pierced you through the heart.

He wore a t-shirt, a black one with that damn chain hanging beneath the collar. Everything else was the same as you saw him earlier in the day. Jeans, sneakers, hair pushed forward over his glasses. He was the same. He was just Yunho.

It was just Yunho!

“Hey, Rory,” he said. Mina couldn’t take her eyes off of him. Poor girl was smitten.

“Hey, Yo,” you said, jaw clenching as he gave his smile back to Mina.

“Was not expecting this one to be here when Mingi told me you guys were coming,” he said, putting a hand on the wood over Mina’s shoulder. 

Fluttering her lashes she shrugged. “You know, it’s kind of your fault we’re here.”

Yunho frowned, his eyebrows squishing together, and it was apparently funny because Mina giggled like crazy. “My fault? You’re the one here breaking the rules, aren’t you? I didn’t tell you to sneak out of the house.”

Mina playfully rolled her eyes. “No, you didn’t tell me to, but Tori said you guys know how to climb their side of the house, so we had a way down and out!”

“Oh, they told you about that, did they?” Yunho, maintaining this… act, or whatever he was doing, gave you a disappointing look. “Thanks, Rory. Now I’ll be in trouble.”

“Rory,” Mina repeated, eyeing Yunho’s lips as he said it. “That’s such a cute nickname.” She shot a smile toward you for only a second, not wanting to miss a moment of her man.

Yunho, with a sheepish shrug and downturn of his lips, said, “It’s nothin’.”

It’s what he’s called you since you met him.

Within a game of two truths and a lie at the start of the semester he admitted he secretly loved that old show Gilmore Girls. And thus, the Rory thing began. He’s the only one to ever call you Rory to this day.

“It makes me think of this show my mom liked to watch,” Mina said, and Yunho’s act faltered.

“Gilmore Girls?” They both questioned at the same time, falling into laughter together at their own shock of saying the same thing. You could’ve told them that, having the same thought at the same time as them, you could’ve joined in on the laughter as well. But, it didn’t look fun.

With a breath, you muttered, “Cute,” and turned to search for San.

You needed a drink.

Or several.

Weaving through the bodies lounging about the space dripping in shiney dark wood, you approached the circular table in the back corner where several boys sat with cans in their hands. You recognized them all, but only a few were eligible to greet you.

“Aurora!” Yeosang and his wavy chestnut hair raised the beer he held. “You’re here?!” Another head perked up at his shout, long, almost shoulder length black hair and a sharp, slender nose.

“I”m here,” you smiled, holding a hand in the air. A cold can was placed inside of it, your fingers wrapping around it quickly. Yanking it down, you spun and gave San a sweet smile, leaning in to give his cheek a peck. “Thank you, San,” you said, cracking the drink of fruity bubbles open yourself.

“You’re welcome,” he said, looking down at it. “Can I?”

Putting the skinny can in his hand, you nodded. “‘Course.” 

San, keeping his eyes on yours, poked his tongue slightly from his lips and pressed your drink to it, taking the smallest sip before returning it to you. “Your turn.” Copying him, tongue out, lips pressed to the can, you sipped it while you watched him and gave him a wink. A quiet groan escaped him as he smiled. Then, he was gone as fast as he found you.

“Cute.” There was a boy around every corner it seemed. Turning yourself toward the table of men, long, almost shoulder length black hair smirked up at you where he sat. Taking to his side, you tousled his hair and snickered.

“You just gotta know how to appease him,” you said. Seonghwa, leaning over the back of the wooden chair that matched the rest of the kitchen, laughed and shook his head.

“You’ve got a soft spot for San,” he narrowed his eyes, teasing you.

Sipping your drink, you weighed the options with a few twists of your hips. “And if I do?” You smacked your lips, licking the sweetness off of them. Seonghwa watched, then licked his own.

He beckoned you closer with a wag of his finger. “Then I’d say you’re not the only one,” he said loud enough for you to hear, then you laughed with him. Pushing his chair out from the table a bit, tucking his long legs under the chair, he tapped his lap without taking his eyes off of you. “Stay a while.”

Raising your eyebrows, eyeing the group of men who paid no attention to what was happening, you gave him a look. “Vice President Seonghwa, I know you are not telling me to sit on your lap.”

He laughed, dark and sweet. “I am,” he tapped his lap again and pushed his hair out of his face with his other hand, exposing his sculpted features to the dim kitchen light, the shadows contouring around his face like magic. “I miss you. Where’ve you been?”

“Around,” you said, following his request by sliding onto his lap over his knee. On the edge at first, nervous to sit back too far, Seonghwa took matters into his own hands and hooked an arm around your waist, tugging you closer to him. Your knees basically straddled his one, his hand finding solace on your bare thigh, just below the hem of your dress.

“Around?” he parroted in question, moving the chair closer to the table, your bottom halves lost beneath it. “You were here Monday, right?”

Twisting on his lap, your knees moving between both of his legs, you looked at him and his breathtaking beauty and pouted. “I was,” you sighed. “And then we got in trouble… Like little kids.” Taking a sip of your drink while he laughed, you expressed your regret with a roll of your eyes.

“Mingi kinda let it slip to us,” he said, his speaking voice alway so soft and full of purpose. “Tori told him what happened.”

“Of course she did,” you grumbled.

Seonghwa reached for a short glass he had on the table, half full of a cinnamon smelling liquor. “Uh oh,” he sang, sipping the drink that sparked your fancy. “What goes on?”

“What is that?” Taking his glass from him, he let you, you took a whiff and cringed. It was awful up close, much better from far away.

Like Wooyoung!

Seonghwa couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. “Fireball,” he said, and you shot him a look of disgust. “And rum, some peach and cranberry juice, hey, don’t judge until you try it.”

“How do you get past that… smell,” you said, faking a gag over your shoulder. 

Leaning toward you a bit, he placed an elbow on the table. “Some of us like that smell, Aurora.” The smile he wore had swapped for one more stern. “Don’t be a bitch, take a sip and find out for yourself.” He even made cuss words sound pretty, though somehow the kick was more intense.

You listened to him, straightening up where you were perched on his thigh and took the glass to your lips, letting some of the liquid hit your tongue. Getting it down fast, swallowing within milliseconds, the chuckle that came out of him was borderline condescending. Fixing your face, keeping it neutral though tears stung your eyes, you gave him the glass and bobbed your head.

“Don’t like it?” he asked, his gaze dancing all around your face. Looking him in the eyes, gauging how to answer, you opted for a head shake and that chuckle left him again. “That’s okay,” he assured you, his hand on your thigh giving you a squeeze. “You tried it, I’m proud of you.” “Thanks,” you whispered, fixated on his eyes.

“Now,” he started, putting the glass on the table. Facing you like he was, he balanced an elbow on the table and gave you his full attention. “Tell me what happened with Tori, baby.”

And you did, for about an hour.

Starting with the fact that Tori spilled everything to Mingi all of the time, you let that trickle into the ban that was set into place, which then turned into you telling him how you snuck out of your bedroom to end up here on his lap. Within each story a drink was opened by Seonghwa and finished by you. He used whichever boy was closest to a fridge to bring one over to him, all he had to do was lift a finger in the air and he had one in his hand. 

Somewhere along the way your schedule for the year was brought up, you shared you and your sisters anxieties over recruitment this year, and somehow it all boiled back down to Wooyoung and the shit you went through last semester.

You were on drink four, and whatever kept getting poured in Seonghwa’s cup was more and more appetizing as the night went on.

“I’ll have it,” you said, nibbling your bottom lip as a boy in a blue sweater slid it across the table for Seonghwa to grab. He was able to snatch it before you, pulling it away with a grin. “Lemme have it,” you whispered, dipping your chin down.

His other hand had been sliding up and down the inside of your thigh for the last fifteen minutes… You think.

“You didn’t like it, Aurora,” he said, keeping his voice down. Sipping from the glass, eyes on you, he perked a brow.

“No, it was shit,” you were only speaking truths at the moment, and he found it funny. “Let me try again, I promise you I’ll like it better this time, Hwa.”

“Will you?” he asked, and when you nodded, sure of yourself, he handed over the drink and waited for you to hate it all over again.

Taking a sniff like you did earlier, you exhaled in dramatized pleasure, fluttering your eyes shut, and Seonghwa shook his head, his hair caressing his cheekbones. “Absolutely…” you paused to take a sip that was more like a gulp. Seonghwa quickly put his hand on the bottom and eased it down from your lips. “Delicious,” you said, wiggling your brow.

The glass made it safely on the table and Seonghwa drug his tongue over his teeth, looking at you in disbelief. “You got me,” he shrugged. He leaned into you, the space between you growing smaller. “Proved me wrong.”

His lips, soft and full, made your legs close, trapping his hand between them. Unknowingly checking him out, drunk enough to not know what your subconscious was consciously doing in the driver's seat, you took a hand to his jaw and danced your fingers along the underside. Like San had done to you earlier.

Seonghwa, surprised, but letting you do your thing, wore a soft smile when he asked, “You’re alright though, right?”

His features worked in perfect harmony. The slope of his nose down to his lips, and his stunning smile. The depth of his eyes balanced the seemingly innocent wonder he typically wore in expression. A beautifully crafted exterior to match the heart he carried within.

You knew what he meant when he asked you if you were alright. He was there that night, he was close with Yunho, though not as close as Yunho and Mingi, but he was closer than the others. When you became friends with Yunho you met Seonghwa, you’ve known him almost as long as Yunho.

Yunho, damn.

Where did he end up? Mina’s here, they’re probably together, and it’s been too long and neither of them have tried to find you. Maybe he did take her upstairs. She’d probably let him take her upstairs. It shouldn’t matter to you whether or not they went upstairs, but for some reason it hurts. For christ sake, you only started to hook up with Yunho to get over the Wooyoung thing, you never intended for it to become this. You didn’t expect to have feelings for him, your longest friend here at Nasara.

Granted, the Wooyung thing still hurts like a bitch. He didn’t care. He whispered sweet nothings, promises of tomorrow, kissed your lips like you were the most precious thing in the world to him, and then took Yeji to bed.

Couple the both together, and it sucked.

No one knew you and Yunho had done anything, so it wasn’t even like you could say anything to anybody about it. You couldn’t even talk about it, vent about it, get the frustration out. It all had to stay inside, you were forced to keep it inside. Yunho seemed fine with continuing his pursuit of Mina, it’d been over an hour, or more, and no one had come looking for you. Even Tori. Where was she? Helping Mina with Yunho? Still fucking her boyfriend? She was probably helping Mina with Yunho, getting the two of them together, making sure they live happily ever after!

“What are you thinking about?” Seonghwa whispered, bringing you back into the moment. Your thumb was over his bottom lip, the plush skin incredibly soft to the touch. There were centimeters between you, and your thighs were squeezing his hand tight. 

Sucking in a breath, you whispered, “Too much.”

“Tell me.” Speaking in whispers, the both of you, his eyebrows lowered, worried. “Did something else happen?” All you could do was nod, but then as your bottom lip crinkled Seonghwa pushed the chair away from the table of boys talking too loud to notice you guys were leaving.

He got you on your feet and wrapped an arm around your waist, keeping you close to him. Walking side by side out of the kitchen, you melted into his touch, his powerful, safe hold, and scanned each room for a sign of anyone you were dying to see.

Yunho, Tori, Mina.

Wooyoung.

Out in the hall, Seonghwa, several inches taller than you, kept you out of direct view and whisked you toward the end by the front door, making a sharp turn up the staircase. He made sure you made it up every step, taking his time beside you as you clung to him for balance.

A babble of, “I didn’t drink so much,” and, “How are you not as drunk as me?” came out of you and he simply smiled and assured you with, “I’m much bigger than you,” and, “Trust me, I’m drunk.”

You made it into his bedroom on the second floor, the room between Yeosang and Yunho’s, directly in the center of the hall straight off the staircase. Several others lined the hall on the wrap around of the stairs before they went up again to the third floor. Luckily it was his own, ATZ didn’t have to share like ITZ.

Once inside, Seonghwa shut the door quietly and took a deep breath, shifting his attention to you, full of concern. Unsure of what to say, he let you wander his room for a minute before he asked, “Are you okay?”

His room was utterly him. Blue grey walls with photos and a few posters hanging up strategically, the floor was neat and clean, all of his drawers shut properly and everything on top of them placed with precision. There was a softness to it all, but then the hints came out, the sort of unexpected spice he carried within his eyes. It came out in the dark decor hiding in plain sight, and the way the belts hanging on his wall weren’t placed there for daily wearing accessibility. A bottle of whiskey lived on his nightstand, and the books beside it definitely weren’t for a class.

Turning to look at him, his voice once more pulling you back, you shook your head and took your time walking up to where he still stood at the door. “No,” you whispered, your voice filling the air that was much quieter than downstairs. Seonghwa, brows flipped over, nodded slightly, waiting for you to say more. “Everything is just… a mess.”

“Right,” he whispered, having no possible clue as to what you were talking about. Reaching out your hands you grabbed onto the black button up he was wearing, the top three buttons undone, and closed the space between you, pushing him back against his door. His eyes clouded over with that unexpected spice. 

Taking a hand behind him, he pressed the lock on his door, and when it clicked into place you whispered, “Make me forget.”

Hands taking to your neck, he tipped your head back and pressed his lips to yours, heavy and hungry. Without a second wasted a hand was in your hair, the other sliding down your body to grab onto the fabric of your dress, hiking it above your waist. Wrapping both arms around his neck, you succumbed to his touch, to his hold, letting him do as he pleased. Working your lips against his, every following kiss longer, wetter, noisier, you tangled your fingers in his hair. His long, soft hair that brushed his shoulders and now tickled your cheeks.

Seonghwa took both hands to your waist and lifted you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around him. Within the kisses he took you to his bed, laying you sideways over the mattress, the dark blankets beneath about to be rumpled into a heap on the floor. Rolling his body into yours, a gasp shot through you as he pushed his hips where you needed him most.

“Oh my god, Seonghwa,” you breathed, knitting your fingers in his locks. The laugh that came out of him made you buck your hips up against him, longing to feel that definitely larger than average bulge in his pants.

Listening to you, following how your body responded, he rolled his hips and reveled in the sound you made for him, drinking it up through parted lips and shared air, then he kissed you again, slipping his tongue inside. Taking his time, kissing you with a calculated conscience, he took his hands down your body, sure to caress every curve. He hooked his thumbs in the little lacey thong you slipped on beneath your dress for no reason in particular, and pulled it off of you, tossing it somewhere on his floor.

Moaning something nasty into his mouth as he drug one of his fingers over your soaked center, he smirked on your lips as your legs spread even further for him.

“Is nobody fucking you, Aurora?” Seonghwa looked down at you and wrapped his other hand around your jaw, his thumb taking to your bottom lip, pulling it open. Eyes wide, you stared up at him, a completely different Seonghwa than the one you were sitting with ten minutes ago. Nodding as best as you could in his grip, he scoffed. “Yes?”

“Yes,” you breathed. 

He dipped his thumb into your mouth and pressed it to your tongue while he tutted his own. “They’re not doing a very good job, are they?” 

He did a good job.

He did a very good job, Yunho did.

Seonghwa sensed the thoughts. Pulling his thumb from your mouth he pressed both his thumb and fingers to your cheeks, studying how you were locked the fuck in.

“Who is it?” he asked. You gulped and shook your head as best as you could, he was strong. “That means I know who it is,” he flashed you a smile you’ve never seen before, something so devilish it forced a whine from your throat. “You don’t want me to know, do you?”

“No,” you said, muffled with how he held onto your jaw.

Poking his cheek with his tongue, he flashed that smile and nodded. “Why not?” You answered with a shake of your head. “Oh, come on, baby, you can tell me.”

“Can’t,” you whispered, and his brows lowered the slightest.

“You’re not in trouble, are you?”

“No!” You would’ve leapt up if he wasn’t holding you down.

Seonghwa watched you, his face softening, and then he nodded. “Okay,” he spoke above a whisper. Eyes dancing down your face to your lips, he whispered, “Open,” and you listened. He groaned within his chest. “Such a good girl,” he half whined. “No way Yunho taught you to be this good of a listener.”

Your heart sank. 

Your stomach flipped. 

Your blood ran ice fucking cold.

Eyes shooting open wide, Seonghwa mimicked your shock until it turned into a laugh. “You’re kidding me?” He took the hand between your bodies and messed with the buttons on his pants. “I had the smallest chance, and you’re telling me I guessed it right on the first try?”

Wiping the feelings from your face, you whispered, “Shut up. I’m drunk, I don’t know what you were talking about.”

“I’m drunk, too, baby,” Seonghwa cooed, his lips taking to your neck, messy kisses sliding up and down your skin, pulling you back under his spell. His thumb brushed over the spot you were dying for him to touch, a few expert, well practiced twists of the joint enough to have you a babbling mess under him.

“Hwa, please,” you gasped, and he finally kicked his pants off, wearing that devilish grin that was going to make you burst before he was even inside of you. With a hand between you, he pushed his length through your arousal, teasing you.

“Ror,” he said softly, dipping his head down to kiss your cheek. “Are you sure?”

Grabbing his face, squishing his own cheeks together like he had yours, his hair framing his face and brushing your own, you nodded and whispered, “Make me… forget.”

It didn’t take much else, he pushed himself inside of you, his forehead pressing to yours, keeping himself where he could see you, where he could watch you lose yourself in him. The sound that came from you matched the face he made when he gave you all of him, his brows synching in the center, his teeth clenched, but his lips parted. 

With every slow push of his hips and every beautiful sound that came from either of you, he felt you, could hear you adjust, and once your body welcomed him and your nails dug crescents into his back and your eyes clouded over in pleasure, he knew he could take you where he wanted.

He would make you forget.

NU home ✧ nice for what masterlist ✧ talk to me ✧ thank you for reading <3

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.

[momotonescreaming]

Thinking about an au where Wayne took custody of Eddie when he was a toddler.

There’s Wayne, a gruff blue collar guy who lives in a trailer and all but accepted that he was going to be a childless bachelor for the rest of his days. And then he gets the call that his Sister in Law is dead. And then he gets the call that his piece of shit brother is going to jail with no sign of getting out anytime soon. 

And then he’s going to be taking in his nephew - young baby Eddie - because there’s no way he’s letting him get lost in the system, never to be seen again. Only he’s a single guy in a one bedroom trailer and he has no idea how to take care of a toddler. But by God he’s going to try. 

Wayne gets a bunch of second hand stuff from the guys at the plant - including a parenting book or two - and goes to the thrift store to buy some clothes. He gets a kids bed and makes room for it in the bedroom. He knows that when he’s older he won’t hesitate in giving the room up to Eddie. 

It’s easy to love young Eddie, with his mop of curly hair on top of his head and his gap toothed smile. Who sleeps with a teddy bear and still asks where his daddy is. Who loves hugs and cuddles but is still too nervous around Wayne to ask for them. Wayne makes Eddie hold his hand so he doesn’t wander off when they go out together, and Eddie’s hand feels impossibly small in Wayne’s large calloused one.

It takes no time at all for Eddie to become his boy. If he doesn’t want to call Wayne dad, that’s fine, he won’t force him, but Eddie will always be his boy.

[nostalgicfun]

So, I've been trying to give my living areas a design-on-the-dime makeover to feel like an actual, authentic 90s/early 2000s house. I've been thinking about replacing the rugs as my rugs are very "Walmart in 2014," but rugs are SO expensive I couldn't justify it.

BUT THEN.

I was at the thrift store the other day and they had this huge bin of rugs for $20 a piece, and they were big rugs, too!

...But they were bound with tape and plastic so they couldn't be unfurled. All I could tell was that they were very thick/nice quality and a burgundy and beige combo, which is exactly what my mom and all family members had in the 90s/00s.

So I asked the thrift store owner if he knew what kind of condition they're in and he said they were immaculate and came from an older couple's estate. Awesome. Cool.

Here's $40. I'm putting two of these bad boys in my car.

So I buy two rugs completely at random with no idea what might be on them. I get them home. I unload them. I unfurl the first one and

IT'S A VEGETABLE RUG?????

I just stood there, floored. On one hand, vegetable rug. On the other hand, vegetable rug.

This is so 90s mom Tuscan kitchen. This is the rug in the dining room of your friend's house where their parents make more money than your parents and you eat spaghetti at their dining room table after swimming in their pool. This is the rug in the dining room of your great aunt's house where no one actually eats in the dining room, it's just for show and there's crystalware on the table at all times.

[punk-in-docs]

🕷 Don’t Need Telling Twice 🕷

Eddie Munson x Reader

10.4k words

Summary: Movie Night at Eddie’s place. All the little things that sneak into the cracks in between new love and affection. So I was intending to get a lot filthier with this but somehow it turned out sweet enough to rot your teeth- Eddie being insecure. Wayne being parental, Pencils being nervous. Let’s see how they iron it out man. (It’s really just me waffling about insight into these two lovebirds)

Saturday morning in your scruffy yet clean kitchen. Stereo cranked high. Melded into your happy place.

The bright slip and drip of the opening guitar licks to ‘Should I stay or should I go.’ Joe’s condescending spitting voice begins. You twirl around with the greased baking sheets in hand.

The kitchen is warm, it’s got this odd glow about it, from the slanted sun gushing in through the cream drapes that have yellow flowers on them. The shabby wood cupboards and the creamy tiles of the breakfast counter with its little peach-pink roses, which is now cluttered with baking trays.

Entirely rose tinted in your view. But you’re blasting the Clash. Loud enough to wake the neighbours.

You’re making cookies for your date tonight. Moms tattered pink apron hanging limp off your body from too many washes. Really it’s a scratchy old thing.

This morning did come around quick. Sunrise like a copper-red wound knifing slashes across the sky. Burning the whole horizon to that fantastic blood orange. You’re too squirmy to sleep. Too excited.

Seeings as you were up early, you put it to use and ran to the store. And now you were knee deep in cookie batter. Chocolate chip. Little starbursts of Cocoa powder and flour dusted everywhere. Head banging, head shaking and hair flicking along to Joe Strummer and his ridiculing tone.

You kick the walnut stained cupboard door closed. It’s wonky and juts out like a stubby tooth snapped off a jaw. It’s always been like that.

Every door in your kitchen creaks. Whines all aged. The appliances have their knacks and sticky tricks that come with years and years worn behind them. Temperamental.

Sure even your whole house is nothing fancy. You’ve never had that much money to scrape together, or give a shit that the whole place is dated. One thing wins favour over all that; your place is cosy.

It’s stuffed with life. Scored deep with it. Consumed. It’s not some ultra chic monotone black-red wasteland. It’s got posters and art on the walls, the crazy bohemian touches that come from your entirely whacky mother.

Sure this house wasn’t all that. But she made it great, and celebrated it in it’s own uniqueness.

Same goes for the best kind of people too. She’d say that to you with a wink.

Handfuls of pennies and some imagination went a long way. Clicking her tongue and shooting you her fierce brand of optimism that seeps out her every pore: eternally unflinching.

A lot of it, this house, echoed its funky warm pattern after the musical, magical, mental, woman who birthed you.

Forever hunting thrift stores for funky things. Weird shaped clocks. The Who posters. 60’s pop art. French Impressionism posters. Stupid cartoon lamps with Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck on the shade. Broken and chipped from the Goodwill but she liked that it wasn’t perfect or level.

She bought prints of famous artworks. Degas. Van Gogh. Millet. Flower drawings, or pressed leaves and flowers behind a sheet of glass. Not one piece of furniture matches in your living room. Or any room. The rugs are old and squishy soft, worn to death. It’s whacky to say the least. But you’d take it over any home they’re always flashing from the interior pages of a magazine.

She has blue daisy pillows on the couches. Always buys godawful cheap lemon candles that are all sugar acidic when they burn. But it cements that scent of home to you now.

There’s no inch of wall space not covered by frames or colour. One day she got up and impulsively painted your kitchen a bright buttery yellow. Just because. Flowers stamped everywhere cause she saw the idea in some hippy book.

And she filled this house with second hand books, too many, spilling over with them. She crammed your home with laughter, and literature, arts, and so many idols of your taste in music came from her.

You wouldn’t trade her for the entire world.

Flighty and bonkers as she is. You hate her being away so often, and with Charlie gone off now with her serious boyfriend, it does chip at you on the sadder days. Being here alone. It gouges just that little bit more when she’s not around.

The days when Linda says something particularly cutting, or times when jocks insults jab just that little too deep. You do miss her then. You can’t hate her for it. her job is a real earner and it makes her so happy. She brings you back souvenirs from every little corner of the globe she’s seen. Postcards. Snow globes.

She trusts you. She always says you’re her favourite kid in the world. That she knows of.

She’s not like some of the other Hawkins Moms you’ve seen. Not at all. The ones who all go to the same lousy hairdresser for the ruler straight highlighted bob. Go to Jazzercise on Thursdays. Hate their ignorant husbands. Wear beige cardigans and chunky gold jewellery and are the queen of boring casseroles and insist their kids be in bed by nine.

Then there’s her. Jagged and wound down and much looser. Etched in coolness. Less controlled - more quirky. Crazy hair even on a good day. Cherry ice cream smile. Young by their standards. Berkeley dropout. Strolling around in her suede fringed jacket and a Patti Smith t-shirt and boot cut jeans.

You’ve always seen the way other moms raised their brows at her appearance. They think she’s trashy. A single mom who dresses and eats and acts the way she does.

Scoffing behind her back at the rhinestone jacket or her vintage cowboy boots. She’s punchy. She doesn’t give two shits. She loves both her kids passionately and would be the first to swing a punch, split her knuckles open for you. Always in your corner. No matter what.

She had you both so young and braved through your dad walking out. Good riddance. He never did have the balls to do the important shit.

She told you that once you were just on the cusp of being old enough to understand why he wasn’t around.

Told you as she wrapped her arms around you and engulfed you in a hug. Smelling like Yves Saint Laurent Paris and gold Newports. She kissed the top of your head.

He couldn’t hack responsibility babe. He had his chance. Too bad he blew it. Cause I happen to think you’re the coolest pair of kids in the world.

She bucked up and scraped money together and it stung a bit sure. Pinched the corners of life at times. But she turned the back of her Brooke Shields shiny hair to the stares she gets in this town. Flipped the bird to those Carol’s and Susan’s who dared to judge her.

Somehow they thought she was a deadbeat mom. But she’s now raised two honour roll kids. First Charlie. Now you.

You’re on track for Indie State. Charlie went to Purdue. She said she’d love you even if you wanted to flip burgers or fix greasy old clunker cars for a living.

The phone shrills out loud as you’re scooping sticky chocolate chip dough into the greased sheets. It clumped between your fingers.

“Hang on.” You call out with no patience to the ringing, as you lean over to pluck it from the wall. Cradle it between your shoulder and ear. Trying to locate a dish rag for your smeared messy hands.

“Yeah.” Figured it would be someone for Mom, or a telemarketer.

“How’s it hangin, Pencils.”

Immediately a grin bursts on your lips. It’s Pavlovian. He smiles. You echo it.

You hear his voice? Ok then. Your stomach flew to bits. All fluttery like confetti.

“Well well well. If it isn’t my favourite metal head.” You say as you balance your trays down. Bumping the counter with your hip.

He chuckles through the phone. You hear the crackle of his exhale. You can picture his smile and it’s doing something to your guts that is just, crazy.

“Hey, c’mon now. Play fair. You never told me you were seeing other metal heads? I bet it’s that lanky haired bastard from the pizza place on Beechwood Drive, in his Slayer tees.” He twirled the old green phone cord around his finger. It clacks around that chunky silver ring of his.

He’s so quick to step up and play around and you love it. You can hear the jokiness layered on his voice. Hear him moving around cause staying still is his worst nightmare. Typical Eddie.

God. Look at you. You’re both twirling the phone cords around your fingers like middle school girls. Crushes thick in your throats and smiles. Choking your hearts fully. Paper airplanes tossed with love notes folded inside. Initials crossed together in a pink love-heart.

“Yeah.” You tease. “But his hair isn’t as great as yours. And don’t you know by now that I’ve got guys lined up around the block. I’ve had to have a ticket booth installed.” You pick up your wooden spoon to mix.

“Oh I’m so sorry, Linda. I thought I rang my pencils.” You hear the soft scuff of his laugh.

“Hang on one second, my lipgloss needs refreshing.” You pout. “And I feel like I should be singing ‘If I only had a brain’.”

He beams and it’s so wide his cheeks hurt.

“That’s not the Wizard of Oz I’m hearing over there pencils, right?” He deciphers.

“Saint Joe of Strummer. Our lord and saviour.” You tell him proudly. Cursing when you splodge a little of the sticky dough on the countertop. Looking around for the dish rag.

“I’m of the Anti-Christ church myself. Ozzy is my devil and I’m bound to obey.” He leers. His voice drops and it slithers between your legs to hear it get deep.

“Mmm. Sounds kinky.” You flirt. Trying your hardest not to drop dough on your bare toes where you’re scooping it to the tray. He’s a great distraction to your focus.

“If you’re into blood play and satanic practices baby, I got some great news for ya.” He fiddles with the empty microwave packets on the kitchen counter.

Chicken pot pie from two nights ago. The Kraft mac n’ cheese that he shovels down like air. Usually scraping it out the pan, eating it with a too big wooden spoon. As he reads a rock magazine at the kitchen counter.

“Sadly no. Dungeon stuff only. Oh and leather. Face masks. Lots of whipping too. And biting.” You tease.

“Hang on. Lemme get a pen and some paper… I’ll make a note…” He rustles around like he’s actually searching for it. Wiry body with the twisted phone cord wrapped around his torso.

You smile at his eagerness to please you.

“I don’t think you need to take notes, Munson. Last time was pretty sensational.” You blush. Mixing your batter and flirt is creeping onto your lips.

“Yeah?” He asks. “Jesus. You’ve no idea. It’s been driving me crazy. I should be committed. Look, I couldn’t even wait til tonight to hear your voice. I-“ He sighs in wanting. His tongue was tripping away from him. He drew back. Worried he was being too much.

He couldn’t wait. He had to call you.

“Munson. You never have to be sorry for calling me.”

Cause, I fucking like you.

“You know, you can call me Eddie. Pencils.”

“First name basis? How brazen.” You rib.

“Yeah, later on I was planning to show you my ankles. Risqué or what?” He flirts. You chuckle.

He’s wandering over to the window and flicking the curtain aside with his fingertips to see the same old drab and murky Forest Hills staring back at him.

“What would the village elders say-“ You gasp. “My reputation will be in tatters.”

“Not possible. Your name isn’t Linda.”

“I may have to kiss you for that one.” You warn.

“I’m very open to that.” He says very quickly. Twirling a packet of reds around the shiny surface of the table. Considering lighting one up. The rush of your voice is his nicotine until he hangs up.

You close a cupboard door and Eddie’s ears perk at the sound. “Learning drums over there?” He seeks.

“I’m baking.” You offer up.

Phone at your shoulder and between your ear still as you mix the dough with your other hand to fold in the chocolate chips. Shaking the packet and watching the chips fall. Plinking into the thick batter. It’s very messy and clumsily done.

“Tell me you’re wearing a tiny pink Betty Crocker apron?” He all but purrs down the phone. Licking his lips.

“It’s pink and frilly.” You drawl.

“Mmm. More-“ He rasps down directly down the phone. Grinning. Holds it right to his mouth to talk louder into the receiver.

“Pretty heels too. Lacquered hair like Donna Reed. Whole shebang.”

“Fuck.” He twirls hair around his finger. Almost bites down on his skull ring.

“The images in my head are so unmatched right now. You’ve no idea.” He charms.

“Damn.” He moans again. It’s low and it strikes a direct chord with your pussy.

Shit. You’ve had delicious filthy dreams about those moans. Your hands on that hard dick of his.

“Yeah and don’t forget my strand of pearls.” You grin.

He splutters. Oh he could give you pearls if you wanted them. It’s what he’s been dreaming of.

Such a horny boy.

“You’re the perfect date you know. Kinky as fuck, into whipping and leather. But pearls and baking.”

“You don’t even know what I’m baking-“

“You say pot brownies pencils, I’m gonna go out right this second and buy a goddamned ring.”

“Remember the four C’s. Colour. Clarity. Carat. Cut.”

“Shit. You want a diamond? Hmm I was thinking more along the lines of a pop ring. More in my budget. Or maybe something out the claw machine in the arcade.” He bargains.

“I like a man who puts in the effort. And, hey I’m not picky. I’ll take it. Diamonds are way overrated anyhow.” You decide.

“And just to lay your mind at rest I’m making Extra Chocolate, chocolate chip cookies.”

He cradled his aching throbbing heart. Hand splayed over his chest. Made a groaning noise like he was mortally wounded. A crackle of the sigh rattled the phone.

“Alright. You’re officially too good for me. I’m gonna have to hang up.” He jokes. You laugh.

You really hope he doesn’t.

“Don’t do that.” You ask quietly. “I need to talk to someone sensate. I beg of you.” You urge. “I had to listen to Linda bitch all the way home on Friday about how low fat ice cream sucks, and how much she wants to bang James Spader in Pretty in Pink.”

“Wow that really says a lot about her taste in guys.” He commented. She really was Tiffany-twisted, that girl. Wrapped up in her own over groomed looks, bouncy blonde curls, and sex life. Lived by rules out of Cosmo magazine and fad diets.

“My ears wanted to commit suicide by the time I got home. Thank god cause as I got out the car she started to mention the words sleepover and boyfriend and I just about had the sanity to slam the car door, before anymore came out.”

“Wise move baby.” He beamed.

You preened at the nickname that did dirty things. Finally you now had the cookies ready for the oven.

“Alright...” You clunked the wooden mixing spoon down. “First wave of troops going in. I’ll you know their condition after battle. Hopefully they make a worthy addition to our night as I am trying to impress you with my passably mediocre baking skills.” You charm.

“Hey don’t practice too hard now. You know us guys like em stoopid.” He puts on a southern-belle twang.

“If you can navigate yawself round a tree girlie. Keep on walkin. Them slick city fellers can have ya.” He drawls.

Your laugh makes his whole mood hop into giddy.

“You’re such a goof.” You smile. He couldn’t wait to see that grin of yours in person again. In a mere handful of hours-

“I didn’t need another incentive to be impressed by you, pencils...” He smiles. Tone slipping back into genuine. “Already there.” He offers.

Before you can respond. Hurricane Munson struck elsewhere.

“And uh, Whatever condition those troops are in. I’ll take it. I’m not picky either. Charlie. Tango. Bravo.”

“Good.” You answer. Twiddling with the corner of the dish cloth. Fondness settled like warm oozy mush on your chest. Inescapable.

You could spend hours down the phone listening to Eddie crack his jokes. Twirl around. Get distracted. Put on stupid drama club voices like he was at Hellfire

“There aren’t trees in the way of your trailer are there? Cause I won’t be able to navigate round them all on my own.” You joke in reference to his earlier remark.

“You’re the perfect lady.” He sighs in a sweet hum.

“Oh and uh, I picked the movies for tonight.” He suddenly announced. Sounding cheeky. Brimming with it.

“Yeah?” You asked with inflection. “Yeah.” He answered. With none.

“You’re not gonna tell me are you?” You clued up.

“Leave me to have my wicked wicked fun.”

“VHS tease.” You complained all snarky.

“Scoot your pretty ass over here and come see for yourself you coward.” He dares. Tongue tipped out between his smiling teeth.

“Six still good?” You check. Up on your tiptoes and swirling around the tiled floor. Stomach swooping with anticipation.

“Golden.” He answers.

“Guess I’ll see you then. I’ll be the one in the skirt.”

He sucks air through his teeth. “Ah same here. I hope we don’t clash.”

“Bye, Edward.” You joke. He gasps.

“Mm. Definitely gonna have to let you see my ankles now.” Comes his voice. Smile traced on it. You could tell.

“I’m counting the minutes.” You dip your voice low.

“See ya.” He parts. Slinging the phone back into it’s cradle on the wall. Smile charged to megawatt from your conversation. He wants to twirl and flip his hair. Goddamnit. He couldn’t keep still.

Then he drags his eyes to his surroundings. The crushed beer cans crumpled up on the kitchen counter, and the coffee table. The overflowing ashtrays. Trash in the kitchen. The dishes. The laundry strewn sofa. The dust- he chews his lip.

It was like he was seeing this place through fresh eyes. And it needed rectifying. He rolled up his sleeves.

Shit. He needed to hustle.

~

It was fair to say Wayne and Eddie had to grow used to living with each other.

The veil of constancy was Eddie’s safety blanket when it came to the gruff and earnestly stoic man, that was Wayne Munson; he pretty much remained himself. Didn’t change much.

Liked his bacon crispy. Made a peach cobbler that would blow your socks off til next Tuesd ay, but couldn’t assemble a sandwich neatly at all. Used to drive big semi trucks across the states. Did the crossword in the Hawkins Gazette. Adored Billie Holiday. Collected comical mugs. Liked strong coffee with cinnamon and had a dislike for cilantro. Loved old spaghetti westerns and that twanging soft country music he always hums too, which had carved space out of his soft-soppy Tennessee heart.

He had hatred for people with nasty gossiping sniping souls. Ugliness born inside, he thinks people don’t ever shift it on or lose that. He worked his fingers to the bone for the modest home and the little money they raked by on. He was unfailingly honest and generous. He had few words to give. He was Eddie’s weather-beaten yet reliable rock.

Eddie can imagine that Wayne getting to know him was more of a challenge; tricky to navigate; herding cats, walking on-knives-and-eggshells kind of difficult. How do you get to know someone when their character is set on shifting sand?

Thing is. Eddie never really changed that much.

He’s still the starry-eyed kid leaping on the couch, shredding air guitar to Metallica in filthy sneakers cause the moment just ran away with him. He’s the one making a huge show of not stepping on cracks in the pavement cause he’s down enough as it is. Not breaking mirrors, ever, and picking up sidewalk spilt pennies. And apologising and stepping over weeds in the trailer lot. Not trampling them underfoot.

Eddie was still the boy inside that felt bad for struggling weeds. The one to feel sorry for a squashed little dandelion.

Wayne wrenched open this home to this kid as a stranger. Barbs and shame-wrapped guilt set in his heart that he didn’t know his brothers own kid better than he did. He kept to his lane. He stayed out the way of his brothers numerous convictions. Remained a stranger to trouble.

But then, when need came knocking; he offered up, no questions asked. The way a bird offered the gentle lift of their wing, to something foreign needing shelter, in a warm bramble nest, from the raging storm.

Eddie will never forget the first words he heard out of Wayne’s mouth. Around the corner of some bland police precinct. Warm. Firm. Dependable.

“He’s my family. He’s blood. That’s enough. Kindly let me see him.”

He didn’t regret stepping up to bat for one minute. Maybe he’s grouchy and he’d never fully ‘get’ or approve of everything his nephew did, or enjoyed. But he didn’t chew him out, or pick at him for it.

He learned what flavour pop tarts Eddie liked best for breakfast. When he needed sleep or help. When he needed space. When to warn him to watch his attitude, or his mouth, or manners, and when to back off. Parental things.

Eddie was a stale eyed kid when he first met Wayne. Perhaps innocent and maybe just jaded enough to see beyond the rose-tinted prism of childhood. He was jaggedy-rough round the edges and not worn into himself yet. Caught up in the hard knocks of social care and down-and-out on his luck, as a mostly unwanted eight year old. That stuck some nasty pins in his ego pretty early on.

Wayne could see how Eddie kept expecting to be shuffled on elsewhere. Big shining eyes that a puppy would envy under a scruff mop of hair. Clutching all he had for dear life. His scruffy collection of tattered comics and stubby pencils and half broken toys.

Kept looking around the trailer like he shouldn’t get too attached. Sat gingerly on the edge of the sagging bed. Shouldn’t make mess or get comfy. Cause soon, he’ll have to pack his scrappy things into that sad cardboard box and eek out a wobbling lipped goodbye. Sad that home hadn’t stuck, again.

Eddie kept that empty scruffy little box sat in the bottom of his closet for six months. Just in case.

Wayne threw that box right in the trash.

Bought him a beat up old turntable. Put a shelf up in his room and a stood a few second hand fantasy paperback books on it. Bought him a few new things that didn’t belong to someone else first.

Wayne watched Eddie fall into stability. To learn how to put roots down. Grow steady and then in quick spurts, into who he was. In that way kids do. The way they grow into clothes that were too big. Shoes that would eventually fill out to fit their steps.

He watched the love of music come blasting in. Middle school. Rolling Stones magazines. Catching Black Sabbath on the radio one day. The appreciation for that loud thrashing dirty-steel rock he now loves. The one that ran vein deep. His idols with the crazy scruffy long hair. He discovered Ozzy and Axl, Judas Priest and Lemmy.

Watched him sew on badges that he bought for pennies at dime stores, and get bloody fingertips cause he really was useless at needlework. Found his signature rings at a cool vintage place outta state. Watched him saw off the arms of his denim jacket and come home with a swing in his step and a DIO shirt from the goodwill - a twinkle in his eye. Determination threaded in this burgeoning passion. Tip of the iceberg.

A plan Wayne. I have a well executed, thorough plan. Foolproof.

Mmmhmm. Is this gonna end up exactly like the last plan you had, kid?

Let’s find out.

Gone from the sweet boy who was too scared of everything, and everyone boring, and being judged, and now he’s turned inside out, full circle, to become this genuinely sweet young man, who turned against that boring tide of beige normalcy.

Eccentric and whirly with the unfocused energy that never burned out. Dynamite blaze kid. Even when he tried to hide scrapes on his knees, and raw knuckles. A shiner that he let his shaggy fringe cover, from an attempt to fight and claw back.

He still gave Wayne that shocking toothy grin with a fat lip and a busted nose, cause he was actually stupid proud of himself - and the way he stuck up for some freshman. The tiny nerdy one who had a carton of milk poured over his head by the meat head jocks. Having pages ripped out his science textbooks by them and spread to the wind like leaves.

Eddie sat beside the newbie with bleeding raw knuckles, cracked jokes, sellotaped those torn pages back together - wonky. Just to show that someone out there, cared.

The smiles became armour, devil horns and Gene Simmons tongue. The hair started to grow out into rioting curls. Doe eyes glinted promiscuity; to those who didn’t know him well enough to know there was no shred of malice anywhere in him.

Eddie collected parts of himself, the way someone would laundry plucked off the line- like the badges and pins he secured on his chest and flashed around for fun.

He found his first DND board and his dice at a yard sale. And then came that sweet head-muzzy strain of Colombia gold, and Reefer Rick and light frothy cans of beer on an empty stomach. He found acceptance. Ripped jeans and scuffed knees. The exquisite pin pricks of a scratchy tattoo the day he turned 18. Asked if he could wear the old sagging leather jacket he found hung in the back of the closet, from Wayne’s younger and more hip days.

The way he went full bonkers-gaga over seeing his 24 fret NJ warlock in the window of a music store in town. Bursting big heart eyes over it and saving up for months. Awfully tempted by the idea of some piercing, somewhere, but nearly fainted when he got in the shop. So that was the end of that. He founded Hellfire and he protected his fellow freaks. Scraped together his high school band.

Collected the little lost sheepies in armfuls, in bunches, so that no one within his reaches would ever have to sit and console that festering hungry chasm of being an unwanted kid, with nowhere to turn.

Cause Eddie knew well enough, it was a bottomless gremlin pit with gnashing teeth, and it would take take take as long as you bothered to feed it.

And all that learning and comfiness, and living, now it currently tapered down to Wayne not being at all surprised, by watching his nephew shaking frail little spindly spiders out into the doormat, talking soothingly to them.

Shooing them out off the glossy pages of his rock music magazine. Telling them to get used to the brave new world of Forest Hills outside these four walls.

“-And kudos by the way for eating the flies. Appreciate you for that. Sorry I’ll have to take down those cobwebs. Consider this your eviction notice.” As he jimmied the last one off the paper and it crinkled noisily. Bracelet on his wrist jingling.

Wayne is peering over the shield of his paper. Coffee steaming away in a chipped Snoopy mug by his side. Cigarette dangling from his fingers. Watching Eddie crouch right at the mouth of the trailer door. Holding it open and watching the insects lope away in new brave directions.

Pieces of clarity started to to swim together when he takes a look at Eddie’s clothes.

Different to his normal threads on a Saturday night; Either he’s kicking his feet into reeboks, shouldering on his leathers and vest to go out a party at some place, and come back reeking of grass and beer breath. Or; he’s shuffling around in his thread bare plaid pyjama pants and a ratty AC/DC tee, asking what’s for dinner through a smeary eyed yawn.

This is neither; he straightened up to go and neatly return the magazine to his room, as opposed to throwing it down to rest in any old place. Odd.

Wayne took notice of his clothes. Black jeans that were suspiciously clean of ash stains or frayed knee holes. His long sleeved black skull tee rolled up to his elbows, ink on display. Chest blazoned with a band name he’s never heard of, and down the sleeve too in gothic red. His hair was all fluffed up - like he’d finally discovered what a comb was.

Eddie saunters back into the room. Flitting from place to place. Shoving beer cans in a bulging garbage bag. Along with empty crushed food packets that he left out. Sweeping crumbs off the counter with his bare hands. Probably over the floor but the effort was there- picking cigarette butts off the floor that he was careless enough to drop.

And Wayne didn’t even have to shoot his usual look, clearing his throat at him, about that nasty habit. He was clearing up entirely on his own. Without prompt.

He was rushing. Rushing was the antithesis of Eddie’s speed. A thin film of sweat on his brow under that choppy lollop of a fringe. He’s crammed garbage bags full. Shoving stuff inside.

Says something under his breath that sounds like “shit” as he darts back into his room. Wallet chain jangling behind him. Socked feet thudding softly on the carpets.

He keeps an ear open for what sounds like commotion. Frantic tidying. The shuffling of clothes by the armful. Closet doors shutting with a thwack. He talks to his guitar as he hums and tidied.

“I know I know. Sweetheart. I should have done this earlier. Don’t look at me like that…”

He rounds up his dirty clothes and does a sniff test - again. That was the third time tonight.

Movement clattering along the hall. Socked feet storm back to the washer. He’s stuffing an armful of mostly all black clothing into it like he’s trying to dispose of body parts in there. Ramming in so much he has to shut the door quick.

“Rat bastard.” He hissed after he shook the dream fresh laundry powder in and slams it shut. Punches it for good measure. His rings clack on the metal-metal contact. Shook his fist out I n the air cause that hurt more than he thought it would.

Now he’s back to the trash bags in the kitchen. Looping them up and walking across the door to dump them outside in the garbage cans. Hopping across the sharp gravel in socked feet like a jumping hare.

Wayne sees that determined set in his brow as the door snaps open and back in slams Eddie at a million miles a second. Frowning at everything he sees. Sloped brows. Mouth curled into a grimace.

He comes to empty the overflowing ashtray on the coffee table near Wayne. Well, it was an old soup can that somehow turned into an ashtray. Annoyed that he missed it. Muttering to himself. Scooping away dust. It was like watching a one man ant farm.

This led to him now being stood on the couch, suddenly reorganising the shelf behind it. Batting cobwebs away from mugs and wiping a hand on his jeans.

“Jesus. I mean how dusty is this place?” Eddie asks to no one in particular. Not expecting an answer.

Silence. Rustling.

Wayne folds up his paper and nicely slaps it down on the arm beside him. Folds his hands in his lap. “Eddie.”

Eddie turns around like a doe eyed deer caught in semi headlights. Twisted at the waist. Back of his shirt riding up over his lithe waist. Peek of his back and his plaid red boxer band showing over the back of his jeans.

The bony notches of his spine poke through skin where he’s leaning over. He blinks owlishly at his uncle. One foot braced on the back of their elderly moth-eaten couch.

“What the hell you doin?” Wayne asks with kind bewilderment. Shaking his head at his kid.

“Spring cleaning?”

Wayne’s eyes narrow as he lifts his hand up and sucks on his cigarette. “Sure?” He checks.

“No?” Comes the answer. Carefully. Wincing. Wayne takes a breather.

“There’s cobwebs. And, dust.” He explained. Pointing to the wall before him. “Look see, dust.”

“Why the sudden aptitude for household chores there, huh?” Wayne asks as he nurses his cooling coffee.

To his shame they don’t exactly keep the place pristine. He tries his best, but on some days work takes it clean outta him. Eddie’s room resembled a garbage tip bomb-site most likely.

Eddie swallows. “You know. Just- some light maintenance.” He shrugs. That was the most plausible answer his brain spat out upfront.

“On a Saturday night?”

“I’m um, totally slammed on Sunday.” He admits. Clapping off his hands.

“Kid. How stupid do you think I am. Because frankly, all I’ve seen, is all I need to see. If you get my drift.”

Eddie turns away and continues his frantic cleaning. Polishing a mug with his shirt sleeve.

“I have… guests… coming over tonight.” If he makes it plural maybe he can get away with it.

“Your DND club.” Wayne guesses. This earns a snort from the metalhead.

“I once saw Gareth eat pizza off the canteen floor. Like I’d bother dusting here for those doofuses.” He grins.

“Then question remains; who are you dusting, and laundry-doing and taking out the spiders for?” Wayne leans forward and asks. Scratching the stubble at the side of his grizzled jaw.

Eddie clings to silence. Which he never does. Never ever does this boy exist without noise bursting out his mouth. Looks like a sheepish kid again.

Wayne’s gaze meets his. ‘Well?’

Cause he would support whomever Eddie chose to bring home. Girl or boy, or undecided. He’s no dummy. He’s got eyes in his head. He’s seen things. The little quirky tics in Eddie’s character when he likes someone. He knows his kid pretty darn well enough by now.

“A girl.” Eddie concludes turning away, like it was casual, cool, and nothing to get worked up over. No biggie. Just… the girl of my dreams. So what? I can be casual about this. It’s totally fine. And normal. Normally fine.

“A girl.” Wayne nods.

“Change this record. It’s skipping.” Eddie leers. Pointing a funny wagging finger at his relative.

“This girl. She royalty or something.”

Eddie cuts a look. It’s just bordering on grumpy and peeved.

“Listen, she ain’t coming to inspect the place or audit us. A little dust and clutter isn’t gonna put her off spending time with you, now is it.”

Eddie sighs. Itched the back of his head. Screwed his eyes shut.

“No. See man. I wanted to be presentable. Cause when she walks in this trailer, she’s gonna be expecting me to look and act like sleazy, greasy trailer trash. And I just. Wanna-“ he clenched his fists.

“Just wanna be….presentable.” He mumbled. Repeating. As he softly scuffed the couch arm with his foot. He sighed. Rubbed a dusty knuckle in his eye until stars scrawled black and bursting.

“Goddd. Look at me. I’ve showered twice. And I untangled the knots out my hair. I used that fancy bar soap I got for xmas that smells like lemons. I brushed my teeth for a whole two minutes. May have used a splash of your cologne. That stung like hell by the way.” He added naughtily. Pinching the collar of his shirt in two fingers and flapping it up and down to cool himself off.

“I’m sweaty. My hair feels itchy. I don’t know what I’m gonna say. She’s gonna be stunning, and awesome and I feel like I’m having a heart seizure or probably a stroke over here. I don’t know man. Fuck-“

Wayne let’s him get it out. As he’s learned with Eddie sometimes it’s best. He often just needed a ramble. To let his tongue lash til he ran dry.

He kicked the couch again. Harder. Still standing up tall on it.

“What’s she like, this girl. She into the same kinda stuff as you?” Wayne enquired.

It dipped muzzily into his big soft heart seeing Eddies mouth hooked right up into a petite smile when he asked about you. One side curls.

“No she’s, uh, she likes Punk music and Bowie, Talking Heads, Billy Idol, and like, you should hear her, she talks about all these artists and shit I’ve never heard of. It’s amazing-“

She’s entirely too good for the likes of me.

“She’s so cool. Effortlessly cool y’know?- And creative?! She likes scary movies and she works in the record store. She hates jocks. I cannot believe she’s actually bothering to look twice at a moron like me. Super senior, King of the freaks.” He jabs his fingers into his bony skull clad chest.

Because Eddie didn’t think it was exactly a secret that flunk out’s like him, were never exactly crawling in babes, or cramming in dates on the weekends.

“I really like her.” He mumbled openly. Wiping palms on his jeans. That’s what this effort all whittled down too.

He couldn’t meet Wayne’s eyes as he said it. It seemed to good to be true. His hopes were so little. Floundering seeds.

He wanted this to go well. He whirled his eyes elsewhere and fidgeted through his words. Typical Eddie.

“I gathered as much from your general-“ Wayne waved his hand around in the air of the living room and towards the kitchen “…Running round. Giving me whiplash just watching you, kid.” He stubs out his cigarette.

Eddie stays where he is. Stood couch top. Absorbing the information Wayne fed him.

“Why don’t you get down from there. Leave the dusting the hell alone. And just relax.” He soothes. Always a balm to the frizzy fraying nerves.

Eddie looks like it could be a trap if he dares to let himself chill out. You say it like it’s easy.

“She must like you to come all the way out here to spend time with you. Just be yourself. I guarantee you, that’s what she’s interested in. Not the state of this place.” He shifts in his chair and groans a little. Adjusts his legs.

Eddie let’s out a huff. Slumps down the sofa and throws his body onto it. Crazy hair flicking after he moved. It’s fluffier too. Some lame attempt at his own hands to pretty it up from its usual insanity.

“What you guys planning on doing?” He seeks. Sips his coffee. Distraction worked well, too. He often found.

“Ordering pizza and watching a couple movies.” Eddie says up to the ceiling. Scanning for cobwebs. Fiddling with the rings on one hand. One knee twitching up and down.

He had the stack of videos ready on top of the TV. Night of the Living Dead. Nightmare on Elm Street. And then Ghostbusters for something undeniably cheesy. The microwave popcorn in the kitchen. A number for the pizza place hemmed in on the fridge with magnets, as per usual.

Wayne makes a soft noise at the back of his throat at hearing that. A smile creeps on his lips. He idly reads the folded back of his paper.

“What?” Eddie quizzes.

Wayne’s smile grows if anything.

“I may be an old man. But I was young once. I do happen to know what that means.” He stared Eddie down in that parental way.

“You’re gonna be careful with this girl, right. Safe sex ain’t no joke.”

That did it.

“Aww man, c’mon.” Eddie choked, cringing, as he launched himself up out the sofa and quickly scurried away like a jangly pillar of goth black missile. Aimed sharpish in another direction.

“It’s a first date, by the way. I’m not gonna be breaking out the condoms and whistles and bells here.” He lets out.

He’s shaking his head and losing himself in the confines of his room. Music is softly shredding out the low stereo. Alice Coopers ‘Welcome to my Nightmare’ sneers softly into his room. He cranks it up.

Wayne stood up. Smiling and shaking his head in making his kid cringe. Gathering his things for work. Walking to the kitchen slowly to empty the dregs of his cup. Leave it in the sink for later. He grabs his things as he walks on past the front door. Heavy work boots crushing soft on the carpets and then the lino.

He walks right up to Eddie’s door, peers into the clustered metal gilded mess of his room.

Shocked to notice he could actually see the floor. And the raunchy pin ups were safely shepherded away inside the closet. The playboy magazines he pretends he doesn’t know about shoved under the bed. The dresser and side tables were still messy as. There’s been an attempt at making the bed. The sheets are straightened and tucked in.

“Listen now, you’re 20 year old man, and you have a zipper. I won’t say any more than that. But you best play it safe. Y’hear?”

“NO.” Eddie fairly shrieks.

“Not listening anymore.” Comes the answer as he faffs around and pretends to be busy with some things in his closet.

“Eddie.” Wayne smiles.

He turns back around and stands up. Expression of limited enthusiasm.

“Wayne. I am the town fuck up in a lot of ways. But not in this way.” He marched back to his bedside. Throws the blue Trojan condom packet up in the air and catches it. A silent ‘see?’

His uncles brow crooks up. Shuffling his wallet into his jeans. Pulling on his heavy fleece lined denim jacket. “Jeez. Those things still in date?”

Eddies face falls.

“They expire?” He flips the packet and looks at the back.

“Lord. I am gettin out of here. Save me some pizza would ya.” Wayne dismisses with a shake of his old head.

This high school romance thing was better left a young man’s game.

~

Eddie thinks he forgets how to breathe, when the buttery headlights of your car slant into the big window of the trailer.

He poked his head out the door earlier. The air is cool out tonight. Hung with moisture, so thick you could sip at it. Icy cold like a dirty clear martini. The kind of night that bloats up and leaves the taste of wet grass on your tongue.

The headlights are a sobering neon yellow under the cushy spring night that was churning slowly in dregs and streaks, to a violet. Lilac bathed air punched with cold. One of those night slow nights that gets slipped into dark majesty, and the stars cluster bright like winking pearls.

Eddie’s eyes have been on the windows for an hour. He’s paced groves in this thick matted carpet, he’s sure of it. Eyes set on the windows like he’s on a mission. Trying not to chew his nails. Got him acting like a pound mongrel waiting for their owner to come home.

The car lights flick off. Engine cuts dead.

And now he can hear the slam of your car door. His heart rockets into overdrive with scary amounts of adrenaline and stabbing excitement that will, he’s sure, undeniably make a moron out of him before then night is out.

You’re stepping up the creaky porch. He knows those snaps and shifts of the old steps. You’re knocking on his door.

He takes a deep breath. Fills his crappy sentimental lungs, that he placated with a cigarette, twenty ache filled minutes ago.

He cannot open the door fast enough, and the sight of you the other side, roundhouse whirls into his chest. Smacks right between the ribs. Fists him by the front of his t-shirt and yanks-

You’re like that song Wayne hums and taps his feet too, when he makes eggs on a Sunday mo rning. ‘Like being hit by a falling tree, woman, woman what you do to me.’

“Ah woman bearing beer. You’re definitely welcome inside.” He grins. Leaning against his door.

He thinks he keeps on imagining how pretty you are. But here you stand with the cheap orange light of the trailer washing back over you, haloing your body like a wash of heaven, and he’s gotta remember not to stare.

You’ve brushed this smoky-sparkly purple eyeshadow on. Nightshade purple like the sky out tonight. Big lashes all dark too. Your lips are pink shiny and glossy. (You so totally stole a tube from Linda, naughty pencils)

You’re wearing a brown corduroy skirt and a black polo neck. Long brown leather boots up to your calves. Your hair is so silky. Eyes shimmering this angel honey warmth at him.

You’re holding an eggshell coloured plate of Saran-wrapped cookies. Piled high and dark chocolate. In your other hand you have a six pack of coors and something else-

“Best part?” You begin.

You hold something up, tilt your head and there’s that smile.

The thing you hold, it’s all canine teeth and fake tufts of hair. Two triangle ears. Tacky acetic smell of plastic. “For the Heist.”

A wolf man mask. A smile leaps onto his lips.

“You think of everything.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Got yours I hope Pencils?” He asks with a levelled look as he widens the door for you to step in.

“It’s in the car. Messes up my hair.” You shrug. You climb up the last uneven wedge of a step and move to come inside.

“Hey.” You smile. He liked that you goofed around first. Went traditional greeting second.

“Hey back.” He said softly. Pretty smile all wide. Espresso dark eyes fixed unendingly on your face.

You nervously chew your lip and gaze down. You want to lean over and kiss his cheek but didn’t want to overstep or be weird about it.

You clunkily flounder on the doormat. Self doubt lingers on your fingertips. You wish you could just escape into the confidence to lean over and kiss him like you did the other night. But then you had a belly of vodka and Dutch courage backing you up.

Decide hand him over the plate of cookies. He can smell the cocoa and sugar sneaking out when he takes the thing off you. “For you-“ you gift.

“Troops made it. Well done boys.” It makes you chuckle. Wiggles the plate in one hand and talks to the cookies.

“Hope you got a sweet tooth. I made so many.”

“Always.” He answers to your enquiry. “My diet is 98% Oreos and mini powdered donuts.” He beams.

You nudge the beers in your hand too. “Fridge?”

He takes them off you gently. “Yeah, here, gimme.” He bundled them up and stepped past you. The door snapped shut behind him and you took in the space as Eddie padded to the fridge.

You smile as you gaze around the walls. The scratchy orange curtains. The warmness of the lamps splashing up light. A very well beloved couch and all the mug keepsakes and hats on the walls. It’s cosy. It’s a home. Capital H. Just like yours. You can see that from one glance.

The Campbell’s soup can used as an ashtray cause the actual red glass ashtray next to it was overflowing with pocket junk. The plaid shirts yet to be ironed, crumpled somewhat clumsily in a laundry basket. Some sepia family pictures tacked to the space above the counter where the sun won’t bleach them. The red pansy pattern on the sofa that clashes with the lone saggy yellow throw pillow. The marbled malty brown carpet.

A place that sure wasn’t fancy, but had character and warmth in swathes more than anything designer and clinical green money could buy. It’s a sagging trailer sure, no hiding that. But you imagine with a cold shower of outside patting at the roof, these friendly yellow walls would swallow you up in their charming blanket of old cigarettes, male cologne and powder dreamy detergent. Some scratchy record playing blues and a snuggly throw on that couch, it would be a sort of enclosing haven.

“It’s uh- not much. But… a place to crash or to hang your hat, as Wayne says.” Eddie trails off. Setting the cookies on the counter. Nodding in jest towards the numerous baseball caps.

“I like it. Honestly. You should see my house. Moms hippy-bohemian posters and pretty strange sense of interior decor reigns strong.” You tell him.

“I’d like to see that.” He says as he clunks beers in the ancient whirring fridge. You smile over at him. You nod and share eye contact.

“Come through the front door this time though, perhaps. Save your ass from that thorny rose bush.” You encourage warmly.

“Awh. You’re worried about the state of my ass.” He preens. Leans against the counter and gives you moony eyes.

“Damn right. Someone’s got to be.” You answer back.

“Thank heaven it’s you.” He simpers. Smile

Slowly crawls up and your stomach warms all dizzy. You bite your lip.

“Drink?” He offers. Hands splayed over the counter. “We got Pepsi, ginger ale.”

“Actually, a beer would be great.” You nod. Cold buzz light give you some courage to finally bump your mouth to those soft sweet lips you adore. And had missed.

You should have done it tonight the second he opened the door. Damn politeness. You should’ve sprung on him.

“Two beers. Coming up.” He grins. Drums the counter with open slaps of his hands. Dives for the fridge.

You unzip your boots. Worried about getting wet marks on the floor.

“Princess. Your shoes are probably cleaner than this carpet.” Eddie explains wryly from behind the fridge.

Coming back to see you standing into the mushy carpet in your bare feet. Painted toes mulberry purple. Sparkles glitter gritty over the deep paint.

“It’s the principle of the thing now, Munson.” You say as you toe them off. Stuff your socks inside. You place them by the door and wander over to the jut of the counter. Standing the other side looking at him. His skin itches and leaps with the realisation of your smiling at him. He more than likes it.

He’s got the beers before him. Cracking them open. The fizz and the hoppy mist. He slides yours on over for you to catch like a saloon bar in a western.

“Mi’lady” He says as he raises his can up for you to crash them together in a toast. A tinny clank where you toast. His rings clack on the side of the can.

“Thank you, gallant Knight.” You flatter. After taking back a cold hop filled sip.

It makes you think of that slanted drunken time in Kyle’s garden. Sharing polite sips of a warm beer. Stealing glances under fringes and sparing longing looks.

You watch his brows raise with surprise at your choice of title. “And here, I thought I was the jangly belled jester dude. Or the scrawny but lovable bard.” He grins all toothy.

“Fraid not. You’re my Knight in shining DIO vest.” You tell him.

If you had to, you’d rearrange the entire solar system by hand to see the sight of Eddie Munson blush again the way he is now. His cheeks full with it.

He scratches the back of his neck and looks like he wants to twirl away and hide in his hair all bashful.

“You rescued me from the pack of Ogres and brought me healing Campbells aid. Not to mention some very seriously delicious behaviour in a closet.” You played along. Fiddling your fingertips along the edge of the counter. “That’s Knightly behaviour, my guy.” You nod.

“You’d be ok with being my maiden then, huh?” He can’t ignore the very bloated intent behind those words. Chews the inside of his lower lip. He can taste beer and he’s so aching to kiss you again.

“More than ok.” You met his longing brown gaze. Those melty eyes standing stark under that chippy fringe. “Hey, as long as you don’t think I’m the Dragon. I’m fine with whatever.” You hold your hands up.

His smile brightens. “I think we all know who the dragon is, pencils.”

You laugh.

His heart swoons.

And then it twirls somewhere different. He looks intent. Like he wants to grab something but can’t. Pent up. Like he’s digging fingers into the counter to keep from something else.

“Ok, excuse the shit outta me but, fuck it, I should have done this the second I saw you tonight.”

He suddenly bursts into movement around the counter. You follow where he rounds it in record time. Chain jangling. Socked feet padding the floor.

Emotions are chunky jagged things that can’t contain him. Slip off his body like oil slick. Beat off him like rain bouncing off concrete. It can’t contain him or maybe it’s the other way around.

He comes your side and you can barely have a breath before he’s cupped your neck either side, so gentle, and pushed his lips onto yours in a kiss so sweet it made your brain wipe blank.

His body cages you back into the counter. Tile top digging the back of your waist. Your hands flounder for a second. You smile to his lips before your hands come to his back. His belt buckle jams to your skirt and it makes your stomach flutter with want.

He tastes the same and it’s a flavour you’re oddly fascinated by. Smoky brush and hoppy beer. Maybe a little acrid but you don’t mind it. So traditionally Eddie it makes your knees wobble.

His thumb is soft on the line of your jaw. Savours the way He languidly kisses you out of breath. He swallows a sugary clasp of a little gasping noise you made. Wants more- more more more of them. He’s caught in your orbit and never wants to fall out of this clutch of your gravity.

Tastes the gloss off your mouth and he prays you don’t think him a massive perverted creep for this.

When you break for air, his lips don’t wander far. Spit wet and near yours and now he’s wearing sugar high pink gloss too. His nose lays along the line of yours.

“Sorry-“ He gasps.

He may have short circuited your brain with that kiss. Glitched something out for sure.

“I don’t see what sorry has to do with that.” You murmur softly. Leaning up to brush your nose into his. Try to contain this harsh vein buzz he’s got going in you.

“Inviting you over to my trailer and mauling you.” He gasps as he rakes a soft brush of hair off your cheek. Back tenderly behind your soft ear.

You push on your tiptoes. Capture his mouth in a slowly melting peck. Hand sliding across his cheek. Palming a cheekbone. Fingertips nesting in that dry wild mane.

“I don’t mind a little mauling.” You explain. He rests his hands on your hips with a self satisfied chuckle. Thumbs stroking the waistband of your skirt.

“Not very Knightly.” He quipped. Going dumb the way you plucked kisses at his mouth in-between his attempts to speak.

“Chastity is overrated. I’m not waiting in a fucking tower to protect my virtue.” You tell him.

You’ve got his fucking chest skipping and his heart is on the roof of his mouth. Cheeks ache from smiling.

He holds your waist like he’s afraid you’ll move or drift away. Ridiculous. You’ve patiently waited to get here. You’re not budging. Eyes set on yours. The wet gloss glimmer of your lips and those eyes he pathetically wants to stare into like he’s discovered a new form of Eden.

“I can’t believe I didn’t work up the courage to talk to you sooner.” Bursts out his mouth before he can stop it. A shy little confession that he feels very nerdy to have given a voice too.

“Wanna know something?” You tell him all softly. Stroking over the wavy tips of those choppy bangs.

“If not guess I’ll just kiss it outta you…” He decides. Eyes dizzily on your lips. His hips sway into you and he tilts his head to plant a sweet kiss at the corner of your mouth.

“I think I had a crush on you from the very second you got sat behind me in history class.” You explain.

You couldn’t help it. There you were all wrapped and stirred up in your love of punk and anarchy. And then in walks this crazy, messy leather clad and metal dipped kid with doe eyes and trouble stroked deep into his smile. The frenzy and the non-conformity. Clutched you good.

“Why do you think I always tapped on your shoulder asking for a pencil, pencils?” He teased. But he wasn’t done;

Sense slotted into place.

“Do you know why I call you that by the way?” He checks. Voice such a soft chasm of purity.

“I assumed the way I’m always covered in graphite and ink, and paint splatters.” You shrugged.

“No.” He raises your hand up and marks a kiss the back of it. “But I do really dig that look on you.”

“Alas-“ He continued. “Its because you never snapped at me. Never once rolled your eyes or ignored me when I tapped on your shoulder. You didn’t dismiss me the way everyone else did.”

You’re floored. Stood pinned to this counter and you’re so touched.

“You always gave me a pencil. Always. And you smiled at me as you did it. Didn’t tell me to keep it with disgust or bark that you wanted it back right after. Look at it like you’d contract rabies from being touching something I’d used.”

You indeed smiled at him. You asked about the patches on his vest. About the bands you’d not heard of. Told him the answer to a random question of the pop quiz if you saw him struggling. Twisted around and caught sight of the horned devil skull he was doodling and thought it was cool.

You lit up when he came into class or when he said something funny. And sure, he did show off in the hopes it would earn that beam of yours. He always felt like opportunity slipped out his hands when you scurried away after class finished.

He tried every day, to stay and catch your eye- make you laugh again. Just something to rouse that little kernel of connection he had to you. And when he saw you around you were always alongside the blonde one he assumed was too cool to approach.

“Wow, we’re morons. It’s only taken us this long to get things going.” You supplied casually.

“Pencils. Trust me. I noticed you beside that blonde poodle friend of yours a lot. I thought how pretty and awesome you seemed. Would’ve tried to talk to you, but I kinda thought you hated me.” He admits with a wince.

“Why?” You ask almost sadly. Ready to crunch up your own conscience in guilt.

“That’s what people usually do. They don’t even get to know me they just decide to skip right to the ‘hating my guts’ part.”

You shake your head. Boldly.

“Not this people.” You say. Cupping his cheek. “And I’d like to spend a lot of time proving that tonight.”

Your free hand slunk to his waist. Holding him with a perfectly lovely touch that has his knees swooning. Fuck it, yes. He could swoon too.

He smiles at that. And it’s so stunningly honest it makes the slippy walls of your heart ache. Lays his lips onto yours again.

“What’s say we order this pizza, get buzzed and uh, do some very dirty hand stuff on the couch whilst we pretend to be interested in it?” He grins.

“Perfect.” You slip up and kiss him again. Arms crossed over his shoulders. Body entirely pasted to his.

“Does this mean we’re officially dating now?” You ask him sweetly when you pull back. Not having moved one inch away. Engrossed, entangled and entwined.

“It better.” He nudged his nose to yours. And it really was as simple as that.

“Fuck. I wanna kiss you again. Can I-“ He started, and before you can even answer. Before your tongue can shape and push words out your teeth. He’s on you again.

“Baby. We’re way past asking permission.” You break away and breathily tell him as the kissing gets heavier, more intense. Arms squeeze harder. Getting closer when there’s no room to spare already. Crushed. No breath. It’s glorious.

“Don’t tell me that.” He flirts. If you give him free-reign, you’ll never be able to reel him back again. You just won’t. He’s far too, far gone.

“Believe I just did.” You tell him. Ballsy.

He leads you stumbling by the waist over to the couch. Smiling. Nibbling your lower lip. Sucking and his tongue sweeping yours. Knocking and kissing, knees touching. Falling and falling into each other again. You gasp where you awkwardly clash together on the lumpy couch cushions.

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that one Pencils.” He teases. Face all blushy and definitely love-drunk. Kiss dazed. Funny how you’d quite forgotten about those beers all of a sudden.

“Bring it on, Munson.” You urged.

~

🕷️This here? Oh no biggie. Just the next part of Eddie x Pencils 🕷️

My taglist for the JQ babes; @ceriseheaven @indouloureux @stiegasaw @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @starbxcks @morganamoonstone @ramona-thorns @gvtosbith @poppy-metal @munsonswhore86 @munsonlov3r @lunatictardis @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @harrys-tittie @anaisweird @cerinthussulpicia @cinnamoncunt @thincrusttheworks @manicpixiedreamcurl @therosietoesy @fanficappreciationblog @thicksexxualtension @tvserie-s-world @sharp-and-swift @dadsbongos @2clones-1kamino @edsforehead @chcolateeyelver @seven-glass-kids @forever-is-not-for-everyone @creme-bruhlee @bkish @wayward-rose @wyverntatty @latenighttalkingwithgrapejuice @churchmuffins @chickpeadumpsterfire @choke-me-levi @prozacandnicotine @xeddiesbattattsx

~

[flowerfan2]

When Steve agrees to help Eddie fix up his new place, Eddie is delighted.  

The suits in charge of the cover-up had offered Wayne his choice of four houses (apparently there are plenty of people willing to sell in Hawkins, go figure), but Wayne and Eddie had easily agreed on this one.   It looks like something out of a fairy tale – a gabled roof in front, stone trim around the bottom, and a pretty series of windows facing out to the woods.  And even better, it’s as remote as Hopper’s place, and as different from trailer park living as it could be.

Robin and Nancy both side-eye Eddie when he tells them how excited he is that Steve is going to help him out, because they’ve seen the inside of Steve’s parents’ house, and they have no reason to believe that Steve has any skill at interior decorating.  They’re missing the point, Eddie thinks to himself.

The point is, Steve has never gotten to decorate anything for himself.  And Eddie doesn’t think he will ever try to make a space of his own, not in his parents’ house.  But maybe he will in Eddie’s. It does look like something out of a fairy tale, after all, and dreams come true in fairy tales.

They’re got some money from the government pay-out, so it’s not as hard as it might be to find good quality things.  Eddie rents a van and they get started.  It takes a few weeks to scour furniture stores and thrift shops, Eddie sketching ideas in his notebook and writing down everything Steve says about what he thinks would work and wouldn’t work, and Eddie enjoys every minute of it.  

At first Steve seems to be trying to pick out things Eddie would like (the waterbed is frankly an awesome idea, and Eddie is seriously considering it).  But then Eddie points out that they have to furnish a guest room too, and Steve will probably be hanging out there a lot, so Steve should just get what he wants for that room.  Eddie hides his grin behind his hair when Steve leans into it, expressing his own opinions about styles and materials.  

They play around at a paint store and buy a few samples to try out on the walls.  Eddie chooses a calm blue with a hint of gray for his room, and Steve picks a sunny yellow.  They make a mess when they paint the walls, splotches of color on their clothes and in their hair.  Robin takes pictures.  Eddie beams.

When they’re finally done, furniture arranged and all of their own treasures set out on top of the dressers, Steve stands in the middle of the sunny yellow room and lets out a long breath.  Eddie plops down on Steve’s bed and holds out his hand.  Steve takes it and joins him, smiling shyly.  Steve looks beautiful here, on the soft gray comforter he picked out himself.  

“I know what you did,” Steve says, voice steady and true.  Because even if all of their friends had missed the point, Steve most definitely has not.  “Thank you.”

[speedycoffeedelight]

Hello! I've returned with more 'Reader helps get everyone a job' scenarios! And this time, not anon ✨️

Also, so happy to see you referenced my first ask, really made my day!

Anyway, scenarios begin.

~

Reader: Velvette, this is the second job you've been fired from since you got here. There isn't exactly many clothing store in town and if you keep getting fired, you'll be deemed 'unhireable'.

Velvette: *Rolling her eyes on her phone* I don't see why you're so bothered by that, I'm already a small time influencer and with the way I'm manipulating the algorithm, I'll be monetised in no time. Besides, the clothes they sold there weren't even good enough for a dumpster fire.

Reader: Anyway... There's atleast 2 more clothing stores available before we have to start looking elsewhere, a sports clothes store and a thrift shop.

Velvette: Pfft, thrift shop? You can't in your right mind think I'd be touching second han- wait. *Types on her phone* Thifting is in, sign me up! And then call Princess in here, her little lamb form is guaranteed to get me more likes then that bitch Geraldine's yappy mutt in socks and sunglasses.

~

Reader: Lute, I don't mean to be insulting or anything but I'm not sure if you could handle being a supermarket security guard. It can be a very dangerous job.

Lute: I understand you're concerns but allow me to lay them to rest with a quick demonstration of my capabilities.

*Lute quickly tackles Sir Pentious to the ground and pins him as he shouts a quick 'Why me?!'*

~

Adam: Listen Babe, I don't see what the issue is.

Reader: Adam, the bar is looking for a live band to there regularly, not a solo guitarist. Now I'm sure you are a wonderful singer-songwriter but they're not looking for a solo musician.

Adam: *Crossing arms* Fine. What other jobs are there.

Reader: Plenty, and almost all of them are places we've already got someone in so they can recommend you and you're pretty much guaranteed to be hired.

Adam: Okay Babe, fire away.

Reader: Well, the local cafés looking for another waiter (Charlies workplace).

Adam: Uh, pass.

Reader: The fast food joint needs another cashier. (Vaggies workplace)

Adam: Next.

Reader: The restaurant-dinner is willing to train up a sous-chef with no prior experience or qualifications (Angels/Husks workplace).

Adam: Eh, I don't cook.

Reader: The council is hiring more trash collectors, it sounds bad but has incredibly good pay (Niftys workplace).

Adam: As much as I'm down for driving a massive truck, somethings telling me to stay away from that little freak. She might stab me in the back or something.

Reader: You also don't have a driving license. Anyway, the radio station is hiring a files clerk (Alastors workplace).

Adam: They play rock or metal?

Alastor: *From another room* Nope!

Adam: Then, nah.

Reader: *Muttering to self* And I don't think you can work for the mechanics without a driving license either (Cherris workplace).

Reader: The florist is hiring. (Lucifers workplace).

Adam: *Fake gags*

Reader: What about working at that bowling alley and arcade pizzeria? (Voxs workplace)

Adam: *Sticks out tongue*

Reader: The clothing store? (Velvettes workplace)

Adam: *Raises eyebrow*

Reader: The local supermarket? (Lutes workplace)

Adam: *Pours slightly*

Reader: *Sighs and starts rubbing temple* Well, the only other places available is the post office and that steakhouse on the outskirts of town.

Adam: Steakhouse? Now that's what I'm talking about! Sign me up straight away.

Reader: I thought you said you don't cook.

Adam: Listen Babe, it's grilling, not cooking. Big difference. Besides, I literally invented the grill, you know? It's like 1 of the top 5 best ideas I ever had, you know, right next to naming a bunch of birds 'tits'.

Reader: You invented the grill? That's actually kinda impressive.

Lucifer: Don't flatter him, love. He had to invent a whole new way of cooking meat or else he'd have starved everytime Eve made him sleep on the coach.

Adam: HEY!

HEYYY!! Good to see you back again!! <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>

Yeah , velvette gonna be a real bitch(HAH-) working at stores. She won't settle for anything that's not up to her taste.

* Reader sighing in the corner trying to find more shops.*

Poor Pentious, he had to be the example 🤣🤣

*the cast and reader giving Pentious concerned glances*

And there's Adam, the first man who can't settle on one job( just like girls- *gets shot in the head*). I can definitely see him inventing grilling like this 😂😂

Thank you yet again for your creative and unique headcannons! I truly enjoy reading them!! ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧