#the saturday night weird thoughts are kicking in

[holdinbacksecrets]

#will i delete this? maybe #can you tell i never take outfit pictures? lol #this morning i went to a new nail salon #didn’t realize how touch starved i am until he started the little hand/forearm massage #and i was trying to keep my melting from being too obvious lol #someone talk to me #the saturday night weird thoughts are kicking in #mediocre me

[afterglowsainz]

fresh out the slammer | max verstappen

summary: after you broke up with your boyfriend, you join your friends for a night out in monaco and decide it's a good idea to invite max

warnings: fluff, mentions of breakups, drinking

word count: 1.8k

a/n: giggling and kicking my feet at the thought of a situationship with max

the tortured athletes department series

it’s been one month since you and your ex-boyfriend of one year broke up. you couldn’t say you were heartbroken because you really weren’t, like most men do at some points in their lives, he was disappointing you long before you broke up with him, so in a way, you mourn your relationship while you were still in it. now you just felt a bit lonelier than before, but you had definitely moved on.

on a saturday night, you had a few friends over to your monaco apartment for dinner and a very well deserved gossip session. you told them all about your breakup with your most recent boyfriend and how you were feeling almost too good.

“guys, what if we go out?” one of your best friends suggests. “a friend of mine is having a party at this club downtown and is supposed to be this very exclusive thing.” you thought about it for a few seconds after agreeing. it has been a while since you went out with your friends, especially in monaco where everything can happen. you got ready in less than ten minutes since you already were put together and joined your friends in the car on your way to the club. 

during the quick ride you check your instagram and saw that your friend max posted a story. you and max have had this weird relationship for years, were you’re both really close friends who’ve also liked each other forever, but none of you had actually made a move on each other (except for that one time, but you’ve never talked about it). you clicked on his profile picture and the story popped up, a picture of him and his friends playing fifa on his couch. you smiled and liked the photo, putting your phone away.

once you got to the club your friend led you all to the entrance and when she gave her name to the bouncer they let you all in. the place was completely packed, but she took you all to a place on the top that was a bit less full and looked more like that exclusive event your friend was talking about. soon enough, alcohol was running through your system and your body was moving along with the blasting music at the club when a thought almost made you stop on your tracks. you looked for your best friend all over the place and ran over to her when you saw her near the bar.

“hey.” you call out loudly over the music.

“hey.” she smiled at you. “having fun?” she asks and you nod.

“can i tell you this idea i just had?” she takes a sip from her drink and nods. “would it be a good idea if i invited max?” her eyes widen with surprise and gives you a knowing smile.

“max like max verstappen?” she asks. “like your max?” you nod again, this time more euphorically.

“yes, my max.” you took a sip of your drink and cleared your throat. “he’s in monaco, so why not? the worst that can happen is he says no.” you shrug, like the idea of him not wanting to see you didn’t kill you a bit inside.

“go for it!” she exclaims. “absolutely, yes, invite him over.”

you smiled and headed over to the balcony, relieved to feel the cold air of the monaco night hit your skin, cooling you down. you took out your phone and hover over max’s contact for a moment, wondering if you should text or call first. you decided to call since that would be much more immediate. you listen to the phone ringing for a few moments and when you thought it would send you to voicemail, you heard max’s familiar voice.

“hello.” he answers.

“heyyy.” you greet him with a smile that he couldn’t see.

“y/n.” he calls your name with happiness. “how are you?”

“i’m good, how are you?” you ask. “what are you up to?”

“oh, i’m good, yeah.” he says. “just hanging out with some friends. you?”

“i’m in monaco.” you say looking at the stars. “actually, i’m at this club, i was wondering if you wanted to come? you can bring your friends, my friends are here too.”

you waited for him to answer so long you thought the line had dropped.

“what club are you in?” you gave him the name and heard some loud voices in the background. “okay, we’ll be there in twenty.”

you smiled at the sky and bit your lip.

“okay.” you answered and finished the call.

when you got back inside you met your friends again and let them know that max was coming with his friends. twenty minutes later, you were still dancing in the middle of the place when someone tapped your shoulder with tenderness. when you turned around you saw those blue eyes that you loved staring back at you.

“hello, you.” you smiled at him and he returned it.

“long time no see.” he said, giving you a small kiss on the cheek. you felt yourself flustered and were grateful that the place was mostly dark with a few colored lights.

“you should’ve told me when you got here, i would’ve gone outside to get you.” you frowned, ignoring the blush on your face.

“i wanted it to be a surprise.” he defends himself. 

“it can’t be a surprise if i invited you.” you fought back and he placed his arm around your shoulders.

“you know what i mean.” he clicked his tongue, teasing you.

you spent the next hour dancing, drinking and talking with max. it was like the world around you had disappeared and it was only the two of you left in that club. when you took a quick break from dancing he got close to you and whispered in your ear.

“do you want to go outside?” he asks. you felt yourself blush again but nodded.

he was about to guide you to the balcony but you redirected him to the exit of the club. you stopped briefly to let your friend know that you were leaving with max for a moment so she wouldn’t worry and she just winked at you. you took his hand so you wouldn’t lose him while walking through all the people at the club and once you were outside you dropped his hand, even though you didn’t really wanted to, but the last thing you wanted was to make it uncomfortable for him.

“you wanna take a walk?” he asks while taking his jacket and putting it around your shoulders.

you nod and smile at him, grateful for his jacket. you both start walking along the streets, talking about nothing in particular until he makes the question you knew he wanted to ask all night.

“how’s it going with your boyfriend?” he doesn’t look at you while asking, no matter how much you wanted him to do so.

“we broke up.” you answer dryly.

“oh.” he finally looks at your face for any hint of sadness, but there is none. you’re not sad about it.

“how’s it going with your girlfriend?” you ask now, remembering the gorgeous redhead he was dating a few months ago.

it was on one of those few occasions both of you were in monaco at the same time. you were leaving from café de paris with your best friend and you crossed him at the entrance, next to him was one of the most beautiful girls you’ve ever seen, holding his hand. you remembered she introduced herself as his girlfriend and your heart skipped a beat at the word, even though you had no right to feel anything like that since you had a boyfriend yourself. you said your goodbyes and he did too and that was the last time you saw him.

“what was her name again?” you asked. “i can’t remember.”

“we broke up.” max ignored your last question, answering the first one you asked instead.

“oh.” you frowned, sad for him for whatever reason. maybe it was the alcohol in you bringing out all the emotions. “what happened?”

“it just didn’t work out.” he answers simply, giving you a reassuring smile.

“when did you break up?” you knew you were a bit out of line meddling into his relationship. especially when he didn’t ask you these types of questions about your own breakup, but you couldn’t help it.

“a few months ago.” he said, completely unfazed by your curiosity. “actually, it was the day you met her.”

“at the café de paris?” you questioned with surprise and he nodded. “why would you break up with your girlfriend there? it’s such a lovely place.”

he wanted to laugh at your remark, but bit his lip instead.

“i saw you.” he whispered and you felt like all the air was leaving your lungs.

“you broke up with your girlfriend because you saw me?” you ask incredulously and he nods again. “why would you do that?”

“why do you think, y/n?”

he holds your eyes for a few seconds until you turn your head and continue walking. you didn’t answer him and he didn’t say anything else, his words hanging in the air while you got wrapped into a comfortable silence. you were trying to process his train of thought while also processing yours. could his words have such an impact on you? did he feel about you the same way you’ve always felt about him? would he want to try something with you? with each question you asked in your head, you felt yourself leaning more and more into max until the back of your hands brushed each other while walking. he felt so familiar in so many ways.

before you could realize it, you were both outside of your apartment building. did you really walk this much?

“well.” he said, breaking the silence. “i guess this is where i leave you.” he pointed with his chin at the building.

you looked at him for a few seconds, your mind racing ten thousand miles per hour.

“you could stay.” you whisper.

max looked at you, a sparkle in his eyes you knew too well.

“you’re drunk.” he murmured, just like you had. you shook your head and got closer to him, touching the collar of his shirt gently.

“just as much as you.” you were so close you could see every speck of color in his eyes. “i think the walk here sober me up, anyway.” you joke, taking your eyes off of him, fearing that looking at him a second longer would make you do something unexpected.

“are you sure about this?” he took your face between his hands, forcing you to look at him. the beautiful blue of his eyes was now much darker and you fell a little bit more in love just by looking at them.

“of course i’m sure.” your voice low, only for him to hear. “i’ve always been.”

his eyes went from your eyes to your lips, and then back into your eyes.

“come inside.” you ask.

he smiles at you like he just won a championship, taking your hand and pulling you into the building.

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen angst #f1 x reader #f1 #formula one #formula one x reader #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #taylor swift #the tortured poets department #mv33 #mv1 #the tortured athletes department #fresh out the slammer #max vertsappen gif

[metalhoops]

Steve was going to die crouched behind a picnic table in an unfamiliar town. That’s how he saw it, anyway. 

He’d been looking for Robin. That’s where it all went wrong. She hadn’t shown up for work at the video store that Saturday morning. It wasn’t like her. The two had just started at their new job and it was a goddamn Saturday. Steve had been run off his feet all day. 

At the end of his shift, he couldn’t help but look for her. Since the incident with the Russians, both he and Robin had their days where they would disappear, but they’d always let the other know they were safe. 

Steve never used to be a worst-case-scenario kind of guy until everything with The Upside Down. All day he’d felt panic rising in his stomach. What if she’d been taken by demogorgons or kidnapped by secret government operatives?

He drove the BMW past all of Robin’s familiar haunts. She wasn’t at home or at Steve’s place. The school was closed, so she couldn’t be at band and she’d have asked him to drive her to the movies.

That’s when he started to check the places he didn’t want to find her. The Junkyard, Lover’s Lake, and the remains of the Hawkins lab.  She wasn’t there. It was then he recalled a conversation they’d had last Sunday. 

“All right, I’ve got some more evidence,” Robin had exclaimed days before, and Steve had known exactly what she was talking about. 

“Well don’t hold out on me, Rob,” Steve pushed, pulling out a notebook he should’ve been using to keep track of people’s late rental returns. 

Instead, it harboured two columns and a series of tallies, an ode to their Scoops Days Steve was secretly proud of thinking up. ‘Vicky likes boobies’, proclaimed one column while the other argued, ‘Vicky doesn’t like boobies’. He’d never said he was mature. Plus Steve got a kick out of watching Robin squirm. They’d been trying to work out if Vicky was a viable crush. Steve thought she was but so far the columns were an even split. 

“Last night I saw her car parked outside the fairgrounds in the next town over. Any other day of the week and I wouldn’t think it was weird, but Saturday night, it’s a spot, you know?” Steve didn’t know. 

“A spot?” He echoed. 

“Yeah, you know? Like how skull rock is ‘a spot’ but it’s only for certain kinds of people.” Steve’s brow pinched together and he nodded. 

He could imagine what Robin was implying. He’d added another tally to his favourite side and thought nothing more of it until he’d run out of places to look for Robin in Hawkins. It was a Saturday night. It was a long shot, but he’d take it.

Steve drove to the next town over and was surprised to see a smattering of cars at the fairground. There were a handful of boys in their twenties sitting on picnic benches around a boombox playing music Steve was vaguely familiar with. Then there were a couple of girls sipping beer and passing the bottle around. 

If you didn’t know, it’d seem like any other half-assed party but if you knew what to look for, you’d know you were in the right place. Steve didn’t know when he’d become the kind of person who knew what to look for. 

One of the guys had his hand tucked into the back pocket of another’s jeans. Then, of course, he saw his fair share of coloured hankies, carabineers and key rings. Sometimes, Steve actually listened when Robin talked to him about that kind of stuff. He figured it must get lonely, not having anyone to talk to about those things. He wanted to be a good friend even if he couldn’t relate to Robin. Steve liked girls. That was the beginning and end of it.  

He studied each of the partygoers' faces and felt his throat begin to constrict. Robin wasn’t there. Where the hell was she? This had been the last stone left unturned. Now what? 

Steve’s heartbeat was a kick drum, threatening to crack his ribs in two as it burst from his chest cavity. His vision began to tunnel and a ringing in his ears swelled to a crescendo as he crouched behind an abandoned picnic table.

What if something happened to her? How the hell was he meant to find her? 

Steve felt a hand on his shoulder. 

He looked up with a start, almost leaping out of his skin when he saw one of the boy’s faces inches from his. The space was dark, illuminated only by the moon and the intermittent flickering of car headlights.

“Hey. You’re okay. Just breathe with me for a second, alright?” The boy instructed.

His voice was vaguely familiar, but Steve couldn’t string together a coherent set of thoughts. His body was focused on not keeling over. He tried to copy the overdramatised rise and fall of the boy’s chest. 

“There you go,” the boy soothed as Steve’s breathing evened out. 

“Guessing, it’s your first time here. Don’t worry too much about it. The first time I went to a gay bar in Indy I had a panic attack in the bathroom.” Munson. The voice belonged to Eddie Munson, Steve’s brain supplied at last. 

They’d gone to high school together. Though Steve wasn’t sure if the guy had graduated. He vaguely recalled Eddie hating all jocks on principal and Steve had tried to give the boy a wide berth because of it. Turned out he was the type to hang out at gay bars. Okay. 

There was no way Eddie recognised Steve. He was being way too nice to him. Maybe Munson was a good guy. Steve hadn’t taken the time to find out back then. Steve hadn’t really been a good person. He was trying hard to be better.

“No one’s tried to push you into anything, right? Because that’s not what this place is about. I might not be able to kick anyone’s ass, but I know a guy who could,” Eddie commented, confirming Steve’s suspicions. He was a good guy. 

“No. I’m good... I’m looking for someone,” Steve breathed, hoping maybe Munson would’ve seen Robin. 

Then again, if Eddie hadn’t seen her, he’d be outing Robin, which Steve knew was a shitty thing to do. Eddie spoke before Steve had the chance to decide what he was going to say.

“You see him around?” Eddie asked, moving to sit beside Steve on the grass, scanning the crowd. 

Oh. Eddie assumed Steve was... That was fair. He was at ‘a spot’. He guessed he could work with that. 

“I think he stood me up,” Steve covered, looking for an excuse to get out of there. 

“His loss,” Eddie mused, placing a hand on Steve’s knee. Oh, no. Flirting. 

“I should get out of here,” Steve stuttered, jerking upwards.

“Right, shit. Sorry. Too strong,” Eddie spoke half to Steve, half to himself as he stood up and dusted grass from his jeans.  

“Don’t let me spook you. Seriously. You look like you need a night out. I can sit all the way over there and we can pretend this never happened,” Eddie proposed. 

Steve was dreading the ride back to Hawkins, knowing if he went home now, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Steve surprised himself by shaking his head. 

“No, I don’t want you to... just... don’t go. This isn’t something I do. I could use the company.” Steve was surprised at the words as they left his mouth. In what world did Steve Harrington want to hang out with Eddie Munson?

“Alright, no funny business, I promise. I’ve got some beer in a cooler. We could keep things all PG-13,” Eddie proposed, leading Steve to where the aforementioned cooler was stashed on a free picnic bench. 

“I’ve got to drive back home, but I could stay for a bit,” Steve remarked, sitting down beside Eddie’s cooler on the tabletop. 

He tried to focus on the distant music and the sound of passing cars. His thoughts kept returning to Robin. He dug his thumbnail into the table, scratching at the splintering wood as he tried to stop his mind from reeling. 

“Is your place far from here?” Eddie questioned, sitting beside Steve and lounging back on his elbows, glancing up at the night sky. 

“That wasn’t a preposition, by the way,” Eddie clarified quickly. 

“I was just trying to make conversation. Christ, man. I’m shit at this.”

“Shit at what?” Steve questioned absentmindedly, glad to have a distraction. 

Eddie grabbed a strand of hair and coyly hid a smile behind it. 

“You know. Talking to pretty guys.’ 

It wasn’t like no one had called Steve ‘pretty’ before. They had. But they’d always done it as an insult. He’d heard the word, ‘pretty boy’, spat through gritted teeth a handful of times, but no one had ever made it sound like a good thing, like something Steve wanted to be. 

It was strange. Steve hadn’t been lying when he said this wasn’t something he usually did. He wasn’t gay. He didn’t hang out with men in a way that walked the tightrope between platonic and flirtatious, but he’d gone on a lot of dates with girls, some that’d been far worse than the way his night was panning out. Steve was surprised at just how comfortable and familiar the setting felt.  

“I’m from Hawkins,” Steve admitted, feeling Eddie’s keen eyes on his profile. 

“Small world. Me too.” Everyone knew everyone in Hawkin’s. It’d only be a matter of time before Eddie placed him. Then what? He couldn’t imagine Eddie would want to hang out with him for long after that. 

“I came here with a buddy but I’m pretty sure he’s screwed off by now, you mind giving me a lift? Think we could both use the company.” 

Steve was always driving the kids around, that’s what he was good at, and it’d be a distraction. Steve nodded before he could think any better of it. 

“I can do that. You say the word,” Steve muttered and followed Eddie’s eyes to the stars. 

“Soon, give me a few minutes to enjoy the view”. 

That was the one good thing about small towns in the dead of night. The stars could really shine, painting their way across the sky, all milk and moonbeams. For once, Steve wasn’t thinking of the things lurking in the shadows. 

He could hardly make out the features of Eddie’s face, but he couldn’t help but think, if this was like the dates he’d been on with girls, this was the point where he’d kiss them. It’d be romantic. At heart, Steve had always been a romantic.

A car pulled up close to the two boys, bathing them in yellowed light. Eddie’s face turned to look at Steve. His eyes swelled wide with recognition. He’d expected Eddie to be shocked, this was the last place Steve would expect to find himself on an ordinary day. What he didn’t anticipate was Eddie jerking back as though Steve had physically hit him, his body tumbling backwards off the bench and onto the grassy lot. 

“Holy Hell, Harrington,” Eddie choked out, as he tried to pull himself back to his feet, staggering. Right. Steve should’ve known this wasn’t going to end well. He should just leave now. 

“I thought your voice sounded familiar. Christ. Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington. Here? Holy shit.” 

Steve stood, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, trying to eyeball the best path to the Beamer, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but there. 

“I’m going to go...” Steve began but was cut off by a wild flailing of limbs and Eddie’s hand encircling his wrist. 

“Sorry. Shit. Sorry. Steve, Stevie. Wait. You surprised me.” Eddie placated, his eyes swollen wide as he looked at his fingers around Steve’s limb. It was as though his body had grabbed Steve of its own volition. 

Steve couldn’t help but notice the muffled conversations from the surrounding tables had quietened. 

“I get it if you don’t want to take me home, but I won’t tell anyone... you know. Cross my heart, dude.” 

Steve hadn’t been worried about that until now. His heart rate sped up again. He wasn’t queer but if rumour got around. His dad would kill him. Steve wasn’t sure that the statement was hyperbolic. Eddie must have seen something in Steve’s face, because his grip on his wrist tightened. 

“Promise I won’t. Look, somehow I’ve managed to collect your little flock of ducklings into my D&D club at school. They think you’re a good dude. That’s good enough for me.” 

Steve trusted Eddie. He shouldn’t. He told himself he was dumb for doing so, but his instincts won out. 

“Well, come on then, if you still want a ride,” Steve grumbled, pulling Eddie along with him to the BMW. 

The two talked on the ride back to Hawkins, but all of it was inconsequential. It was just what Steve needed. Eddie rambled about the kids, something he and Steve had in common. It was the only thing Steve knew they had in common besides the fact Eddie thought they were gay, or at least that they both liked men. 

It should’ve been awkward talking to Eddie, knowing the guy would’ve slept with him if given the chance, but surprisingly it wasn’t. Maybe that’s how Robin had felt about him at the beginning of their friendship. No. Don’t think about Robin. She was safe. She had to be. Steve would know if she wasn’t. 

“What happened to you, Steve?” He heard Eddie ask out of the blue and realised his fingers had been gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had turned bone white. 

Steve didn’t know how to answer the question in a way that wouldn’t spur on deeper probing, so he said, “Nothing”. The reply seemed to tell Eddie everything he needed to know. 

“I guess I grew up,” Steve supplied lamely.

“I wasn’t talking about how you don’t hang out with the same dicks from school. You stopped doing that before you graduated. Don’t ask me how I know that. Don’t make me say it. You’ve always been pretty, is all I’ll say. This is different. You never used to look so... haunted.” 

What was Steve supposed to say to that? He didn’t say anything, just turned the radio up and wondered how Eddie Munson, of all people, saw right through him. 

When they pulled up out front of the Munson’s trailer, Eddie paused, looking Steve over. 

“Hey, Harrington? You still all on your lonesome in that big old mansion of yours?” Steve rolled his eyes but nodded.

“Well, would you look at that? Me too. I mean, minus the mansion. Want to not be alone, together?” 

“I’ve got work in the morning,” Steve deflected as he found himself switching off the car and following Eddie up to the front door. 

“Won’t bother me. I sleep like the dead.” 

Steve was a horrible sleeper, not that it would matter. He knew he wouldn’t be sleeping that night. Maybe in the morning if he couldn’t find Robin he should call Nancy. She knew everything about missing friends, about knowing something was wrong and yet feeling like you had no one to turn to. He wished he’d been that person for Nancy years before but he hadn’t and there was nothing he could do about that now. 

Steve found himself tucked into the corner of Eddie’s bed. The two boys had stripped off their jeans but kept their shirts on. He kept comparing the night to dates he’d had in the past. He kept thinking how easy it felt to do the same with a man. Steve liked women, he knew that, but he was beginning to entertain the idea he might be able to like men. Couple that crisis with his worries that Robin was somewhere alone and hurting and you had one messy knot of emotions Steve didn’t know how to unpick. 

“Night, Stevie,” Eddie muttered, as his hand made its way to rest on his inner thigh. His breath smelled of alcohol. 

“This okay?” He clarified. Yes, Eddie was a good guy and Steve wished he’d known that sooner. 

“Yeah,” Steve admitted because it was okay, much to his surprise.

When Eddie did eventually fall asleep, he rolled over, keeping one hand on Steve’s thigh and slinging the other over Steve’s chest, somehow ending face down in the crook of Steve’s neck. He smelled of beer and smoke. It was the longest night of Steve’s life. 

True to his word, Eddie remained sound asleep as Steve extracted himself from under him come morning. He paused to jot his number down on a notebook beside Eddie’s bed, surprising himself once again. He hadn’t gotten or wanted a second date with anyone in months. He wasn’t sure this was classified as a first date, but it had him wanting more of whatever it was. 

Steve parked outside Robin’s place, surprised to find her waiting for him in the driveway, unharmed and applying her makeup with the help of a compact mirror as though it were any other day. 

“You look like crap,” Robin noted as she slid into the passenger seat. 

Steve could cry. Steve would’ve cried if it hadn’t been for years worth of emotional repression. 

“You weren’t at work yesterday,” Steve said by way of explanation. 

“Yeah. I went to Indianapolis for my aunt’s birthday. I told you I was going last week.” 

Oh. Steve had forgotten. He nodded, then sniffed pathetically, pretty sure he was about to cry. Robin was fine. She’d never been in danger. She placed her hand over his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. 

“Dingus, were you worried about me?” She teased, trying to lighten the mood. He shook his head, a blatant lie. 

“So worried you didn’t go on one of your crappy Saturday night dates or do you have another story to tell me about how you stuck out with a smoking hot babe... again.” That brought Steve to his second crisis. 

“Kind of.” Robin raised a brow.

“Kind of? Steve Harrington, since when are you coy about the people you date? Dude, when it comes to me you have no boundaries.” She was right. 

“I think I went on a date with a guy,” Steve admitted, not meeting Robin’s eye as she let out an inhuman squeak. 

“I was gone for one goddamn day and that’s the day you decide to date a guy?” She gasped, smacking his arm. 

In retrospect, it was pretty funny. Steve’s urge to cry was suddenly stifled as his body rocked with laughter. 

“I think I owe you one, actually,” Steve admitted, knowing he wasn’t going to hear the end of it. 

Read Part 2 Here

#steddie #steddie Drabble #drabble #ficlet #steddie ficlet #first meeting #pre season 4 #au #steve harrington #eddie munson #platonic stobin #robin buckley #bi steve harrington #fluff and angst #steve x eddie #Metalhoops writes

[steddiecameraroll]

It Takes a Muscle to Fall In Love - Part 3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

“Dude, it was so epic. We spent all weekend at Mike’s. Eddie’s campaign was one for the ages. I wish we could do that every weekend.” Dustin trails behind Steve while he restocks the shelves with returns.

“I’m sure Ted Wheeler loved you being there all day.” Steve wasn’t completely listening but trying to capture enough to stay engaged. 

When Dustin got on his D&D rants, Steve’s brain always wanted to go into shutdown mode, and it takes active effort to pay attention.

“Not just during the day, Steve. We all spent the night too. Even Eddie and Eddie never does that. Started Friday, and I only got home at 8 pm on Sunday. I’m telling you, EPIC!” Dustin bounces around and misses when Steve pauses, slamming their bodies together.

Steve hits his elbow on the nearby shelves and groans. “Damnit, dude.”

“Sorry, sorry, shit.” Dustin helps Steve into a standing position. “You ok?”

“Yeah, just watch where you’re going.” Steve straightens his vest. “What do you mean all weekend?”

“All weekend.” Dustin shrugs. “We played all night at Mike’s after school on Friday. Then had a sleepover and played all day Saturday. Slept over again, and the only reason we stopped when we did was ‘cause Eddie had to get home and have Sunday dinner with Wayne.”

Steve absorbs that timeline information and tries to figure out when Eddie would’ve had a date interspersed in there. He knows about Sunday dinner. It’s the only time Wayne and Eddie’s schedules line up, so definitely not a lie to get away for a date.

“Did Eddie leave at any time?”

“No? Like in the middle of the campaign?”

“Yeah, for an hour or two? Just at any time?” Steve can feel a prickle crawl up the back of his neck.

“No,” Dustin furrows his brow. “That would’ve been weird.”

“Ha, yeah, yeah, weird. For sure. But… uh, did he mention plans of his getting canceled or something? For this weekend?” Steve’s stomach twists at the implication he’s uncovering.

“No, he’d been building that campaign for weeks and on the Hellfire calendar just as long. We were forbidden to make plans on those days. He would’ve banned us for life. There’s no way he had plans.”

“Oh,” Steve’s stomach drops, and he suddenly needs to escape.

He shoulders around Dustin, slams the videos in his hands down on the counter, surprising Robin where she stands, and stomps toward the employee-only door in the back.

“Steve?” Robin’s voice floats through the door before it shuts behind him.

He paces in the tiny cramped space trying to parce his thoughts together.

He feels so stupid.

Eddie hated it so much that he lied.

His blood boils as frustration seeps through his veins. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. As the back door creeps open, he kicks a nearby folding chair, sending it toppling against the locker-lined back wall.

“Fuck.” He covers his face and huffs in anger.

“Steve?” Robin’s voice is soft and cautious.

“He lied, Rob.” Steve tosses his hands to his sides and stumbles back, leaning against the wall.

“Who?” She props the door open to listen for any customers and slides up to Steve’s side.

Steve nervously glances at the open doorway while chewing on his bottom lip.

“I kicked Dustin out. What happened? I thought you two were talking about his D&D thing this weekend.” She nudges his shoulder with her own.

“Eddie,” his voice wobbles. “He-he lied to me. He told me he had this…thing this weekend. But he didn’t. Why would he do that?” He wraps his arms around himself, trying to ignore the burning in his chest.

“What thing? That doesn’t seem like him.” 

“I know, um…just this thing.” He pushes himself away from the wall and starts pacing again. “I thought we were…I don’t understand why he would lie. I mean, he coulda talked to me. Told me he wasn’t interested. But instead, making up this whole thing as if I couldn’t figure it out. Shit.”

“Dingus, I’m gonna need a bit more context here to give valuable advice.” Robin’s eyes follow Steve back and forth.

“No, you know what? It doesn’t matter. Screw it.” He shakes his head and hears the tinkle of the front door. “Perfect, a distraction.” 

Steve plasters his fake customer service smile on his face and strides through the back door when his eyes take in the customer.

“Stevie!” Eddie throws his arms up and smiles wide.

“Get out.” Steve keeps his voice calm even though his fingers are itching to grab the man by the shirt collar and scream at him for an explanation.

“What?” Eddie’s smile slips from his face.

“Eddie, maybe the two of you should talk later.” Robin appears behind Steve.

“I don’t understand.” Eddie looks between the pair anxiously.

“I don’t want to see you right now.” Steve’s entire body is shaking.

“W-what?”

“Don’t you have a…date to get to?”

Eddie’s eyes widen. He glances at Robin, seeing a look of confusion strewn across her face, and then he reflects back at Steve. If Steve weren’t so honed in on Eddie’s movements, he would’ve missed the exact moment Eddie felt the weight of his lie crumble down on him.

Eddie nods nervously and backs away. “I didn’t-“

Steve shakes his head, his jaw clenched tightly, trying to bite back his anger.

The bell above the front door cuts through all three of them when a mother and child enter the store, breaking the moment. Eddie bows around them and nods to Steve, glancing apologetically at Robin before heading outside.

Steve’s eyes track Eddie until his van has pulled out of the parking lot and driven away.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @sunfloweringstories @solalasoforth @blackpanzy @gw3n-st4cy @starman-jpg @sofadofax @goodolefashionedloverboi @stxrcrossed186 @loguine-linguine @vampireinthesun @unclewaynemunson @saganarojanaolt 

#steddie #steddie fanfic #I promise a happy ending #comfort will come #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve x eddie #steddiecameraroll posts #my writing

[daydreamgoddess14]

Saturday Mornings

MASTERLIST

🤸‍♀️ Well , well, well, didn't take long to get me back on my bullshit, did it? 🤣 I bring you a Roy Kent smutty one shot. Enjoy the gorgeousness of this man 🥵

Roy doesn't have a thing for Phoebe's dance teacher. Until he does. 👀

For @littleesilvia 😘

Saturday Mornings

Saturday morning had always been for Phoebe. From the day she was born, Roy had dedicated every Saturday morning to her. In the first weeks of her birth, he'd let himself into his sister's house and picked up a squawking Phoebe from the moses basket and taken care of her from 6-10 am so his sister could get more sleep. In those early days, he'd spoken to her in his deep, gruff voice while she drifted in and out of sleep. Then they'd go for a walk to the shop, the neighbours peeping into the buggy until Roy had growled at them to "Fuck off and stop gawping at her, she's trying to fucking sleep." As she got a little older, it became cartoons and cereal - devoured together on the sofa, and then a trip to the park. He'd arranged everything for 9 years around his Saturday mornings with Phoebe. Even away matches with a midday kick off didn't stop him, it didn't matter if it was an hour, or five hours - match day or no match day, rain or shine, if he was single or not, Uncle Roy would be there. Their time alone together moved through her swimming lessons phase, gymnastics phase, and morphed into his coaching her kids team. He wanted to be on board with this next phase - really, he did. 

 

After 8 weeks of lessons, he'd finally put his finger on what the problem was. The dancing was nothing new, Phoebe had tried ballet, tap, some weird toddler baby dance shit. 16 weeks ago, she'd switched to some kind of pop/tween dance class with a lovely older woman who mostly sat to one side and pointed to each move, each music transition. It had been great, 8.30-9.30am every Saturday, fucking wonderful. Then 8 weeks ago, that woman had switched classes and you had taken over. You, with your tight Tik Tok leggings and your cropped t-shirt. You who showed the kids each move over and over again. The number of dad's attending the class had suddenly gone up. It had been 6 months since he thought that he and Keeley could try again, but she'd made it clear that that was not the case. He'd been single for longer than 6 months before, sure, but not for a long time. Back then in his younger days, he'd thought nothing of a mutually convenient resolution with a friend until he met his next significant other. He’d come to the conclusion now that he was too fucking old for a friends with benefits situation. 

 

If it was just Saturday mornings that were the problem, he could live with that. He started out by taking a book and ignoring the class completely, but Phoebe did not like that at all. So he switched to audiobooks, brought a pair of fucking ear buds so he could drown out the sound of your voice, your gentle encouragement and the giggles. If it wasn’t the leggings going to tip him over the edge, it was going to be the giggles. Or the praise. Weird, he didn’t realise he had a bit of a praise kink before. Then he heard you in a breathy voice saying something that definitely could apply to situations other than a 9 year olds dance class and nearly had to leave the room. No, it wasn’t just Saturday mornings anymore. You came to mind now at the most inconvenient times. Sitting on the bike while Jamie pulled him along at 5am when shouting at Jamie in the street would have been frowned upon and they instead trained quietly, whenever one of the kids dance routine songs came on the radio and he was forced to relive watching you teach them, at night in the dark when he was alone, in the shower… He absolutely had to stop thinking about you like this. Like you’d see it in his eyes when you waved good morning, or when he held his bank card over your little hand held machine to pay for the classes. He also couldn’t stand the very much married men who flirted so openly with you. Clearly telling their wives at home, no love, I’ll take little… Mabel to dance class, you stay here and have a lie in and a cup of tea.  

 

It was funny how they’d migrated from the later morning class which was run by a woman who had the body shape of a fucking pencil. Beautiful, yeah she wasn’t bad. But she didn’t have the strong thighs you did, the sweeping curve of your hip into a cute little waist. He couldn’t go another week like this. Had to stop now, stop being so pervy. He was no better than the other blokes who came to watch their kids' class. Except he was slightly better, because he was actually single. 

“Uncle Roy, we’re here, come on!” Phoebe was already half out of the car. He braced himself for another week of torture.

“Good morning guys! Come in, I’m just getting set up.” You called out from across the room. He was a bit too early really. Not intentionally, of course not. You were still in your hoodie, still setting up the portable speaker and drinking a Costa coffee. You put a song on in the background and he had to hold his breath while you pulled off the warm grey sweater. As it came off, it pulled the baggy cropped t-shirt up as well, exposing your sports bra underneath, the soft skin of your stomach. It was definitely soft whenever he thought about it anyway. You straightened yourself out and sat on the floor, stretching your legs out in front of you and reaching forward to your toes. Phoebe lept out of her seat, threw her coat at Roy and plonked herself down in front of you, mirroring your pose. “Joining me for a warm up Phoebs?” 

“It’s important to warm up. My Uncle Roy is a football coach and he says it’s the most important part.”

“He’s not wrong.” You smiled, moving through some other poses and stretches. He was a dead man. This was it. The end, this was how it was going to go. You stretch your arms up as far as you can reach them, stretching out your back with a little pop. He tried to ignore the fucking Grecian vase shape your body made, truly. Until you’d made a noise a little too close to a moan for his liking, followed by, “Holy shit that feels good.”

 

Fucking hell. Fucking hell .

 

“Sorry Phebs, didn’t mean to swear.”

“It’s ok. I’ll let you off the first time, but you owe me a pound next time.”

“Aww thanks.” The class soon filled up, he wished he’d taken a seat way at the back, out of the way so he could either look at you without it being so noticeable, or ignore you completely. He totally respected your classes, he really did. It was a tricky thing, conducting an age appropriate class for 9 year olds which avoided sexualising dance moves but also made them feel like they were able to move their bodies how they wanted to. Of course, it’s not always the dance moves themselves which could be seen as sexual, more often it’s the person watching who makes that connotation. And he tried so, so hard not to do that. Tried desperately to not think about how your body would move underneath his, on top of his, the beautiful sounds he could draw from you. He needed to get out, feigned a phone call, holding up his phone as he got to the door so you knew he’d be right outside if Phoebe needed anything. He didn’t think you’d even seen him until you gave him a little thumbs up. 

 

At the end of the class, you encourage the kids to just sit for a minute. You all usually end up sprawled on your backs, not having to make eye contact makes it easier for some of the kids to talk openly if they wanted help or an opinion on something. It was somewhat of an eye opener for the parents as well. This week, you had the kids sit up so they could see you, 

“I thought I might take you on a little trip, if you guys fancy it? I was going to go and see the new Barbie film after class next week. If any of you want to come with me, with your grown up - of course - then we could have a really exciting morning! I’m not allowed to take any of you without another grown up though, ok? So you’ll have to check with them first.” You handed each of them a little pink party invite. He already knew before Phoebe asked. Their match next week was on Sunday so he was free all of Saturday morning. He had no excuse to not take her, he also didn’t think he wanted one. 

 

He hoped you were a little bit dumb. It was a horrible thought, he knew that, to wish stupidity on someone. But if there was any chance of him making a full recovery and banishing you to the depths of his mind, never to turn up again - especially not when he was in the shower with his hand around himself, he really fucking hoped that you were dumber than a box of rocks. You weren’t. He already had an inkling of that, but he could still live in hope. 

“Fancy the Barbie movie next week?” You’d asked brightly as he’d held out his card to pay, he wasn’t sure if it was the physical and mental turmoil of having to watch you for the last hour, but he thought he could detect a sliver of hope in your voice.

“Fucking probably, she won’t let me say no.” Phoebe held out a hand for her pound. “Add it to my tab.” 

 

And of course, that’s how he found himself in a dark cinema the following week with a gaggle of kids around him. He was still trying to work out if it was a blessing or a curse that he’d ended up sitting next to you - it had certainly earned him glares from one or two of the other grown ups. As you laughed again at another joke aimed to sail just over pre-teen heads, he knew it was a curse. It had to be. Forced to listen to that laugh for two hours? Fucking torture. When you cried, he knew he was done for. He reached over, just a little and patted the back of your hand in comfort. Just a little there, there gesture. You’d only fucking gripped his hand and squeezed it, he stole a glance at you and you’d given him a watery smile and a little lopsided shrug. Then you’d let go of his hand, and turned back to the movie. He had to spend the remaining 45 minutes of the film trying not to think about your warm hands carefully exploring his body. 

 

The following week, he did it.

“Would you like to go for a coffee sometime?” He asked quietly as his card payment went through. He didn’t think you’d heard him until you looked up sharply.

"Aren't you like way out of my league?"

"What league is that then?”

“Well, you're in the ridiculously fit footballer league? Y’know for people who date supermodels and influencers?”

“I wouldn't fucking know about that.”

“I'm sure you would, I'm sure they don’t kick you out once you retire. Once a fit footballer, always a fit footballer? Is that the name of it? The… F. I. T? Or is it just the R.F.F.L?”

“What's that stand for?”

“No idea, it's your league, you tell me. Footballers Into Tits?”

“That’s a shit acronym”

“I know. I can do better, promise. Give me a minute.”

“I'm sure you'd be alright in that league” He said quietly,

“Excuse me? That was very cheeky. Ohh, maybe it could stand for ‘Filthy rich but Impossibly Tedious’?”

“That’s pretty good, definitely suits some footballers I know. Alright, fine. What fucking league are you in, then?”

“Whatever the Conference equivalent of the F.I.T is.”

“Now that can’t be true.”

“Oh yeah? How do you know?”

“I just fucking do. Is it a yes to coffee?”

“I mean, I still think you’re way too high up the F.I.T for me, but sure.”

“It’s the R.F.F.L actually.” He smirks as you hand him a flyer for the class. 

“My number is on there.” You tell him, then you’d walked away without taking his number, which meant he was going to have to be the one to contact you first. No, you definitely weren’t dumb. Shit .

 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was a combination of factors really, a busy week at work meant though he’d messaged you quickly, he wasn’t actually able to meet for coffee until the end of the week. So you’d spent all week in a message exchange which had ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous.

“Would you rather fight 100 tiny Jamie Tartt’s or 1 giant one?”

“100 tiny ones. I’d fucking stamp on them all.”

“Figured out what league you’re in.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Champions League.”

“Fuck off am I. I’ve wikipedia’d your dating history mate. Gina Gershon? I think I should cancel coffee now…”

“Fuck, please don’t.”

“Do you always try so hard to look like you’re not looking at dance class?”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uhuh. Ok.”

“Yes, I do. Every week is torture.”

“Jamie says I’m too old for the R.F.F.L.”

“Maybe that works in my favour. If I’m up against Gina fucking Gershon, I’d have no chance.”

“You’re not up against anyone.”

“I've been thinking about you all morning.”

“Was that flirting? Were you just flirting with me?”

“Shut up. See you later.”

And now… well. Coffee at 3pm on a Friday turned into dinner at 6pm, dessert at 8pm and a nightcap at 10pm in his kitchen. You tapped the edge of your empty tumbler,

“Another?” He asked, leaning against the counter just across from you.

“No, thank you. I should… go.” The lift at the end meant it could have been a statement, could have been a question. He nodded,

“Early class.”

“Yep. I think we lost track of time.”

“Or not,” he offered,

“Or not,” you bit your lip and he felt indecision fluttering in his chest. He pushed off the counter and closed the gap between you both in only one step.

“If I kissed you now, would you be mad?” He asked softly, he could see your body tremble with the breath you took.

“Think I’d be more mad if you didn’t.” He watched you hold his gaze for as long as you could before looking at his mouth. He took the tumbler from you and put it on the counter before placing a careful hand on your hip and leaning down to kiss you. The warm whisky taste of vanilla and honey mingled with the chocolate from your dessert and Roy realised that no, he hadn’t been tortured before, watching you teach a bunch of kids how to dance wasn’t the way he was going to go. This was. Right here in his kitchen with your arms winding around his neck and bringing him as close as you could possibly get him. Your fingers scratching through his hair. He pressed you into the counter, 

“I’ve thought about doing this for a long time,” he whispered, kissing down your neck, making you gasp. He pulled away quickly, worried that it was too much too soon, “Shit, sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” He went to move further back to give you space but your hands gripped his shirt to pull him back in,

“Please, I don’t want to stop,” you breathed heavily, “I don’t want you to stop.” You said, more firmly. He was against you again in an instant,

“Sure?” He asked, “You’re sure?” You stepped up to kiss him, making your feelings very clear,

“I’m sure.” Your fingers flew to the buttons of his shirt, undoing the first couple. He pulled you away from the counter, strong arms wrapped around your back and lifted you enough to move you both to the sofa. You stumbled against the cushions, falling backwards and pulling him with you so that he landed heavily on top of you.

"Oof."

“Fuck, sorry. You ok?” He sits back up on his knees, allowing you to automatically move your legs to either side of his and sit up,

“Never better,” his smile catches you off guard, “fuck, you’re gorgeous.” You mumble, reaching for him. The feeling is more than mutual. He needs to feel your kiss again, desperate to feel your skin on his. It’s better than anything he’d spent the last 8 weeks dreaming of. And the sounds you made as his hands and kisses explored your body were enough to drive him insane. He moves further down your body, pulling your skirt down with him and immediately turns to trail kisses and little bites along your inner thigh while his hand reaches up to link fingers with yours.

“Look at me,” he whispered, his breath hot against your hip. The simple request alone made your body turn to liquid against him. He’d spent so long thinking about (denying, debating, ignoring) the effect you had on him, he hadn’t actually considered that you would be just as affected by him. He wasn’t stupid, he knew he looked y’know, alright , for an older bloke. But still, seeing it first hand… seeing it first hand, hearing it first hand, from you was really something else entirely. You tugged his hand to bring up back up to you but he shook his head, his beard catching the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, “busy,” he said, his voice muffled. He focused on nothing but you, losing himself in each gasp, moan and clutch of your hand still holding his. He worked you through one bone-shaking orgasm without stopping, leaving you a shuddering mess as he went straight for another. Looking up at you, he could see the hand that wasn’t clinging onto him had covered your eyes. This time when you squeezed his hand, he made his way back up your body and settled between your legs. “You ok?” he asked, leaving soft kisses on your jaw before finally capturing your mouth in a filthy kiss. You didn’t speak, just shook your head. “You taste fucking incredible.” He kissed you again and you whimpered, finally moving your hand away from your eyes.

“I’ve got a problem.”

“Oh yeah?” He said, moving back to your neck, a hand slipping behind you to unclip your bra.

“Yeah I thought you’d only want a one night thing but that’s impossible now.”

“It was fucking impossible anyway. One night is definitely not enough time.”

“Oh,” you whispered weakly. “Good. Please-, oh fuck,” he caught a nipple lightly between his teeth, “please don’t stop.” So he didn’t, and he never would again if it was up to him. When he’d been (much) younger, he fully grasped the importance and concept of consent. He was a professional footballer - it wasn’t just important, it was crucial. But as he’d gotten older, he finally realised just how much better saying, and hearing, the words made everything. Being able to ask, “may I?” and “I need to hear you say it” and waiting, waiting, waiting, for the breathy response had never left him so wrecked before. He pushed into you in long, slow strokes while you met him with each roll of your hips. When you hold his jaw tightly to bring his gaze to yours, he nearly falls apart but he's determined to get you there first and he knows you're so close. "You feel so good-," you whisper, "So good."

"Fuck, I need-"

"I know, I'm right with you." His name is on you lips as you come and he thinks it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard. When he joins you, he kisses you with such depth it's like you were made for him. You lay still together for a while as you catch your breath. He keeps his nose in the crook of your neck while his hand softly smooths across your ribs and the side of your breasts. Your legs no longer lock around him, you stretch out and enjoy the weight of his body covering you. 

"'M crushing you," he mumbles. His voice so low in your ear makes you shiver and despite you not being ready for another round quite so soon, your hips buck, "Fucking hell, give me a minute," he laughs.

"You're not crushing me, and I'm not ready yet either," you grin into his hairline and kiss his temple. 

"Hmm if you say so." He rocks against you, half hard again already, needing to hear the broken little moan that ghosts over his head. "Come on, I want you in a bed this time."

 

He wasn't happy when you had to tear yourself from his bed at 7am to go home. He wasn't happy when he picked Phoebe up at 8am. He wasn't happy in the drive thru Costa queue at 8.10am. He was happy at 8.20am when he finally got to hand you your coffee and see your smile as you stretched out on the floor of the dance studio. He was perfectly happy knowing that you'd be torturing his Saturday mornings for a while longer. 

 

FIN

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fic #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent imagine #roy kent smut #roy kent x you #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fluff

[cupid-styles]

ymls angst with Harry snapping at y/n would be so interesting to read! And you know bestie I love me some grumpy h!

hehehehehehe here's some angst for all the emo besties out there

word count: 691

content warnings: none (but — spoiler ahead — not a happy ending)

masterlist | talk to me

part of the ymls universe! | part two

. . .

In hindsight, it had been a total lapse of judgement on Y/N's part.

The kiss wasn't bad. Anything but, actually. And that's why she was regretting it — memories of gentle touches, a hesitant squeeze to her hip, and lips smacking against one another wreaked havoc on her psyche. Every time she closed her eyes, she was back in Harry's arms, kissing him goodbye as if this was something they always did.

It wasn't, though. They hadn't touched each other in that way since the night she got pregnant.

She doesn't know what came over her. One second, she was walking him out after they fell asleep on her couch watching Friends. It was a Saturday night and he'd brought Chinese food for dinner after she mentioned having a craving for dumplings and lo mein.

The next minute, they were standing in her doorway, tired eyes staring at each other, soft promises leaving their lips: "Text me when you get home?" "I'll see you soon." "I'll let you know if I feel the baby kick. Doctor said it could happen soon."

And then, it happened. She's not sure who leaned in first, but she knows it felt so good, like a warm shower after getting caught in a rainstorm, or waking up to the scent of French toast and pancakes on a Sunday morning.

Neither of them said anything about it when it was done. An impromptu makeout in the arch of her doorway that had them both secretly kicking their feet like teenagers. All he did was brush his thumb over her cheek and give her a small smile before turning on his heel and walking away.

But now they're in the car, on their way home from shopping for some maternity clothes for her, and things feel... weird. Y/N doesn't know if she's the one to blame for the awkwardness, but it's thick, filling the interior of Harry's car up in a way that neither one of them can ignore.

"I'm sorry." she finally blurts out, her eyes glued to the road in front of them as her hand clutches the handle of the shopping bag.

With furrowed eyebrows, he glances over at her. "What?"

"I'm sorry," she repeats. "About... you know."

"About...?"

She huffs, dropping the bag back between her legs. "Kissing you. The other night."

"Oh." he says before rolling his lips into his mouth, pressing them into a thin line. "Why are you apologizing for that?"

"Because now things are weird between us."

Harry shrugs. "I don't think so."

Y/N rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. Normally, he might view this as a somewhat intimidating pose, but with her rounded tummy, her forearms are pressed against her bump. It makes him smile some, especially given her grumpy expression.

"You know, we've kissed before. Done more than that actually." he says when she doesn't reply.

"I know that, but we haven't done it since that night."

"That's true," Harry murmurs, tapping his fingers against the leather of the steeling wheel. "Is it really that big a deal, though? I mean... we clearly have chemistry, Y/N. There's something... between us. Don't you think?"

Y/N's eyes nearly bulge out of her head as she whips around to look at the man beside her. "That's news to me."

"What is?"

"That there's chemistry between us."

"Y/N," Harry scoffs. "You can't be serious."

"You are?"

"Of course I am!" he exclaims. Suddenly, he's pulling into some parking lot of a supermarket and she opens her mouth to question him, but he doesn't give her a chance when he throws the car in park. "You seriously think there's absolutely nothing between us? Not a single ounce of mutual attraction?"

Y/N shrugs her shoulders. "I haven't really thought about it."

He chortles humorlessly with a shake of his head. "That's bullshit and you know it."

She steams forward with the emotionless expression on her face, as if she's purposely trying to make Harry feel crazy.

"I think you may have taken that kiss for more than it was," she finally says, though the tears threatening to spill over her waterline prove different. With a protective hand stroking the top of her bump, she swallows the lump away. "Can you just take me home, please?"

He doesn't speak another word to her for the rest of the drive back to her place.

read part two here :D

#writing #ymls concept

[elliespassagerprincess]

I’m not sure if you do horror but can you do a horror one like scream themed or any horror movie

Scream for me - part 1 (ellie williams x reader)

This will be a three part series, part two will be released soon!

Pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

Requests are always open feel free to leave one!

Warnings: murder, stalking, mentions of violence, body mutilation

Summary: Not killing the pretty girl was the best mistake she ever made

(if you want me to add you to a tag list just leave a comment and I'll add you)

Fuck

Why was she standing still? Why wasn’t she moving? Why was she hesitating?

Everyone in Jackson was terrified. The brutal murders happening around town might be the reason for that.

The first victim a beautiful blonde girl; Jamie Smith was found on a cold Saturday morning. Head decapitated, with over 20 stab wounds. No one knew why someone would kill such an innocent girl. After the first murder a second victim appeared: Jacob Hill. His genitalia mutilated, his tongue missing and once again over 20 stab wounds. And soon another victim then another and another. And soon the death count went from 2 to over 15 people. No one was safe. Whoever this murderer was, was thirsty for blood. And she’d kill anyone to quenched that thirst.

But here she stood over you sleeping body.

Why wasn’t she attacking you? In all honesty she doesn’t know. She doesn’t fucking know who you were. But that’s the thing she never knew her victims. It makes killing easier.

 But why couldn’t she hurt you?

She ruthless, borderline satanic. But yet as she looked at you while you slept she felt her dark thoughts go silent.  You were pretty. The face of an angel. The face of pure innocence. She couldn’t harm such a pretty thing like you.

So the famous Ghostface (that’s what everyone calls this murderer) went home. And she questioned herself.

Why didn’t she fucking kill you?

She removed her mask, the autumn brown hair falling out of the loose bun she placed it in.

“stupid fucking hair” Ellie muttered out of frustration. Her hair was so fucking short she couldn’t even tie a proper ponytail. She quickly removed the gloves, and placed her favorite knife back in it’s case. She swiftly removed the all black outfit she wore, and she was left in red boxers and a black sports bra. Ellie laid down on her bed, and she let out a sigh.

She didn’t kill anyone tonight. That was weird. She always kills people when she goes out. Her not killing you ruined her current killing streak.

“Fuck” she muttered and closed her eyes trying to fall asleep. The more she tried the less the felt sleepy. Her thoughts consumed her. With her past victims, Joel, the police and you.

 Who were you?

Ellie had to know. Even if it fucking kills her.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Ellie waited. She waited for the alarm to sound.

Since the killings, Jackson has had a curfew. Everyone should be in the house before night fall, doors locked. Everyone was terrified. No one could figure out who Ghostface was. A question many asked because they hated living in fear. But Ellie liked it. She liked having people scared of her. She liked knowing the reason people were forced to stay inside was because of her. She got a sick kick out of it.

The alarm sounded and she waited for one hour, because the police patrol that one hour hoping to catch her. No one can. No one will.

At exactly 11:00pm Ellie went out. Not to kill. But to find out who that pretty girl was. She knew she couldn’t kill you. The way her body reacted at the sight of you made it impossible. But she needed to know who you were.

It didn’t take long for Ellie to find your house again. Your curtains closed and windows locked. 

“Fuck” she muttered under her breathe when she couldn’t get in “fuck you pretty girl” she cursed. Ellie ran to the other side of the house and she thanked the gods that there was a window open.

She squeezed through the small window, “shit” she cursed out loudly when she felt her foot land in cold water. She landed in the toilet cringing at how it made her socks feel. She quickly got out not caring if she made your floor wet and she went back to the bedroom.

When she entered she was hit with a strong vanilla smell she thought she could faint at how strong the smell is. “jesus fucking christ” she cursed. And she stood there, trying to get used to the smell.

And that’s when she saw once again you lay there sleeping. Blissfully unaware that Ghostface was standing above you for the second time. You looked peaceful, it looked like you didn’t have a worry in the world but your messy room said otherwise. Clothes everywhere, books scattered across the floor.

“She’s probably in college” Ellie thought when she saw all the texts books.

 pretty and smart. Her favorite.

Her eyes landed on a wall filled with polaroid’s. Her mouth fell agape when she saw you. Awake. You were even prettier than she imagined. She was mesmerized by you. Her thoughts were quickly disturbed when she saw a picture of you and a girl. Ellie frowned.

Who was she?  Why were you with her? Why do you look so happy? She was going to fucking kill-

‘Woah Ellie calm down’ she thought to herself. She didn’t even know your fucking name.

She quickly grabbed the polaroid of you smiling. You wore a blue and white sundress, you looked beautiful. She smiled down at the picture, stuffing it into her pocket.

She made a quick mental note of that girl she saw in the picture with you. Ellie was going to find her. She was going to know who the fuck that girl was.

 She stayed in your room. The entire night. She watched you sleep, she cleaned up a little and she left with the polaroid.

In the days to come Ellie has gone insane. Every time she went out to kill some, she took that polaroid with her. That fucking picture of the pretty girl who’s name she doesn’t know. Every time she stabbed someone, every time the blade pierced someone’s skin she imagined you whispering;

“do it again” “kill them”

She doesn’t even know what you sound like, but fuck the way she imagines it has her dripping. She hoped to hear your voice one day.

She kissed that picture every time she went out, she slept with it under her pillow. She had it in her pocket 24/7.

And in the passing nights, she went back to your house every time. She watched you sleep, she cleaned up a little, she got mad at that picture of you and that girl who she still hasn’t found. You’ve consumed her life and she doesn’t even fucking know your name.

Tonight was like no other for Ellie, she murdered an old man. She did her classic 20 stab wound method then she set him on fire. It was something new. Something entertaining. This will definitely get a kick out of the community she thought. She went home and showered trying to clean off all the blood so that she doesn’t get your room messy. She kissed the polaroid, put it into her pocket and she left.

She left to you. Once again she hopped through the bathroom window. And she ran straight to your room, as she cleaned she accidently knocked the lamp off your bedside table. And she heard a whimper from behind her.

‘Fuck” she breathed. She slowly turned around to see you sitting, knees to your chin, fear in your eyes. This was the first time Ellie is seeing you awake, and she wanted to do nothing more but to grab you and kiss you.

“Who are you?” the pretty girl whispered

What the fuck was Ellie going to do?

part 2

Authors note: sorry for just disappearing, I was in a really bad space mentally, but I’m back now! I hope you enjoyed, and trust me this story is going to get darker in the next part. Remember to always be kind! Requests are always open, feel free to leave one! And if you wanna be in the tag list just leave a comment !

Yours truly,

Zia <3

#ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou x reader #ellie smut #ellie tlou2 x reader #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams #ellie williams drabble #ellie williams fanfic #ellie x reader #dark elli william #dark! ellie williams #ellie tlou2 #ellie williams fic #ellie williams angst #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams hcs #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams one shot #ellie williams oneshot #ellie williams promlt #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams smut #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader

[thatbloodymuggle]

READY TO RUN (iv)

FOUR - DIMINUENDO

SUMMARY: in a world where everyone has a predetermined match, JJ Maybank and Y/N Montgomery want nothing to do with theirs. it has to be a cruel joke; the universe forcing two people to love each other when they don’t know how.

PAIRING: jj maybank x reader / soulmate au

WORD COUNT: 4k

SERIES MASTERLIST

SONG: CHOPIN’S 24 PRELUDES, OP.28: NO.4 IN E MINOR

✰✰✰

You never liked tennis, despite being forced into lessons since the ripe age of 6. You greatly preferred more physical sports, like lacrosse or soccer, as opposed to prim and proper tennis.

Yet, here you were, at the annual mid-summer Outer Banks amateur tennis tournament. Any other year, you would have been in bed with an unfortunate "cold". But due to recent events, you didn't dare protest when the entire Montgomery family hiked their tennis bags onto their shoulders and drove to the country club. 

Georgia was the most excited of the Montgomery clan, as she never failed to remind everyone that she was the reigning North Carolina 13U tennis champion. Of course, daddy's favorite would be playing with Clyde.

Dixie would be playing with your mother, as her boyfriend Brad was still away on business. Margaret knew Dixie was only participating for the open bar, but of course, so was she. 

Much to your relief, you partnered up with Anna. You thanked God that Anna's dad was out of town; otherwise you would be stuck with your own father's creepy college roommate, Carl. 

"I hate this sport," you grumbled while readjusting your ponytail, "Why can't we play, like, soccer or something? I feel like kicking something. Or someone."

"Come on, it won't be that bad," Anna chimed while double-knotting her shoes, "Topper and Kate will beat us first round and then we're off the hook for the day."

You scoffed, "Even if we lose there's no way in hell I'm getting out of here. My mom's got me on a short leash. She’s not letting me out of her sight."

"Well you had quite the night without her around on Saturday," Anna grumbled, jumping up from the bench. She didn't bother waiting for you as she sauntered over to the court to stretch and get the game started.

Your cheeks flushed red as your mind was infiltrated with flashbacks from the night at the Kegger, which in turn, reminded you of the other day in JJ's beat-up pickup truck. You could almost smell the rain pouring down, feel the warmth of his flannel, taste his-

"Let's get a move on, Y/N!"

Topper's booming voice startled you, shaking you from the unwanted thoughts. You jumped from the bench and ran to the court, willing the blush covering your face to go away. You'd gone all morning without thinking about your other half, and you weren't about to let him ruin your already horrible day. 

"Let's get this show on the road," you feigned a grin.

Kate shot you a weird look from across the net--everyone knew how much you didn't want to be there. But regardless, you tossed a ball across the net for Topper and Kate to serve. 

To no one's surprise, the loving couple immediately took the lead. You found yourself actually putting effort into the game in an attempt to distract yourself from all the chaos plaguing your mind. But still, you sucked.

Kate and Topper cheered as they shot yet another ball across the net that neither Anna nor you could track down. You huffed, and trudged back to your position on the court. Sweat beaded on your forehead, and you tried to wipe it away with your arm in vain. A squeal sounded from the court opposite you, and you glanced over to see Georgia cheering and your father spinning her around in a celebratory manner. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. 

You instantly regretted letting your eyes wander away from the court as a tennis ball came flying at your face and a sharp pain exploded in your nose. 

"Shit!" you screeched, cupping your nose. 

You glared across the net at Topper who was in a fit of laughter.

"What the hell?" you yelped.

"That's 30-15, losers!" he laughed back, high-fiving Kate.

"You're an ass," you grumbled back, just loud enough for Topper to hear. You turned expectantly to Anna, waiting for your best friend since 3rd grade to back you up. Your frown deepened as you found Anna staring in the opposite direction, oblivious to Topper's antics. 

You followed Anna's gaze to find her staring at the Pogue you were desperately trying to avoid; JJ Maybank.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," you fought the urge to snap your racket in half. 

JJ's nose scrunched up in discomfort, and his fingers pressed against the bridge of it. Your eyes widened as you realized you were holding your throbbing nose in the same manner. You ripped your hand away from your face and cleared your throat, "Anna!"

Your counterpart ripped her gaze away from the Pogue and shot Topper a tight-lipped smile. 

"Nice one, Top," Anna called to the pair across the net.

"Anna--" you hissed at your friend, trying to pull her attention away from the game.

"30 serving 15, right?" Anna ignored you, getting in her ready stance for the next point.

Your lips parted, but you shut your mouth as you realized there was nothing to say. What would you say? You had no idea what was going through Anna's mind, and you were in the middle of Kook central. 

You could feel JJ's gaze burning into you, but you didn't dare turn to face him. Instead, you mimicked Anna's ready stance, and pretended to give a shit about the game, internally praying it would be over soon.

The first set ended without a hitch, and then the second. By the end of the game, you were sweating profusely despite losing miserably. 

With one last serve, you tossed the ball in the air and swung the racket with the little energy you had left. You sighed in relief as your serve flew about two feet out of bounds. Topper and Kate cheered across the court.

"At least it's over," you sighed, your arms falling limp by your sides.

You didn't even bother walking up to the net to shake hands with your opponents. It was Topper and Kate; they wouldn't be offended. Instead, you trudged over to the bench. You didn't hesitate to lay down on the bench with a sigh of relief. You threw an arm over your face to shield yourself from the sun and blindly reached for your water bottle. 

"You suck at tennis," a grating voice disturbed your moment of recovery.

You lifted your arm and squinted one eye open. You groaned when you caught sight of the striking blue eyes that seemed to follow you everywhere you went.

"Go away," you spit, closing your eyes again.

"No can do, sweetheart," JJ quipped.

"You're interrupting my peace and quiet."

"And you're interrupting my job," he shot back, "Go get your peace and quiet somewhere else."

You grunted, hauling yourself up from the bench. your legs felt weak, but you forced yourself to stand. You turned to face JJ with your arms crossed.

His signature mud-caked boots were replaced with a slightly cleaner pair of sneakers. His uniform khaki shorts were a far cry from his usual attire; not to mention the white polo shirt with a shiny name tag clipped to it. Despite the Kook-ish uniform, his messy blond hair was a dead giveaway that he did not belong in the Outer Banks Country Club. Not to mention he was very hard at work folding dainty white towels. 

"Nice polo," you snorted.  

JJ diverted his attention back to his towel folding. You rolled your eyes, ready to walk away when a sweaty, used towel was flung in your direction. You screeched as it landed on your face, and flung it back at the culprit. 

JJ laughed at your overreaction and dodged your retaliatory attack. 

"You're a pig," you scowled.

"You're one to talk, Miss Bourgeoisie."

Your lips curled into a sneer, "I despise-"

"Y/N Montgomery!" a cold voice shut you up immediately.

Your cheeks flushed and you subconsciously cowered as you turned to face your mother.

"Come watch your father and sister play," Margaret Montgomery ordered. "And stop associating with scum," she lowered her voice, but kept it just loud enough so the Pogue could hear. 

You were swept with embarrassment and guilt. As much as you didn't want JJ around, he didn't deserve to be equated to scum by your mother for merely doing his job. Nevertheless, you hung your head and followed your mother obediently. Your body screamed at you to turn around and apologize, but you didn't dare spare JJ another glance. 

The Pogue scoffed, and flung the towel he was holding onto the bench in frustration. He fought the urge to curse the evil witch out, and instead searched for Pope, who was on catering duty. He caught a glimpse of his friend a couple of courts away. JJ abandoned his towels and strode towards the other Pogue. What was the worst that could happen, he'd get fired? He was ready to get out of there anyways. 

Just as he was a few strides from stealing Pope away from his work, a freshly manicured hand dug into his arm, yanking him into the doorway of the club entrance. 

"What the hell-"

"Stay away from her."

JJ let out a dry laugh as he stood face to face with a very pissed off Anna Kim. Her arms were crossed and her eyes narrowed with malice. 

"Well shit, I'm popular today. I'm like a Kook chick magnet," he smirked, "This has been a great ego boost, but I'm not interested, Kim."

JJ tried to brush past her, but you caught his arm yet again, turning him back to face her.

"I mean it," Anna hissed, "Leave her the hell alone, Pogue. She doesn't need you fucking up her life; she deserves better than that."

JJ's jaw ticked, and he yanked his arm out of her piercing grip, "I know you Kooks like to think that you run this island and all of us lowly peasants are just dying to infiltrate your perfect little lives, but you'll be shocked to hear that silver spoons and high teas are my own personal hell. I have absolutely no interest in your friend."

Anna's glare only deepened at the thinly veiled insult, "Glad we're on the same page." 

She pulled a dollar bill from the back of her phone and passed it alongside her dirty towel from the tennis match to the Pogue. "For your troubles, towel boy," she sneered, venom dripping from her lips. She swiftly turned on her heels, and sauntered back over to her friends.

JJ shook with rage as he crumpled up the dollar bill in his fist and carelessly threw the used towel aside. He had never wanted to clock a girl so badly. "Entitled bitch," he grumbled while ripping off the shiny name tag pinned to his chest, and tossed it alongside the dirty towel. JJ marched swiftly towards Pope, who was manning the grill. 

"Hey man, you wanna dip early?" JJ's words caused Pope to jump, nearly sending a patty flying through the air. 

"Shit dude, don't sneak up on me like that!" Pope cried, turning to face his friend. He frowned as he took in the sour expression painted across JJ's face, "What happened to you?"

"If I have to serve one more of these pigs I'm gonna lose it," the blond snapped, "you coming?"

Pope cocked a brow at his friend's nonresponse, but decided against pushing him any further as he really did seem ready to burst. "I can't dude, you know my dad will kill me. Why don't you just stick it out for another hour?"

JJ huffed, "No way, I'm out of here." He turned on his heels and weaved his way through the mass of polo shirts and tennis skirts, leaving a very confused Pope behind. 

For as long as he could remember, JJ had been certain that the soulmate thing wasn't for him. Still, he used to feel bad for whoever his other half was. He felt guilty for the pain he constantly put them through. He routinely laid awake at night, mulling over the impending disappointment his soulmate would feel when they inevitably found out who he was, and the life he led. 

But now, any trace of guilt he previously felt was gone; crushed by the pristine, designer shoe of Y/N Montgomery. 

As he stomped aimlessly along the side the road and spat at the gaudy white houses (both figuratively and literally), JJ tried with all of his might to take his mind off of his soulmate. But, much to his frustration, every train of thought led back to you. 

You were an enigma; the object of his unwavering hatred, and of his deepest desire.

✰✰✰

After a long day under the beating sun, Georgia and Clyde Montgomery were crowned the Kildare County Annual Tennis Tournament doubles champions, to absolutely no one's surprise. 

You, on the other hand, were left with a blistering sunburn and an equally scorching feeling of resentment in the pit of your, or should you say JJ's, stomach. 

With your family caught up celebrating the youngest Montgomery child's win, you were able to slip away from the post-tournament award dinner to accompany your friends to the neighboring docks. The sun had set, and you welcomed the soothing touch of the ocean breeze against your skin as you sat with your feet dangling over the water. You let your eyes flutter shut, and just for a minute, tuned out the voices around your and your own thoughts. 

"Are you alright, Y/N? You're quiet today," Kate's voice jerked you away from the temporary relief. Your eyes fluttered open, and you turned to your three friends staring at you; Topper and Kate's brows furrowed in concern, whereas Anna remained stoic.

"'M fine, just exhausted from the tournament, I guess," you sighed with a soft smile which didn't quite reach your eyes, "Are you implying that I'm a bore?"

Kate rolled her eyes, "Yeah, I actually can't stand you," she nudged you jokingly.

"I second that," Topper interjected, earning a glare from you.

"You're one to talk, you grouch," you flicked your foot to kick up a splash of water towards him.

Topper shrieked at your assault, and reached over the dock to send a splash of water right back, "Don't test me, Montgomery. I will throw you in.  You know I'm--"

Topper was cut off by another splash of water, this time from a giggling Kate. His jaw dropped at his girlfriend's betrayal, and you seized the moment to send and your spray of water towards him. His eyes narrowed, and you bolted up before he could lunge towards you. You ran away giggling as Topper scrambled up to chase after you, all the while continuously getting splashed by water from both Kate and Anna now, who had joined in on the action. 

"You are so dead!" Topper shouted after you, as you tried your best to outrun him. It wasn't long until he caught up to you and grabbed you, throwing you over his shoulder.

"Owww, Topper put me down!" you squealed. You kicked your legs blindly and tried to squirm out of his grip, but to no avail. 

"You made your bed, Montgomery, now lie in it," Topper quipped. Although you were unable to see his face, you could hear the smug grin in his tone. Kate and Anna were cackling. 

Your eyes widened as Topper neared the edge of the dock, "Topper don't you dare throw me in, I will not hesitate to kick you in the balls!"

You pleaded with your friend, but he had already made his mind up. You screeched as he dumped your rather ungracefully over the edge of the dock. You squinted your eyes shut and braced yourself for the impact milliseconds before you was submerged under the cool water. You swam back up and gasped as your head broke the surface. Kate and Anna were now laughing so hard, tears were streaming down their cheeks. You wiped the water from your eyes, and glared up at a smirking Topper. 

However, a devilish grin took over your face as you noticed Kate's legs were dangling over the edge of the dock in your fit of laughter. Before Topper could stop you, you lurched forward and tugged your friend down into the water with you. Kate screamed as she fell over the edge and into the water. She coughed violently as she came up from underneath the water, "What the hell was that for?"

You sent a splash of water towards Kate, "For enabling your boyfriend!"

Before Kate could splash you back, a wave of water engulfed both of you as Topper cannon-balled between you. You both cried out, and assaulted him with splashes as soon as his head peeked out from underneath the surface. 

You giggled as you fought with your friends in the moonlit water. This was the first time in days that your mind wasn't plagued with thoughts of piano, or college applications, or your soulmate. Even if for just a few minutes, you felt an unwavering bliss like no other.

But just as quickly as it engulfed you, bliss slipped away.

The feeling of sharp nails dragging down your back wiped the wide grin off of your face instantly. In an instant, you became acutely aware of your whole body. You felt teeth nipping harshly at your neck, and a familiar feeling bubbling in the pit of your stomach. You felt your gut twist and wrench; but this feeling was your own. 

You had felt your soulmate getting it on many times in the past. Sure, it annoyed your; but only because it would interrupt your own activities. You had never thought of it as anything more than a nuisance.

But things were different now. You had felt the electrifying touch of his skin on yours; of his lips on yours. You had stared into his ocean eyes. He was no longer some faceless, nameless agitation. He was JJ Maybank.

"You're feeling him, aren't you?" Anna's icy tone sent a shiver up your spine.

Anna frowned down at you from your seat on the dock. You were suddenly aware of your surroundings and whipped around to find that Topper and Kate had drifted off on their own. You diverted your attention towards Anna again, feeling small under her punitive gaze. You felt the invisible nails clawing at your back again, and clambered out of the water as if you could escape the feeling.

"I don't know what you want me to do about it, Ann," you barely spoke above a whisper, "It's not like I can break the bond." you hugged yourself as the combination of your dripping wet clothes and the soft sea breeze made you shiver. 

"No, but you're entertaining the idea of it," Anna coolly replied, "I saw how you looked at him today."

You frowned and clenched your fists as the feeling of pleasure in your gut returned. You sunk your nails into your arms with the hope that JJ would receive your message. 

You composed yourself before you bit back, "I don't know what you're talking about, Anna. I barely looked at him. But even if I did, then so what?"

"I'm just looking out for you here, Y/N. He's bad news, and you're above that. You don't need that kind of chaos in your life," Anna replied in a condescending tone, eliciting a scoff from you.

"Do you think I'm fucking dense? I am fully aware of who he is and where he comes from, and frankly, I don't have a rat's ass what side of the island he lives on," you seethed, "I won't be associating with him because I don't want a soulmate, not because he's beneath me. And my decision to do so will not be to satisfy you, or my family. That decision will be made for myself, and myself only."

As you ranted, your voice raised and captured the attention of Kate and Topper. 

"Well someone has to look out for you if you won't look out for yourself," Anna sniped back, matching your volume. 

You groaned, and stomped your foot in frustration, "Get your head out of your ass, Anna. You and I both know that you're only looking out for yourself and your reputation."

Anna opened her mouth to reply, but you cut her off, "I'm out of here."

You spun on your heels, and marched away from your angry friend. You ignored Kate and Topper's confused shouts asking you what happened, and where you were going. 

As you walked further from the scene, your composure cracked with each step. It wasn't until you were completely out of earshot that you allowed it to shatter completely. Just as the first tear trailed down your face, the first sob wracked your trembling body. Your bottom lip wobbled as you willed yourself to calm down, but to no avail. Your legs felt like jelly as you stumbled along the side of the road, tears streaming down your face. Your vision blurred, and you couldn't contain the wails escaping you. It was as if your body was dispelling all of the events from the past week. The fight with your parents, the stress from Madame, and the unavoidable, mind splitting confusion you felt over JJ Maybank.

JJ. 

You were doing just fine until he came into the picture. You had a handle over things. But the small semblance of control you had felt over your own life had cruelly slipped between your fingers, as you sobbed over a boy you barely knew. You cried over the image of him with another girl. And you cried over the prospect of accepting him as a part of your life. Above all, you cried because you felt helplessly alone. No matter how suffocating your secret became, you couldn't talk about it with anyone, as Anna had proven to you that evening. 

You stumbled over your feet, but before you could collapse a pair of wet arms caught you, wrapping around you from behind. 

Your cries only escalated as Topper held your frail body against his chest, "Shhh, Y/N. It'll be okay. You're okay. You're safe."

Despite his soothing tone, you shook your head violently, unable to respond through your wheezing sobs. He delicately turned your body to face him and wrapped his arms around you once again. Topper held you firmly against his chest and rubbed circles in your back, all the while whispering affirmations in your ear. Breathe, Y/N. You can do this. You're strong. You buried your face in the fabric of his soaking shirt, muffling your cries. 

You weren't sure how long you stood there crying into Topper's arms, but his hold on you did not waver until your sobs subsided into hiccups, and your breathing slowed to a normal rate. Eventually, you were able to unravel yourself from his limbs. Your red, puffy eyes trained on his, and you opened your mouth to speak. But your voice was hoarse, and you didn't know what to say. 

"You don't have to say anything," Topper read your mind, "But at least let me walk you home."

Your shoulders sagged in relief, and you nodded gratefully. You began the mile long trek to the Montgomery estate in a silence filled only with the sound of your hiccups and chirping cicadas. Your eyes remained trained on the ground below, but true to his word, Topper did not ask you any questions. You felt his concerned gaze trained on you, but didn't dare to meet his eyes. As you walked side by side, you felt a fogginess overcome your mind. A haze brought on by crying until you had no tears left. For just a moment, you allowed yourself to dissociate from the chaos. You felt a temporary relief; one you knew wouldn't last long, but that you welcomed all the same. Because you knew that tomorrow it would pass, and you would have to confront the mess you had the misfortune of calling your life.

And boy, what a mess you were in.

-

...so it's been a minute, but I felt inspired to pick this back up again. taglist is super old, so please message me if you would like to be added or taken off! (repost)

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #outer banks #jj maybank imagine #jj x reader #jj maybank fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction

[nicohischierz]

always and forever: luke hughes

tani speaks: i don’t actually know if i like this but here is a luke fic based on the relationship between haley and nathan from one tree hiil

you’d been best friends with jack since the family moved to michigan. you spent your weekends babysitting luke and your weekdays following jack to the rink for practice. you were basically part of the hughes family, except you weren’t athletically able.  

“i need your help,” luke’s voice startled you slightly. 

you were surprised to find luke hughes in your university library but if he needed your help and willingly came inside the building then it was serious. you finished the sentence you were working on before turning to the boy. 

“what do you need help with lukie?” you asked. luke groaned at the nickname before pulling his laptop out “i need help with my stats class, it’s kicking my ass,” he explained. 

so that evening you and luke sat in the library conquering his stats assignment. you also taught him what he didn’t know and rewarded him with a hot chocolate. 

that one evening turned into luke continuously asking for your help in different classes. for the handful of classes you did share with luke, the young boy decided to sit right next to you. 

now you had been tutoring luke for two months and you only had one strict rule. be on time. you had cancelled plans to hang out with steve and ports for this session and now that luke was late you were going to ask them if you join. 

seconds before you left your house, luke came barrelling in, he had a mcdonalds bag in his hand. “sorry i’m late, there was a long line at mcdonalds,” he explained holding the bag. 

you rolled your eyes and took him up to your room. “i thought hockey players had a strict diet?” you asked, popping a fry in your mouth. luke nodded, his cheeks filled “it’s cheat day,” he explained, a smile on his face. 

luke had bought two happy meals, claiming they were the best. once he was done with his food he grabbed the toys from your boxes and handed one to you to open. 

“oh sweet a furby,” he mumbled. luke decided that the two furbys would be your children and that the two of you had to take turns taking care of each of them. 

“we’re having a party at the hockey this saturday, if you want to come,” luke invited. he was lying on his stomach on your bed as you sat at your desk. you shrugged your shoulder “i’ll think about it,” you replied. 

you did end up going to the party and luke was ecstatic. as soon as he saw you, he was by your side and never left. eventually, you just asked him to dance with you and he downed his beer before allowing you to take charge. 

luke towered over you as you danced with him. your bodies were pressed up against each other, his hands on your waist as yours wrapped around his neck. you weren’t sure who initiated it first but seconds later his lips were on yours. 

the kisses between the two of you continued until you reached luke’s room in the other hockey house. you spent the night in luke’s room your fingers tangled in his hair as he left marks down your body. 

when the two of you woke up, there was no awkward tension. it actually felt right to wake up in each others arms. and so after that you and luke would sneak around his friends to go on dates. 

the thought of it did feel a little weird at first, considering jack was your best friend, but in the end you loved luke and jack didn’t have a say in who you could be with. 

you and luke managed to keep your relationship hidden from both your families during playoffs. however, quinn did speculate something was going on between the two of you. 

his suspicions were confirmed when he saw you and luke cuddled up on a hammock one morning at the lake house. you were laying on luke’s chest your two furbys on your stomach as luke wrapped his arms around you. 

“i love you y/n. always and forever,” luke whispered in your ear. 

“you’re my forever, luke warren hughes,” you responded. 

jack was still oblivious. he was oblivious to the whispering between the two of you or the jokes made from the umich boys. jack was just happy he could see his best friend again. 

“woah is that a tattoo?” dylan asked. the boy was pointing at your left shoulder blade where two numbers were visible. the second was slightly covered by your bikini top but it was clear the first number was a four. 

you blushed before turning around, trying to hide the tattoo from the boys. however, you backed up into luke. the boy smirking as he looked down at you. luke got a good look at your tattoo and couldn’t help but feel smug staring at his number on your body. 

“wait, you have a tattoo?” jack asked. your best friend was talking to his other best friend, trevor, so he got up and made his way over to you. “can i see, can i see?” he pleaded like a child. 

you shook your head, your back was still pressed up against luke’s front. “luke can you tell me what it is please,” jack asked his younger brother. luke also shook his head, his eyes filled with panic. 

it was almost the end of summer now. you and luke enjoyed the sneaking around the lake house but now as he was headed to new jersey and you were headed to long island, luke couldn’t wait to spend more time with you without worrying about getting caught. 

but you didn’t get to that part as jack walked past your room as you were talking to luke whilst putting a shirt on. this gave him the perfect view of your 43 tattoo. 

“y/n, why do you have quinn’s number on your shoulder?” he asked walking into your room. jack ignored his younger brother’s presence. he was more focused on the fact that his older brother was dating his friend. 

luke bit his lip to stop laughing which in turn caused you to throw a t-shirt at him. jack just stared at the two of you confused at the interaction in front of him. sure jack knew you were helping luke pass some of his classes but he didn’t know the two of you were close. 

“jack, the number isn’t for quinn ...” you started slowly. 

it took a second for jack to put the pieces together before he jumped off your bed “what the fuck!” he exclaimed. 

#luke hughes imagine #nicohischierz writes

[starlightkun]

love bites ❧ teaser [sungchan]

❧ teaser word count: 746 | full fic: 25.5k ❧ warnings: cursing, talking about like werewolf biting/marking and scenting and stuff, this is a werewolf fic either you’re into this stuff or you’re not lol ❧ genre: fluff, so incredibly fluffy and sweet it should’ve been a warning honestly, established relationship, modern magical creatures au, college au, werewolf sungchan, human reader, ft. siren shotaro, werewolf jeno & various magical neos, same universe as strawberry sunday, sequel to changer ❧ extra info: this is a sequel to changer! it cannot be read as a standalone, you must read changer first! this work is set in the same universe as strawberry sunday but can be read as a standalone! there is no continuing plotline between fics in this universe (aside from changer to this one), they simply take place in the same world/magic system and may have overlapping characters (neos may pop up in more than one work!) ❧ author’s note: so this is technically the spiritual threequel (fourqual?) to my werewolf jeno fics (pupsick + abh) but you still don’t have to read those to understand this one at all! this is absolutely meant to be read by itself (after changer, ofc) ❧ estimated release: saturday, november 18, 2023 2:00 p.m. eastern time

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ explore the strawberry sunday universe more here!

“So what were you so invested in on your phone?” Shotaro asked, cracking open a seaweed-infused sparkling tea drink popular with younger sirens. “You usually love Real Sirens.”

You popped the tab on your soda, taking a sip before answering. “I was doing some research, on what we were talking about earlier—”

“I thought you said there wasn’t a lot of research on half-werewolves.”

“Not a lot of scholarly research. But I found some people posting online about their own experiences either as half-werewolves themselves, or dating half-werewolves. About the scenting.” You explained, pausing to take a bite of your food. “And it seems like the general consensus is that most likely because their sense of smell isn’t as great as full werewolves, but they still can smell that kind of stuff, unlike humans, half-werewolves get a little more… intense with scenting behaviors.”

“Gross.”

“I meant the clothes and the hugging, dude.” You soft-balled a kick at his shin under the table. “Not my fault you’re immediately gross.”

“Does it ever stop?”

You grimaced, “Well…”

“No?” He asked with wide eyes, presumably having the rest of his recently renewed lease flashing before them.

“Again, there aren’t a lot of half-werewolves. Or at least ones talking about it. But there is one half-werewolf/human couple I found who says that the scenting took better, and the behaviors therefore decreased after…” You trailed off, messing with the strings of Sungchan’s hoodie.

“After…?”

“After they followed through with the werewolf mating bite.”

The siren stared at you blankly. “Oh.”

“They’re the only ones I could find online who has done that, so who knows if that’s a guaranteed result, not to mention that at that point they were also human married, and had been together for over five years, so there was definitely just a lot of security in their relationship not to mention they’d been living together for years so they were going to smell like each other anyway—”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it.” Shotaro stopped your defensive rambles gently. “You two don’t need to do that for me. Just wear his clothes and be annoying, it’s fine.”

You stabbed your fork into a bun. “Yeah, I know that.”

“That was some weird stressing of your words there, Y/N. Anything you want to share?”

You let out a long, steady breath, your lips just a centimeter away from being pressed together. Your mind was swirling with the memory of Sungchan’s last shift. Of him asking you to take his bite. He hadn’t mentioned it again since, but you couldn’t stop thinking about it. Especially because he hadn’t brought it up again since. And seeing his dad’s last night…

“Sungchan mentioned it once, but I don’t know how serious he was being, and he hasn’t brought it up again,” you admitted before tearing into the bun you’d just assaulted. It was filled with delightfully seasoned veggies wrapped in smooth, pillowy dough. God, these really were some of the best steamed buns you’d ever had.

Shotaro practically did a spit take with his tea, dribbling the sip he’d just taken back into the bottle. “He what? When?”

“Shotaro—”

“No, he brought up essentially werewolf engagement to you— What? While you two were playing video games or something? And neither of you mentioned this to me?”

“It wasn’t like that but... sure. I guess.”

“No, no, what was the context? Post-nut confessions or something?”

“God! Why are you like this?” You groaned, dragging a hand over your face in exasperation. “No, he let me be with him for his last shift, it was when he was coming out of it. He wasn’t all there, he was tired, he had all the extra adrenaline and everything else going through his body still.”

He didn’t seem convinced. “So I was right.”

You gave him an unamused look. “Think more like a boxer with a concussion.”

“And you haven’t brought it up with him since?”

“I was just focused on making sure he was okay. And now, I don’t know, he hasn’t mentioned it again. Maybe he wasn’t serious about it?”

“If he was... would you say yes? To be werewolf married?” The siren waggled his eyebrows at you teasingly. “Or half-werewolf married? Half-werewolf half-married?”

“They really need to make like even a single MCS class mandatory in the Gen Ed requirements, because what the hell are you saying to me right now?”

“You know what I mean. Would you say yes?”

⤷ blog masterlist  ⤷ anthology masterlist

#jungsung #jung sungchan #sungchan x reader #riize #riize x reader #nct #nct x reader #sungchan imagine #riize imagine #nct imagine #sungchan fluff #riize fluff #nct fluff #i: sungchan #f: love bites #lb: teaser #au: strawberry sunday #text #mine #writing #bias tag

[creedslove]

Ur literally a wizard at writing i don’t know how you do it because GURLLLLL ur writing makes me more feral then a clicker… anyways

Could this be a headcon or and imagine I don’t know but I was thinking Joel is ur dads best friend you end up getting together romantically BOOOM the dad find out she’s sleeping with his best friend BUT ashes also pregnant with his baby I WONDER WHAT HIS REACTION WOULD BE

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: omg anon, this is sinful and I love it!!!

• When you finished college, you returned home to spend some time before you could get your shit together and find yourself a job

• so you went to your dad's new home

• he'd moved during the fall and you still hadn't had time to pay him a visit

• in the meantime, your dad had made new friends as they often gathered at your dad's at least once a week for poker night

• most of them were alright, just regular ordinary middle aged guys who had a few drinks and talked about life and played cards

• but there was one of them who wasn't the average dad's friend guy you'd met

• he was painfully handsome, a few years younger than the other guys but probably in his mid to late forties

• he had a gorgeous curly hair, brown eyes that scanned your body up and down whenever he thought you weren't looking

• and his smile

• Joel Miller had a beautiful smile

• you had exchanged a few words here and there and he was a pleasant guy

• but your interactions with Joel Miller didn't go further than that, until you were out at a bar for a few drinks, feeling a little low to find out your ex had got together with one of your friends and you bumped into Joel

• he could tell you were feeling upset so he offered you a drink, that turned into two drinks and then it turned into more

• and that was how you spent the night with your dad's best friend for the first time

• when you two woke up the next morning, you were both a little weirded out, and you promised it would be a one time thing

• but you couldn't keep Joel out of your mind, he had fucked you like no guy ever had, he was rough and gentle and caring and he buried his handsome face into your pussy and didn't stop eating you out until you'd cum for him

• and Joel couldn't keep you out of his mind, he just thought of your tight pussy every day and night and he forced himself to go after you

• so you two decided to keep seeing each other once a week, until it wasn't enough, as time went by you were seeing Joel almost every night

• and what was supposed to be just sex, was turning into something more, as the two of you were always taking care of each other, Joel was protective and sweet and you were just the same, taking care of your man

• it was pretty obvious you two were in love with each other but you didn't want to admit it, though it was too complicated as you two were a secret

• but you were just so into Joel you began getting sloppy and one day your dad overheard you talking on the phone and you had to come up with an excuse you had found a boyfriend

• he kinda was your boyfriend but you dad didn't know your boyfriend was also his friend

• the shit was when your dad rang the doorbell of Joel's home on a Saturday morning to borrow some tools and you answered the door in nothing but one of Joel's t-shirts

• and your dad went crazy

• that man thought he was having a heart attack right there and then, screaming at the top of his lungs and calling you and Joel awful things

• in fact, he even tried punching Joel, and you had to get in the middle of them

• after that, your dad kicked you out of home and told Joel he never wanted to see him again

• so Joel took you into his house, trying to make you feel better about things

• you thought the sickness you were feeling had to do with the sadness about your dad finding out your relationship with Joel

• but a pregnancy test later you found out it had another reason behind it

• you broke the news to Joel, who remained quiet for a while, shocked and trying to let the words sink in

• but once they did, he smiled at you, and he confessed his love for you

• and you confessed your love for him

• you and Joel began living your lives together and nine months later, you welcomed your baby

• your dad was moved to know he'd become a grandpa, even if he wasn't happy you had got together with his friend but you loved him and now you two had built a family together and he had to respect that

____

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal headcanon #pedro pascal headcanons #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller headcanon #joel miller headcanons #joel miller tlou #tlou show #tlou fanfiction

[funishment-rhyme]

Everyone Hates Monokuma Theater

It's Open Mic Night at Hope's Peak Academy in a universe without despair. Junko and Monokuma take the stage first, and they're terrible at comedy.

⭐ WORDS: ~1000 ⭐ TAGS...

CHARACTERS: Junko Enoshima, Monokuma, brief mentions of other characters

TIMELINES: Non-Despair/v3 Class 79 AU

TRIGGERS: mentions of serial killer activity

MISC: humor, Monokuma Theater

///

It was the first Saturday of the month, which meant Open Night Mic in the Hope’s Peak Academy gymnasium. It meant, too, an appearance from Junko Enoshima with her artificially intelligent robo-bear. Again.

Grinning, Junko took to the stage first, as always. She seated herself primly on the single stool there and adjusted the microphone in polite silence. Then, with the warm gaze of a mother, she watched as a stuffed bear toddled after her from the hallway and crawled into her lap. It was tubby and two feet tall and utterly silly in all respects, and she called it Monokuma.

Everyone at Hope’s Peak hated that thing, even if they loved Junko. Which they did.

///

Nonetheless, my friends, you could have drifted to the sky on the weight of the collective groaning once the audience saw the bear waddle in. The academy students had only just gathered around the tables scattered in front of the illuminated gym stage…and they already regretted it. Still, as teenagers, they were inexorably drawn to any activity that allowed them to sit unmonitored in the dark.

///

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu said: “This bullshit again. She some kinda Ultimate Ventriloquist now?”

“Ah, I believe we had one. And I believe he passed away last March,” Kirumi Tojo replied, setting a cola in front of Fuyuhiko. She gently placed a straw from her breast pocket into the drink. “By…fire, I think.”

“More like ashed away.” (That was Kokichi Ouma, his feet kicked up on a second chair across from the yakuza, his hands folded behind his head. No one listened to him much.)

“Goddamn.” Fuyuhiko rubbed his good eye. “We sure do have a lot of those here. Fires.”

“Schools are inherently flammable, I’m afraid,” Kirumi added, then disappeared into further serving duties.

“I said, more like ashed away—no? Anyone?” Kokichi scoffed, then tittered. “Man.”

///

But the students loved Junko, as I said. So they listened as Monokuma told its—his—joke:

“If you think about it, when you’ve got a critter in your house, even something as fluffy-uffy-uffy as a puppy, you just gotta trust they won’t bite you in the behind when you’re not looking. That’s why Lady Junko here never cooks for me—it’s not right for a girl to attend school with a hole in the back of her skirt, puhuhu.”

His voice sounded much like Junko’s, if Junko had ever decided to act in the most irritating children’s television program on earth.

“But really, folks, you can’t ever know what’s on an animal’s mind. Humans are animals, too. For my birthday this year, I got a book about usin’ body language to figure out who’s lyin’, and all those tips only worked once, on one person. Turns out, thoughts are like carbon monoxide: invisible, intangible, smelly as nothin’. There’s no tells! You don’t know anyone’s motives. That’s why Lady Junko here never cooks for me—I’d never know it, but she could poison my salmon dinner because she’s jealous, puhuhu.”

The gymnasium was silent, except for a single hoot from Kokichi Ouma.

“I also got a foreign comic about a serial killer. I’m on a true crime kick, what can I say?—and this serial killer was weird as all get-out when he was a kid. Cuddlin’ up to dead animals and watchin’ them suffer beforehand, that kind of thing. Terrible stuff. But no one ever thinks they’re besties with a murderer. That’s an idea bigger than the sky, y’know? And that’s why Lady Junko here never cooks for me—because she gets pie in the sky ideas, puhuhuhu.”

Junko feigned an eye-roll.

As for Monokuma: you might have expected his single red eye to gleam in the dark, but it didn’t. 

///

In fact—though I know you’re waiting for a heart-throbbing turn of events, my friends—there was nothing sinister about the situation whatsoever. Had you asked the students about it that night, you would have only gotten expressions of annoyance and confusion.

For example, Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu had said, in a loud hiss: “What the fuck was that? What kind of fuckin’ waste of time—”

And Kokichi Ouma, half-asleep, whined to no one in particular: “I really, really hate stand-up, you guys.”

That kind of thing.

///

Once she had finished her atrocious murder-themed set, Junko’s very best friends, at least, clapped at the forefront of the audience for her. Well…after Sayaka Maizono goaded everyone into it with an encouraging look, anyway. 

Someone next to Sayaka leaned over to ask if she’d gotten the joke. Sayaka had not. Nor had anyone else.

///

They never would, either. Because Hope’s Peak loved Junko—because in this world, in this time, on this Saturday in early March, she loved it too. Loved them. That is to say: Junko liked to rile her classmates up like dogs, because she thought of them like dogs, but adored them like dogs, too. That is to say: she never thought to truly hurt them. That is to say: they had no reason to think she ever would.

Junko had seen a thousand possibilities as the Ultimate Analyst, and lived a thousand lives, in a sense. From her lofty position on stage, she stared out into the gently undulating ocean of gorgeous coed faces before her and knew that she could annihilate them completely. Shred their names from any and all records. Tear out every memory they had ever walked the earth. Kill them and blow their ashes away into the sea. All in the name of despair. 

She had seen it happen, in her imagination.

It had bored her.

Monokuma Theater, on the other hand, and the perplexed expressions it brought—that excited this Junko. She was nothing if not a tease, after all.

“Thank you, thank you,” said Monokuma, as he and Junko bowed before their classmates. “I’ll be here all week, and forever, for eternity.” He raised a paw to the crowd. “I’m an artificial intelligence and I can’t die. It’s hell. But at least I have you all, my pals—puhuhuhu.”

#junko enoshima #monokuma #brief mentions of other characters #“non-despair/v3 class 79” AU #humor #monokuma theater #tw: mentions of serial killer activity #danganronpa fanfiction #danganronpa

[demonichikikomori]

Basorexia

Epel Felmier x GN!Reader Word Count: 1.4k+ Tags: Fluff/Epel is a Nerd/Autumn Date

Art is by rutu25twst on Twitter!

I was cleaning out my photos on my PC and I saw I had the definition of 'basorexia' screenshotted from a post. This photo was like, five years old. I included it in 13 Lovely Hauntings because it feels very fall is all. Let's have something sweeter for this lowkey event!~!

SUMMARY:

Epel Felmier does NOT like his accent. So, he purchased a word of the day calendar to help himself learn more 'refined' ways of speaking. He flipped the page to today's word of the day as he prepared for a study session with you at a nearby café. Today's word was: Basorexia. He vowed to use the word on each printed page in a sentence each day, but this is a little embarrassing...

Waking up was sudden, eyes shooting open with adrenaline kicking into full drive. Today was a special day. At least, in Epel’s eyes today was special. His grades were slipping in Ancient Incantations, and thankfully so were yours. With a bit of pleading, he had gotten you to agree to a study date on Saturday. You and him would meet at a small cafe in the village between Night Raven College and Royal Swords Academy. Epel jumped out of bed to yank his phone off of its frayed charger, today was officially Saturday. And he would have the afternoon with you, all to himself.

None of Vil’s bitching. None of Rook’s weird poems. None of the others in your meshed friend group… Just you, him, a thick book of spells tucked into his shoulder bag, and hopefully one of those fancy cheese tarts. Epel rushed around his dorm room filled with motivation to both impress, and charm you. Of course, that would start with his knowledge he had gained from an impressive word calendar he bought from Sam’s shop months ago. Epel had quickly grown uncomfortable with his accent in a dorm like Pomfiore. He thought that by studying words like these, maybe he could learn to talk all fancy like his dormmates! At least, enough to scrape by in a conversation. 

Epel lifted the page from yesterday and pinned it in place so he could prepare himself for the newest edition to his vocabulary. Today’s word? Basorexia. To Epel, it sounded like some sort of incurable illness. An uppity sounding word, something Riddle would use when talking down to his underclassmen. 

Except the definition left Epel feeling bashful as he read the lines of text below. 

Basorexia (noun) - the hunger or craving to kiss someone. 

His brows knit together as he began to frown. Usually he used his words in a sentence for school work, or using it on the members of the Magishift team who would be awed by his vocabulary. Using a word like this on you felt different. Would you think he was acting pretentious? Would you become bashful when he admitted its meaning to you? You were dating after all.

No matter what, he had to keep up with his streak of using the word of the day the calendar gave him. The time was now 10 am. He would be meeting you at the cafe in the village at noon. He texted you good morning and told you he was getting ready, asking if you would want to match outfits for your trip today. You responded cheerfully, giving him the idea you had along with your own good morning message.

Epel took a shower while brushing his teeth and washing his face and hair simultaneously. Using his best deodorant and cologne, he dries his hair as he looks among his outfit options for what would be the best choice that fit the theme that you had chosen. His eyes constantly eyed the clock as he would flex in different sweaters to see what made him look the most muscular. As he brushed his hair and pinned away any loose hairs once it had dried. As he politely asked Vil if his outfit looked okay and accepted a few compliments from Rook. And as he called you to let you know he was finally on his way with a heavy shoulder bag filled with books, his notebook, and pens. 

As he left the Hall of Mirrors and stepped onto the campus, the wind nipped at his cheeks until they were red on his pale skin. With another glance at the time on his phone, he rushed down the path to the gate to walk into the village below. Wearing an oversized, off-white sweater layered on top of a purple and white flannel that peeked out over the collar, faded blue jeans, thick white socks that had bunched up over his ankles and all white shoes, he felt as though he fit your date fit idea perfectly. The walk didn’t feel long at all as he fidgeted with his sleeves, daydreaming about how to use the new word on you. And how to not make it corny. 

Epel’s aqua blue eyes spotted you immediately among the thinning crowd walking along the cafe shops and bookstores. He took in a deep breath as he approached, hoping to quell his anxiety with a soft and slow exhale. He admired your fluffy white sweater and the pale gray flannel button up you wore underneath it. Your baggy, khaki cargo pants and your colorful striped socks that clashed with your white sneakers. Epel was crushing on you a second time. “Sorry if you were waiting long. I had to tell Vil bye like always. He’s like a mom.” Epel joked as he quickly opened the door for you to enter first. You told him you weren’t waiting long with a smile that left his heart racing through his chest.

The two of you found a table near the corner of the warm and welcoming shop. Epel retrieved the thick textbook of ancient spells as you pulled out your notes and pens. The study date was quiet as the two of you traded answers and placed an order with the waitress that greeted you. You got a pumpkin spice iced coffee with a slice of crumble cake, and Epel ordered a hot apple cider with an apple fritter donut. The cafe was quiet, with a few familiar faces from Royal Swords Academy showing up to hang out in small groups, or study together at their own respective tables. Epel highlighted a section in his notebook as he glanced up at you with his cheeks starting to burn. Maybe now was a good time to try using the word? He tapped the marker against the thin lined paper as a smile spread across his face. “Got sumore gumption? This ain’t so bad now izit?” He asked cheerfully as his stomach began to twist. Fuck. His accent.

“It’s just a bunch of big words I don’t know the meanings of. But since we’re studying together? I guess it’s not that bad.” Your laugh was light as you lifted your pen to mark down notes from the large research book sitting between the two of you. No matter how much he worried, his accent never affected you the way it affects those in his dorm. “People that wrote these books using huge words are definitely pretentious. I mean, what does ‘omnishambles’ mean?” You scoffed with a roll of your eyes as Epel began to feel his anxiety return. “Is it pretentious if I use them?” Epel asked, starting to feel apprehensive of sharing his word of the day with you. But there wasn’t any other opportunity to use the word, and he refused to use it on Vil or Rook when he got back to Pomfiore.

You shook your head with that gentle grin he adored. “Of course not. You’re not some uppity old guy. You are Epel Felmier. I like when you use all sorts of words.” You assured as he lowered the marker onto his paper. His eyes trained on you as he tried to stop the erratic pounding of his heart. “Well… What if I used one of those big words right now?” He asked as your eyes met his and you reached for your iced coffee. “Sure, what is it?” You asked curiously as you sipped, never breaking your locked gaze with the man in front of you. Epel reached for his large paper cup, heavy with the weight of his hot apple cider. “I’ll use it in a sentence…” He trailed off as his face burned and bloomed with rouge. You nodded patiently as your cheeks appeared hot as well. 

“I become overwhelmed with basorexia whenever I’m near you.” 

Epel admitted with a shaken confidence. You were staring at him with a wide eyed gaze of shock and warm cheeks. You lowered your coffee and Epel offered a nervous laugh, his eyes darted down to his hands. “Sorry, wordah the day… S’on my calendar. It means… Um… I wanna kiss you super bad.” He mumbled awkwardly as he slumped back into the dark brown vinyl cushion with a grin. Yeah, that was super lame.

“Well… I’m waiting. You can’t just use a word like that in a sentence and not put it to use after.” You whispered as a smile began to creep onto your face. Epel sat up swiftly in the seat as his face became so hot he thought it was steaming. He swallowed down any lingering anxiety as he followed your lead by leaning over the table. Epel’s lips meshed together with yours; leaving you with the lingering taste of apple cider to mix with the flavor of pumpkin and cinnamon.

Tagged Accounts: @candlewitch-cryptic

#13 Lovely Hauntings #epel felmier #epel x reader #epel x mc #epel x y/n #epel x yuu #epel twst #epel twisted wonderland #epel felmier fluff #epel felmier x yuu #epel felmier x reader #epel felmier twst

[gunilslaugh]

Stargazing

Goo Gunil Summary: Loving Gunil was like loving the stars, you could only admire them(him). (non-idol au) WC:~1.2k Warning:angst, but it’s very mild. (I wouldn’t really call it angst honestly)

photo not mine credits to owner.

Your love for Gunil started in high school. Cliche as the scenario may be, he saved you from a stray ball as you were walking by your school’s field and ever since then your heart fluttered for him. You didn’t share any classes with Gunil, so you only saw him around the halls, mainly the cafeteria. For the longest time all you could do was stare at him from afar. 

“Please just go talk to him y/n. I can’t handle all your hopeless staring anymore,” your friend complained. 

“I can’t. It would be weird to just randomly go over and start talking to him. What would I say anyway?” you refused. 

“Hi, I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m y/n. You saved me from getting hit with a ball a few months ago and I’ve been in love with you ever since,” your other friend mocked you. 

“That’s not funny,” you glared at them.

“It’s true,” they shrugged. 

“Whatever. I’m not talking to him,” you stated firmly. 

“Then fix your staring problem please. What’s the point in liking him if you’re never gonna do something about it?” your friend questioned. 

“How could I do something about it? We’re not a part of the same world.” You gazed over to where Gunil was surrounded by his group of friends. Gunil wasn’t necessarily popular, but he did know a fair amount of people. You saw him talk to quite a lot of kids around campus. You weren’t some nobody with hardly any friends either. You also knew a fair amount of people around campus, but they weren’t the same people Gunil knew. You and Gunil ran around two different social circles, two different worlds. You weren’t brave enough to try and enter his.

“News flash! You and him both live on Earth and go to the same high school. How is that not living in the same world?” your friend points out. 

Maybe your friend was right. Maybe you and Gunil did live in the same world. One day Gunil’s and yours paths crossed once more. It was during a Saturday night at the park. You were out sketching pictures of the night sky for your elective,art, class. 

“Great minds think alike,” a voice came out of the darkness of the night. You turned towards the voice to see Gunil standing there with a camera and some equipment. 

“Gunil?” you say.

“Y/n,” he said your name. 

“You know my name?” you asked slightly shocked. Gunil chuckles lightly. 

“You know mine,” he countered. You awkwardly scratch the back of your neck and kick out one of your feet. 

“Well I heard someone call your name the day you saved me from that ball,” you explained. 

“I didn’t ask,” he played.

“....well I told you anyway. Get your supplies out.” You went back to focusing on the sketchbook in your lap.

“Mr. Stewart uses your work as examples for our class a lot. That’s how I know your name,” he informs you as he pulls out his pencils.

“He uses my photos as examples?” This was news to you. Your art teacher complimented your work, but never said he used it as examples for other students. Again Gunil chuckles. 

“Yes, he does. Your art is really good,” Gunil says. 

“Thanks,” you said. 

“Can you help me out? I want my work to be used as examples,” he asked you. 

“Sure,” you smiled, walking over to where Gunil made himself comfortable. 

From then you and Gunil got closer. You don’t think you can exactly call it friendship because the two of you weren’t that close. You did now exchange words when you saw each other around campus. You became friendly acquaintances. That’s how the two of you stayed until graduation. 

After graduation you thought you would never see Gunil again. That it would finally be time for you to get over your crush on him. To say you were shocked to see Gunil walk into your fine arts class at university was an understatement. Even more so when he took a seat beside you. 

“Long time no see y/n,” he nudged you with his arm. Just like that all your feelings came rushing back.

“Y-yeah long time no see,” you stuttered slightly. 

You could call Gunil your friend now, but it felt odd too. Despite the fact that you’re friends, Gunil somehow still feels so far away. Like a person you could only look at.

“Why do you think people like the stars so much?” Gunil and you were back out under the night sky. Either of your sketchbooks places on the sides of you as you two looked up at the same stars you were painting moments ago.

“Because they’re pretty,” you simply state. 

“They are pretty, but there are lots of pretty things. There has to be something that makes the stars special.” 

“Then maybe it’s because all we can do is look at them.” You turned your head to look at Gunil. “They’re pretty little things that you can only admire.” You turned your head back up towards the twinkling stars. “They’re too far to reach.” You stretched your arm out to reach for the stars. “They can never really be ours,” you finished, dropping your hand back down. 

“That’s deeper than what I was expecting,” Gunil says. You let out a laugh. If only he knew you weren’t only talking about the stars. You were talking about him too. 

“I guess you’ve never felt that way,” you state. He’s never thought about you that way.

“Huh?” Gunil turned to look at you. 

“That there was something you could only admire,” you clarified. 

“I guess not,” Gunil shook his head. He probably never admired you in the first place.

“That’s-” how I feel about you. You stopped yourself from saying your confession.

“That’s what?” Gunil questioned. 

“Oh, nothing,” you shook your head. “You know I sat in on my friend's literature class and I think it did things to me. I should get back to focusing on painting,” you told him sitting up and picking up your sketchbook. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s towards the end of your senior year of university. You just submitted your piece for the gallery art majors were having. It was a picture of two people. One gazing up at the stars and the other looking at the person stargazing. The title of your piece was called “My Stars” and the description you wrote for it was, “Sometimes all you can do is admire.”

Gunil came across your painting and his initial excitement at seeing your work quickly turned into melancholy. It wasn’t hard for him to recognize the scene you painted. He lived it with you after all. 

“‘My Stars’ ‘Sometimes all you can do is admire’,” he read. He looks back at your painting. Seeing your tiny, yet very detailed painted version of you looking at the painted version of him looking at the stars. It hits him. That’s what you were going to say that night. That's how you felt about him. He was your stars. He tried to look for you around the gallery, but you were gone.

Taglist: @purplelady85, @odesonnets, @gingerjunhan, @chewednails, @ezlynkisses, @mon2sunjinsuver, @mxlly143

#xdinary heroes #xdh #xdh imagines #xdh x reader #xdinary heroes imagines #xdinary heroes x reader #xh gunil #gunil x reader #goo gunil x reader #koo gunil x reader #goo gunil #koo gunil #gunil #xdh gunil

[billthedrake]

(Heads up that this chapter is more hard core.)

TRAINING THE SALES GUY (PART FOUR)

I considered my weird fuckbuddy affair with Carson Wells to be done. I kicked myself a little bit for pushing too far and freaking him out. Then I was glad it happened. It was an inappropriate thing from the start and had no good end.

I hooked up with one guy a couple of times. I actually enjoyed fucking again. And kissing and making out. And the fun flirty vibe with another gay dude. As hot as Carson's blowjobs had been and as much as I'd enjoyed the naughty thrill of a finance bro who liked to suck dick, it wasn't a completely rewarding connection.

Maybe I should have gotten out there to date again, but I still wasn't ready for that. I still saw Rob, my ex. We'd run into each other in the neighborhood and decided to have lunch, to try out the civilized adult thing. It was good and not good at the same time. We promised to do it again, but I needed more time.

I was enjoying making a couple new friends. Some of my long-standing friends were more settled down now or had moved, while the mutual friends Rob and I had took his side mostly. But my social life was picking up and I was doing my best to squash my workaholic ways. I was never an athletic guy but joined one of the gay sports leagues in the city. It was a perfect mix of younger guys and older, single and coupled. I even got invited along on a beach trip in Mexico.

It was a Saturday night I got back from that trip in fact when I got a text from Carson Wells.

"Hey Bill sorry to bug you. Can we talk?"

"Yeah, when?" I typed back.

"Now?"

It was like 10:30. I'd had a long day and while my dick liked the idea of a booty call, this just felt like a strange way for Carson to start things back up. I knew the self-respecting thing would be to set boundaries and tell him I'd talk to him tomorrow.

"Sure," I wrote back. "Come over?" I was already settled in for the evening and not in the mood to go out. If Carson was so urgent, he could come over.

"All right," he replied.

He looked distraught when he finally showed up. He had almost that tech-bro look... black joggers, designer sneakers, gray hoodie with some logo on it. "Hey," he said softly as I let him in.

I showed him into the living area and had him sit on the sofa. I sat down too, though not right next to him. "What's up, Carson?" I asked.

He have me a wistful look. Gone was that perfect smile, but those green eyes were sexy as fuck. "Emily and I broke up tonight."

I felt bad, but also I was what the fuck? I didn't fucking know Emily. "Sorry, man," I said. But I couldn't be the guy to unload on. "But don't you have any buddies you can talk about this with?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I've been out with them." His voice got a little quieter. "But, fuck, Bill I need to suck a dick." He scooted closer to me and put his hand on my leg, running quickly up the bare leg and toward the him of my casual gym shorts.

"I don't know, Carson," I said, stopping his hand.

He looked hurt. "Oh. You seeing someone? I shoulda asked."

I shook my head. "Not seeing anyone. But well... you're pretty upset right now. I don't wanna..."

I was trying to respect him and not take advantage of his emotional state, but Carson laughed. There came thought pearly whites again. "What, Boss? You don't want your dick sucked?"

My dick was liking that idea all right. "When you put it that way," I replied, with a chuckle.

Carson placed his hand back on my leg, now teasingly running his fingers along my leg hair and my thigh muscle. I'd never seen this side of the guy. He still wasn't making the move to kiss or anything, but the sensuality of the touch was great. "I've been watching those videos you sent me... a lot actually."

"Yeah?" I asked. This was a surprise, all right. I spread my legs and let his hand travel up toward my crotch.

He nodded. He had a strange emotional vibe. Definitely distraught and wound up. Maybe I was taking advantage of his state. "They're wild as fuck, Boss. But keep thinking what it would be like to try that."

"Which one?" I asked.

"Both," he admitted. "The training one... and that other one... I've watched some others like it, too."

I was completely hard now. I pulled Carson's hand away only now so I could pull down my shorts and briefs. I let my dong ride up fully rigid and throbbing. And here I thought I was too tired even for a stroke session before bed.

The man grinned as he eyed up my phallus. "That's a great dick, Boss." He looked up at me, lust adding to the emotions on his phase. "Just go a little easier on me," he asked. "I've not anything like that those videos."

I nodded and grinned, pushing up my erection for his gaze. "Will do, Wells... though don't sell yourself shorts. You've done a lot of training already."

I reached up and ran my fingers along the side of his hair, moving further back on his head. Carson got the hit and leaned forward.

We'd never actually done it like this before, with me sitting down and Carson leaning over. But it was hot to see this hunk bend over to service me. I let him start, licking me and then sucking me in. Wells was great at this and his mood made him hungrier. He practically scarfed my hardon down to the root in three gos.

"Fuck yes, buddy," I growled. "Eat my fucking boner." I didn't want to go too Dom on Wells. Partly because he was the kind of cocksucker who'd easily spook if you didn't respect him. And partly because trash talking wasn't the biggest turn on for me. That deep throat action was.

I watched him work that deep spot in his throat with my cock, wildly bobbing on me and grunting deep sex grunts. He'd been thinking about this a lot, I know. Carson Wells was ready.

I held his neck tight and just started fucking his skull. Hard steady jabs. I'd only been with three guys who'd been up for this treatment before. My ex Rob wasn't one of them, and maybe I was ready for this too.

It took maybe six thrusts before I hit pay dirt. Carson's gullet seized up and he gagged. I stopped my thrusts but I held so he couldn't easily lift up. He was gonna retch but I talked him through it. "Swallow it back down, buddy... easy, man.... there ya go." I could see the tear stream from his eye and his face go red but Carson did it. And the second he got himself under control I pulled him up.

"FUCK!" he cried, eyes watery. But damned if the guy didn't have a wild, excited look on his face. "That was intense," he hissed, his mouth thick with mucus.

But not as thick as my cock was. Its length was covered with a good amount of Carson Wells' throat slime.

"That's some perfect slime, buddy!" I hissed, encouraging him or at least thanking him. This is the kind of extreme oral that turned me on all right. "How you feeling?"

He looked up. "Not as bad as I thought," he answered. "I think I was more scared of it to happen than anything."

"You up for another go?" I asked. Hopeful as hell, but I'd respect his boundaries.

He nodded. "I think so, yeah... So, Boss... how do you keep from, you know....?"

I knew the answer, but only as an oral top, not a cocksucker. Carson would have to find his own answer. But I did my best to explain. "You gotta know your body and learn how to control it. Lean into just the right amount of gag, then turn it off."

He took it all in. "What if I don't turn it off in time?" I could see the concern and knew where he was coming from.

I shrugged. "If it happens, it happens. But don't fear that. Tell yourself it's gonna be fine."

"All right," he said. Jesus, he clearly had been thinking about this a lot.

I applied some pressure on his neck again and I watched as Carson took me into his mouth again. I did the driving this time, using the residual thick saliva to ease my way into a slow steady deep throat fuck. After the previous activity, Carson was able to take me like a pro. One deep push after another. Six months ago this would have been enough to get me off big. It would be enough now, too, but I wanted more. I started a series of hard thrusts again.

Carson, to his credit, did better this time around. But pretty soon the gag kicked in, and the guy knew what to do. He let it happen, only to swallow it back down.

"Fuck yes," I hissed. I didn't have to go hard and deep now. I just let Carson do the sucking. Up and down on my bone, as that thick slime spilled out of his mouth and onto my balls. He was excited, maybe because of how thrilled I was. But this was hands down one the hottest things I'd seen. My hot business-bro coworker giving me some insanely sloppy head.

"Fuck, Cars... I'm gonna cum!" I growled. I could hear the slickness of the sticky spittle on his chin and lips and he worked me with steady mouth strokes. "FUUCK!" I grunted as I gave up a super heavy load.

Carson now moaned excitedly. He always liked when I came but he seemed even needier now.

He finally pulled back when my dick had enough. Even after a few months' break, the guy seemed to remember just how much stimulation I could take after a good nut.

"Goddamn," he growled as he pulled off. He looked up at me, his mind in some new state of head fuck but definitely turned on. "Damn, you're one kinky fucker," he gasped. The slime and spit was on his chin and all over his beard. It was crazy hot. My dick wasn't gonna go down soon.

I lifted my hand up and wiped some of the wetness of his beard. "You may be a little kinky, too, Wells," I said. Then I nodded down at his crotch. "Need to get off."

He sat up, showing that indeed he had an erection in his joggers. He slipped them over his boner and reached down. "I went soft but my hardon came back," he explained. I watched him started a stroke, then I stood up, letting my wet dong sway some in front of him.

"Too messy for ya?" I asked.

He shook his head no, and had that unmistakable look of need on his face. I stepped up and put my dick near his mouth. Carson leaned forward and started sucking me in again. A few strokes and the guy was cumming, hard.

I went to fetch some washcloths. We'd both need it.

I expected Carson to have some doubts now, but he seemed quiet in a relaxed way. "Thanks for helping me out, Bill. I needed that."

I found my shorts and slipped them back on. "I won't lie, Carson," I said. "I haven't had a scene that hot in, like, forever."

He gave me a sly grin. "I'm glad, Boss. It was kinda crazy hot for me, too." He looked at his phone, where I gathered he had some messages. "Look, I'm gonna go meet some buddies now. Talk to you later?"

"Anytime, Wells," I said.

And I meant it.

#drakestories

[orithyia-eriphyle]

Drive

Chapter 3: Taste Previous Masterlist

Word Count: 3.5k

Stray Kids x Fem!Reader (Street Racing AU)

Synopsis: Turns out befriending the barista, Jisung, was a good idea. Although Minho’s Saturday plans with you are slightly soured when you run into someone unexpected.

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of gang-related activities, tattooed and pierced Chan.

Not edited

***

You hummed quietly to yourself as you waited for Jisung to finish his shift, looking out the window as people and cars passed by. You eventually got bored just staring and resorted to scrolling mindlessly on Instagram. You stumbled across an ad for a local tattoo shop, and your curiosity is now piqued. You clicked on their page and looked through some of their work, admiring their style. 

You had multiple tattoos already and plan on getting more once you moved to Seoul and now could be the perfect time after winning the race last night, your wallet feeling a little thicker. 

*** 

“Okay, I’m done!” Jisung’s voice called out from behind you. You turned your head to see him no longer in his apron and making his way toward you. You smiled and kicked the chair out that was across from you so he could take a seat. 

“You seem pretty happy for someone who just had to clean up a bunch of spilled coffee beans.” You remarked idly, smiling at the man lazily.

Jisung returned your smile, “The thought of being with a pretty woman kept me motivated.” He said smugly, wiggling his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner. You laughed at him, already finding him to be enjoyable company. 

Jisung decided that it was time to get to know you properly, beginning with simple questions, “How long have you been living in Seoul?” He said, staring at you intently.

“This is only my third day here. I moved from Busan.” You said, taking a bite of your cake pop.

“Why’d you move? Busan is pretty nice.” He questioned once again.

“I guess for job opportunities.”

“You guess? I feel like that’s something you should know.”

You laughed, “It’s not a legal job, Jisungie.” You said, cocking a brow at him, watching as his eyebrows shot up. 

“You're not like dealing drugs, right?’ He said, his cheeks puffing out. You smiled coyly and nudged his foot under the table in a playful manner. 

“Do I look like a drug dealer?” You said in a tone of fake offense, holding a hand to your heart.

Jisung waved his hands in front of him in a form of surrender. “No, of course not! But would a good drug dealer want to look like they deal drugs, you know?” Jisung said, waving his hands as he spoke, “That’s how you get caught, and I don’t think you look like a drug dealer who would get caught.”

You looked at the man across from you incredulously, “That was a lot more detail than I was expecting, and yet I’m still confused.” 

“Doesn’t matter, you’re hot either way,” Jisung said and then continued switching subjects like whiplash. “What is the actual illegal activity you get up to?” He questioned, placing his crossed arms on the table and leaning on them.

You leaned closer to him, your faces only a few inches away, and pressed your index finger to your lips in a ‘shushing’ manner with a small smile. “I do street racing and I think you do too, sweet cheeks.” You spoke in a hushed manner, taking note of the slight shock on Jisung’s face.

“How’d you figure that out?” Was his response, his face showing clear confusion.

“I’ve become good friends with Lee Minho, whom I assume you know.” You said, raising your brow in question but both of you knew it was a statement, “He and I had a friendly competition last night, which I won by the way, and ended the night with some drinks and loose lips.” You continued, finishing off your snack. “It’s weird that I keep running into people who know each other in a city as big as Seoul.” You finished, not talking to anyone in particular with your ending statement. 

Jisung stared at you with an unreadable expression before replying, “I haven’t met a lot of people who can beat Minho Hyung.” He paused before continuing, leaning back in his seat and spreading his legs. “But you also don’t seem like a regular opponent, pretty.” He finished with a small smile gracing his features. 

You returned his smile, “You could say that.”

***

You slouched on your couch after returning home from the cafe with Jisung. You enjoyed spending time with him, finding his goofy personality very attractive and naturally appealing. He didn’t seem fake like a lot of people seemed to be these days.

After getting a glass of water, you opened Instagram to see that you were still on the tattoo studio’s page from earlier. You recalled your inclination to get another tattoo and clicked on the link in their bio which led to their website. You scrolled through and found their contact information, which led to an impromptu call that may or may not have led to an impulsive decision.

“This is Red Lights Tattoo and Piercing Studio, how may I help you?”

***

Later that night you were hanging out with Minho once again, something that seemed to be happening a lot lately. You were both playing UNO which was starting to get a little heated. You had already been accused of cheating once.

“You know how you were going to show me around this weekend?” You questioned suddenly, resulting in Minho looking up from the cards in his hands. “Yeah. Did you change your mind or something?” He questioned, his lips tugging down at the corners. 

You shook your head, “No, but I called a local tattoo studio and they could only book me for Saturday so I was wondering if you wanted to come with me and you could show me around after.” You stated, watching as Minho’s eyebrows went up in realization.

“I don’t mind coming with you.” He said, placing down a skip, which you rolled your eyes at. “Do you have any other tattoos?” He questioned, placing down his next card.

You nodded and smiled, “Want to see?” You said with a wiggle of your brows.

Minho raised a brow and puffed out a chuckle, “I don’t know, with the way you asked it makes me think it’s on your ass or something.” He said and then frowned as you shouted ‘UNO!’ Your conversation had completely distracted him. 

You smirked at him, “Don’t act like you wouldn’t love to look at my ass.” You said cheekily, placing your last card down and cheering. 

Minho sighed dramatically, leaning back on his hands and tilting his head down to look at you across from him, “You said it, not me.” You snorted and covered your mouth in mild embarrassment while Minho smiled at you fondly. Minho spoke again, “But yes, I want to see your tattoo.”

You rolled your eyes and sat up on your knees, gripping the end of your shirt and pulling it up. You stopped when only the underside of your bra was showing, looking up at Minho as he stared at your sternum. “I’d take my bra off to show you the whole thing but you’re not that lucky.”

Minho ignored you, continuing to stare at the black ink that started between your cleavage and branched out under your breasts. It was spiked and reminded him of an old and dead tree. 

Minho released a breath before speaking, “I was honestly expecting something stupid but that’s pretty sick.” He said airily, finally looking back up at your eyes as you dropped your shirt. 

You replied with a scoff, “Do I seem like the type of person to get something stupid permanently tattooed on my body?” You questioned, rolling your eyes when the man only stared at you with a deadpan expression. You could never win with him. 

“Where are you getting the new tattoo?” He questioned, beginning to help you pick up your cards and empty wine glasses. 

“I was thinking about my hand. I like where the other is but I want one that’s more visible.” You said, walking to your kitchen to put the dirty glasses in the sink. Minho joined you in the kitchen shortly after putting the cards away. 

“You know, you could always just walk around topless.” He suggested cheekily, leaning against the counter next to you with his arms crossed over his chest. You stared at him from the corner of your eye with a bored expression.

“You’re awfully flirty with me considering we’ve only known each other three days.” You stated, drying your hands off the kitchen towel. Minho shrugged and stared at the wall across from him.

“You just really bring it out in me, doll.” He replied, walking behind you and placing a hand on the small of your back as he put the now-dried glasses back in the cabinet for you. 

“You’re an odd man, Lee Minho.” You said and stared at his very sharp jaw.

“I try my best, doll.”

***

The bell above the tattoo studio door rang out in the small shop once you and Minho stepped inside, making a beeline to the front desk to check in with the receptionist. 

“Hello! Do you have an appointment with us today?” The woman spoke happily with a smile, which you returned. 

“Yes, I have a tattoo appointment  for 9:00 with somebody named Bang Chan?” You said, the statement sounding more like a question, unsure if you got the man’s name right.

The receptionist perked up and looked at her computer, “Oh! You must be (Y/n)! Have a seat here in the waiting area and fill out these papers for me, please. Chan will be out to get you momentarily.”

You took the papers from her and looked at Minho, silently urging him to pick a seat. He looked back at you and gently placed a hand on your back to guide you towards two seats in front of the window. 

You sat down and began filling out the forms when Minho spoke. “You didn’t tell me you booked an appointment with Chan.” He said, watching you as your neat handwriting graced the pages in front of you.

You glanced at him but continued writing, “I didn’t know I was supposed to.” You said, a little confused. 

Minho sighed, “I know Chan.” He said, almost defeatedly, which was somewhat unusual for him. 

“Do you guys have bad blood or something?” You questioned with furrowed brows, putting a temporary pause on your writing. 

“He races too. We met in a race a few years back and have had this kind of unspoken rivalry since.” He paused before continuing, “I don’t hate him or anything, I just find him highly irritating.” He finished, looking down at you. 

“Do you want to go get something to eat while I get worked on? I don’t want to force you into an uncomfortable situation.” You suggested, not liking the idea of Minho being miserable the entire time he was with you. 

Minho smirked at you, “I’m a big boy, (Y/n), I can handle a few hours with the guy.” He said sarcastically. 

You didn’t have the chance to respond as an incredibly attractive man walked into the lobby. His right arm was covered in multiple tattoos, making it a sleeve. His hair was dark brown and slicked up out of his face. You took note of the black studs on his bottom lip, snake bites, and the slit shaved into one of his eyebrows. 

Whatever all-powerful being may be up there was smiling down on you this week.

“I assume you’re (Y/n)?” The man asked, his slitted eyebrow quirked in question.

You nodded and stood, Minho following after you, “That’s me. I assume you’re Chan?” You responded, handing the paperwork to the receptionist and bowing in thanks.

“That’s right. Follow me, please.” He said, going to turn before pausing and looking back, “You coming too, Minho?” He haughtily questioned Minho. Said man rolled his eyes before moving to follow the two of you towards the back of the tattoo parlor. 

Chan sat you down on the chair in the middle of the room, Minho sitting in the chair in the corner meant for guests. 

After Chan got comfortable in his seat he looked at you, “Firstly, I need to know if this is your first tattoo. I want to make this experience as comfortable as possible for you.” He said, waving his hands as he spoke.

You gave him a small shake of your head, “I have one other tattoo that I got done a few months ago.” Chan nodded.

“Where did you get the tattoo? I want to be sure because the pain varies depending on where you are getting tattooed. If I know where your previous one is I can give you something to compare it to.” He said, being very thorough.

“My tattoo is on my sternum.” Chan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at your reply.

“Wow. That’s a pretty painful area to get done for your first tattoo.” He said as he moved around the room to set everything up. 

“I want more body art but I want the main focus to be my sternum tattoo. Kind of like a centerpiece. It was easier to get it done first so I wouldn’t have to worry about accidentally overshadowing it with something else.” You explained, watching him as he worked diligently.

Chan smiled at you, “I like your thought process there.” He complimented before continuing, “I already have the stencil done and I know you wanted it on your hand so let’s get the placement down real quick.” He spoke, grabbing the stencil in his right hand and your hand in his left one.

You began to speak, “I wanted it on the side of my hand, kind of under my thumb.” You explained, dragging the index finger of your free hand down your skin to point out the area. Chan nodded along, placing the stencil on your hand and adjusting it at your instruction. 

After confirming the placement, the blue ink of the stencil was stamped onto your skin. Chan peeled the paper back, and you lifted your hand to get a proper look at it. You broke out into a grin, the familiar feeling of excitement shooting up your spine.

“Minnie, come look at it.” You said excitedly, pointing to the stencil. 

Minho and Chan stared at one another as the younger man approached your figure, the tension between the two going completely unnoticed by you as you were still distracted by the stencil on your hand. 

Minho was the first to break away from staring, looking down at your hand, and smiling. He gently lifted your hand as he examined it, “It looks good, sweetheart. I bet it’ll look even cooler once it’s done though.” He spoke, placing your hand back in your lap. 

Minho turned to go back to his seat but you grabbing his wrist stopped his movements, “Can you drag your chair over here? I might need to hold your hand.” You said, trying your best to cover up the fact that you were a little flustered. 

Minho smiled and grabbed his chair, “‘Course, doll.”

“You ready?” Chan asked, the black ink laid out and ready, his gloves on and the gun in his hand. You nodded, giving him a reassuring smile, the man returning it. “Good, let me know if you need a break.” He said, turning the gun on and dipping it into the ink before pressing the needle into your skin. 

The three of you were silent as Chan worked, but he didn’t seem to like that, opting to break the silence. “Are you two together?” His sudden question surprised you and Minho.

Minho’s eyes widened comically as you broke out into nervous laughter, “No, we only met a week ago.” You clarified. Chan’s brows shoot up in surprise along with a glance to your face.

“That’s shocking. Minho doesn’t usually warm up to people that fast.” Chan said, focusing back on the tattoo.

You hummed and looked at the aforementioned man next to you, “I guess I’m just special then.” You said cheekily, gripping Minho’s hand and squeezing it. The man squeezed back and rolled his eyes.

“Whatever makes you sleep at night, doll.”

You chuckled and turned your gaze back to Chan, “I heard you like to race.” You said flatly, shocking the artist who looked up at you in mild shock before turning his glare to the man on your right.

“Why did you tell her?” He said in an accusatory manner.

Minho smiled cheekily, “She likes to speed herself, Chris.” He said, practically boasting. “She beat me in a race a few days ago.”

Chan looked down at you, “That’s quite a feat. Minho is one of the best racers out here.” Chan stated, “What do you drive?” He questioned, his focus still on your tattoo.

“A Subaru BRZ. What about you, handsome?” You said, ignoring the way Minho’s hand tightened around yours.

Chan smiled before replying, “A Camaro. Black.” His reply was short and simple, wanting to move the attention back to you he asked another question, “You new to Seoul?”

“I moved here a few days ago and met Minho the same day. I assume you know Jeongin since everyone I’ve met seems to know him.”

“Yang Jeongin?” He questioned.

“Yeah, him. We were friends back in Busan. I was the one that got him into racing, unintentionally.” You said, mumbling the last half of your statement.

“So you’re the girl from Busan he’s always gushing about.” Chan said, “The kid doesn’t stop talking about you.”

You hummed at the new information, “Yeah well the little shit ghosted me after moving so I don’t quite understand why he’s telling all his friends about me.” You said sourly. Jeongin had yet to give you a proper explanation as to why he left you in Busan and then acted like you didn’t even exist afterward. Until he does give you a proper explanation, you are going to remain salty about it.

Chan paused his work and glanced at the man beside you, biting his lip in thought before speaking hesitantly. “Innie got into some… trouble after moving up here.” He said calmly, going back to tattooing you.

You tensed, “What kind of trouble? Something to do with racing?” You questioned.

Minho spoke up from beside you, “Something like that. He didn’t want you involved. He said you were too important to be dragged into his problems.” Minho said as he gazed at the needle of the tattoo gun pricking your skin. 

You scoffed in annoyance, “I’m a big girl who has dealt with her fair share of shitty situations.” You stated, pausing before questioning the men, “Who did he piss off?”

“How did you know he pissed someone off?” Chan questioned with a tiny smirk.

“Because pissing people off is one of his many talents, unfortunately.”

Minho eventually answered your question, “He pissed off a rival group that’s known for getting violent with their competition. Innie got too cocky and said some shit he shouldn’t have.” Minho paused, “He’s learned from his mistakes. What happened back then really shook him up.”

“Rival group? There were groups back in Busan, too. Are you guys all in a group together?” Your questions were never-ending. You wanted to know everything that happened to Jeongin between now and his leaving Busan. 

Minho smiled, “Yeah. Han, Jeongin, Chan, and I are the ones you have met. There are four others.” He said, locking his gaze with your own.

“I thought the two of you didn’t get along.” You said, having picked up on the tension between the two men.

“We don’t but we’re civil for the sake of the group. We tolerate each other out of mutual respect.” Chan said with a chuckle. 

You nodded your head in understanding, “Who have I not met?”

Chan chuckled, “At this rate, you’ll meet the rest of them by the end of next week. Be a little patient, pretty.” He said calmly.

***

It took around an hour and a half for the tattoo to be completed due to the tedious line work. You paid and left, but not before giving your number to Chan at the man’s polite request.

“You gotta start warning me before I meet your friends, Minnie.” You stated as Minho led you around the city.

“What do you mean?” He said, looking at you from his peripheral. 

You flung your arms in the air dramatically, “Your friends are all hot! I don’t want to run into one of them when I look bummy.” You complained to the man.

Minho rolled his eyes at your dramatics, “One, you run into them on your own, and two, I have never seen you look bummy.” He stated and threw you a small smile.

You huffed and crossed your arms, “That’s because I don’t let you see me look bummy.”

“Can we stop saying bummy?” Minho questioned with a lifted brow.

“I’ll stop saying it if you tell me your other friends' names. What if I know one of them?” You said matter of factly. 

“Not a chance, doll.”

***

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