#who's gonna tell me to look people in the eye when i have to crane my neck like crazy to even look at them?? no one!!

[keeps-ache]

hats are pretty neat things. how many kinds of hats are there? some are Plops, some are Brimmed, some do not serve any Practical Function, some are not even Fashionable but they're Funny To Look At, some are Very Big! and some are So Small you have to pin them to your head! hats are neat :)

[ramonathinks]

ALL HE WANTS — EREN x BLK!READER

tags: 18+ (no minors/no blank blogs — you will be blocked), shotgunning, sex, kinda friends to lovers, established relationship (towards the end), oral (f!), making out, sexual tension, eren has a tongue piercing and dimples, fingering, dirty talk, reader is black, mutual pining, dry humping, unprotected sex, dubcon (both a little buzzed on weed),

notes: this is a repost ofc but... i wasn't about to miss daddy's birthday lolll. (1)(2) “continue reading” divider by @/anitalenia 4.1k words ! + repost!

“When you gonna stop playing and let me be your man, baby?” Eren had his hands in his pockets and lent up against the wall, staring you down. The way he talked always made your body shiver, the way he looked deep into your eyes made you want to moan.

“Just gimme the weed, please.” You rolled your eyes at him. He was always like this — teasing you whenever he saw you all dolled up; tonight you wore a short peach colored dress that made your chest look even bigger, and his eyes kept glancing down constantly from your lips to your chest.

He probably kept looking at your lips because of how plump and bright they were decorated with the clear sticky fruity smelling lipgloss you always wore. Your hair was done in a wavy black hair done in a 32inch half up-half down that framed your face pretty well; and Eren tried to act like he didn’t realize it wasn’t the hairstyle he picked for you a while back.

Unintentionally he licked his lips before digging through his pockets for what he came over to deliver. Normally he didn’t hand deliver anything, he made people come to him, but this was you.

Sweet smelling you who always looked as good as you smelt and right now there was an aroma around you that smelled of nothing but strawberries and some other fruity smell that he couldn’t decipher. It wasn’t even just the fact that you smelled so good but rather the way you looked so good too, always with your hair done even your nails — long coffin shaped, pink and white acrylic with little designs on them — and your face, bare or not your skin was always glistening rich brown.

He was always losing his focus when you were in the room. He handed you your weed and turned to leave. “Wait, here—”

He scoffed, “On the house.” He waved you off, he did this all the time, no matter how many times you begged him to just take the money.

“Eren!” Using his long legs to stroll out of the hallway and towards the apartment complex’s door. He almost made it out before he felt you tug at his arm, a deep pout on your face.

“You’ll get wrinkles. Don’t…” He caressed the area between your eyebrows and trailed down to your jaw — taking it in his hands and squeezing it, making your pout deeper before he let it go.

“Just here, okay? I’m grateful you don’t make me pay since we’re friends,” That definitely wasn’t the reason, but he didn’t say anything. “But just take it. I can pay, you know I can.” Your eyelids fluttered innocently.

He sniffled, “Fine. Fine. Just this once.” He flicked your nose. Then Eren looked at you, truly looked at you and smiled a bit. You were really too cute. “Are you coming to Connie’s party in a few?”

“Yeah, I was actually just getting ready before you came.” You tell him, finally letting go of his arm.

“And that’s what you’re wearing?” He swallowed, biting his tongue. He sounded so judgmental that your eyes widened before you looked down at yourself.

It was cold yes but you always chose being cute over being cold, plus you were always being driven around so you weren’t even outside enough to feel the freezing cold air and it was only a small bit of occasional snow, nothing too bad.

“What’s wrong with it?” You craned your neck a bit to see your backside. Everything was in tact and in place.

Jealousy was already deep in his chest and tugging at his heart, making everything feel so tight around him. He just shook his head, “Nothing, just thinkin’ bout how cold it is, that’s all. But I know you already have a ride lined up, right?”

Playfully rolling your eyes you smirk, “Actually…” Twiddling with your fingers, he watches you already knowing where this was going. “I was hoping, you’d take me if you had a chance? Maybe?”

“Do I ever say no to you?” He asked, walking back down the hall with you towards your apartment again.

This wasn’t his first time inside of your apartment. But for some reason he couldn’t help but to be in awe. You lived in luxury — marble countertops, a wide double door silver fridge, a patio… he knew he couldn’t compare to the lifestyle your father already had you in.

He wish he could... but he couldn’t. He made enough on selling whatever he could but it was only enough for him, not a lifestyle like yours. He wouldn’t be able to provide for you like you needed. Even if he got a real good job, nothing could truly live up to your norm and he would hate for you to settle.

It was the reason that he never truly could actively pursue you like he wanted with a good conscience. How could he pursue you when you had everything you wanted and then some?

Even the fuzzy pink rug on your floor looked like it was worth a couple thousand. A glossy painting of you hung in the center of your living room and it caught his eye, the last time he was inside it wasn’t there.

“Isn’t it nice? Looks almost as cute as the real thing, Hm?” You teasing, putting a finger to your cheek.

He gave you a side eye with a smile so deep enough that you could see his dimple and it made your heart flutter.

You always thought he was cute just not boyfriend material. You weren’t even being judgmental but you heard about Eren long before you had met him. Just a boy who always wanted to get his dick wet and especially when he had pretty clients, you couldn’t take him serious. Even if you wanted to.

When he wasn’t being a flirt, he was a good friend, always came when you needed him, even if it was just for a ride. He was always so sweet and treated you better than any of your boyfriends.

“You think I should just settle for some pants instead of this then, huh?” You did a slight twirl. You could tell he really liked what you had on but just not today. Not where y’all was headed.

He clicked his teeth with his tongue, “Uhh…” He looked you over, his gaze lingering on all assets.

His knee was bouncing and he was getting up before he realized. He never been inside of your room, let alone your closet. So this was all new territory to him, yet he felt like he knew where everything was.

He don’t know why he loved seeing you in your pink moon boots but he knew he wanted to see them on you tonight. He peaked over his shoulder, looking at you briefly before looking over your closet again. “Hm,” He held out two different shirts, you chuckled.

“Maybe this one with the hearts to match the boots and then a nice mini skirt… not too short.” He knew how you liked to dress and you gave him a coy smile.

“Ya know what, Yeager? You’re cute.” You kissed his cheek before pushing him out the room to get dressed. You hate to admit you were feeling hot all over, most guys didn’t come into your room for anything but sex and even though you weren’t expecting him to come in and help you decide on something else he did. It was little. But more than you were used to.

Eren on the other hand, was trying not to palm his dick. Touching the soft fabric of your clothes and imagining them on your skin, had him gulping. He paced the living room before he heard small paws running up to him and yelping. A small bundle of golden tan fur ran up to him, scratching and sniffing the area around him.

“Princess!” You yelled, running out to get your little dog. “Sorry Eren, she loves new people. I thought she would stay sleep, but...” You coo and tap the floor so that she comes running. “I’ll put her up and then we can go.” You scoop her up.

He stops you, “Let me meet my baby’s baby.” He ushers her out of your hand and into his own, a deep smile on his face as she licks his fingers.

You ignore what he says and how it makes your stomach flutter, you just cross your arms and watch. “She’s the cutest.” He tells you, staring you down with a hooded gaze. “Let’s get going, ‘kay?”

You nod, heading to put her into a crate so she can sleep until you get back.

He waits for you, even when you lock up your apartment, he opens the car door for you. You don’t know why but you feel like everything’s going to change tonight.

And Eren can feel it too.

------

It isn’t until you’re already there that you realize his hand was on your thigh the entire car ride. His touch leaving a trail of hotness and when he finally parked, your eyes wouldn’t leave your thigh. Was it weird that you were already missing his touch against your skin?

You heard a few people greeting him as he caught up towards the house behind you, he nodded to a few and did a half wave to some others.

“Birthday boy Yeager, finally! Being late to your own party, really man?” Connie greeted him and your body froze.

Eren didn’t mention it was his birthday. Connie didn’t even mention it when he invited you. You frowned and moved closer before squeezing Eren’s side.

A slight yelp, “The fuck was that for?” He asked, looking down at you with furrowed brows.

“It’s your birthday and you didn’t tell me? You were selling me weed on your birthday, driving me to your birthday party and didn’t bother to mention it?”

“It…skipped my mind.” He muttered, scratching the back of his head.

“You didn’t tell your girl your birthday?” Connie snickered. “You didn’t want any birthday sex? Mannn—“

Eren lightly jabbed Connie’s arm, “You know we’re just friends.”

But really, who could tell? Whenever you both were together, you both always stood so close together, sometimes even with his hand on your waist. Deep long stares and only focusing on each other.

“Rightttttt.” Connie laughs and waves you and Eren down to the basement. “So while the party’s upstairs… our real party will be right here, just the gang you know…” He explained while you looked over the place.

A comfy basement with a long couch and two loveseats, a few white garden chairs. A bong on the table that sat in the middle and a few bottles of alcohol. “Sooo, where is everyone?” You raised your eyebrows, arms folded against your chest.

Connie thinks for a moment before raising a finger, pulling out his phone and calling someone. “Yeahhh, hello?” You and Eren shared a glance before looking back at Connie. “Fuck, you gotta be kidding me… no, no, it’s fine,” Connie does an awkward smile to you both. “Alright. Yeah. See you soon.” He sighs.

“Fuck, I gotta go. Sasha said she needs me to get her. Then Jean too and… yeah… basically I think all those fuckers need a ride.” He explains. “Please make yourselves comfortable down here or upstairs, whatever. I’ll just be right back.” He jogs up the stairs and closes the door.

You feel awkward just standing so you smooth out a place on the loveseat and sit down.

But of course you weren’t planning on Eren sitting next to you. Cramped up and all in your space, his legs spread wide with almost little room for your legs. You stare at him, “Seriously?”

He does a sly smile, “I can’t sit next to you? You gonna deny me all tonight huh?”

Remembering it was his birthday, you just let him. His arm over your shoulder and pulling you in. “Fine… fine.” You mutter, pulling out some of the weed you brought from him earlier.

“Hey…lemme roll that for you.” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, he just does it. The shiny piercing on his tongue showing itself as he licked up the paper.

You squeezed your thighs, just watching him. He pulled out a lighter from his pocket and with a few clicks, he lit your blunt and took one long drag from it, finally handing it to you.

“Thanks…” You brought it to your lips and his eyes burned into yours. You inhaled, smiling as you felt it come over you. You hummed to yourself, your hooded eyes watching him as he watched you.

“How you feelin’?” You heard him ask, your body humming and you leaned closer into his touch. Your head laying on his shoulder.

“Good.” You responded shortly. “Just really good.”

“I’m glad to hear that baby.” His voice sounded closer but you ignored it. You smoked the blunt again and when you went to exhale, he pressed his lips to yours, just a small peck.

Briefly, you would’ve missed it if your eyes weren’t open.

“Been wanting to do that all day.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay…” You swallowed. “You can do it again.”

It was all he needed. His hands grabbed your face gently and he pressed a small peck on your lips. Then again. His hands touch the skin of your thigh when he goes in a bit deeper. No more little kisses, he’s fully kissing you on the lips. “Must be the weed, hm? You’d never let me kiss you…fuck,” He sounds pissed but mainly at himself.

“I took like two puffs, I’m barely…buzzed. I just… I mean why not?” You ask aloud, looking at him. Maybe you were just tired of pretending that you didn’t want him. That you didn’t want this. You were horny and maybe a quick fuck to get him out of your system would be good for the both of you.

“You like playing with my heart huh? You know how I feel and…” He trails off. “You know I like you—“

“You don’t like me, you just wanna fuck me like everyone else.” You had a hard time believing that he had feelings for you, that he wasn’t like any of the others before him. You wave him off but he grabs your wrist.

He clicks his teeth before laughing, “No, no, no…Baby. You’re special to me. Just want you all to myself, always.”

You snort, “Yeah right…” But your body felt so hot and like you’re wearing too many clothes.

“Come sit on my lap pretty girl. Let me show you something.” He pats his lap and grabs your waist, tightly.

“Show me what?” You were curious but you knew that you wouldn’t be able to come back to being just friends if you did what he asked.

“How much I like you.” He lifted you with ease and in an instant, you were on him. You could feel just how big and hard he was under you. You swallowed, wrapping your hands around his neck.

“Well? Show me.” You smile, hotness rolling off the both of you in waves. He smiles before he brings you in and kisses you.

Moaning when he pulls you closer, jerking his hips up to yours. His hands exploring your body and his tongue enters your mouth, swirling around. Slipping his tongue in and out your mouth, sucking on yours. His hands traveling down your back until he gripped your butt, spreading and massaging them in his large palms before sliding them up and down your back.

He kisses the sides of your neck and you take another drag of the blunt, feeling your lungs expand and the sensation of his mouth and hands making you shiver. He grabs your hips and rolls his more into yours, the fabric of his denim jeans hitting your clit.

Breathing heavily you inhale and with shaky hands you pull him forward. Kissing him with the smoke still in your lungs, his cock throbbing in his pants, he’s trying not to be greedy but he wants you. Tracing up and down your shirt, slipping his fingers underneath.

He feels a bit giggly afterwards. With a dopey big grin on his face, “You’re so pretty. Like an angel.” You’re smiling so hard that your cheeks hurt but your pussy is pulsing and you need him.

“Eren… thank you. But I just… need… I need you to…Please just touch me. Please.” His hands roam again. His cock half hard in his pants and his hands on your hips, he makes you roll them against his again. You gape and gasp a bit, feeling how hard he is against your damp dainty panties.

His hands are under your skirt and he massages the bit of your butt and thighs, spreading and patting you. He kisses you full on the lip and sucks more on your tongue before pulling back, “You’re just so pretty.” His forehead is on yours and his eyes are eating you up.

Your clit pulses and throbs the more he rolls your hips against his and the way he’s digging his fingers into the skin of your butt and thighs, you’re groaning and sighing, “This feels so…” you wrap an arm around his neck. “Good.” You whisper in his ear and feel him shiver, you press small kisses up and down his neck. “You’re so hard…” You lick him, small and to the point. “Eren…I—“

“Shhh,” He stops your hips, that were now moving on their own. “Just keep doing what feels natural… what feels right. We can talk about all of this later. But now? Let me make you feel good, yeah? Wouldn’t you like that?”

And it’s the way that he says it, honestly, that makes your heart speed up and your panties even more wet before he slips them to the side.

“Holy shit, already? This wet, baby? Damn…” His fingers sticky just from a quick slip inside, your mouth open and your legs shaking. “Knew you couldn’t resist me.” You hear the sweet sounds of him fingering you, the wet noises echoing in the dark room.

“Fuck,” He mutters, flexing his fingers and twisting them inside. You clamp down on him and he bits his lip before kissing you, trying to keep you both quiet.

You lifted his shirt a little, looking at his stomach as he breathes in and out, his stomach muscles flexing. You smile to yourself, helping him out of his shirt before you trail your hand up and down his muscular chest and stomach. A semi thick patch of hair from his stomach and disappears down into his pants catches your attention and with a deep gulp your fingers dance lightly on his stomach until they disappear into his pants.

His breath hitches, “Your hands are so…whew,” His eyes are closed when you touch him, stroking him. “So damn soft. Too damn soft.” His hips jerk up at the contact of your hand against him.

“Has anyone ever—?” He doesn’t say it but licks his lips and sucks at his teeth.

“No, never…” Boys were too interested in sex never foreplay or oral. Some never even looked at your pussy.

He huffed, “Idiots. Want you to sit on my face, okay?” He could feel you twitching and your body freeze up.

“You’re so weird you know that?” You squeeze at his tip and he whined a bit, taking your wrist and taking it out of his pants.

“Hey, been thinking about it forever.” He have, he liked being your friend but he always thought about what’s between your legs. He always felt so guilty for it, this ulterior motive of his.

With your skirt still on, you move to hover over him. He breathes you in and groans out a deep “Fuck.” His tongue soaked in spit but he grabs at your thighs and slurps at your swollen clit. The heavy scent of your aroma wafting around his face.

Your thighs shaking as you rock your hips against him, but he wants to take things slow. Your juices all over his mouth and even a bit on his nose. You hated how greedy you were being. His tongue flicking at your stick clit and sucking on your lips.

“Eren! Faster…faster, please.” The cold metal piercing brushed against your clit and had you seeing stars so clearly that you tugged at his dark hair.

He liked the way his name sounded rolling off your tongue, even the way your mouth looked when you said it. Your lips: a work of art and your voice a song. So to be the one who’s listening and the one giving you this pleasure? He couldn’t help but smile to himself. To revel in it.

He chuckles listening to the soft moans of your pleads and begging, “No need to beg, don’t you know you own me? I’m yours. I’ll do whatever you say.”

His voice made you clench and he pressed small kisses up your slit before stretching you apart, “Think I can see you getting all wet for me…” His tongue dives in and your toes curl as he licks around the insides of you. Sucking at your folds and diving inside of your wetness, he moved one of his hands from your thighs and rubbed with two fingers on your achy clit. You shuddered, biting your lips.

He smiles looking at your pussy, so wet and pretty before he dives back in. Really just wanting to be covered in your scent. He gives a few more sucks, your hips raising and thrashing against his face.

“Baby,” The breath of his deep chuckle hitting your pussy and you shiver. “I’m leaking in my pants. I need you. Badly.”

He took his time but he laid you out on the couch, looking at the amount of your arousal that ran down your legs. He watched your pussy twitch, using his fingers he spread you open, clenching around the cool empty air. “Fuck,” you already looked fucked out and he haven’t even been inside of you yet.

Sliding his thick cock between your wet folds he felt you tremble. Tapping the head against your clit, he felt you jolt and he slowly slid inside of you. Your walls sucking him in and squeezing him tightly.

He groans, almost collapsing on top of you and you dig your nails into his back, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Wanted you for so long.” He kisses you quick and laced your fingers together, squeezing your hand. “It’s so wet inside of you, feels so fucking good.” Stretching and carving your insides to only fit his shape. Everything sounded underwater as he continued to pound inside of you. “You’re so perfect. So pretty. Fuck.” He angled his hips before thrusting faster inside of you. “So tight, so pretty, so mine.” He purred, licking up your throat and sucking; leaving a trail of hickies in his wake.

“Eren, oh god.” You breathe, worked up. He brings your legs from his waist and bring them closer to your head, forcing his cock even deeper inside of you.

“Think I’m in love withchu…” His thrusts are strong and now your feet dangling over your head, you couldn’t think straight. “But I think you already know that, hm? Think you love having me wrapped about your fingers.” Meeting every thrust he made, you felt a small bit of squirt splash and soak up his cock as he pulled it out before plunging back inside of you.

Your stomach is twisting and your toes curl heavenly as his dick continues, you push at his chest. “Wait! Eren…I…” You feel even more pressure in your gut and clench around him. “Please… no more.”

Your eyes are watery but Eren doesn’t care, instead he uses the pads of all his fingers and do deep aching rubs on your clit. Writing his name in your clit with your fingers, your thighs shake and then you’re finally cumming all over him and with a few more hard thrusts, he follows with a deep groan of your name.

He lays on top of you for a second to catch his breath before kissing you again. “I like you. Always have.” He huffed.

You bite back a smile. “I like you too…” You tell him shyly.

He gets up and hands you your pretty panties with a smug look. “So will you be my girlfriend?”

You chuckle, “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be your girlfriend Eren.”

All Eren could think of was that this was his best birthday in a long while. He peppering kisses over your face.

“Alright… birthday boy, put some pants on.” You snicker, looking at his lower half, he was already getting back hard.

“Oh right.” He kissed you again.

[smusherina]

yard work - chapter 15 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / chapter 8 / chapter 9 / chapter 10 / chapter 11 / chapter 12 / chapter 13 / chapter 14

Shivering in the cold, hiding beneath the bleachers, you held your cigarette between trembling fingers. Crouched on your feet so you wouldn't have to sit in the snow, your legs were already going numb.

Taking a drag, you held back tears. She'd tried, she picked you, and you didn't want it. No, you did want it, but didn't believe it.

Your phone beeped. It'd been ringing and pinging since you left. Kylie and Mrs George were worried about you. You'd text them back soon enough, let them know you felt under the weather, and that you were home.

"You're so predictable, y'know," You startled so badly that you toppled into the snow.

"Fuck!" The burning bit of your cigarette fell onto your hand. "Ouch! Fuck!"

"Should be flattered or offended?" Regina—fuck, Regina—stood over you, hands on her hips. She was still in just the camp tee. You spied the hairs on her arms were prickling.

"What do you want?" You grouched, flicking your barren cigarette away.

"What did you think of the song?" She cocked out a hip and crossed her arms.

You got up, not wanting to crane your neck as you had this conversation. You brushed off the snow clinging to your clothes.

"Real pretty. I..." You could pay her a compliment. Casually. "I do like your singing voice."

"I know. You've told me. I also know you're not intellectually challenged, so..." She trailed off, eyebrows quirking and eyes scanning your face.

"Yeah," You sighed. "A song isn't gonna do it."

"Just wanted to make sure you got the message." She straightened her spine and uncrossed her arms, instead intertwining her fingers in front of her. She took a deep breath and spoke:

"I'm sorry. I don't know if... I'm sorry for back then. When I left you in middle school. I don't know if explaining why would help, because," She glanced up at you. "I don't want to make excuses. You were my friend, my best friend, and I should've done better. Done right by you."

You didn't know quite what to say.

"I'm also sorry for Thanksgiving. I'm sorry I freaked out like that. I felt..." She fiddled with her fingers. "Rejected, I guess, and I didn't know how to handle it. I should've handled it better, that's for sure."

You stood there, waiting to feel some relief or happiness or even anger. Anything.

"I know apologies aren't gonna be enough. I tried to prove to you with that song that..." She swallowed. "That you're more important to me than status. I don't need to wow everybody if I had you. I've changed."

She looked up at you, also waiting. Still nothing.

"Do you think you'd already be hugging me if whatever happened today hadn't happened?" She bit her lip. "I'll make them pay, y'know."

"I thought you'd changed." You parrotted her words back at her. Brain whirring to action, you digested that it hadn't been her. Or maybe she was bluffing.

"Not that much. Not enough to not do anything when somebody hurts you."

"I..." You examined her, brow furrowing. "I haven't told many people. Only you and Mrs George. Janis, too."

"You told Janis?" Indignant, Regina's voice rose and arms spread. She was getting cold you could tell, because she shivering intensely, teeth chattering if not for the clench of her jaw.

"It came up some time ago." Back when I was still defending you. "Solidarity, y'know."

"Okay, fine, but why do you assume they had to know? There's been buzz about your sexuality before, unprompted." Her eyes narrowed. "I would know. I took care of them."

You blinked. "What?"

"Obviously. You..." She looked away as if looking for a way to convey what she meant without speaking it. "I just didn't want that. For you."

Was she lying to you? Trying to manipulate you? What was her goal? You didn't trust yourself to believe this was all sincerity and the lack of foundation, the instability of your own conclusions, made you feel crazy.

You circled back, refusing to process Regina supposedly protecting you all this time. What did it mean? No, not now.

"Yeah, but why now? Isn't the timing a little too convenient?" You accused, looking at Regina closely for signs of guilt. "You had every reason, all the power, to fuck me over, Regina. I think it was you."

"What? No. Why would I do that? I just dedicated a song to you!" She sounded frantic. "I've kept you safe!"

"I don't know! Why would Gretchen shout that I was lesbian in the middle of their performance? How would she know unless somebody told her?" You ran your hands through your hair and turned away from her. "Maybe you wanted me to run back into your arms so you could pick up the broken pieces. The pieces you broke."

"I did not tell Gretchen. I don't know why she did that and I don't know why I expected a fucking Britney Spears song to change anything, but I fucking tried!" She took a step back, pausing for a moment. "I don't want to shout. Let's not shout."

"I- are you fucking kidding me? Are you actually fucking kidding? Things didn't go your way, I didn't respond like you wanted, and you don't want to shout. You don't control me, Regina, I have my own life, my own things, I don't need you!"

You inhaled the cold air until it burned in your lungs.

"Okay. Feel better now?"

You felt the blood rush to your head, painting you red and exploding out in a shout.

"Shut up! No! No, I don't feel better. I would've felt better if you ever fucking listened to me or talked to me. It doesn't even matter what happened back then, because, yeah, it hurt, but we were kids. I know why you did what you did and no, it wasn't right, but I get it. Now, though?" Your chest bubbled with hysterical laughter. "We're nearly adults, Regina. Why- why..." Why couldn't you treat me better? That, just less pathetic. "Why did you have to be such a bitch?"

"I get it, okay. You don't have to forgive me. We can just move on." Her voice trembled, from the cold and something else.

You clenched your fists so hard your hands shook, squeezed your eyes shut so tight you felt the tension in your forehead, and so badly wanted to throw a tantrum on the ground like a toddler. Your hands found your hair and tugged.

"I don't know! I don't know!" Your voice was beginning to sound more and more like a wail. "I want to move on, I've had enough of feeling like this but I don't- I love you but what am I supposed to do with that? I should- should just hate you- I don't know what to think."

You pulled, tugged, and felt some rip out of your scalp. The world was spinning around you, leaving you behind in the impossible pressure of space. Your skull was full to bursting, bees buzzing between your ears.

"Who was it?" You hiccuped and resented the hot tears painting streaks on your cheeks. "Why would they do that to me?" You were angry but so, so tired.

"Hey, J, stop that." Regina pulled at your hands, still knotted in your hair. You let her move you, all tuckered out from shouting. Your body shook.

"I'm tired... I wanna go home." Your eyes closed. Regina was still touching you. She had you by your forearms.

"Okay. I'll drive you." She whispered. You couldn't look at her. Shame was crawling down your spine, settling deeper with every passing second.

"With what? Didn't Mrs George drive you?" You slumped against the back of the bleachers. Regina followed, stayed close with her hands on your arms.

"I'll drive your car." She spoke softly. A part of you bristled, not standing to be patronized, but you didn't have the energy anymore.

For a moment, not a word was said. With tentative movements, Regina's hands trailed from your arms to your torso, slipping into your coat and around your back. Her head came to rest on your shoulder as she held you close. Your skin crawled at the contact, but reluctantly, as if your body was used to her, you sunk into her.

Your arms hung limply at your sides.

"Notice me," Your eyes fluttered open when she uttered the melody. "Take my hand,"

Her hands petted at your back, scratching lightly with her long nails.

"Why are we, strangers when, our love is strong?"

In the darkness of a wintery night, breath-creating wisps in the air, she sang and held you. It was impossible to ignore the poetic setting, the sappiness of the moment. Even so, you could appreciate it. A little.

"Why carry on without me?"

It was nowhere as good as she'd been on stage. The acoustics outside in the snow, below the bleachers were even worse than in the gym. But it was just for you, this time around.

You tried to hold your breath, tried to keep it in. Not now, not here. Not for her. Again.

"And every time I try to fly I fall without my wings," She lifted her head and you looked at her. She paused there. "You're the wings." With a little smile, she continued singing. All the while looking at you.

Your head felt too big, like somebody had blown it full of air. You'd float away if she wasn't holding you down.

"I feel so small. I guess I need you, baby," The backs of your eyes heated up, the tear ducts stinging, and you bowed your head. Your arms came around her and wound tight around her neck.

"And every time I see you in my dreams, I see your face. It's haunting me. I guess I need you, baby,"

You sobbed. You sobbed and sobbed, interrupting her song, and wept into her collar. You missed her. You wanted to be with her so badly. You didn't want any of this to happen. You wanted things to be easy. Why did this have to be so hard? This was all unfair.

You cried at the injustice, cried for the hurt she'd made you feel, for the pain you'd made her feel and the names you'd called her. You wept because there was little else you could do.

"I'm sorry. I- I don't know what to do." You tried to breathe in, but your breath kept wooshing out of you. Every single orifice in your face flowed with fluid and you felt thoroughly disgusting. You couldn't stop it.

"We'll figure it out." Regina's voice was soft and her face even softer through your blurry vision. All hazy, gentle shapes.

"I'm- I'm scared." You whimpered, holding onto her shoulders.

"I know." Her arms tightened, holding secure around your waist. "I know, baby, it's gonna be okay."

"I'm still angry with- with you."

"That's okay."

"I dunno if we can... Y'know."

"I don't care. I just want you."

"Woah," You laughed, still sounding a tad bit hysterical. "Deep."

"Shut up." You could tell from her voice that she was rolling her eyes. "I preferred it when you were shouting at me."

Your laughter mixed with a hiccup.

"I don't believe that." Your voice wobbled since you still weren't quite done crying, apparently. Mortifying.

"You shouldn't." She amended, burrowing deeper into your coat.

With her hands rubbing your back, your fronts pressed so close together, you calmed down pretty fast. Your eyes stung and your nose was blocked. You felt dried out, like all moisture had been sucked out of you.

You knew this already. Every time, you'd go back. Every time, she'd wriggle under your skin and find solace in your heart and you couldn't even resist. Not really, anyhow, not effectively.

You wanted to believe she'd be there to stay, this time around.

"Can we go soon?" She asked, noticing your weeping had mostly concluded.

"Ugh," You groaned, head falling to rest on hers. "You think the crowd's been let out yet?"

"No, there's a sock puppet play that lasts ages. I think it was Hamlet or something."

"Sock puppet Hamlet? Reg, I think we need to go back in."

"No, nope, not if I have your keys!" She felt around in your back pockets. You did usually keep them there, but they'd been digging into your ass when you were sitting in the gym. They were in your coat pockets instead.

"Woah, take me to dinner first, jeez," Just like that, her hands detached like your butt was stove-hot.

"Sorry," She muttered. The mood shifted, the lighthearted and familiar air turning awkward.

"It's all good." Was it? It didn't feel weird, there was nothing sexual about what she'd done, but you weren't sure how you could say that. You yourself weren't sure what your boundaries were. You weren't even sure if you wanted to be vulnerable like that now.

She looked up at you with a contemplative look on her face. You looked back, waiting for her to ask something. When she didn't you shrugged.

"Let's go to yours." She said and then waited for you to... Do something again. You nodded. "I'll order, uh... What do you feel like eating?"

"I can cook-"

"I want take out, Jorts, so we're getting take out, 'kay?"

You tried not to smile at that.

"Whatever you say." You patted her on the back. She hummed, satisfied.

"Let's do Chinese. Sound good?" You nodded along, eyes closing. "We sleep. In the morning, we'll go for a walk. We'll talk about serious stuff during or after the walk?"

"Do we gotta go for a walk?" You asked petulantly.

"Yes." She said and did not elaborate.

"Fine, I guess."

Notes: A confrontation! At last! I couldn't keep the readers hanging for long, that would've just been cruel. I do have a nasty tendency to finish chapters with cliffhangers. Am I the drama? Noooo...

Btw, being transparent here, I named this fic "yard work" back when I was still thinking it was gonna be a one-shot, so (at least IMO) it doesn't really fit the series as a whole at this point. If I were to change it to, let's say, "everytime" would that be confusing or what? If the change were to happen it'd only be after this was completed, so no worries there. Just let me know y'all's thoughts!

Taglist will be posted separately! If you wish to be added on there, comment on that post :)

[2kmps]

bakugō is bored on his day off and decides to bring lunch to you.

notes; 0.4k, aged up! + bf!bakugō

a soft chime coaxed him into reaching for the phone nestled in the thigh pocket on his joggers, thumbprint unlocking a chat message screen that he scrolled to the end of. there were a few new texts waiting for him, the only one he cared about right now read, simply:

"wait there."

so he did. he had been for about twenty minutes now. his skin stuck to the glass wall he slouched against, eyes never rising above the low brim of the baseball cap flattening his unruly spikes to his scalp. besides a disposable black face mask, he didn't have anything else to hide his identity, not that he was particularly pressed if someone were to figure it out.

it was the hurried gait of soles striking the polished stone floors that lured his gaze, finally. the phone returned to his pocket, and the neatly knotted lunchboxes lifted from his side like a crane.

"katsuki, at least try to care if people know it's you." there was no real point in you admonishing him, especially when he wasn't going to take your words to heart. "what's up? I didn't expect to see you today."

"dyin' of boredom on my day off. I already ran all my errands," he said, putting the bentos right in your face because you didn't notice the first time. "figured we'd have lunch together. you said you didn't take your break yet, right?"

you took a good look at the containers wrapped in pretty cloth, bows on top almost identical. when katsuki bakugou texts you to hustle downstairs to the front desk of your workplace, the last thing you expected it to be about was lunch.

"sorry, katsuki, I packed myself lunch." you said.

his broad shoulders lifted. "save it for tomorrow. I spent two hours cooking that thing you sent me a link to. we're gonna eat it."

you felt the beginnings of tears burning behind your eyes, lips puffing as smacked a hand against your chest. "katsukiiii, you cooked and made those bentos so we could eat them together? you're such a good boyfriend!"

hearing praise in your duclet tones made his chest swell, stomach twist itself around, and his ears glow red. "like- like it's fuckin' hard. anyone who gives a shit for ten seconds could do this."

that's right, tell me more was more aligned with how he actually felt about.

"c'mon," he rumbled, taking your hand in a tight grip as he lead you outside. "you owe me so many kisses after everything that recipe put me through."

you laughed airily, "I'll give you as many kisses later as you want."

divider; @/anlian-aishang

reposted from my deleted blog; cardeneiv

[ktsumu]

RESOLUTIONS (this year is different) tw: alcohol consumption

This year, you wait for January in an apartment that is packed full.

You’re familiar with everyone, for the most part, all people who have played with Ushijima over the years, all people you’ve watched in one jersey or another. Everyone is laughing, happy — even Wakatoshi himself who, normally quite reserved, laughs with one of his teammates, a glass half-full in hand.

This year is different, you tell yourself. 

You know that, whenever you're all drunk enough to call it a night, you’ll call a cab and go home, probably kiss on the way there. He’ll lean on the bathroom counter and giggle while you smear your makeup away with a wipe, then take it from you and do it himself. He’ll be so much worse at it, but he’ll be gentle, and you’ll let him.

This year, you’re going to let yourself be loved. You’re excited to let him.

You watch Wakatoshi from your place on the couch, a small smile on your face. Happy looks good on him; he’s handsome when he’s free. His smile gives him lines around his mouth, his eyes crinkle. His laugh is saccharine. 

He doesn’t notice you’re watching, either, it’s not often he does. It’s not hard to be subtle — your eyes typically find him, anyway, golden boy wherever he goes.

This year, I’m going to let myself be loved.

You met him years ago, sort of in a situation like this. You were both in a bar in Tokyo, you think, and he stuck out like a sore thumb; freshly twenty and new to this, surrounded by teammates who made it obvious he’s never been to a bar before.

They also made it obvious he was new to a lot of things, likely why they made it so obvious in how they were jabbing his side with their elbows, nodding to you sat a few seats down. Go talk to her, she’s totally into you, she’s pretty!

(He didn’t even talk when he first sat down — you offered him a shot he probably needed and he took it.)

The rest is history.

It feels weird to think about going home. Home. You live with him, the bills get paid. He has smile lines and stretch marks on his shoulders. He’s going to take your makeup off for you because he’s seen you in every way you come. You have a house and you have a home — your friend said she thinks he might propose this year.

Growing pains are scarier when they’re not in your knees.

You only notice he’s moved when the couch sinks beside you. Wakatoshi sits next to you, a close-lipped smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and he rests a hand on your thigh.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and it’s just the two of you.

You look over his face, his flushed cheeks. You smile, too. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Wakatoshi is gentle when he guides you towards him, his hand on your nape, kissing you like you’ve never done it before. He tastes like Tennessee, and like a resolution. 

This year, I’m going to kiss him more.

“I love you,” he murmurs. “I’m glad I’m here with you.”

Whatever dread you carried before, it’s going away now.

“You are?” you tease, pulling back to really look at him. An anonymous hand walks by and ruffles his hair, like he’s scoring his first girl, and carries on. He doesn’t look up. 

“Very.”

“Mm,” you hum, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I guess I’m glad I’m here with you, too.”

“I mean, I would hope so.”

“Hah,” you snort, “I’m excited to go home, too.”

He scoffs, as if he isn’t typically the reserved one; as if he wasn’t the one you had to convince to make a show here. “You want to get out so soon?”

“What, you’re not excited to deal with me at home?” you giggle, craning your head to look up at him. “Not excited to spend, like, a fat hour getting ready for bed?”

He snickers again, taking a sip of his drink. He squints like he drank it too quickly. 

“Like last year?”

“Yup. Except, I don’t know about the last part. I’m gonna pass out the second I hit the mattress, ‘Toshi.”

“That’s okay, I’ll tuck you in.”

Your chest warms, and you both laugh. One of you starts it, but you don’t remember who.

“You’re gonna tuck me in and take my makeup off, huh?”

“Like last year,” he confirms. “And get you water — get us both water,”

“Mm, you’ll need it, big guy.”

“I am fine.”

“Yeah, I know. As long as you can see where my face is, that’s good enough for me.”

“I can find it blind,” he says simply, smoothing your hair back and out of your face. “But yes, I can see it fine.”

You smile all crooked — he tilts his head like he wants to see it upright. 

“We’re gettin' older, huh ‘Toshi?”

“That is how years work, yes.”

“Going home,” you say; your thoughts are all out loud. “Going to bed.”

He smiles — he loves it. “Unless you want to stay out?”

“No, no, I want to. I’m just,” you take a deep breath, “thinking. This’ll be how many years?”

“Not enough,” he says simply. “I wanna do this forever.”

“Hah, well, I have no doubt your body could sustain years of New Years Eve parties—”

“I meant going home,” he interrupts. “Taking off your makeup, getting you water, and kissing you goodnight.”

Your heart swells to the point of being uncomfortable, the lump in your throat impossibly there. His hand hasn’t left your thigh, it hasn’t risen higher, it just sits there. His touch is warm like a swaddle, unmoving. It’s so familiar that you lean into it like you're being carried to bed.

Wakatoshi grins; it’s crooked and you tilt your head to see it upright. “Every year, I think I love you a little more.”

(The dread you had is gone now — why you ever had it, you don’t know for sure.)

This year is different, you tell yourself. This year, you’re gonna grow.

There’s a cheer throughout the room, all this laughter becoming a dull muffle when the room seems to reach the sound capacity the little space has. There’s kazoos, glass clinking, goofy hats falling to the floor — people are singing:

“Happy new year, love,” he murmurs, and he captures your lips again.

This year, I’m gonna grow.

I’m gonna let him love it, and maybe I’ll love it, too. 

[2btheanswertothequestion]

(The final part of November Paramedic; part 6 is here and the AO3 version is here. If you want to avoid the smut, you should read on AO3.)

Eddie's apartment is full of song, but for probably the first time since he moved in it's not metal.

Max sings This Old Heart of Mine with gusto, her attention glued to her fingers as they move on the fretboard. She's in an awkward position, sitting slumped and with her leg propped onto five pillows on the coffee table. An elastic bandage is wrapped around her knee. Steve was right – she did exacerbate the injury by walking on it, and had to spend the next three days on bed rest. The knee already looks a lot better, less swollen but likely still tender, not that she's uttered a peep about it. Today is the first day she's been up and running, though not without support. Since crutches is the uncoolest kind of mobility aid Eddie took it upon himself to dig out a cane from his closet for her to use. When he asked if she liked it, she said it was great for thwacking people; he assumes that means 'yes'.

On the other end of the couch, Gareth taps along on a handheld drum. Max felt like she kept losing the rhythm and wanted extra help. Eddie is certain she was doing fine, but hey, if it calms her last-minute nerves, so be it.

The song ends, the last note lingering in the otherwise silent room. Max heaves a sigh, guitar slipping from her grip as she relaxes into her seat.

Gareth is beaming with pride; Eddie feels it too. Approximately two months of practice led to this. Just two months! He knows that she's been diligent, but still – it's impressive. Damn, he has the raddest little neighbor.

He rests his elbows on the couch's backrest and pokes Max's shoulder.

"It sounds great. You'll do amazing tomorrow."

She nods, lips tugging into a sweetly pleased smile.

"I'm ready," she says. Craning her neck, she locks their gazes. "Are you performing too?"

"No. The stage will be only yours. Although," he pats the acoustic in her lap, "I will of course be there and make sure you treat DragonSlayer with the respect she deserves."

Max's eyes crinkle with mischief.

"She won't react to you ever again after I show her what real talented fingers can do," she says, wiggling said fingers at him, and giggles when he gasps like a Victorian lady at the implied vulgarity. Turning to Gareth, she asks, "Are you gonna be there?"

Gareth's expression crumbles.

"I can't. Something is going around at work and we're short-staffed, so I'm no longer free," he says miserably. "I'll come next time. You'll do it again, right?"

She smiles wryly. "Unless I crash and burn."

Eddie pushes off the backrest and rounds the couch. He hates to spoil the mood any more, but…

"Before I forget," he says, piercing them with an unamused look. He also tries standing with his hands on his hips, but there's no way he can convey the same bitchy determination Steve can with the stance, so it feels hollow. He crosses his arms instead. "You two need to stop conspiring against me."

They blink at him, baffled.

"What?" Gareth says.

"You've been trying to set me up with Steve!"

"Well, yeah," Max says. "But not with him."

"Yeah, not with her."

It's Eddie's turn to blink. Releasing a breath that shudders with emotion, he closes his eyes and rubs circles on his temples.

"You're telling me you've worked independently of each other this entire time?"

"Seems like it!" Gareth laughs, though the mirth dims quickly. "But… who's done the best job?"

They whip toward each other. Their postures are tense, bow strings drawn and ready to shoot. Flames of competitiveness engulf them. Weirdos.

Gareth points at Max. "I made them go on a date!"

"I made them go on two dates!"

"I'm the reason they got to know each other!"

Max scoffs. "Oh, please. As if I wouldn't have eventually introduced them."

"Would you?"

"Sure. They're both older brother figures I can't get rid of who're hopelessly single and into men." She shrugs. "Why not?"

Eddie gasps again, this time more like a grandmother who's been presented with an incomprehensibly scribbled drawing from her toddler grandchild.

"I'm an older brother figure to you?" he asks, bending down to Max's level, his tone patronizingly light.

She sends him a withering look and reaches for her cane.

"Well, they almost kissed on my date!" Gareth shouts.

Max’s jaw drops. She loses her grip on the cane but gains a terrifying intensity in her eyes. A chill runs through Eddie, the tips of his appendages tingling. This is the closest he's ever gotten to catching frostbite.

"What," she says flatly.

Eddie scrambles away, metaphorically and physically, in case she decides to smack him anyway.

"N-no, we- It wasn't- Our faces just- But we didn't!"

"But it was so close," Gareth says, fingers pinched and with maybe the fraction of a fraction of an inch of air between his thumb and forefinger.

"Huh." Max continues staring Eddie down like she's plotting his murder for keeping secrets. He's about to point out that he can't be set up with Steve if he's dead when she swivels back to Gareth. "I'm making them go on a third date."

"Wait, what? When?"

"Open mic tomorrow night," she says, like he's an idiot. The scrunch of Gareth's mouth indicates that he agrees with her.

"Shit." He pats himself down, in search of something. "What time is it? Where's my phone? If I text him now I can schedule a spontaneous hang-out for tonight!"

Eddie's eyes double in size.

"Woah, woah, woah!" he exclaims, hands raised and palms facing out, as if he's warding off wild animals. "You have Steve's number?"

Gareth pauses his search to tilt his head at Eddie, like he's a puzzle he can't figure out how to solve. Or maybe just like he's a huge fucking moron. "You're telling me you don't?"

Eddie clamps his lips together; fights the urge to fidget beneath their judgmental stares. Max slowly shakes her head.

"Dumbass. You need us."

Eddie makes an ugly face at her. "Shut up."

She tuts. "So aggressive. That's a symptom of sexual frustration."

"I'm not-"

"Remember: thin walls."

"They're not that thin! I never hear you!"

"Because I know how to keep my business to myself. And you've heard me practicing the guitar, haven't you?"

He has. Shit. He buries his face in his hands.

"Shit."

"That's right," Max says snippily. "I hear everything. Every. Thing."

"Oh," Gareth says. He squeezes her good knee, oozing empathy from every pore. "Oh, you poor, innocent girl."

She soaks it up, lamenting, "It's been awful."

"Yeah… But, um. You realize that if they get together, then… "

Gareth trails off as Max nods miserably.

"Yeah, I know. I'm resigned to my fate."

Eddie pushes the heels of his hands into his eye sockets until he sees stars. He needs friends who are less invested in his sex life.

Max leaves soon after, cane clacking louder than necessary against the floor. (Eddie suspects he might not get it back once she's healed.) She stops in the doorway on her way out. While smiling in a manner that makes him break out in a cold sweat, she tells him not to take his car to the open mic and to dress nicely.

And then she's gone.

Gareth harrumphs.

"She's planning something for tomorrow. Damnit. This is unfair, you know. She's known him longer; she can talk to and influence both of you in ways I can't. I'm at a disadvantage here."

Eddie, without replying, twirls on the spot and faceplants on the couch.

Gareth groans above him. "Oh, what is it now?"

'Same as always' is what he'd like to say. Instead, he saves his breath by rolling onto his side, curling up his legs, and giving Gareth a look. It must convey how he feels, because Gareth's irritation melts off, replaced with something gentle. He squats by the couch and brushes a stray lock from Eddie's forehead. A bit like how Uncle Wayne would when he still lived at home.

"Eddie, man, you don't have to be nervous. He likes you."

"That makes it worse," Eddie says, voice raspy and thick, and fuck, he's not going to cry over this, is he? Bawl when a boy doesn't like him is normal, not when they do. "He likes me now, but if he finds out I'm his obsessive quasi-stalker? Then what?"

"I think you're blowing this out of proportion," Gareth says. He starts scratching at Eddie's scalp; it's good enough to dry his tears and slow his pulse. "Max knows about the calendar and she doesn't mind!"

Eddie snorts derisively. "Because she's nineteen and doesn't yet understand how some actions can have terrible consequences."

Gareth frowns at that with obvious disapproval. "She's still an adult. For that matter, so are you and Steve? Just talk to him about it." He sighs. "Look, I don't think he'll mind so much that he'll never get over it. And if he does… it sucks. But you'll live. There are dozens of hot guys out there, waiting to be swept off their hot… feet." He pauses to snicker.

"You're so bad at this," Eddie whispers; Gareth snickers even more.

"You know why I've stuck by you all these years?" he asks once done laughing. "Why I even started hanging with you in the first place?"

"You had stoner aspirations and I zero qualms selling weed to fourteen-year-olds?"

Gareth flicks his forehead. "Because you're cool. And likable. And you make people happy when you're around. So go out there tomorrow night and sweep those hot feet!"

Eddie snorts. Then again. His diaphragm tightens, air forces past his pursed lips, and then his body shakes with laughter. Gareth is grinning proudly, of himself and possibly Eddie as well. He snakes his arms around Eddie's waist and pulls him so close the mirth rattles through them both. It takes an eon, but at last, the laughter abates. Eddie’s lungs are sore and his eyes are wet with happiness, and he's still got an armful of best friend clinging to him.

"I'll call you the day after tomorrow." Gareth punctuates the promise with a squeeze, before pulling back. "Lunchtime. And I'll expect progress. Okay?"

Eddie nods. "Okay."

Gareth beams, ruffles Eddie's hair, and then he too leaves the apartment.

Eddie turns onto his back and stares at the ceiling. He doesn’t sigh as much as make noise while gravity pushes the air from his lungs. He could fall asleep here, on this uncomfortable couch. Turns out guitar lessons, worrying, and funny friends deplete your energy.

Before his eyelids slide shut for good he drags himself up to brush his teeth and go lie in his real bed. He needs a proper night's sleep if he'll survive tomorrow.

He wakes up on Saturday having dreamt of Steve. He eats his breakfast while thinking of Steve. He replaces brake pads, rotates tires, and talks to clients while thinking of Steve. He returns home and showers off the sweat and oil while really thinking of Steve.

He also spends a lot longer than usual contemplating how thoroughly he ought to wash himself. Fate dictates that if he cleans as if he might get laid, he won't be. However, if he's perfunctory about it, he's more likely to score. Ultimately, he does an extensive scrub. Rather be presumptuous and get nothing than be unhygienic and get lucky.

Then comes the worst part: picking an outfit.

Max told him to wear something 'nice'. Jesus. 'Wear something nice', what did that even mean? Dress less like himself? Dress more like himself? Something skimpy? Or snug? He has those leather pants that make his legs look divine, but they might be too much. He doesn't want to look like he's trying as hard as he is. Also, he's going to an open mic in a coffee shop at seven in the evening. There will be high schoolers, retirees, families with children, and others present who do not need to see his dick imprint. 'No' to the leather pants.

But maybe…

The hangers clatter and screech as he pushes them aside. Sticking his arm far into his wardrobe, he then pulls it out grasping his other battle vest.

The one in leather.

He hasn't worn it out yet. It's only recently finished, and almost ended up looking too nice, too pristine. It's not really him, not the way his frayed and trusty denim vest is. But it's still a thing of beauty: band logos immaculately painted onto the leather and spikes adorning the shoulders, collar, and lapels.

It's fucking badass. Him, though a little nicer.

He pairs the vest with his tightest Metallica tee – the one with the sleeves shorn off and the neckline cut into a v deep enough to show both tattoos – and distressed, black jeans, rips over the knees and a big hole along the inside of one thigh. The retirees will just have to fucking deal with some exposed skin.

A crowd is thronging inside Connie's when he arrives ten minutes to seven. They've built a makeshift stage on one short side, crammed between the cream'n'sugar station and a huge monstera. Microphones, stools, and a keyboard stand upon it. All the café's tables are pushed to one half of the floor, letting people mill between them and the stage. None of them seem to be his people, though.

Eddie weaves through the crowd, scanning it for short redheads and tall hunks. Nothing… nothing… not-

"Eddie!"

He turns, coming nose to nose, like tip to tip, with Steve, who's… wow. Call him the moon and Eddie a wolf, because he's about to start howling.

He's wearing pants, not jeans, that hug his hips without being obscenely tight and a fitted, teal dress shirt. The sleeves are rolled up and the top two buttons left undone, allowing yet another tantalizing peek of the sculpted pecs beneath. Nice but not too formal, if you ask anyone. Positively edible, if you ask Eddie. His mouth is actually watering a little, which is a sign he's been staring for too long.

Lifting his gaze from Steve's chest to his face, he realizes he could've taken his time because Steve is also staring. At Eddie.

Steve's breaths are slow but deep as he bites his lip hard enough to dent it, tongue flicking out to soothe the mark. Eyes glowing like embers, he trails them over Eddie's body, threatening to set him ablaze.

Eddie's jeans are too fucking tight for this.

"Starting to worry you wouldn't make it," Steve says, low and gravelly.

"No, I just, uh, running a bit late…" Eddie says, faltering as Steve drags a finger along the lapel of his vest.

"Haven't seen you in this before," he murmurs.

"It's new. First time wearing it."

"Where'd you get it?"

"I made it."

Steve's brows jump. "You made it?"

"Make like one-third of my clothes and heavily alter the rest. Metal's all about DIY, baby."

Chuckling, Steve grabs both ends of the attached leather belt and opens the vest for a better look at the Metallica shirt underneath. He doesn't ask any questions about the band, thank God, because Eddie's brain is too liquid to answer. If Steve opened the vest a bit more he'd be undressing him. Or if he tugged at the belt Eddie would stumble into him, he's so off balance.

But Steve does neither; he closes it and lets go.

"I left the others at the table. C'mon."

The rest of them also look nice, Robin in suspenders again, this time paired with shorts, and Lucas in a black sweater-red jacket combo that reminds Eddie of all the cool boys he pined over in high school. Both of them gush compliments at the sight of his vest; their childlike enthusiasm is a pretty effective boner killer, phew. The only one not mentioning his outfit is Max – she's silently staring at the tablecloth, hands in her lap and head bowed.

"Hey, Red," he says.

She looks at him, eyes like clear ponds and her freckles stark against her white skin. It might be his personal bias, but she's the prettiest of them all tonight. Canary yellow t-shirt dress and oversized jean jacket, one shoulder artfully slipping down. Loose, wavy locks cascading past her shoulders. Barely chipped nail polish and glossy lips, but no other makeup. She's radiant.

And she's shaking.

He slides into the chair next to her.

"You're still ready?"

Max nods.

"You know, I still feel like puking every time I perform."

"Yeah?" she breathes.

"Yup." His fingers encircle her wrist, squeezing. "You're gonna crush it."

She smiles tightly.

"Do you want us to film it?" Robin asks. "To show your mom?"

Max's first reaction is a frown, which evaporates at the mention of her mom; then she nods so hard she's indistinguishable from a bobblehead.

"Yes!" she says, and that's the last bit of conversation between them, for the next second the lights dim and Connie ascends the stage to announce the start of the open mic.

It's three hours long, with fifteen performers given ten minutes each, plus a few for getting on and off the stage. Max is number eight, which means she'll have about an hour and a half to sweat before it's her turn. And maybe she does manage to sweat it out and dry off, because when her time comes she strides up with the poise of a seasoned veteran.

A café worker helps her up and adjusts the mic for her. She hooks the cane on the stool and situates the guitar across her lap – one of the younger audience members shouts "Dragon!" to everyone's amusement. Once the laughter stops, she puts her mouth to the mic and emits one stuttering breath.

"Hi," she says. "My name is Max, and I'll be playing two covers and one song I wrote." She giggles as some onlookers whoop their approval. "All three are dedicated to one person here tonight. He knows who he is."

Then she plays. It's the best fucking thing Eddie has heard, not just tonight, but ever.

Her voice is strong, her rhythm is perfect. When she pauses for breath her expression defaults into a blinding smile. She breezes through The Isley Brothers and Stevie Wonder as the crowd claps along. Eddie manages to tear his eyes from her only once, to view the others' reactions. Robin tries to hold her phone steady as she sways in her seat, Steve is misty-eyed like a proud dad, and Lucas…

Lucas sits slumped forward, chin pillowed on his hands, pupils huge and dark. Lovestruck.

After You Are the Sunshine of My Life she takes a breather, sipping from her bottle of water. There's a shift in the air; the audience settles, mood sobering. When she resumes playing, the notes are softer, slower. A melancholy made bearable by her warm tones.

Max's song is about a happy then and an uncertain now. It's a song about guilt and regret. About apologizing and vowing to improve. About past loss and about future hope.

Above all, it's a promise.

It strikes like a blade through Eddie's chest. He shouldn't be hearing this. None but three, or maybe just one, of the people in here should. It's not for their ears, because they can't ever truly understand. It's too personal. Yet, she plays it for them. Tearing open her flesh and breaking her bones to show them. Listening to this is a privilege.

Her last note is a tattoo – covering up those before her, impossible to erase by those following her.

Max smiles and bows, again like a pro. As the café erupts into deafening applause, Lucas shoots from his seat. Appearing by the stage, he extends his arms to her. She hooks hers around his neck and lets him lift her down. Smiling at each other, they rest their foreheads together like they're the only ones in the room. Shit, perhaps they are.

They walk back to the table with Max's cane underneath Lucas' arm, she using him as her crutch. Arriving, the first thing she does is ask Eddie:

"How was it?"

He schools his expression.

"Red. I'm ditching my band. From now on, you and me – duo."

She boxes him in the shoulder, the shine of her smile rivaling a star.

The rest of the open mic is nice, even though the highlight is over. Still, live music is live music (and leaving in the middle would've been unacceptably rude), so they stay until Connie closes the night by thanking everyone present and encouraging them to come back next time.

Outside, they stretch their unused limbs until their joints pop, then walk a few blocks to Steve's car. It makes sense for Eddie not to have taken his van, he tells himself. The BMW is big enough for all five to sit comfortably, and he'll save on gas. Still, there's a disappointment pooling in his gut, because this means Steve will drop off Lucas, Max, and Eddie at their places before driving himself and Robin home. It's not a bad thing! He has yet to figure out how to breach the subject of the calendar. But… getting some more time to talk to Steve without amateur musicians drowning out the words would've been nice.

(This is what he gets for being so thorough in the shower.)

"Well," Robin says, hands clasped behind her head, as the BMW beeps unlocked. "I'll see you guys later."

"Where are you going?" Eddie asks.

"Steve and I live just past that building," she says, pointing. "So, I'll walk while he drives you guys."

Oh.

The disappointed pool freezes. Eddie swallows thickly. This is fine. It means nothing. Steve will drop everyone off and then go home, as planned.

He gets shotgun. Really, it's given to him because Max and Lucas commandeer the backseat, snuggling up on one-and-a-half seats while DragonSlayer claims the third. Eddie doesn't mind in the slightest – not when the kids are so close they're basically on top of each other, slotting together like a pair of puzzle pieces. Watching them separate when they arrive at the apartment complex will be devastating.

Except.

They do not go to the apartment complex. They go to a neighborhood Eddie's never been to before, parking outside a two-story house. So, they're dropping off Lucas first, then Eddie and Max, and then Steve will go home. Just as planned.

"I'm staying with Lucas tonight," Max says. "The DragonSlayer is all yours, Eddie."

She slams the door shut, the two of them walking up the shingled pathway hand in hand.

Steve hums pleasantly. "I think that did the trick – they're an item again. About time, don't you think?"

"Uh, yeah, yep, sure took them long enough, yeppers," Eddie's mouth says with negative input or permission from his brain.

Steve grins before pulling out, shirt straining against his arm as he turns the wheel and holy shit, Eddie is alone in a car with Steve!

Is everyone conspiring against him?!

Steve makes small talk during the drive, recounting which songs he recognized, sharing his favorite performances, asking for Eddie's more knowledgeable opinion. Eddie responds to the best of his abilities, which is to say 'poorly'.

When they stop by a red light and Steve absent-mindedly undoes the third button on his shirt, Eddie’s mouth dries up and he stops responding altogether, fearing his tongue will crumble to dust if he tries. If Steve is put out by Eddie's conversational skills reducing to various affirmative noises, he doesn't show it.

Finally reaching the complex, Eddie resolves to at least croak a 'thank you for the ride'. But when he turns to do just that, Steve is already looking earnestly at him with his large, honeyed eyes.

"It's really nice of you, teaching Max to play. Thank you."

"Oh, 'twas nothing." Eddie clears his throat. "She's a good student."

"I'm curious: is there a difference between acoustic and electric?"

"Not really. Electric is a little easier, 'cause they're smaller and the strings are lighter."

"Acoustic sounds better, though," Steve says and laughs at Eddie's answering grimace. "All right, maybe not to the metal master," (Eddie stifles a gigglesnort; what an adorable dork), "but to a common listener, such as myself, acoustic is nicer. You can try to change my mind if you want, though."

"By… playing both for you?"

"Yeah."

Eddie gulps audibly. "N-now?"

Steve's smile is almost too wide for his face. He cocks his head, a lock of hair falling into his eyes, who are gleaming like gold in the light of the nearby street lamp.

"I'm not busy."

Eddie leads them up the stairs to his fourth-floor apartment. Their steps echo in time with the drumming of Eddie's heart. His grip on the DragonSlayer is unyieldingly stiff, lest it slides from his clammy palm.

This is fine. Steve is going to listen to him play and then go home, just as planned.

Like the building, the locks are old; his key jams and needs to be rattled before the door opens. He lets Steve in first, then closes the door behind them. Steve waits patiently, back to the wall and chest inches from Eddie's. Has the hallway always been this cramped?

Eddie turns to fumble around for the light switch, breath hitching when Steve touches his shoulders. Grasping the vest's spiked lapels, he pulls it off Eddie's frame and hangs it on the coat rack. Next, he grabs the guitar – warm, dry skin brushing Eddie's – and props it by the doorpost. Last, he looks at Eddie, his eyes searching, searching, searching…

Disregarding his sensibilities, Eddie nods.

Steve kisses him.

The force of it sends them stumbling, Eddie's back slamming into the wall. Their mouths smush together and their noses bump; for a moment it's too hard, too much. But then Steve angles his head, their lips melding, and it's perfect. Like silk sheets and rose petals, like champagne and chocolate truffles, like summer nights and meteor showers.

Steve mumbles something about waiting, about wishing, about finally. He's touching Eddie everywhere, chest pinning him against the wall, hands running up and down his arms, thigh pushing between his legs. His hard cock pokes against Eddie's groin, and it feels so thick.

All of Eddie's nerve endings are lighting up, sending tingles to converge in his belly before shooting back out to his limbs. He has no regrets. Everything he's done or that's been done to him was worth it, because it led to the best fucking kiss of his life. Steve will have to keep him after this – exposing him to this kind of touch only once would be cruel.

It's gentle, is the thing, but with the passion of a thousand lovers. Steve cups his face, tipping it, thumb caressing his cheek and fingers rubbing circles in his hair. His lips, soft but determined, parts Eddie's for a quick taste that leaves him wanting.

Eddie tries chasing, but Steve withholds – fucking teases – and goes back to nipping and licking. Rolling his hips until Eddie gasps, then slipping in his tongue to stroke the roof of Eddie's mouth. Then he starts over again, repeating the cycle until Eddie is whining, his knees so weak he slumps onto Steve's thigh.

Grabbing hold of his ass, Steve hoists him up. Eddie squawks, legs automatically wrapping around Steve's waist. Steve grins, juuuust on the wrong side of smug, and steps away from the wall, carrying Eddie like it's nothing. It would be infuriating if Eddie wasn't too busy wondering if, and if so for how long, Steve could fuck him like this.

"Bedroom?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, it's, uh, through there," Eddie says, pointing in what might be the right direction.

Then he yanks Steve's head back by his pretty hair and swallows his moan. Because with Steve's hands occupied, it means Eddie can do whatever he wants. And what he wants is shove his tongue as far down Steve's throat as he can.

It takes them a while, but they reach the bedroom. Steve deposits them on the bed, bringing them from vertical to horizontal in a smooth slide without breaking the kiss.

Eddie wraps tighter around him, wanting to feel him everywhere and always. Alas, Steve disentangles them with a chuckle. He sits up so he's kneeling, legs spread, Eddie's thighs resting on top of his. A hungry glint in his eyes, he undoes one more of his buttons, then forgoes the rest by pulling the shirt off like a sweater and flinging it aside.

Eddie wastes no time touching him, groping the firm pecs and caressing the soft belly. The coarse hair tickles his palms.

"Fuck me, you're perfect," he murmurs.

Steve giggles, pink blooming on his face. Coaxing Eddie's hands off him, he arranges his limbs on the bed, and Eddie lets him – he can do anything as long as he does it shirtless. He smooths his hand over the Metallica logo, pretty much petting his chest, before rucking the shirt up to Eddie's chin. Steve's eyes are black, more pupil than iris; he thumbs at the tattoo on Eddie's ribs.

"I was hoping you'd have more," he says. His other hand slides across Eddie's leg, fingers ghosting the edge of the large hole before one slips inside, tucking between the denim and the skin of Eddie's thigh. Eddie gasps; Steve smiles. "How much do I need to take off to see all of them?"

"Why don't you find out, big boy?" Eddie says, breathless but grinning, scooting closer to rub his ass on Steve's dick.

Steve rips off Eddie's shirt, tosses it where he tossed his own, and crashes their lips together as he unbuckles Eddie's belt.

Eddie hums into the kiss. It's perfect. Steve is perfect. The whole thing is as if out of a dream. Jesus Christ, it is straight out of one of his fantasies. The only thing missing is… is…

The uniform.

Fuck. He can't do this. Not like this. Fuck.

Eddie breaks the kiss, gently pushing Steve away.

"Eddie?"

He shakes his head, eyes screwed shut. Looking at Steve right now is impossible – the shame will consume him. He shouldn't have let it go this far.

"Eddie? What's wrong?" Steve asks. "Please, I-"

"There's something you gotta know." Eddie forces his eyes open. The least Steve deserves is to be looked at while given the truth. Also, this is the first and possibly last time Eddie will see Steve on top of him. He should savor it. "I haven't been completely honest."

Steve's eyes dim. "You're married."

Eddie goggles. "What? No! Shit, I've never had a relationship go past the three-month mark. No, it's… Um…"

He sighs. Here comes the music; time to face it.

"You know that calendar you did? Gareth told you his mom had it?"

"Yes?"

"He lied. It's mine. I have the calendar." He inhales deeply, then lets it all out in one fast gust. "I recognized you the first time we met and I thought you were so hot and Gareth thought we should try finding you at the university and we did and then we hung out and now, uh, now we're here."

Steve blinks owlishly. "Oh."

"Yeah. I've jerked off to your picture for two and a half years and I thought you should know." Eddie rubs his eyes; they're burning, and his nose is clogging. Shit, not now… "So, um. If you want to stop, if you never want to see me again, I understand. I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

"It- Huh?"

Eddie's jaw slackens. He gawks up at Steve, who calmly meets his gaze. But it can't be this easy. It's never this easy, not for Eddie.

"S'fine." Steve shrugs. "Was that all?"

"Uh. Yeah."

"Good."

He dives back to resume the kiss, except this time it's hotter, dirtier, Steve licking behind his teeth and sucking on his tongue so Eddie's toes curl. He yanks Eddie's jeans and boxers down to his thighs, Eddie's cock springing out. Steve grips it, but doesn't stroke or squeeze – just holds. Eddie starts rocking into his fist and oh, oh, it's so good but not enough. He's so hard his head is spinning and he needs Steve's hands and his cock and he needs he needs he needs-

"Eddie," Steve says into Eddie's mouth. "What d'you want me to do? Tell me."

"Mmm, I want… Fuck, I needed you inside me two years ago."

Steve licks a wet stripe along his throat. "Whatever you want."

Then he sits up and flips Eddie over. Eddie grunts at the sudden movement, but his cock between his stomach and the mattress feels heavenly, and Steve parting his ass cheeks is even better, so he's not complaining.

He's especially not complaining when Steve leans down, rubbing his nose against Eddie's tailbone.

"You're okay with any part of me inside you?" he asks, breath warm on Eddie's skin.

Eddie groans. "Yes. Anything! Just touch me!"

Steve does, dragging the flat of his tongue from Eddie's taint up to his hole.

Eddie keens, burying it in the pillow due to those damn thin walls. It probably doesn't help, because he's being loud. He usually is, but not like this. Turns out Steve's tongue is amazing no matter where he puts it. He swirls it around the hole, laps heavily against the rim, slowly loosening Eddie up.

He writhes and moans, cock leaking precum on the sheets. Jerking forward, he humps the mattress for two sweet, relieving seconds before Steve grabs him by the hips and holds him in place. He would've griped about it if Steve hadn't immediately plunged his tongue into Eddie's hole. But Steve does, so Eddie screams instead.

Fuck the walls, he's having the time of his life.

He has been rimmed before, two or three times, but not this intensely. He hasn't been fucked by another man's tongue. Because that's what Steve's doing, lips on Eddie's ass and saliva dripping down his taint. He's as far in as it can go, tongue thrusting and stroking and… oh. Oh! Oh, fuck-

Eddie jolts, despite being held down, because Steve just flicked his tongue tip against someplace sensitive. He whines, begging Steve to do it again. Steve laughs, the sound reverberating through Eddie's ass, and does as told. And again. And again.

He flicks. Eddie screams.

He flicks. Screams.

Flicks. Screams.

And Eddie's on fire. His legs are shaking, his insides are thrumming, the pleasure courses and courses in electric waves and shit, did he just come?

"Holy shit, I think I just came," he says, fingers cramping where they've clutched the covers.

Steve pulls out with a slurp.

"Oh, cool," he pants. He crawls up the bed, his hard cock dragging a wet trail on Eddie's leg. "D'you wanna take a break or keep going?"

Eddie groans. What kind of a fucking question is that? His cock is still hard, and Steve's cock is hard, and Eddie is reeling from the best orgasm he's ever had, and does he want to keep going?

"Steve…" he says. "If you don't fuck me now, then I'll… I'll… " He trails off, slurring.

"Yes," Steve says, catching on anyway. "Okay. Yes."

He sounds wrecked. Glancing over his shoulder, Eddie is met by perfect hair in disarray, cheeks flushed and blotchy, a chin glistening with drool, and Steve's wild, ember eyes. Assured he's not the only one losing his mind, Eddie thumps his head back on the pillow. Bending his knees, he pushes his ass into the air and reaches back to spread his cheeks with his own fingers.

"Then hurry up, big boy," he croons, index finger circling the spitslick rim. "Before I do it myself."

Steve laughs, high-pitched like he's drunk. He fumbles for Eddie's lube and a condom he brought, thank fuck, because Eddie only has expired ones.

Lying on top of Eddie, Steve aligns their arms and interlocks their fingers, and pushes in. Eddie whimpers, because as loose and cock-starved as he is, Steve is huge, the tip alone wrecking his already sore ass. Steve shushes him gently, brushing away sweat-damp curls to plant a soft kiss at his nape. He rocks slowly, squeezing Eddie's hand and rubbing his hip, until the stretch gets better and the pain eases.

And then they fuck. Or maybe 'make love' is a more fitting term, because they hold hands during most of it. And sometimes, Steve will ease off, going so slow and sweet it borders on edging, drawing high-pitched noises from far down Eddie's chest. Then, once satisfied, he speeds up again, fucking harder while whispering compliments into Eddie's skin.

He makes Eddie come two more times, by fucking him and by jerking him off. At least, Eddie thinks that's what happened when he wakes up some hours later. He got a little delirious with pleasure at the end, though, so he's not a hundred percent sure.

He yawns and stretches. It's dark out, but the blinds are open and light pours in from the street lamp that for some reason had to be positioned right by his window.

"That light is the worst," Steve mumbles, burrowing into the pillow.

"Hmm, yeah. But I don't have to have my own lamp on. I save on electricity."

"Economical." Steve laughs, peeking up from the bedding. He's beautifully rumpled, bathed in shadows and light. "How d'you feel?"

"Awesome… did you clean me up?"

"Kinda had to – you passed out. I'm not letting you sleep with come crusting all over you," Steve says, nose scrunching.

"Not my fault. Blame your cock!"

They laugh again, together. It's nice. But it would've been nicer if there wasn't still one tiny thing nagging in the back of Eddie's head.

"Hey," he mumbles. "When you said… that the stuff with the calendar was fine, did you mean it? Or was your judgment clouded by horniness?"

Steve snorts. "'Course I meant it. I don't mind."

"Jesus."

"Do you want me to mind?"

"No. It's just that I've been putting off telling you about it because I was afraid you'd be upset. It's pretty creepy."

"Yeah, but…" Steve props his head onto his fist and shrugs one shoulder. "I guess it would be creepier if it were someone else. But it's you, and I like you, so… it's just flattering."

A grin stretches across Eddie's face. "You like me?"

"Uh, yeah." Steve rolls his eyes, but his face is also splitting in half. "Don't you like me?"

"I do."

Eddie winds his arms around Steve's waist, pulling him in for a kiss.

"I thought so," Steve says after their lips part. "I just didn't know how much – if you wanted to just fuck or if you wanted something more. Max was hinting you wanted more. And your friends seemed too invested for you not to want more. Then Robin told me 'he definitely wants more'. So I knew it was safe to go."

"Christ, dude, I like you so much I've given myself ulcers worrying you didn't like me back!"

"Sorry," Steve says unapologetically. "You can stop worrying."

They embrace, trading chaste kisses as they snuggle. Alternating between whispering nonsense and drawing patterns on each other and simply looking, unabashed and unhurried.

Then, Steve pulls away with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He asks, "So where do you keep that calendar?"

Eddie's heart and stomach leap, trading places and knocking every other organ off course. He lunges at Steve, coiling around him like an octopus and trapping him to the bed.

"Nooooo!"

Steve guffaws. "I'm not gonna look for it! You'll have to tell me where it is."

He cocks his head at Eddie, sweet, innocent, evil. Eddie groans with the vigor of an annoyed pre-teen. Releasing Steve, he points at his desk.

"Top drawer."

Steve flies up, rummaging through the drawer before Eddie can blink. Whooping in triumph, he holds the calendar in front of himself and begins flipping through it. Eddie pulls the comforter up to his nose to hide his blush.

"April is missing?" Steve asks.

"The model was a cop."

"Ah."

Steve reclaims his spot on the bed. He's reached November and is scanning the photo with an approving smile.

Eddie grunts. "Are you admiring your own photo?"

"So? It's a good picture." Steve smirks at him. "I know you agree."

Grumbling, Eddie hides completely beneath the cover. This is what he gets for being honest. He's never telling the truth again.

"What do you say about me fucking you while wearing the uniform?" Steve asks.

Eddie throws off the comforter and catapults into sitting.

"We can do that?"

"Sure," Steve says easily, like he didn't just turn Eddie's world upside down. "Unless…" He leans in, lips hovering over Eddie's. "Unless you want to fuck me while I wear it?"

They don't fall back asleep until hours later.

(In fact, they sleep in until 11 am, when Eddie's alarm goes off. Gareth calls by lunchtime as promised, but Eddie misses it. He's too busy getting fucked against the shower wall.)

"You're not allowed to break up," Max says later that day, during their guitar lesson. The open mic might've passed, but she needs to learn more if they'll perform together. "It'll be awkward if you're exes. I won't be able to hang out with Steve if you're next door – I'll have to move."

Eddie smiles. He should point out they're not really together yet; that they've only barely started dating. Instead, he says:

"We won't."

And he can't explain how, but it's as if some higher power whispered all the answers to him while he slept in Steve's arms and he knows, he just knows, that he's telling the truth.

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

Thank you for reading. You're the best.

Oh, and I realize that I introduced things that excited a ton of people (such as Eddie meeting everyone else), so I might have to write a mini-sequel where that actually happens. Not now, though. Later.

Tag list: @rougenancy, @raisedbylibrarians, @yourebuckingkiddingme, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @emma77645, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @eddielives1986, @stevesbipanic, @the-redthread, @fandemonium-takes-its-toll, @henderdads, @gay-little-bitch, @lenore1232, @zerokrox-blog, @eddiemunsonswife, @cherrycolas-things, @ediewentmissing, @princess-eddie, @atombombbibunny, @ajamlessbaby, @dogswithforks, @grimmfitzz, @cutiecusp, @cuips-not-cute, @manicallydepressedrobot, @messrs-weasley, @madaboutmunson, @mightbeasleep, @suikatto, @brassreign, @snapshotmaestro, @courtjestermunson, @csinnamon-fox, @spectrum-spectre, @spinmewriteround, @just-super-fucking-gay, @escapingthereality, @oneweirdcryptid, @deehellcat, @misticageri, @lovelyscot, @linkydinky06, @rynnytintin, @anything-thats-rock-and-roll, @theysherobinbuckley, @freddykicksasses, @winterbuckwild, @sideblogofthcentury, @subparbrainfunction, @pemsha

[sarahs-secrets2]

Surf's Up! ˋ♡ˊ

surfer!leon x fem reader! no use of y/n!

someone approaches you at the beach and offers you a surf lesson, do you say yes? 1k words!

a/n: i dont surf, i tried to make it as accurate as i could pls forgive me in advance

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ

Saying it was hot out was an understatement with the way the sun refused to let up, and it didn't help that there wasn't a single cloud in the sky on your beach day. Most people would love this kind of day but the stagnant heat was unbearable, especially with the addition of burning hot sand.

You propped yourself up on the palms of your hands onto the striped towel beneath you, allowing your gaze to drift toward the sea. It was peak surfing hour. The waves were strong today hence why you were avoiding the water while the surfers were the first to jump in. Bringing a hand up to your face to shield the stray beams of sunlight, you watched as the surfers attempted to catch a wave. Shifting on the towel, pulling your knees close to your chest becoming completely enthralled in the display in front of you. 

“You gonna get out there today?” a voice appeared behind you. Your head cocked to the side of you, neck craning to get a view of the stranger. 

“Me? Hell no,” you chuckled, looking up at the man who towered above you as you sat on the towel. It was hard to make out his face entirely as the sun that had been pestering you all day continued to do so, perching itself almost directly above the man's head resulting in a faint shadow draping over the man’s features. Pushing yourself up from the sand you stood facing the man now finally able to see his face.

“I think you should give it a try,” he smiled wide as he laughed, well aware you weren’t a surfer by any means. “Ah sorry, Leon,” his hand jutted out awkwardly for a handshake, “Where are my manners?”

“Nice to meet you, Leon,” it was almost impossible not to smile at how genuinely kind he seemed, a tad nervous but it was undeniably cute. Leon had blonde hair that seemed to be pulling more on the lighter side due to the constant sun you could tell he was getting. His eyes were just as blue as the ocean that was just a few meters away. You would be doing a disservice to yourself if you didn't admit how attractive he was. His wetsuit was draped around his waist, slightly tugging his swim trunks down showing a bit more than just his tan line. “You headed out?” your head motioned towards the crashing waves. 

“Soon, got distracted,” winking as shifted his feet in the sand, “I could teach you ya know, if you want to learn that is,” his fingers ran through his hair, pushing it back and out of his face. Your eyes flickered from him to the other surfers on the horizon. Although you quite literally just met him there was something about Leon that you knew you could trust. Leon was able to make out your indecision, his hand reached for your shoulder giving it a light squeeze, “C’mon, promise I’ll take good care of ya,”

“Fineee,” you dragged it out, trying to play it cool and hide your excitement, “When’s my lesson?”

“Tonight? Like 5 or 6-ish, I can bring an extra board and wetsuit for you,” his hand snaked around his head as he rubbed the back of his neck, nervous that you would change your mind.

“That sounds perfect,”

“Good, yeah great actually,” he laughed as he stumbled over his words. “Okay yeah, tonight,” he repeated, faintly mumbling as his nerves seemed to get the better of him. Leon hadn’t planned this far ahead, you actually saying yes. He had figured you would've written him off from the start. 

“I hope you’re a good teacher,” you teased, trying to ease his mind a bit. 

“Oh yeah I’m great,” Leon loosened up, leaning into your jokes. “You’ll be my first student so you’ll have to give me some pointers yeah?” his arms crossed in front of his chest as he sized you up. 

“Yeah I think I can manage that, I can be quite the teacher’s pet,” your comment was quick to catch Leon off guard, he cleared his throat with his eyes darting to the ground. 

“Uh,” his voice trailed as he tried to regain his train of thought, “Show me tonight,” he attempted to laugh it off, obviously flustered. He fiddled with his wetsuit for a minute before tugging it up and slipping his arms through the sleeves. Almost like he was doing it on purpose, he left the zipper wide opening, basically forcing you to look at how fit he was. “You gonna watch me out there? Keep an eye on me?”

“Of course, can’t lose my teacher before my lesson,” you winked, making sure to keep your eyes on his, not letting them drift any lower. 

“Good,” he chuckled, zipping up the wetsuit finally. “I’m counting on it, see you here tonight,” he winked back before jogging off to get his board. 

You smiled to yourself as you settled back down onto the beach towel. Your hand was back up to cover your eyes from the sun to offer a better view of the surfers. It was impossible to miss Leon’s bright blonde hair amidst the crowd as he paddled out to catch a wave. It wasn't long before he was able to pick one out and get up. Almost an hour had passed and Leon stayed out catching wave after wave.

After sitting at the beach the entirety of the day, you were in desperate need of a quick refresh at home before your lesson later. With that, you picked up your towel and bag and started making your way back to your car. 

“See you later,” a voice yelled out. Your head swiveled around to see Leon still in the ocean, sitting on his board, waving to you. Smiling, you waved back at him before continuing your walk and hoping you wouldn't make a complete fool out of yourself later.

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ

part 2!

massive shoutout and thank you to @navstuffs for being so so kind and helping me get back into this writing thing after my break! :)

[jake-g-lockley]

Intoxication (Din Djarin x reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Wanna be tagged?

A/N: oh look it's more Din fluff cuz I’m scared of what's gonna happen in the finale… Soft Din is the only way I cope okay 😭. Also I wrote this in a bad thunderstorm and I was scared as hell. Anyway, enjoy soft!din with teacher!reader.

Word count: 1.7 k

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Intoxicated was one way to put it. Din Djarin watched as your hair bounced as you skipped along, a fragrance like no other meeting his senses and creating a symphony of emotions in his head. He so badly wanted to hook his arm around your waist and pull his helmet off, sinking his nose into the crown of your head and suffocating on your scent and your scent alone.

You skipped around, greeting people as Din practically floated behind you. Din didn’t even realise he was blindly following you until you turned around. You both were in front of your school, children greeting you.

“Good morning!” You said, smiling up at the big Mandalorian in front of you.

Before Din could say anything, his son answered on his behalf, squealing and stretching his little arms out to you. Your smile widened as Din handed you Grogu, who immediately snuggled his big green head into your neck, making you giggle softly.

Din stood there watching you, trying to say something, his arms dangling uselessly at his side. All that came out of his mouth was directed to Grogu.

“Be good.” He said sternly to his little green bean who was now looking up at you with his giant brown eyes.

“Like I say everyday, he’s one of our best, you don’t have to worry, Mr. Djarin.” You ended your sentence with another of your blinding smiles that almost ended Din’s entire life too.

And just like everyday, Din wanted to reply with “Just call me Din.” But his mouth stayed shut and he gave you a single nod before patting Grogu’s head.

He turned on his heel a little clumsily and toddled away, scratching the back of neck as you tilted your head amusedly at the Mandalorian who had a spring in his step. You giggle a little when his hip crashed into a box, offering him a little wave when his helmet turned to you.

“Your dad is silly, little one.” You giggle and Grogu mimics your giggle, making your heart so happy.

Din was watching from afar, his hand over his own heart as he swayed, watching you walk into the school with his baby boy.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“You’re being too obvious!” Hissed your colleague as you craned your neck again, trying to look for the flash of shiny beskar.

Din was due to bring Grogu his lunch and you hadn’t touched your food in anticipation of him. You frowned slightly, realising that the little green bean would be hungry soon. Suddenly, you see the familiar shadow of his helmet, your lips twisting into a smile, only turning into a stern expression as the Mandalorian rounded the corner.

“You’re late.” You said sternly and Din hung his head.

“Sorry, I had a meeting that I couldn’t get out of.” He said, pulling his cape slightly to hide the wound on his calf, wincing under the helmet.

You scowl lightly and take the lunchbox from Din, spinning around and unintentionally flipping your hair towards his helmet. Din wishes he didn’t take a deep breath because he felt like he was about to collapse where he stood.

“Wait!” He called out and you stop in your tracks, turning and walking back faster than you intended to.

“I might be a little late for pick up today.” Din’s hand was back behind his neck as he bowed his head lower.

Internally, Din wanted to compliment you, tell you how beautiful you looked today. He had rehearsed them in front of the mirror today, trying to articulate his words, but he couldn’t do it in the split second where you were in front of him.

“Oh, okay! I’ll make sure there’s someone here with Grogu.” You said, definitely intending to wait for the little green bean yourself.

“Thanks. Also, your hair looks nice today.” Din blurted out suddenly, causing you to blink in surprise.

Din lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, loving the feeling of saying what he needed to say.

Your hand comes up to your curls that hang at your waist and your stern expression immediately melted into a smile.

“Thank you. I, umm, I guess I’ll see you then.” You said, glancing up at his beskar covered face, waiting for the nod.

Instead, Din brings his hand up and pats your hand that was holding the lunchbox, making you blush.

“Bye.” You whisper as the Mandalorian makes his way out.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It had been an hour since the last person had left and the rain had started to come down uncontrollably. You read to Grogu, cozying yourself in the book corner so that he can be distracted from the terrifying sounds of the thunder outside. You winced every time the thunder would crack, pushing your back further into the wall and holding onto Grogu a little tighter, showing him the words you were reading.

Suddenly, your ears catch the sound of a knock over the thunder and you immediately jump to your feet with Grogu still in your arms. Checking the security footage, you quickly run to the door and swing it open to reveal the soaking wet Mandalorian. He looked so pretty in the rain, solid, unlike the rushing downpour.

You stood there staring for a while until the sound of thunder humbled your thoughts, making you jump towards Din, who quickly placed a protective hand on your arm, pushing you back into the school. Grogu jumps into Din’s arms and snuggles into his dad.

“I’m really sorry for this, you could’ve been home by now.” Din apologised, cradling Grogu as he whined from the sound of another loud crack of thunder.

“It’s alright, Mr. Djarin.” You say, walking towards the cupboard that you knew stocked some towels.

“I think we should wait here for a while, the rain doesn’t seem to be stopping. I’ll walk you home after this.” Din says and you nod, handing him the towel.

With one arm, Din quickly dried himself as you made yourself cosy in the reading corner again. Grogu jumps out of his arms and runs towards you, head butting your side, making you giggle. Din stared longingly as you started reading to Grogu who sat cross legged and listened to you.

You looked up to see Din’s helmet turned towards you and you patted the spot beside you. Din’s legs moved before his brain could think and he suddenly found himself beside you, the signet on his shoulder pauldron rubbing against your arm. You smile at him before going back to your book, reading until comfort enveloped the three of you.

Din found himself imagining a scenario that he had yearned for so long. You, wearing a pretty dress as your daughters sat around you, smiling at each one of them, Grogu annoying the girls. You would sing to them as Din braided their hair, one that he hoped would be inherited from their mother. He would put little beskar slides into their hair and kiss their heads before moving to kiss you, joining in your singing.

“Din?” Your voice breaks him out of his little day dream and he looks at you.

You called him Din. He couldn’t believe it, his heart going a million miles an hour and he replayed that sound in his head.

“Yeah?” He managed to whisper.

“Look.” You said, pointing to the green bean beside you.

Grogu was sleeping with his little butt in the air and face smushed into the floor and Din resisted the urge to laugh at his son. He pulled a blanket from behind you and wrapped his boy carefully so that he wouldn’t wake him. You watched in awe, holding your breath as you witnessed the softness of the Mandalorian beside you. Din settled Grogu onto the crook of his crossed legs and slowly bounced him until the snores were steady.

Your heart tried to break out of your chest as Din turns to look at you. It was then when you realised that the thunder had stopped and you could hear Din’s soft modulated breathing in the silence.

“Can I say something?” You both start, nervously giggling at the mistake.

“You go first.” Din quickly says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You’re a good dad, I’m sorry if I made you feel any other way this afternoon.” You said, your eyes avoiding his black t-visor.

A gloved finger curled under your chin and tips your head up anyway. Your eyes widen at the man before you as your eyebrows knitted together.

“You were doing your job. Thank you for caring for my son.” He said firmly, before dropping his hand.

You felt the Mandalorian closing off as he bounced his leg slightly faster. You let your hand drift to his arm and you silently asked him to speak. You hear him take a deep breath and your heart pounded with anticipation.

“Would it be an act of favouritism if you went out with one of your student’s parents?” He said, so softly that you almost didn’t catch it.

It took you a few seconds to compute what Din had just said and you sighed in relief. You didn’t know why you were relieved but you found your whole body relaxing at his question.

“It's pre-school, I hardly think there ever will be favouritism.” You whisper, picking at a hangnail.

“Okay.” he says and you see his helmet nodding in your peripheral vision.

“Okay.” You whisper.

A long silence gathers between the both of you and you somehow know exactly how to punctuate it.

Quickly turning to your side, you pressed a chased kiss onto the curved indent of his helmet, hearing a soft gasp escape Din’s mouth under the helmet. You pulled away and continued looking down at your hands when suddenly a gloved hand covered your vision, followed by a faint hiss.

“Keep your eyes closed.” came Din’s unmodulated voice and you quickly nodded your head.

His lips gently touch yours, and your hands find his face, gently running your fingers through his soft beard, his moustache tickling your upper lip as you pressed your lips a little harder to his. Din was right, he was intoxicated with you, wanting you to literally suffocate him with your everything. You both pull away after a while, leaning against each other’s foreheads.

“Call me stupid, but does this mean you’ll finally ask me out, Mr. Djarin?” you giggled slightly.

“Only if you call me Din, angel.” He chuckled back.

“Okay, Din.” You sighed, grateful for the thunderstorm that led you to this moment.

Reblogs are appreciated~~~

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[jasmines-library]

The Basement

WHUMPTOBER DAY 18. Prompt: Tortured for information Fandom: Supernatural

Summary: You are captured alongside your brother Sam by the BMOL. They want something you won't tell them, so they try to force it out of you.

Warnings: Torture, drugging, hallucination, violence, guns, death? kinda.

Word Count: 2.4k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

“Toni Bevell. London chapter house.” 

Sam’s voice faded in and out as you regained consciousness. You felt sick, your stomach churned and bile settled in the back of your throat. Everything felt out of balance and you knew that whatever they had drugged you with had hit you hard; they had caught you with it in the side of your neck when they ambushed the bunker. You could feel the bruise lingering on your neck. Vision blurring, you craned your head to try and take in your surroundings. The room was pitiful; bare save a few shelves that had been thrown together. It was clearly a basement of some sort because the windows were high and let in very little light.  

Sam sat across from you tied to a chair barefoot and dishevelled. It was then that you suddenly remembered the muffled gunfire. They had shot Sam. You could see where the blood had bloomed on his clothes, though the darkness of it told you that it had stopped bleeding. 

“It’s nice of you to join us, Y/N.” The blond woman said when you let out a groan. “I thought for a moment there you were going to miss out on all the fun.”

“Where are we?” You asked groggily, moving to rub the sleep from your eyes, but it was a pointless gesture. 

The woman looked up from where she was screwing on her notepad. Her handwriting was uniform like the suit she was wearing. “It doesn’t matter.”

“She’s just wondering how far we’re gonna have to walk back to town after we kill you.” Sam said before nodding towards the other darker haired woman who stood like a puppet next to Toni. “And her. But you first.”

Toni let out a huff you could only describe as some sort of laugh. “Yes. Well, before you murder us all we do have a few questions about you two. Your brother, other hunters in America. Oh, and how you saved the sun.”

Sam scoffed, shaking his head. “Right, you shoot me. Drug my sister, kidnap us both, but sure. Happy to help.”

“We didn’t want to hurt you, Sam. You gave us no choice. And I could say that it was never supposed to go this way, but, you’re Winchesters. It was always going to go this way.”

“And you know us?” You raised your brows.

“We do. We’ve been watching you and your brothers for years. Ever since you almost ended the world the first time. We knew all about Lucifer and the angels falling-”

“Then where were you?” You spat. “People died. Innocent people.”

She pursed her lips and tapped her pen between her fingers. “Fair question. See, some of us wanted to get involved, but the old men wouldn’t allow it. Thought we were overstepping our bounds. After all, this business with the darkness even they have to agree that things have to change.” Her accent was thick as she spoke with clear dictation. The words rolled off of her tongue. “Whilst you might not believe this, we’re here to help.”

You directed your attention towards the other woman who still stood with her arms folded behind her back. “Yeah. I can tell.”

Sam rearranged himself in his chair, trying to find a weak spot in the metal cuffs that were padlocked around his feet. “I won’t apologise for locking you up. You're dangerous to others. And yourself. But if you answer my questions, I promise you’ll walk right out that door.” 

She gestured to it with a flick of her pen. The woman looked far too happy there. 

Sam pondered for a moment, surveying you from across the room. He knew that what he was about to do would have consequences for you too, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of being right. 

“Pass.”

“Sam-”

“You can ask us any kind of question you like, but the answer is always going to be the same. Screw. You.” He told her. Sam was surprisingly calm, given the situation. “And if you wanna get mad, you wanna get mean? I’ve been tortured by the devil himself, so you are just an accent in a pantsuit. What can you do to me?”

Toni nodded humbly, though the hint of a menacing smirk crept into the corners of her lips. “To you? Maybe not a lot. But to her? Lets see how long she can hold out, hm?”

She capped her pen, placing it on the table next to her gesturing to the other woman. The tap squealed as she twisted it all the way to the right. Icy water cascaded down over you. You spat it from your mouth, tipping your head back to stop it going spilling onto your face, but it just pooled on your lap and spat back at you anyway. 

“A cold shower? That’s your play?”

You shrugged it off, but after some time the cold began to sink into your bones and it was impossible to disguise your shivering. Sam tugged against the restraint, but Toni and the other woman just waited you out. 

“Screw you.”

~~

After some time, the water finally trickled to a halt and you were left there shivering uncomfortably in the clothes that clung to your body. Sam wanted to shy away as he watched your body try to fight the cold, but he opted to stand his ground and keep up a false front for both your sake and Toni’s. The woman still watched you with piercing eyes. 

“I know you two were always a lost cause, but I'm hoping that there are other hunters that we can work with. Teach.”

The two of you glared at her as she moved towards Sam, much too close to his face for his liking. “So, I need you to give me names, locations and everything else. Meeting places, an organisational hierarchy because maybe with all of us working together we could do what you never could. Make America safe.”

“So, maybe you’ll tie them to a chair.” Sam narrowed his eyes. “Maybe you’ll do something worse. Maybe you can go to hell.”

Toni recoiled at the statement, humming. “Fine. Have it your way.” She turned, retreating up the stairs and leaving you with the dark haired woman. 

Then came the humming of the blowtorch. 

Closing your eyes, you tried to collect yourself and prepare for the pain as the woman stalked forwards. Sam protested in his chair, rattling the chains. 

The woman eased herself down next to you and lowered the blowtorch. You could feel the sweltering heat against your bare feet. 

“Are you really going to make me do this?”

You took a deep breath and looked up at your brother. It was a mistake because you could see the pure guilty hopelessness in his eyes. 

“Screw you.”

She shrugged, before bringing the flame to the side of your foot. You tried to inch your feet away, but they were held securely by the shackles. You screamed in misery as the flames hacked away at your skin, causing it to blister and morph into an angry shade of red. Sam flinched at your blood curdling scream and arched your back, trying to create as much distance from the weapon, as he was haunted by the memories of his time in the cage. As the woman moved the flame closer and began to move it further up your shin, you continued to cry out. Your pained expression would forever be burned in the front of his vision. 

Eventually the woman let up and disappeared behind you up the old stairs. It was when your screams turned into whimpers and then nothing at all. There were nasty burns littering the lower half of your body and every twitch of your muscle sent pain spiralling throughout your body. Your eyes drooped as you finally allowed your body to go slack into the back of the chair. 

“Y/N?”

“I’m okay, Sammy,” You mumbled. 

“Oh Y/N/N… I'm so sorry.”

“S’ not your fault.” 

“I’m going to get you out of here, kiddo. I  promise.” He began to try and find a way out of the binds. Now that both women were gone he could take a closer look at them. 

~

At some point, you must have passed out because when you awoke  you were lying on the concrete, but your head was resting on something warm. Beginning to push yourself up you forgot completely about the burns on your foot. You took a sharp inhale, fighting against the stabbing pain that radiated throughout your body. 

“Hey, take it easy.” Sam said. It was then you figured that it was his lap that your head resided on. He helped sit you up, mindful of the burns. Sometime during your daze, they had been bandaged up. 

When you sat upright, your vision doubled, and after rubbing you raw wrists, you reached up to touch your neck gingerly. It was still tender from the first shot they had given you, though you could feel another small bump where they had clearly dosed you with something else. 

“S’mmy?” You muttered.

He nodded. “They got me too. I don’t know what it is, but they’re watching us.” He looked up to draw your attention subtly to the camera that they had strung up. 

“Do you think it has sound?”

“No.”

“good.”

You were silent for a moment as you thought. “How long was I out?”

“I’m not sure.” Sam frowned. “I didn’t see the other one return once you passed out. I kinda freaked. Then they got you before they knocked me out too. I wasn’t awake much before you.”

You scanned the room and your eyes fell on the entrance hatch. You tilted your head at it and raised your eyebrows suggestively. Your brother rose to his feet and pushed up against the wooden frame. It shifted, but not enough for it too was tied together by chains which rattled with the motion. He went to try again, but was shut down by an ear splitting ringing. He groaned, covering his ears with his hands before slumping against the wall and breathing heavily. 

“Sam?” You hauled yourself forwards, uncaring about the pain in your foot. You had hardly made it anywhere though by the time you were met with the same fate. You fell to your knees as the sound cut through you. 

Faces began to dance in your vision. People you knew. People you didn’t save in time. People you loved. 

“No…”

~

“Y/N?”

“Y/N.” 

Dean was calling to you from the other side of the library, You had begun to doze off, head drooping over the lore book you had been studying. 

“Hm? Sorry.”

Dean chuckled. The sound was light and reverberated in his chest. “Why don’t you finish up for the night, sweetheart? It’s late. We can catch up in the morning.”

You yawned, bookmarking the page before closing the book and sliding out from underneath the table. You had been working tirelessly all day, and the sun had long set. But you didn’t want to stop, you had to find the answers to stop the guilt gnawing away in your stomach. 

Dean followed closely as you began to retreat back down the hallways. He took the last swig of his beer before tossing it in the trash as he walked past. 

“It’s your fault. You know.” He said nonchalantly when you were about halfway to your room. 

You stopped abruptly. “What?”

“You heard me. It’s your fault that they’re dead. If you had gotten the lore right in the first place then that family would still be breathing.”

Turning you recoiled at the sight of your brother. His eyes were an endless black as he stalked toward you. You stumbled backwards, until you hit the wall. And that was when something strange happened. As your back made concrete with the tiles, something flashed in your vision. A dark room lit only by the streams of light that had managed to force themselves through the cracks of the hatch. 

It was a strange feeling as your vision flicked between the two scenes. It was like you were seeing between two lenses. That was until you saw Sam passed out on the concrete, surrounded by a puddle of his own blood, that blond woman was hunched over him and you forced your mind towards him. 

When you gained some grip on reality, you surged forwards, landing a harsh blow to Toni’s temple. She grunted, keeling to the side only to be picked up harshly and pinned to the wall by Sam, who showed her the deep gash on his palm. 

“Perhaps you’re not as good at your job as you thought.”

Toni spluttered and slumped to the floor. 

Sam was quick to secure an arm around your waist and help you hobble to the stairs. You had hardly made it to the third one when tased the back of Sam's leg, causing him to drop. She ran past and slipped out of the door, locking it behind her. 

“No!” Sam yelled through gritted teeth, ramming his fists against the wood. 

~

By the time Dean arrived, you had lost three fingernails and some of the skin on your left pinky. His failed attempt at a rescue had only ended up with another Winchester locked up within the clutches of the British Men of Letters. You were about to lose another nail when the sound of a gun cocking caused everyone’s attention to snap towards the woman wielding it. 

“Mom…?”

“Yeah.” Dean shrugged. He seemed to have missed one tiny detail out from his time away from you. 

She pressed forwards, snagging the keys from the table and ordering the woman to drop to the ground. When Toni failed to do so, she delivered a harsh blow with the butt of her gun. But Toni was smart, quick and well trained. She landed multiple punches to the four of your before Mary managed to get the upper hand. Dean scrabbled to untie the chains which hung above his head with the keys she had slipped him, it took him a moment, but once he did, he made quick work of dealing with the British Woman of Letters. 

After releasing you from the restraints, Sam wrapped his arm around your waist again to relieve you of the pressure from the burns. Exhaustively, you leaned heavily against him, so Dean came to your other side to help move you towards the car. You had never been more grateful to see the sleek impala as you slid into the backseat, as the car sped away from the house. Your stomach churned. Toni Bevell was not dead. But oh boy did she have it coming.

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 17 ⛤ DAY 19 ->

Taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

[babydollmarauders]

i absolutely love the el!hughes series. What about a blurb of them telling ellen and jim, luke and quinn and the team?

i got very carried away with this one. it’s not even a blurb anymore, it’s a fic 😭

*

it’s been a week since Jack and i found out i’m pregnant, and Jack has been itching to tell everyone.

i was able to hold him off until i could make it in to a doctor and get an ultrasound done, just in case the tests were wrong. but that happened yesterday and our results confirmed what we already knew. i’m pregnant.

now, Jack has spent the past twenty minutes just staring at the ultrasound pictures while i get ready for the day. i can hear the guys all yelling around the house, Ellen scolding them to be quieter.

my thoughts spiral as i think about how everyone will react when we tell them.

“hey. where’s your head at, pretty girl?” my eyes shift in the mirror to look at Jack’s reflection. he lays in the bed, sitting up against the headboard with the ultrasound pictures clutched in his hand, but rather than the pictures, he now looks at me through the mirror.

“are they gonna be mad?” i whisper, my hand coming down to lay on my stomach, already feeling protective over my unborn child. i obviously haven’t started showing yet, but it’s insane to me to think that someday soon, i’ll have a baby bump there.

“is who gonna be mad, baby?” he stands from the bed, pacing around it to reach me. he steps behind me, his hands flexing along the sides of my waist.

“your parents. your brothers. everyone.” i mumble, slightly embarrassed over my insecurities. “i mean, your parents didn’t even have Quinn until they were in their thirties; are they gonna look down upon us for having a baby when we’re so young? we’re not even married yet.”

“hey.” he coos, using his grip on my waist to twist me around. my gaze settles on my feet, afraid to face him. “look at me.”

i lift my eyes to look in his, the blue instantly easing some of my anxiety.

“they’re not gonna look down upon us. we’re young, sure, but plenty of people start families at our age. or even younger.” he tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, smiling down at me now. “besides, the marriage argument is kinda moot seeing as we only have five days until you become Mrs.Hughes.”

my face heats at the reminder. the idea of vowing to love him until death do us part only seems more exciting in this moment. i’ve waited for this moment for three years, and before that, i could only fantasize about dating my best friend. and now here i am, five days away from our wedding day. if someone told fourteen year old y/n that she would be marrying her hot hockey player best friend, i surely would’ve thought they were insane.

“they love you, and they love how happy you make me. even if they aren’t too supportive at first, once they see how happy i am about this, i promise they’ll be even more excited for it than we are.”

“did you just call our baby an ‘it’?” i laugh, lightly smacking at his chest.

“well, we don’t know the gender yet! i don’t wanna assume!” he replies, pulling me flush against his body. “you feeling better now?”

“yeah, i think so.” i admit. i crane my neck, pulling him into a soft and slow kiss. applying all my love into this kiss. pulling away, i brush my hand against his cheek. “let’s go tell them, yeah?”

“really?!” his eyes light up in excitement, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he pulls back to properly look at my face.

“yeah, babe. let’s tell them we’re having a baby.”

it’s no more than five minutes later that Jack and i stand in front of the living room couch. having successfully kicked Trevor and Cole, who were cuddling, off of it in order to seat Jack’s family. Trevor, Cole, Alex, and a couple of Quinn and Luke’s friends who are in town, stand behind the couch.

“you guys aren’t calling off the wedding are you?” Ellen’s voice is frantic.

“Hughesy, if you let that woman go, i will single handedly kick your ass.” Trevor raises an eyebrow at my fiancé, making me laugh. i blow a kiss to my closest friend since high school, after Jack.

“what? no! we’re not calling off the wedding.” Jack rolls his eyes, smacking my still outstretched hand away from my lips. he glances over at me and i steel my nerves, giving him a single nod.

“y/n is pregnant.”

the room is silent for a moment and i’m forced to scan people’s facial expressions for reactions; Jim and Ellen are stoically blinking at us, Quinn wears a smirk while Luke wears a slight frown, Trevor and Cole grin from ear to ear, and Alex smiles softly at us.

i clutch Jack’s hand in mine in order to ease my nerves.

“does anyone have anything to say?” i mumble. sensing my feelings, Jack turns his head and presses a kiss to the top of mine.

“i- um-” Ellen stumbles over her words.

“are you guys happy about it?” Jim cuts in, which makes Jack smile, nodding his head.

“yeah, we’re really happy.” he tells his father.

“scared! but happy.” i confess.

“then we’re happy for you!” Ellen cheers, standing to pull us into a hug. “oh, my baby is gonna have a baby!”

her reaction causes me to let out a deep exhale, letting the stress leave my body.

Jim hugs us next, bidding us a congratulations before Quinn swoops in.

“congrats, guys! and thank you!” Jack and i exchange a look, our faces scrunched in confusion.

“thanks! but what are you thanking us for?” Jack questions.

“because Luke and i made a bet on when you’d announce it. i said before the wedding, he said after. i won!” my eyes widen at Quinn’s words.

“what do you mean, when we’d announce it?” i ask him.

“when did you guys find out?” Jack chimes in.

“well we didn’t know know. we just googled y/n’s symptoms and pregnancy was the first result that came up.”

“you two couldn’t have waited a week?” Luke calls as he walks over to us, followed by Trevor, Cole, and Alex.

“i could barely get your brother to wait the week that we did wait. i don’t think he would’ve been able to handle another one!” i joke, patting Jack’s chest lovingly. the guys all laugh and Trevor throws an arm around Jack’s shoulders.

“congratulations bro! you’re gonna be a dad!” Trevor cheers, patting Jack’s chest a bit rougher than i just did.

“hey! i’m here too! ya know, the woman with the human growing inside of her!” i laugh and Trevor drops his arm from Jack’s shoulders, instead opting to pull me into his arms and pick me up in a hug.

“congratulations, y/n/n! hope you don’t get sick too much.” he tells me as he sets me down. at the mention of getting sick, i start to feel slightly nauseous.

“oh, you asshole!” i look towards the ceiling, swallowing and willing it away as Jack starts rubbing my back. the other guys all tell us their variations of ‘congratulations’ and ‘happy for you’ as we take a seat on the couch.

*

telling Jack’s family was the nerve-wracking announcement, but now Jack and i are back in New Jersey for training and we’ve decided to tell the team.

most of them were there for our wedding over the summer, but we opted to wait to tell them until a little later when the entire team could be together. besides, i know the other WAGS will want to throw me a baby shower, and our gender reveal is extremely soon.

“you ready?” Jack asks as we stop in front of the tunnel of the practice rink. the day just ended for them, but everyone is still out skating laps and talking with one another, making this the perfect opportunity for us to tell them all.

“yeah.” i shrug. “i’m not nearly as nervous for this as i was for telling your parents. besides, at least one person in there already knows.”

i point to Luke who stands on the ice watching us.

“you’re being weird!” i call out to him, causing a laugh to bubble up his throat.

Jack takes my hand, pulling me onto the ice. i shuffle behind him, not wearing skates.

“hey, y/n/n!” Nico cheers, grabbing my other hand to help me across the ice.

“hi neeks, thank you!”

“whatcha doing here?” Dawson asks.

“actually, we have an announcement to make.” i tell them, speaking just loud enough for all the guys to grow quiet, turning to look at Jack and i.

“oh Hughesy, don’t tell us you’re retiring already.” someone groans.

“what? i’m not even twenty-five, dude.” Jack scrunches his face in confusion, looking around the rink.

“no, no one’s retiring. or at least, not Jack.” i laugh. “i’m pregnant!”

it’s silent for barely two seconds before the entire practice rink erupts in cheers. the guys are quick to skate over, piling into a group hug around us as if we just scored a hat trick.

Jack’s hands grip my hips, making sure i stay upright on the ice.

“congratulations you two!” “congrats!” “happy for you guys!”

a chorus of different congratulations of every kind is thrown at us from all different directions.

“wow you really wasted no time during that honeymoon, huh?” Bratt jokes.

“actually, they wasted no time before that.” Luke pipes up. “they found out two weeks before the wedding.”

“and you waited until now to tell us?!”

[likeastarstar]

11:55 PM - Namjoon

"We need to go home, now." 

You stared at your boyfriend with a blank expression, looking around at Hobi's listening party in full swing. He had a drink in his hand and emptied the glass, shoving it onto the nearest flat surface so he wouldn't have to deal with it any longer. 

There were a million people around you and even more cameras but he didn't seem to care, stepping closer to you until your body was flush against his. You instinctively gripped the soft material of his shirt in your hands, holding yourself steady against him as you craned your neck up towards him.

"Why? We just got here?" You asked quietly, letting him wrap a lazy, long arm around you and walk you backwards to a quieter spot in the room, out of sight from prying eyes. 

"We've been here long enough- I made the rounds, listened to the album, told Hobi hyung it all sounded great- now let's go home." He whined. "Come on, this is the first night off I've taken in over a week, I miss you.

Namjoon had been pretty busy lately. So busy that you had barely seen him, this party was the first time the two of you had been in the same place in a week. You accepted it, that was just one of the things that came with dating an idol. You looked around the area you had snuck away to, spotting no one but Jin hiding back here, who widened his eyes and rushed off somewhere else with an amused look on his face. You scoffed, calling after him to stop but he ignored you, halfway across the party at this point. Namjoon watched him go and laughed, 

"Why'd he run away from us? He's gonna think we're fucking back here," You joked.

"I am trying to fuck you back here," Namjoon said plainly, hands cupping your face with urgency.

You threw him a look and shook your head like you were reprimanding a child, "No."

"But I'm so fucking stressed," He whined, "And I need you."

"You need me?" You breathed out, standing up straighter. 

You'd be lying if you said you didn't miss him too. He hummed in affirmation, a satisfied little smirk gracing his full lips like a predator that had caught it's prey.

"Need you bad, baby," He repeated, "Need to hold your hips in my hands. Want you to ride me and I need you to tell me how good it feels to be stretched out. Wanna fuck into you until you cry- doesn't that sound good?"

"Y-Yeah, it does. I wanna cry on your cock," You admitted, whispering against his lips. 

He kissed you with an open mouth, prying your lips apart with his tongue and fucking it into you roughly. If he hadn't been holding you up, you probably would've already melted on the spot, arching your back into him. 

"Come on, I'll do everything you like- shove my fingers down your throat when I fuck you just like last time, remember? God, you came so hard- you'll put anything in that mouth of yours, huh? How far does your oral fixation go, don't wanna test it tonight?" He teased in the lowest of tones, his deep voice rattling in your head and sending vibrations down your spine. 

His leg shoved itself between your knees and pushed up, catching you off-guard as he slammed you against the wall, caging you in with a hand pressed flat against the wall. You were glad you wore a dress and rutted shamelessly against the top of his thigh, thankful that no one else was around to see you like this. 

"You're so mean," You seethed, burying your face in his chest and breathing in his cologne to center yourself. 

"Yeah, well," he laughed sadistically, "You're wet. Can we go home now?"

"Yes," You said urgently, his hand finding yours and already pulling you towards the exit. 

masterlist.

[demxters]

☆ for blurb night requests; Jake being slightly jealous over how easily Ace and Bradley gets along, even after she and Jake becomes an item. And Bradley telling him to stop being stupid. Idk, just something soft and silly

—HEAD OVER HEELS

frat!jake seresin x f!reader

wc: 731

warning(s): 18+, fem!reader, no y/n (reader goes by nickname ace), swearing

catch up with jake and ace here!

»»————- ♠︎ ————-««

One of the things Jake loved about you was how easily you got along with the other people he cared about in his life. He loved seeing you get closer to Reuben and share secrets with Javy as you got more comfortable around them. He loved how perfectly you fit into his life. How accepting you were of his friends even before the two of you crossed the line of acquaintances to friends.

Now in a relationship, Jake appreciated it even more. He just wished his heart didn’t drop to the pit of his stomach every time he saw you around Bradley.

Even before you got together, you seemed to get along easily with Bradley. He used to wish that you talked to him the way you did with Bradley. He used to long to hear your laugh and see your smile.

Now he had it all, and yet he still felt himself deflate every time he saw you around his friend. He just didn’t get it. Why couldn’t the two of you have started out that way?

What did Bradley have that he didn’t?

In the end, you chose him. That didn’t stop the annoyance that crept in every time he saw you with his friend.

Jake tore his eyes from the two of you, shaking his head before getting up and making his way over to you.

You’re laughing at something Bradley said when he gets there.

Jake goes tense beside you as he rests his arm around your shoulders. “What’s so funny, Chicken?”

Bradley rolls his eyes at the nickname. “My dad called me Rooster, not Chicken.”

You giggle, watching as the two stare each other down.

“Whatever,” Jake retorts.

You pinch Jake’s side and he yelps in surprise. “Be nice,” you scold.

Craning his neck, Jake continues to eye his friend. He pulls you closer to his side as you share a knowing look with Rooster.

“Jake,” you pat his arm, catching his attention. “I’m gonna go find Natasha.”

He nods, despite his reluctance to let you go. He watches as you walk away with a fond smile on his face. Bradley clears his throat, causing Jake’s smile to fall.

“You know you have nothing to worry about, right? That girl is head over heels for you,” Bradley comments.

Jake crosses his arms over his chest with an irritated sigh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Bradley continues his rant, dismissing Jake’s attitude. “She was talking about you before you came over here. You’re all she talks about. I mean, Ace is great, but she’s got to find new things to talk about. I’m tired of hearing about your ass.”

That makes Jake laugh and his expression softens at the thought of you gushing about him to others. Jake wasn’t used to being the object of your affections. You’re always shy about your adoration of him, hiding them behind sweet smiles and intertwined hands in public. He never would have thought you were going on about him in secret.

“Really?” He asks Bradley incredulously.

“Really. So quit being so jealous. You know I don’t like Ace like that. Besides, I’ve got my eye on someone else,” he adds.

Jake’s heart skips a beat in even more appreciation for you. He was filled with the sudden urge to track you down and kiss you senseless. But not before teasing his friend about his previous confession. “Wait, what’s that you said about having your eye on someone?”

Bradley’s ears turn bright red. “No one! Nothing, it’s no one…”

“Alright,” Jake shrugs, clearly not convinced. “I’ll just ask Ace to do some snooping around.”

“Jake! Don’t you dare!” Bradley stumbles on his feet as he follows his friend who is already off to find his girl.

“If you don’t tell me, I know Ace will!” Jake shouts over his shoulder.

Bradley groans, knowing how insufferable you and Jake can be when it comes to setting him up with someone. “Yeah? Well I’ll make sure the two of you never find out!”

“Whatever!”

Flipping Jake the bird behind his back, Bradley jogs after him. “Don’t you dare tell her anything, Jake. Jake!”

When you approach him asking about his mystery crush, he silently notes to kill Jake later.

a/n: is this me teasing a frat!bradley series?? yes. yes it is.

tgm taglist: @joaquinwhorres @harrycherrylove @smoothdogsgirl @t-nd-rfoot @dempy @ollyoxenfrees @potato-girl99981 @averyhotchner @2guysonascooter @loveforaugust @blue-aconite @fandom-life-12 @stiles-banshees @iamdannyday @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @breezemood @eli2447 @angelbabyange @finelytaylored @pono-pura-vida @hecate-steps-on-me @blueoorchid @aviatorobsessed @blackwidownat2814 @hallecarey1 @averagereader35 @laneylovesglen @atarmychick007 @kajjaka @urfavelocagirl @clancycumber230 @memeorydotcom

[brainr0t-landfill]

🌃 Mercurial

ghoap x male reader

Chapter Four: Nausea

"I will poison all your happy times, I will love you like the ashes in my cigarette box."

-The Crane Wives, Tounges and Teeth

(money insecurity, unhealthy relationship, implied homelessness, anxiety)

The on the road life is better suited for you, you feel more secure with the peeling, old wallpapers of whichever hotel you end up in than the walls you had painted with Johnny the beds reeking of mildew feel more familiar than the wide warm one you used to share with them.

Faces forgotten before you can commit them to memory, places gone with nothing to mourn them by, nightly vigels to the best thing that ever happened to you spent anxiously looking out foggy windows for any silhoutte resembling theirs, listening for uniform footsteps louder than an earthquacke and as familiar as the little compartment you've sewn in your backpack, containing a new ID, fake passoport ,ever-changing burner phones and your unstable money supply.

You're in your element when no one knows you, when people don't commit your face to memory, when they're ingenuine and changing. it's familiar and homey when you know every escape route and every card in the deck, it's not so familiar too with the ever present threat of being found breathing down your neck, you know too well how attached they are and how many strings they have to pull, you've seen it firsthand.

Even then you can't blame them, they fell for someone they thought was good and from this distance it's easier then ever to paint yourself as the villan, the one who stirred the water when all was well, pushed buttons he knew he shouldn't have pushed, tested boundaries that had been set in stone when they were finnaly comfortable, when all was finnaly well.

It started out small, just a way to relieve your tension, just a way to adjust and get some breathing room;

It was the small ritualistic details you started neglecting at first, not stocking the pantry, keeping the house messy before they came home from deployments, not kissing them goodnight or goodbye. They didn't get mad, they didn't even notice, John stepped up readily when you neglected the house and Simon happily went out for groceries whenever you 'forgot', and that set you off worst. The little things you'd built your life, your place in the relationship around where unimportant to them, just something someone else could do without much fuss.

Then it was keeping the door unlocked on the night you knew they'd be coming home, sleeping on the couch by yourself with the excuse of 'feeling smothered', going out and not telling them whene you were going or when you'd be back knowing you were leaving then anxious and frazzled worried for your safety and nothing else, they were good, too good for somone like you. So good that Simon sat you down and explained that he understood you needed some space and that them being gone one day and then then being so present and loud could be hard to get used to.

"Me 'n Johnny just want ya safe angel."

Simon and that understanding smile on his face, always considerate and understanding to the people he loved like a wise parent lecturing a misbehaving yet well meaning child. You spat in the face of that.

"You both are overreacting Si, I know y'all got this skewed view of the world because the military n shit but I'm an adult, I don't need bodyguards."

His face fell, John turned around momentarily to check on the conversation.

"It's not like that, 'n you should know by now. We love you, we want you safe, you're the one with the skewed view and if you keep this bullshit up there's gonna be reprucussions-"

"Simon."

John cut in walking over to the kitchen table and giving him a look, Simon deflated running a hand over his face and you felt the familiar pain of being a disappointment, of misguiding and upsetting. It was wose when you know you love them and do it anyway knowing the things they'd been through.

"Sorry.."

You mumble, his dark eyes soft as they met yours. His bare hands clasped on his lap, he's rubbing his own knuckles.

"Jus' - jus' be safe yeah? Take care o' yourself when we can't, keep our heads clear? For us, angel."

You nodded knowing full well that despite your guilt you had found a nerve and you weren't the good person you had cruelly convinced them you were. You revealed in uncertainties and tension, you hadn't been anywhere this long since your teenage years when you got kicked out. You weren't deserving of this care, this love so you were doing the right thing driving them away or perhaps you just liked being cared for in such avident and raw way either way you were dead weight at best and a parasite at worst.

The tension rose when you kept doing it, John was the first to snap when you introduced them as your friends to some work acquaintances. He broke down, screamed raw and bloody, punched a wall and pulled out his hair as Simon desperately tried to play mediator.

"How could ye?! How fucking could ye, you ungrateful, lying cunt!"

John screamed as you stood leaning against the wall his knuckles were still kissed white and bleeding from the hole they had left in the drywall. His aquamarine eyes squinted and wet, his breaths quick and shallow like a wounded bird.

"We live together! We sleep in the same god damn bed, that's my sweater on ye back, 'n ye sit there and call us your mates?! Yer buddies?! I swear to fucking god ye better have brain damage or I wi-"

Simon grabbed him by the shoulders before he could go on any further. You understood why he was mad, he had opened his heart out to someone he had trusted for so long not knowing he was a snake in the grass, he wanted his love, his safe space, his importance in your life validated especially after all the anxiety you had put them both through with your planned recklessness.

And you broke, in retrospect it could have been so much better if you hadn't, maybe then you'd have some resentfull exs instead of this manhunt with every card stacked against you.

You sobbed, apologized over and over again, promised you'd be better, promised you'd behave, you loved them, you really loved them, the pain in Johnny's voice was unlike anything you'd seen and you meant it too. You didn't wanna be stranded and drifting again, by yourself in the world.

"Ye know we won't ever let ye go angel, promise."

You broke your promises time and time again, they snapped and you broke, but guilt wasn't enough to scratch this constant itch under your skin. Waiting, salivating for when they finnaly got fed up with you like everyone else, it enraged you when they didn't.

Shit hit the fan when you spent two nights at a friend's house and kept your phone on silent, came home with her perfume spritzed on your neck, then you ended up in the cabin and realized some bonds had to be severed phisicaly.

So here you are now, in the roadie lifestyle you're used to, overgrown beard and bloodshot eyes, feet bloody and swollen in your shoes, always cold, always tired, never quite clean. Walking home with a measly paycheck in your pocket and TV dinner in a shopping bag, you're always tense, always on edge knowing full well they've most likely moved on, hopefully.

Life on the road isn't as secure as it used to be, not when their love made you soft and comfortable.

You miss warm beds, you miss a stable job and your warm clean home but most importantly you miss them, you miss them like an amputated limb, like you can reach out and feel the muscles hanging loose, the veins burst and drooling where you hacked them off; it's easier to deal with when you remind yourself people like you don't deserve things like that.

You're just outside your hotel rooms door when some primal, animal instinct straightens your spine, something isn't right.

You look inside from the windows check inside, your measly possessions are all where they ought to be, just when you're about to close to door you see them.

Footsteps, on the snow, big, bigger than yours and deep, pure snow filthied by mud somone tried to cover them up but they're still there.

You can't tell if they're combat boots that John favoured or the hiking shoes Simon sweared by but it sets you off anyways, primal fear and anxiety, restlessness churning in your gut as you pack all of your belongings.

Same game, new rules.

<< Next Chapter / Next Chapter >>

[justwearthegoddamncardigan]

Real or not real

Minho x fem!reader

Set partway through scorch trials (movieverse)

Not the hunger games clickbait oop

Summary: they fake a relationship. thats it. just wanted to try the fake dating trope

Warnings: language, minor injury (some blood, but not heavily described)

You lean your weight against a wall, panting tiredly.

You've just hiked through pitch-dark tunnels and over a sand dune to get to the city, and you have no idea how to find your friends, or Marcus.

You and Minho, like Thomas and Brenda had missed the ziplines when WCKD raided the warehouse.

As the building crumbled around you, the four of you had leapt down an elevator shaft, and been separated by rubble at the bottom.

Brenda had told you and Minho to go out through some tunnels behind.

Which leads you to now.

"We need to-" you let out a cough, and your throat feels paper-dry. "We need to find the others."

"Yeah," says Minho. "Shuck."

"What?"

You turn to see Minho craning his neck, trying to look at his own shoulder.

You walk closer and see a gash about as long as your hand, cutting from over his shoulder to a little way down his back.

"Shit," you mutter. "Okay, we're gonna get some help, and then find everyone."

"Sounds like a plan," he responds.

"Does it hurt?" you ask, before immediately regretting it.

"Never mind, stupid question." You shake your head.

"For your information, it hurts like hell," he tells you. "Luckily, I'm a shuckin' badass."

You snort. "Alright tough guy, let's go."

⭒----⭒

You get into town and see a few people milling about.

Everyone is covered in dirt and sweat and wearing tattered clothing, with grim facial expressions, so you and Minho fit right in.

"Hey, do you-" The man brushes past as you approach him, and he doesn't look back.

"Y/n," rasps Minho, looking worse by the second, bleeding heavily and clearly in a lot of pain. "No one's helping us here."

You turn in a circle, taking in your surroundings properly.

A few people spare you a glance. Most don't even bother.

Looks like you'll have to pick your target.

You spy a pair of young women, just a bit older than you.

One of them has a hard face, like the rest of the people.

But the other looks at you and Minho, before looking away quickly.

She's got grief in her eyes and a gold band on her ring finger.

"Okay," you say, taking Minho's hand. "Follow my lead."

"What?" he hisses as you walk over to the two women. "Y/n, what are you doing?"

You shush him and approach them with your face schooled into nervous, fearful expression.

"Excuse me, could you please help us?" You keep Minho's hand clasped in yours.

"We can't," says one of them cuttingly.

"Please," you beg. You slip your arm around Minho's waist, ignoring his sharp inhale. "My boyfriend is hurt."

The one with the ring shakes her head sympathetically. "I'm sorry."

"Please," you repeat. "If it gets worse... I can't lose him." You're only partially acting at this point.

She hesitates. "Where are you guys going? Do you have a home?"

"We're looking for our friends," you say.

She slides her gaze to the other woman, who sighs. "Fine."

⭒----⭒

They take you and Minho to their little apartment, where you follow Cindy into a storage side room to find a first aid kit.

You learn that they're sisters; Cindy, the one who took you in, and Jennifer.

You hold up the first aid kit as you and Cindy walk back into the main room.

"Thanks," says Minho, reaching out to take it.

"Hey," you smack his hands away gently. "Obviously I'm doing this. Your shucking back is sliced open. How would you even reach?"

"Fine." He sits in a chair, turning his back to you. "Thank you," he adds begrudgingly.

You gingerly shift the ripped pieces of his shirt, trying to get a clear view of the wound.

"Just take the damn shirt off." You jump at Jennifer's voice, looking over to where she's standing in the kitchenette, casually sipping from a chipped mug.

Cindy is busying herself at the counter, clearly trying to give you some semblance of privacy in this one-room apartment.

"Uhh-"

"I'm looking away," says Jennifer, turning around. "Prissy kids," she mutters.

You look at Minho, unsure of what to do.

He shrugs, speaking so only you can hear. "If I'm your boyfriend, it shouldn't be nothin' you haven't seen before."

You heartrate skips a beat as he lifts the hem of his shirt, and mentally shake yourself.

He's injured, for shuck's sake.

You help him guide the shirt carefully over the wound, and open the first aid kit.

⭒----⭒

When you finish cleaning and bandaging, Minho leaves the shirt off, cause it's still crusted with blood and covered in dust.

To reiterate: Minho leaves the shirt off.

You keep moving around, finding jobs to do in the apartment that don't involve any sort of proximity to Minho. And his shirtless self.

Shucking hell. What is happening?

You help Cindy make dinner and jump up to help Jennifer bring in supplies.

"Here," says Jennifer, tossing Minho a shirt.

He puts it on and flops back down onto the couch, looking exhausted.

You remember that you've both been up since yesterday, and being in pain is clearly very draining.

Cindy catches you watching him. "Go sit with your boy," she says, smiling.

"Oh, I can still help around if you-"

"Please," interrupts Jennifer, rolling her eyes. "He's been watching you all afternoon like a lost puppy. We're fine here, go give him some attention for god's sake."

You blush slightly, and Jennifer rolls her eyes again before you move to the couch beside Minho.

"Hey," you say softly.

"Y/n..." he murmurs, leaning over so his head rests on your shoulder.

You let out a quiet chuckle. It's strange to see Minho like this. He's usually so cool-headed, and snarky, and loud. This is all soft and sleepy, and it's kinda... cute?

Wow. Apparently you think Minho's cute now.

Are your fake feelings becoming real?

The thought of actually being with Minho sends a thrill through you; equal parts fear and hope.

You shift carefully so you don't disrupt him, moving so you're lying on the couch with him.

He instinctively wraps his arms around you, still asleep, and you just melt into it.

Whatever. It'll sell the whole dating thing anyways.

⭒----⭒

You go out onto the balcony to help Cindy take down her laundry.

The ring on her finger glints in the sunlight as she reaches up.

"Did you have someone?" you ask carefully, gesturing at the ring.

She smiles sadly. "I did."

She pauses a bit. "You can ask, you know."

"How'd you lose them?" you ask softly.

"He was bitten by a Crank. Shot himself before he could go crazy like the rest of 'em. Didn't want to let me watch." She shakes her head.

"You need to hold on to Minho, alright? You're lucky to have each other. Love is nearly impossible to find these days."

You look down. "I don't know if..."

Cindy huffs out a laugh. "You don't think that's love? Sweetie, you should see the way he looks at you."

"H-how does he look at me?" you breathe.

She grins at you. "The exact same way you look at him."

⭒----⭒

"So, where exactly are you guys going?" asks Jennifer that morning.

"We're looking for a guy named Marcus," says Minho. "We think he'll know where our friends are."

Cindy and Jennifer exchange a glance.

"Look, whatever rumour you've heard about him, it's a lie. Marcus isn't helping anyone, he's bad news. Trust us," says Jennifer.

"You don't wanna go looking for him," agrees Cindy.

You flick your gaze to Minho's before leaning forward on the counter.

"If he's harmed people, he could be doing the same to our friends. We need to find Marcus," you say insistently.

"...what if we snuck them in from the back somehow?" suggests Cindy, looking at Jennifer.

"You'd have to get out quick," Jennifer tells you. "Find your friends and leave immediately."

You nod. "Alright, it's a plan."

⭒----⭒

Cindy and Jennifer lead you to the back door of a building.

"It'll be better if you get away from here as fast as possible," says Jennifer.

"So this'll be goodbye," continues Cindy.

You thank them for everything, and they wish you luck.

Then you and Minho step into the building.

You keep your hand linked with his as you push through a crowd of bodies, refusing the dubious-looking drinks.

"Y/n!" Minho calls.

You turn, but you can't hear what he's saying over the pounding music and noise.

"What?"

He rolls his eyes and pulls you closer, speaking directly into your ear.

You suppress shivers as his breath sends tingles down your neck.

"Over there," he points to an office. "Maybe we can find information."

You slip through the door, locking it behind you and switching the lights on.

You see a bunch of documents full of payments and signed agreements.

"What the..."

"He's sending kids to WCKD," you realise.

"Shit," says Minho, staring down at the papers.

You both jump as someone tries to open the door. You hear keys jangle as the person moves to unlock the door.

You turn to Minho with a panicked gaze as the door unlocks with a click.

Then, you're being pushed up against a wall, and Minho's lips are on yours.

Holy shit. He's kissing you.

And it's not just a gentle peck.

He's got his arms gripping your hips, and his mouth is crushed against yours, moving in a way that's messy but good.

You respond naturally, fisting his shirt in your hands and kissing back.

The door swings open.

"Oi, you kids! What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Oh, sorry," you say, breathless in a way that's way too real.

"We were just-"

"Get out." the guy cuts Minho off, pointing out the door.

You stumble out, unable to keep your laughter in.

Minho yanks you into a quieter corner, grinning too.

"Hey, sorry about that," he says. "I was just-"

"I know," you say. "Just covering for us. Was a good plan anyway. Okay, we should go-"

"What if it wasn't just a coverup?" Minho grabs your wrist as he speaks.

"What?"

"What if I wanted to kiss you for real? What if I liked you for real?"

You hold his gaze, searching his eyes.

Then you lean in and kiss him, feeling fire warm you from your fingertips, which hold his face, all the way down to your toes.

"Oi!"

You spin around in surprise.

"Thomas?" exclaims Minho.

"Shucking hell, we've been looking for you guys!" you say incredulously.

"What, lookin' for us down each other's throats?" deadpans Newt.

"Come on, the others are outside," says Thomas, tugging Minho's arm.

"What happened?" you ask as you step out of the building.

"Brenda and I were in there too," explains Thomas. "Newt and the rest of 'em found us. And we got the Right Arm's location from Marcus."

"We just needed to find you two lovesick idiots before leaving," finishes Newt.

You smile at Minho, and he squeezes your hand.

Newt rolls his eyes. "I'm glad you guys sorted out your klunk, you were driving the rest of us mad."

"Come on, let's find this safe haven."

Hello, thanks to all for reading! Hope you enjoyed this one!

Requests are open if you have any ideas ❤

[lowkeychenle]

See My Sea [ZCL] (M) Teaser

Description: You never expected your lab partner to be the captain of the basketball team...or a decent human being, but you get proved wrong twice. Despite a rocky past of your own, you find yourself falling for him faster than you thought. Maybe, with his help, you can finally find your way home and see your sea.

A/N: this is inspired by Marine Turtle sort of ??? it just gave me these vibes oops.

Genre: Fluff/Smut/Angst (there is no smut in the teaser) (College AU where Chenle is captain of the basketball team like he DESERVES)

Content Warnings: SLOW BURN! Drinking, alcohol, intoxication, some instances of friends being shitty, verbally abusive ex-boyfriend appearances, mentions/instances of anxiety and insecurity, a panic attack Smut warnings: This might be some of my mildest smut omg, usage of pet names 'baby' and 'sunshine,' oral (f receiving), slight dirty talk? there's not much rip

Expected Word Count: 15-20k

Release Date: 6pm EST 2023.12.31

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x fem!Reader (feat. Mark & Jisung, a male OC named Woojin, and three female OCs, Soobin, Jiyoon, & Heewon)

Juliet's Masterlist | Tell me what you think? :)

When Chenle makes it out on the court, the wide smile on his face takes you off-guard. There’s no denying the truth—he’s attractive. That’s the extent of what you know about him at this point, but you see plenty of attractive men every day. It’s not like they’ve ever garnered your attention in a way that made you want to watch them.

Unlike earlier, his hair is part down the middle now, probably from running around in practice and preparing for the game. He runs his fingers through it as he walks up to Jisung. The taller man was already standing with their other friend, who you can only assume is Mark. Chenle’s jersey has his last name printed in big letters on the back, along with the number 30.

You try not to study him, but somehow he’s like a damn magnet. No wonder he said he was used to people staring at him.

Jisung glances once in your direction, and then he nudges Chenle and gives him a nearly non-existent nod. He turns, and the second he sees you, his brows jump up in some sort of surprise. Then he grins at you.

“You’re being weird,” Jiyoon mentions, breaking you out of your trance.

“Huh? How am I being weird? He looked at me.”

“Yeah…because he invited you. And you’re here.” She snorts, running her fingers through her hair. “Speaking of which, I think he’s coming over here.”

Your eyes widen, and your head shoots up just in time to see Chenle jogging over to you. You have to crane your neck upward to look at him when he’s right in front of you, and you’re sure the shock on your face is what causes laughter to drop past his lips.

He pulls a simple bracelet off his wrist—one made with blue and gold thread—and holds it out to you. “Wear this for me?”

You blink up at him. “Why?”

“If you wear it and we win, you’re our good luck charm,” he states simply.

Your cheeks burn (hopefully unnoticeably) as you gently take it out of his palm. Your fingertips brush against his skin despite how hard you tried to avoid touching him, and once it’s completely in your hand, he backs away from you as Jiyoon helps you tighten it around your wrist.

“Are we gonna—” Jiyoon starts.

“Say nothing,” you cut her off. “Not a single word about that.”

She giggles to herself. When the game is about to begin, Jiyoon leans forward, hyperfocused on Jisung and the way he carries himself. You want to make fun of her for it, but you know she’ll come back tenfold with jokes about Chenle.

“Also,” Jiyoon whispers, getting closer to you without removing her gaze from the court. “He was totally fucking with you. He just wanted you to wear it. They haven’t lost a game this entire season, so.”

“Why would he do that?” you ask.

This time, she does look at you. She clasps her hands together and stares expectantly.

[kingdaddydaichi]

Need a quick break from writing for Daichi. Let me get this out of my system then I'll go write another 10k words for my King Daddy...

k. bokuto x reader (fem)

nsfw. mdni. size kink.

I just KNOW Bokuto has a size kink! I’ve always hc’d that he likes short girls. And I don’t mean just girls who are shorter than him bc that’s…well pretty much all of them. I’m talking about girls who are like 5’4” or less. The closer to 5’0” the better in his book.

Bo thinks it’s the cutest thing when you tug on shirt and pout up at him when you want to give him a kiss.

His heart swoons when he leans down to kiss you and you stand on your tippy toes bc it shows him that you’re doing your best to meet him halfway.

The first time y’all are at a concert together and Bo can see over everyone’s heads, and he notices you standing on your tip-toes, craning your neck this way and that trying to see over people’s shoulders. Then he squats down so you can sit on his shoulders with the back of his neck between your legs. And when he slowly stands up to give you a better view, your eyes light up and you're like Princess Jasmine when she sings 🎶 IT’S A WHOLE NEW WORRRRLD 🎶 “so THIS is what the world looks like from almost 9 feet up!”

In typical himbo fashion, Bo has been known to scan the area wherever y’all are, looking for you and when he calls your name, you flatly say, “down here, Bo.” And he looks down while the biggest grin graces his sweet face bc he’s just so happy he found you. “Hey, baby! I thought I lost you there for a second!”

When he’s hitting it from behind, it turns Bo on to no end to be able to hunch all the way over you and give you little love bites on the back of your neck. He can kiss you without straining with his arms right next to yours, your fingers interlaced together. It makes his cock throb inside you when you moan in his mouth, his big hands pressing yours into the mattress while he slaps his strong, wet hips against your ass.

Missionary is a little awkward with Bo because your face is level with his chest, but it does provide the perfect opportunity to tease his nipples with your tongue. Mans has the most sensitive nips so when you lick and gently nip at them, Bo's pretty golden eyes roll back while his whole body shudders with pleasure. But he does try his best to kiss you while he's making love to you. You're making him feel so amazing all over, he doesn't even notice the discomfort in his back from forcing his spine to arch into an unnatural position sksskkksss. Then again, his back is pretty damn flexible. Have you seen the way it curves when he goes for a spike? 👁👄👁

Leaves you breathless when he's about to cum bc he throws his weight against you, fucking into you harder. He just doesn't know his own strength? But you don't mind bc the grunts and groans that leave this man's lips when he's about to bust a fat nut inside you give you life, and you swear you don't need to breathe anyway.

Is there anything sexier than making a brick shithouse of a man whimper your name when your orgasm hits and your tight pussy clamps down on his monstrous cock? No. No, there isn't.

Let me tell you, getting railed against the wall by Bo is a religious experience. The way he's effortlessly got your relatively tiny body pinned against the wall with your legs dangling over his forearms? His cock hitting spots that it just won't reach in any other position? His long fingers squishing into the fat of your ass as he guides you up and down all 9 inches of his slippery dick. And you're babbling between whimpers of his name while he presses his forehead to yours and grunts, "I'm so in love with you, baby owl. Always gonna take good care of you and treat you right," the force of his thrusts audible in his needy voice as he desperately tries to fuck all his love into you. He'll have both of you seeing the promised land. 🙏

There. I feel better now. This list is by no means exhaustive, but at least I got some of it off my chest. Thanks for listening.

tagging my fellow bokuhoes: @yuujispinkhair @luvkun4 @briokayama @chaoskrakenuwu @crystal-lilac

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