#**Anyone can see that Blue is clearly trying to hold back a chuckle as he now begins to dig into his pizza(s)**

[blue-rick24]

@imjustrick420

Well, I-I did just have Thanksgiving dinner with my family… but I can’t say no to that. We’re splitting the bill, bu-UuRUh-uddy.

Alright, so here we have… One pepperoni with extra cheese, that’s mine… One half-mushroom and half-pepper… (with extra cheese)… for me… And one Meat Lover’s… for me.

Here’s yours! **slides over what is actually just one plain pizza pie** S-Seeing as you like to complain… I just took it upon myself to order what I thought best fit you. |: ]

#**Anyone can see that Blue is clearly trying to hold back a chuckle as he now begins to dig into his pizza(s)** #((XDDD)) #ic #rp #Blue #blue rick #blue rick sanchez #rick ocs #imjustrick420 #my answers #pizza #thanksgiving #ooc note: BY SOME HOLIDAY MIRACLE I REALIZED I HAD TAKEN A SCREENSHOT OF THE ASK SO I JUST REWROTE THIS FHFH OH MY GOD YES !!!!!! #This one was meant to come before the last ask I posted hahaha #damn that stings a little doesnt it. Bad blue! bad XDD #also. his parentheses are just whispering/quieter talking XD #I think when someone comes into his inbox shouting rudely he’s gonna want to start beef XDD Especially a Rick. u kno they can’t help it XXD

[catcze]

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

「 ### : 」 reader knows how to paint nails !! Established relationship <3 ya this is inspired by that one reel i saw on my feed and saved to my notes haskdjnajs

You're so focused, Wriothesley thinks. You're seated across his work desk, hand holding his and the other being oh so careful with the brush of black nail polish that you're painting his nails with.

"Black polish is such a pain," you had groaned to him earlier. "Like, it looks good and anyone can rock it, but you have to be so careful to not fuck up because the black will make it so obvious, you know?"

Wriothesley did not, in fact, know. Your nails had always looked well-painted to him to the point that he used to think that you would get them professionally done. Whatever color they were, black or blue or red, or with some intricate designs or stickers, your nails always looked cleanly done. Clearly, they were not for any lack of effort, either.

He had done his best to be a model client (?) the entire time you've been doing his nails. You were so focused on your job, scrutinizing frown on your face as you worked, and he would hate to be the reason to mess up all your hard work. But he can't deny how smitten he was with you in the moment, all your attention on him (his hands, technically.) He just really really wants to kiss you right now.

Like you hear his thoughts, you just about finish one of the coats of polish and look up at his face, a small smile on your own. If you're surprised by how he's looking at you, if you're wondering how long you've caught his attention, you don't let it show.

"Hi," you tell him, not wanting to disrupt the peaceful quietude of his office.

Wriothesley grins. In as equally a small voice: "Hey."

You gaze at him inquisitively, and his eyes never leave your face. "You okay? Bored already?"

"'m not bored," he chuckles with a smile. "I just like looking at your face is all."

It's your turn to chuckle, glancing away from him bashfully as you dip the brush back into the polish. "Mm. That so?"

Wriothesley hums, the curve of his smile growing wider when he sees you get flustered. "Mmhm. You're nice to look at. And I like looking at you."

And oh you have to will your hand not to shake as you keep painting his nails. You have to will your palms not to sweat, you have to will your eyes to not tear up at how sweet the bastard in front of you is.

"You can't just say that while I'm trying to focus," you whine to him, still too shy to look him in the eye, trying to divert your attention back to your work at hand. "If I fuck up your nails, it's gonna be your fault, Wrio."

"Sorry, sorry," he says, not sounding very sorry at all. "I'll be sure to let you know how much I love you after you do my nails, sweetheart."

#astronetwrk #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #cw gn reader #wriothesley #genshin impact #「 🐈‍⬛ 」 catcze.desserts

[shaisuki]

｡‧˚ʚ°ɞ˚‧｡ ─── HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SATORU.

｡‧˚ʚ content warnings ɞ˚‧｡─── use of "chan" excessively, food play, finger licking, dry humping, thigh riding.

｡‧˚ʚ notes ɞ˚‧｡ a late birthday fic for our strongest sorcerer and dedicated for @plush-journal.

ᝰ.ᐟ it looks he could pair his birthday cake you baked for him and you. he's on a treat and is looking for more birthdays to come.

“happy birthday, satoru.”

his thumb and index finger meet to pinch the hem of his blindfold before raising it to take a peek. one of his blue eyes twinkling like stars in the night sky. the shimmering getting more prominent as he sees you. his girlfriend in front of him, holding his birthday cake.

he smiles. that soft, boyish smile without the playful and teasing that he always sports wether it was to annoy or make fun of others. it warm and sincere. his pinkish lips curled up into a smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

gojo places back his blindfold in its proper place. straightening his posture in his chair. “come here, baby~.” he calls you and placing yourself in his lap and gojo immediately latches in to you. his slender arms locking around your soft middle. patting your tummy in a rhythm for his amusement and his jaw resting in your shoulder.

“make a wish, 'toru.” glancing at him before going back to see the fire dancing at the wick of his birthday candle. nothing too fancy about the cake. covered with white icing and the frosting the same color. sliced strawberries place between the dotted frosting. chocolate syrup glazed in the sides and the center is written with happy birthday and his name. clearly homemade and gojo appreciate the effort. it's hard to come by these days.

blowing the candle, gojo smiles after the fire was extinguished. the smoke slowly dissipating in the air and you kissed his cheek. muttering a quick greeting. “happy birthday, satoru.” placing the cake in the table to meet his gaze. blindfold already discarded.

“did you make the cake?” he asks. “yeah. i just want to do something for your birthday since you don't celebrate it.” gojo chuckles. blowing raspberries to your chubby cheeks in which made you giggle. “celebrate, huh? nuzzling his cheek to yours. in a deep thought. it had been years since he celebrated with the people he trusts and after that, his birthdays for him are another regular day with the exception of his students birthdays and yours. he made sure he goes the extra mile to give them a memorable celebration. it would be a surprising for someone to know he doesn't celebrate his birthday considering his birth tipped the balance of the world. there's nothing worth of celebrating that, he thinks.

“it's your day, satoru. you can do whatever your heart desires.” you say softly to him. running your fingers in his white hair. “would it be wrong if it's you i desire?” your face burned in embarrassment. flustered at his suggestion. his smirk getting bigger as he sees you getting flustered. his grip on your wide hips tightens. pulling you closer to prevent you from getting up. “t—there's nothing wrong about that, 'toru. it's just we're here. anyone could walk in.” squirming at his lap while you tried to push him away. his face getting closer with that huge shit-eating plastered in his face.

“anyways, i-i should get us a plate and a fork.” you attempted to get up but you were planted firmly in his lap while trying to avoid the impending embarrassment creeping up on you. “no need. feed me with your hand (y/n)-chan~” he requested and who are you deny him. it's his birthday.

“okay.” your eyes scanning the cake until you settled in picking up the plump strawberry resting in the top of the cake, coated with cream and you faced him. “here you go, satoru.” his lips parting before taking a bite of the fruit. humming in delight as he tasted the sweetness of the fruit. he takes a bite again, eating the remaining and before you could take another piece of the toppings in his cake. he holds your wrist. your fingers covered in juices of the fruit and before you could take your hand back, he takes a lick of it. his tongue wide, swiping the remnants of the fruit from your cute, chubby fingers. “satoru....” you muttered. he didn't even break eye contact with you. maintaining it and the action's hot.

you uncomfortably shift in his lap. “it's my turn, baby.” you remained stunned from his deed. you didn't even feel him smearing the cream in your cheek before offering you a piece of the sliced strawberry. “let me feed you, (y/n)-chan~” you look at him before taking a bite. nibbling on the goodness the fruit have to offer.

he thinks he could cum in his pants just by looking at you eat. it always does but nothing beats this sight — so innocent and adoring in his eyes. watch as your soft lips move as you chew. the cream smeared in your round cheek and fuck, you look appetizing. seeing you enjoy and relish on the taste. he wants some too.

“i want to taste that too, baby.” before you could even protest his lips is in yours. nibbling your lower lip. a permission to grant him entrance in which you did. although a little hesitant cause you didn't even manage to swallow the remaining bits and his tongue is already making home inside your mouth. swirling and exploring every part of it. you swear you could hear him groaning. his hand on your lower back while the others in the back of your head. deepening the kiss to taste all of you.

your hips unconsciously grinding in his thigh causing a moan to slip from you. sparks of the familiar excitement running in your veins and the wetness dampening your panties.

he's the first to break the kiss. softly moaning and licking the corner of his lips. “tasty and oops— you have a stain in your cheek, (y/n)-chan. let me clean it for you.” and his mouth is already in your cheek. engulfing it with his lips before sucking on it. tongue swiping in the expanse of your skin. when he was done, his saliva connects to his lips and to your cheek. “all clean now!” he exclaims and his deft, nimble fingers is already unbuttoning the buttons of your cardigan. pulling it away in a quick motion from you. leaving you in your low cut, puff-sleeved dress. “you won't mind if i eat my cake, do you?” you shake your head. thinking he was finished with you but you didn't see it coming when he took a chunk of the cake you baked for him. his palm covered with the soft crumbs and the frosting before he smudged it to your chest.

“thanks for the food.” he says before diving in. face buried to your chest while his tongue do all the work in cleaning you up. he happily laps it all. your natural taste and scent infused with the warm goodness of the confection you made for him just send him off at the highest part of heaven. he feels you too. warm and ready. your warm pussy in his thigh moving back and forth. gojo smirks. he sure could help you while he feasts on you.

he wraps his arm around you, resting in your lower back and the other gripping your plush ass. assisting you to grind your hips harder to his thigh and he was rewarded with the sweetest moans he could ever hear.

“satoru~....” you moaned out. your thick thighs trapping his own muscular thigh while you ride him. your body hot. your insides shaking the more you move and slow build of your release is already making its progress.

your fingers finding refuge in his soft, white lock. tangling your fingers and the occasional grip you pull his hair when the delicious friction of your clit meeting his thigh. you wouldn't last long not when he moves your hips, not when you can hear the noise of his satisfied moans and groans while he happily licks the cream out of you.

and when the final roll of your hips and a forceful tug of his hair, you came undone. your soft, voluptuous thighs shake from the orgasm you had. panting softly as you try yourself to get back to your own breathing.

at that moment he finished eating the frosting he just had smudged to you. a more than satisfied smile etched in his lips. his blue eyes filled with sincerity and enjoyment of the tasting. you're just that addicting to him.

“happy?”

“more than happy.” he says, tugging the sleeve of your dress. licking his lips at the anticipation of you being fully bare in front of him with cream covering you. he looks at you like a madman combined with a child high in sugar. his blue eyes losing it's usual glimmer and turning it into one of a full blown lust. dark and seductive. opposite in what he can see in your own eyes. “don't think i'm done with you. i still need to satisfy myself and you will help me, i need you for myself.” he chuckles. completely removing your clothing and it pools in your waist. your stomach with its rolls that made his mouth water, is bare for his eyes to feast.

“i'm not still finished in eating you up.” he warns you and you reminded yourself that you still need to be sane after he fucked you dumb.

#ᝰ.ᐟ shai's drabbles #jujutsu kaisen #chubby reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x chubby reader #jujutsu kaise x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo x chubby reader #anime x chubby reader

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part seventeen

summary: you showed him colours he knows he can't see with anyone else.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.8k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness (r has a panic attack), she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: this is the tea guys get ready for a LOADED chapter. also,, i apologize.

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

Coryo wants to ask you who that guy was- why he made you so instantly uncomfortable, and he wants to, but he's cut off before he can get a word out by someone shouting your name. You tense under his hold, freezing on the spot. Then your name comes again, and as Coryo turns to see the face of whoever it is, he was met with the very same blonde boy just a few feet away.

"Hey, leavin' already?" He asks, tilting his head at you as you turn. He doesn't even spare a glance in Coryo's direction. "Didn't even say hello."

"Oh, well, I'm just... not feeling well." You reply, dropping Coryo's hand in favour of shielding yourself around your waist.

"Oh, that's a shame. Can I walk you home?" He offers.

"I've got it, actually." Coryo answers stiffly, straightening his shoulders as he takes in the boy's attire. Blue slacks, a white T-shirt, and a buzzcut. He's a peacekeeper.

The boy looks him up and down, a smirk forming on his lips. "This is your mentor. Saw him on TV with you, I didn't realise that was a... permanent arrangement."

"Coriolanus just came to visit. He's a good friend." You say quietly, hardly to be heard over the Covey band playing in the background.

"Oh! A friend. Of course." He laughs, speaking to you, but his eyes are locked with Coryo's; unafraid, taunting. "And here I was thinking you had a type."

"Y/N has never mentioned you." Coryo states, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep himself from throwing a punch. "Who are you, exactly?"

"Right! Sorry, I'm Cole." The blonde boy replies.

Coryo could laugh. Clearly, he was local. "Should I take a blind guess at where your father works, Cole?"

His jaw tenses in response, but then he laughs. "Yeah, yeah. You'd probably be right." He reaches up, running his hand over his jaw. "You know, if Y/N isn't up to giving you a tour, maybe I could take you out in the woods and show you where your father was murdered. How does that sound, Snow?"

You look up at your friend, eyes wide. Coryo doesn't know what to say or do, but he looks pissed. "Cole, enough." You state, trying to steady the shake in your voice. "That was cruel and you know it."

"Oh, was it? Sorry." He apologizes, but he's looking past you at a seething Coriolanus. He can only hear his heartbeat in his ears, and he wants nothing more than to beat this guy to a pulp right where he stands.

"Coryo, let's just go, please..." He can suddenly hear your voice, and feel your hands against his chest, trying to urge him out the door.

"Yeah, you two head out." Cole chuckles, lifting one hand in a wave. "I'll give you some advice though, bud, you're not getting anything from her by walking her home. I've been down that road and jeez- it's really not worth it."

Coryo didn't care anymore if you were trying to get him out; he steps past you and is throwing a fist right into Cole's nose before you could make a move to stop him. Bringing up his father was one thing, saying something so disgusting about you was totally another. Coriolanus would not look past that and be a pacifist right now- even if that's what you wanted.

You stumble back with a gasp, hands flying up to cover your mouth. You stand frozen as Coryo knocks him down, laying punch after punch onto a boy you once thought of as a friend.

Hit. After. Hit.

You couldn't see his eyes. You weren't sure why you were looking. Deep down, you knew you wouldn't like what you saw.

You back up. Back, back, back until your head hits the wall and you can't keep going. You didn't realize you were breathing so fast until you started to get dizzy. People are shouting, a crowd is forming. Too many people, too much screaming- the music has stopped, and you watch from outside your body as Sejanus wraps his arms around Coriolanus's waist and yanks him back so he's standing upright again.

He wipes his bloodied mouth on his wrist, then promptly pushes his hair back out of his eyes as he spits the blood in his mouth down on Cole as he lies on the ground. Time is moving so slowly that you're not even sure he's moving. Is he dead?

Your eyes flit back up to Coriolanus again, and his eyes catch yours. You try to take a step back again, but the wall is still there. Shades of red cloud the edges of your vision, and you're stuck making eye contact with him. Frozen, and terrified.

"No- no, no Y/N, wait-" He starts to speak to you. You wonder if you're dreaming. If this was another nightmare- worse than the others. It was personal. "Y/N- hey, don't look at me like that. Come on, don't look at me like that. Talk to me." He's saying, pleading with you, and you can only read his lips as tears fall quick and heavy from your eyes.

He takes one step with empty but bloodied hands held out in front of him, and you're running. It's the worst kind of deja vu. You don't know where to go- you can't go outside. He knows where you live, where your family lives, and it's too long of a walk to be able to make it. He would catch you if you tried to run home alone.

You're trying to sprint through a crowd of drunk people, many of whom are fighting as well now, and you almost don't even notice when you take a hit to the side of the head with someone's elbow as you try and get to the back room. You don't have time to care. You look back over your shoulder, shoving your way through as quickly as you can. He's following you. You can see his blonde hair in the semi-cleared path you made for yourself.

You can't look back, you have to look forward as you dart down the dark hallway, praying that the Covey's makeshift dressing room has a lock on the door. You didn't even realize you were screaming until you slammed the door behind you, scrambling for the lock and sliding the rusty metal shut as you barricaded the door with your body.

"Y/N! Y/N, wait!" Coryo shouts, shoving his way through the crowd behind you. You can't hear him, even when he catches your eyes. That same fear behind them made his gut twist.

He only just clears the crowd behind you when someone is standing right in his path, grabbing his shoulders and shoving him back. Lucy Gray. She wasn't strong, but she needed to be. "What have you done!" She's shouting right in his face, pushing him back again, but it does little to move him. "Why would you do that in front of her?! Get out of here! Now!"

"No, no, Lucy Gray I need to-"

"Coriolanus Snow if you don't get away from her right now I swear to god I-"

"No, you don't understand I-"

"I understand damn fine, thank you!" She huffs. "Sejanus, go get Lennox."

He didn't even clock that Sejanus was holding onto him, keeping him from getting any closer to you even though you were locked behind that door he could see just feet away. He could hear you screaming, sobbing, and he only wanted to help.

"Okay, yeah. I will." Sejanus says, turning his grip onto Coryo's arm. "Come on, you gotta go."

He had seen Sejanus angry before, but it was never directed at him. "Sejanus, please, I have to help her, I can't go through this again I really-"

"You can help her by leaving."

Coryo's heart sinks in his chest, but he lets Sejanus pull him away, and he stares hopelessly back over his shoulder at the door as Lucy Gray knocks on it, talking to you through the metal barrier protecting you from him.

"Y/N/N, hey, it's me. It's Lucy Gray. You gotta let me in, sweetheart. Come on, open up." She's trying to stay calm as she knocks on the door, repeatedly trying the handle on it. "I'm alone, I promise you're safe, Y/N/N. Open the door, please."

You can hear her, but everything besides your broken sobs sounds distant as you're curled up against the opposite wall. There's not enough air in the world right now to keep you conscious- there must not be a window back here. You force yourself back onto your feet, stumbling as you try to stand up and you can hardly see. It's hot.

You look up, there's no vents. The ceiling is too high. Somehow, that makes you feel more claustrophobic.

You make your way over to the door, your palms against it and feeling soft knocks coming from the other side.

"Lucy Gray?" You sniff, unsure now that it was even her voice that you heard.

"Yes, sweetheart. It's just me, can you let me in, please?"

You take three deep breaths.

"Y/N/N?"

With a shaky hand, you reach up and slide the lock open.

She tries the handle again, looking back over her shoulder when it cracks open this time.

You step back quickly as the door is slowly pushed open, almost falling back with the urge to run. You hardly remember why you would open the door.

"Hey, hey, just me." Your best friend says, quickly closing the door again and locking it behind herself.

She eyes you carefully, and your arms are wrapped tightly around your midsection. You don't look like yourself- eyes wide with nothing more than terror behind them, like you're physically holding yourself together and it's not really working as your chest rises and falls so fast she can almost see your muscles straining to keep up. She wants nothing more than to pull you into her arms and tell you it's okay, but she's not sure touching you would be wise. "You okay, Hun?"

You look at her with tear-filled eyes, shaking your head.

"That's okay." She nods at you, understanding and filled with worry. "Do you want to sit? I'll get you some water and we can talk, okay?"

You nod, swallowing over the dryness you didn't even notice in your throat left over from all the screaming and crying. If you didn't know better, you would have thought you swallowed a full box of cotton.

Lucy Gray nods, double checking the door is locked before going over to her bag in the corner and grabbing a water bottle. You watch her the whole way and her calmness slightly soothes you, just enough to sit down at the bench and table beside you.

Lucy Gray isn't scared. You're safe here. You have to remind yourself over and over that you're safe now.

"Your brother is on his way." She assures you, sitting down across the bench from you and holding out the water she just opened for you.

"Okay." You say quietly, taking it and just holding it in your lap. You try and take a deep breath, your head falling back as you shut your eyes, trying to force the fear to leave your body.

"There you go, good. Keep breathing." You hear her tell you and you swallow again. "Can you talk to me? Tell me what happened. No one can hurt you here, I promise."

"Coryo, go home." Sejanus instructs him, turning him in the opposite direction, as if he couldn't do it himself. He had absolutely zero interest in going back to that cold empty house they had borrowed for the month.

Especially after what he had done to you. Again.

He promptly turns back around in the street. "No, I'm coming with you."

Sejanus sighs, rubbing his hands down his face. "I don't have time for this-"

"I agree. Let's go get him."

"Don't you get it?" Sejanus laughs bitterly, eyes wide with exasperation as he shakes his head. "Don't you know what you've done to her?"

"Of course I get it!" Coryo shouts in response. "I've ruined everything! I know that!"

Sejanus opens his mouth to speak, quickly shutting it again.

"I'm killing her! I'm killing her and I can hardly breathe right now and I need her to know I didn't mean to scare her and the only way I can show her that is helping her now. That's the mistake I made last time, and I won't do it again. I won't." He shakes his head, reaching up and pushing his hair back out of his eyes.

"She talked to me, on the last night I saw her. She screamed, and cried, just like that," He gestures vaguely toward the building you're still trapped inside, "and she asked if that's who I was and I couldn't tell her no. She asked if I regretted it and I do, more than anything, and I'm pretty sure she's the only damn reason why and she doesn't know that!"

"I can't lose her." He adds after a moment of the two boys just staring at each other. "Not again, Sejanus. I'm scared of who I'll be without her."

Sejanus shakes his head slightly, looking up at the stars as he takes a deep breath. He was mad at Coryo for scaring you, but he was his friend, and if this is how he wanted to help, he couldn't bring himself to push him away after he was sure that Coryo had never been so honest in his life.

"Okay. Let's go."

There are still lights on in the house when Sejanus knocks on the door. Coryo is standing at his side, chest tight. Your brother already didn't like him- he knew this wouldn't go well at all, but he couldn't walk away from you now. If it was your brother you needed, he would get him for you.

The door opens and they're lucky to see that it was Lennox who answered.

"Where's my sister?" He asks immediately, noting that you weren't with them.

"Something happened, and Lucy Gray asked us to come get you." Sejanus answers, and Coryo's breath hitches as your brother's eyes lock on him.

"What did you do?" He spits, and for a moment Coryo wonders how you could even be related.

He feels himself go pale. "I'm sorry, I really am..."

"Pa!" Your brother shouts back into the house, not giving him the chance to explain further. "We gotta go get Y/N/N, somethin' happened to her."

"What?" Your dad's voice comes next, panicked and frantic as he hurries to the door, not even bothering to grab a coat as he and his son push past the boys on the porch.

Coryo hadn't had the chance to meet him yet, and the fact that this is his first impression makes him feel ill.

"What happened, is she hurt?" He asks, stalking quickly down the front path and they follow hastily after.

"She's not hurt." Sejanus assures him quickly.

"She, uhm, maybe..." Coryo says, embarrassingly non-confident. Everyone looks at him. "She caught an elbow to the head, I couldn't stop it. I'm sorry."

"You're Coriolanus?" Your dad says, turning to look at him only briefly.

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you for coming to get us." He replies, nodding to him. "You did the right thing."

Coryo has to ignore the glares Lennox is shooting into him. He must be the only one who knows.

"We didn't know it would be unsafe for her, but we should have. I apologize." Sejanus says, and your father slightly shakes his head.

"She's got a smart head on her shoulders. She wouldn't've gone if she thought something would happen. Can't blame anyone." He replies. "There's no guidebook on how to live with this stuff."

"I have a good idea of what not to do." Lennox cuts in, and Coryo catches him staring at his bruised knuckles. He quickly tucks his hands into his pockets.

Peacekeepers had cleared out the Hob by the time they got back. Coryo recognizes the other kids in Lucy Gray's band as they stand outside, presumably waiting for her to come out. She was still with you, maybe that was a good thing.

"Tam Amber, is Lucy Gray with her?" Your father asks the boy, who nods in response.

"They won't let you in here, but go try the back door. Goes straight to our room, that's where I saw her go."

"Thanks, Son." Your father nods, lips pursed together as he pats his shoulder and quickly brushes past, rounding the side of the building.

Coryo tries to follow, but Lennox stops him abruptly with a hand on his chest. "You better go."

"Listen, I, I don't know what she told you, but-"

"She told me everything I need to know about you." He says, looking back over his shoulder at his dad knocking on the door, ear pressed to it as he calls out for you and Lucy Gray. "And I know that you being here will just make it worse. So go."

Coryo nods, running a hand down his face. "Listen, I get it, I do, but I can't lose her again. I can't. I have to explain-"

"No, no." Lennox cuts him off. Coryo is sick of people cutting him off. "Can't you just let her be happy? We're doing everything we can to convince her she's still alive- that she's safe and it was hard enough already before you showed up. Literally every night she has nightmares about you, because she trusted you. Completely. You've been here less than a day and you hurt her all over again- I can't just stand by and let that happen."

"I did it because that guy said something horrible about her- I just, I couldn't let him get away with that!" Coryo protests, scared that no one would actually give him a chance. "Last time I didn't get to talk to her and I think that's what she needs."

"Oh, you think that? That's spectacular. She'll be cured!" Lennox laughs dryly, rolling his eyes. "We don't need you to fix her. I really don't have time for this, Coryo."

He practically spits the nickname at him, laced with venom as he turns on his heel to go to the door.

Coryo groans, running his hands down his face again as he watches the door open for your brother and father.

"It's like," You take a deep, shaky breath, squeezing the water bottle you're holding in your lap. "It's like he is a different person, Lucy Gray. Do you get it now? Did you see?"

"I believe you. I always have." She nods, looking into your eyes. "I saw it, but..." She sighs, breaking eye contact with you. "I don't think he's a vicious person, Y/N. And I don't think you think that either."

You chew your lip, shaking your head as your eyes fall to the floor.

"Can I give you my opinion?" Lucy Gray asks after a moment, reaching out to hold your hand.

"Truth is truth to the end of reckoning." You say plainly, nodding and gripping onto her hand.

"There's no reckoning, love, okay? I'm your friend first and foremost. I want to help you, and I will always be honest with you." She assures you before continuing. "But I think... I think he's just a normal boy. Boys get in fights all the time-"

"Lucy Gray you didn't see it."

Your best friend is calm, despite you interrupting her. You never did that, but she knows better than to fault you for it now. "Okay, alright. What didn't I see?"

Your hair falls into your eyes as you shake your head, and you quickly push it back with your free hand to look at her. "His eyes."

"His eyes, okay... What about them?"

"He gets... It's scary. Like he wants to do it. Like he enjoys hurting people and, and-" Just recalling it makes your heart rate increase.

"Okay. I believe you." She nods, placing her other hand on yours. "But I think this is more about you than him, sweetheart."

Lucy Gray can see the confusion that knits itself into your creased brow. "It was a scary, traumatic time for you, and I think you're still recovering and that's okay. You may never be the same and that's okay. But I don't think he'd hurt you. I really don't. I think he's a good person."

"I want to think that..." You sniff, shaking your head. "but just as easily that could have been me in the arena. And just as easily that could have been you out there, or, or..." Your train of thought dissipates. "I just mean it doesn't seem that anything is stopping him."

"I don't think it could have been you. He cares about you. You told me that, remember?" She smiles softly. "I think it was inconsiderate of him to act that way out there, but I think you were just reliving something you shouldn't have to. The games can make anyone do bad things."

"Maybe..." You mutter, second-guessing yourself now. You didn't even see his eyes tonight, not until he was looking at you and begging you to listen when you couldn't. He looked just as scared as you, as soon as he realized what he had done.

"Are you sure you saw that today?" Lucy Gray's question shocks you, but it's exactly what you were thinking. "His eyes, I mean. Did you see it again or did you just expect to after last time?"

You jump at the rapid knocking on the back door. Lucy Gray stands up, making her way over to it. You hear muffled voices for a few moments before Lucy Gray returns. "It's your family, I'm going to let them in, okay?" She pats your leg and you nod, and she smiles at you reassuringly before walking away.

You hear the door creak open and you stand up, brushing off the front of your dress and turning to face them as your father and Lennox rush in.

"Honey, are you okay?" Your father asks, quickly gathering you into a hug and you nod, biting back more tears.

"Fine just fine." You whisper. "I'm sorry you had to come all this way..."

Lucy Gray catches a glimpse of Sejanus and Coryo standing outside as she lets your family in, looking back at them talking to you when she slips out. She gently closes the door behind herself and walks up to them. "I thought I told you to go home."

"I know, I know, but-" Coryo looks between her and the door. He sighs, deciding to give up on defending himself. "Is she okay?"

Lucy Gray looks at him, arms crossed over her chest as his hair falls in his eyes and he doesn't immediately fix it, more concerned about you than anything else. "You need to cut your hair." She states plainly.

He's confused, opening his mouth to argue when she speaks again. "You need to cut your hair so she can see your eyes. She'll feel safer with you then." She turns on her heel, nodding to Sejanus before heading back for the door. "When we get her out of there you better be gone- she can't see either of you tonight." She pauses, hand on the handle. "But yes, she'll be okay."

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie ,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @scorpiolystoned , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

#tbosas #tbosas fic #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg #the hunger games #thg series #thg fanfiction #hunger games #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus fanfiction #coryo snow #coryo x reader #coryo x you #president snow #snow lands on top #snow x reader

[starkeyscvmsock]

Wrong window - Rafe Cameron

About: When you sneak into Tannyhill, hoping to enter through the grounded Sarah’s room, you accidentally sneak into the very, very wrong room.

MDNI, 18+!

"You've got to be fucking kidding me".

Once both of my feet were in through the window and planted firmly on the carpet, I looked up to see a face I was not expecting to see in a room I was not expecting to be in. The thing is, I had only ever visited Sarah Cameron through the front door, so clearly I had made a slight miscalculation on the layout of the house and snuck through the window of the wrong, very very wrong, room.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Rafe snarled as he jumped up from his bed, a disgusted look on his face at the sight of me. I racked my brain for an excuse, a lie, anything; but spending too much time with JJ had caused me to lose too many brain cells over time and I came up with nothing. So instead, I decided to go with the plain and simple truth.

"I'm here to see Sarah, I thought this was her window" I straightened my back and raised my shoulders, trying to show the man before me that I wasn't afraid of him when, in reality, I had never been alone with him and I knew very well what he was capable of; Pope's black eye could attest to how much I hated Rafe Cameron.

"Oh yeah?" Rafe said as he inched towards me, the sole reason I didn't mirror his steps and move back was because the window pane was already digging into my back. I couldn't go any further. "Yes really, so get out of my way and let me go" I spat as I tried my hardest to use the element of surprise and barge past him as quick as I could, but I was only one step away from him before I felt his large hand engulf my wrist.

"Not so fast" he chuckled, his dimple appearing on his cheek that I had forgotten was even there. "Sarah's on lockdown. Not allowed to leave the house, not allowed to see anyone and most certainly not allowed to even breathe the same air as you pogues" his cocky smirk soon turned to a scowl at the mention of a pogue.

"But you already knew that. Didn't you? Or I'm sure that you'd know our doorbell works just fine" with each word said, a step was taken until I was backed into the wall and Rafe was inches away from my face, his blue eyes almost seeming to shimmer at this proximity.

The grip on my wrist had tightened, Rafe's gold ring digging into my flesh, sure to leave a mark. I tried to pull my hand away but he only tightened his hold. "Fine" I spat, growing angrier as the pain in my wrist increased. "I knew that I wasn't allowed to come. Happy? Now get your grubby paw off me and let me go!".

Rafe only stared down at me, his breathing shallow and a look of resignation in his eyes. An emotion I had never seen on any Cameron's face before. "What?" I spat, trying to pull my wrist free again; this time his grip loosened, causing the pain to ease but his hand still stayed wrapped around my wrist.

"You're real pretty when you're angry, you know that?" he whispered, his free hand coming up to my face and moving a stray curl that had fallen onto my face during my struggle behind my ear. Was this really Rafe Cameron I was looking at right now? The cold, egotistical kook king that beat Pope with a golf stick and constantly harassed me and my friends? He was calling me... pretty?

My heart beat began to pick up and I could feel my face growing warmer as I swallowed down the lump in my throat. "You can't deny it, can you?" He smirked. "What?" I whispered, fearing that if I spoke louder I would remind us both that he was him and I was me, and he was currently holding the side of my face as he pressed me up against his bedroom wall.

"This. I know you feel it too. The spark, the tension. You know it'd be good" his gaze roamed my face, dropping to my heaving breasts for a second so short I was sure I imagined it before returning to my eyes. "What would be?" I asked softly, my free hand playing with the hem of my shorts, a habit I had realised I did when I was nervous. Rafe Cameron had made me feel many things before but nervous wasn't one of them.

Rafe's smirk grew before the hand that was holding the side of my face lowered to the back of my neck as he pulled my closer to him, his lips now by my ear and the hand on my wrist now rubbing it softly. "If I fucked you into a pretty little mess".

My breath hitched at his words, a warm flutter erupting low in my belly at his deep voice and warm breath coasting over my ear and side of my neck. "Rafe" I breathed out, not knowing what more to say. "Hmm" he said absently as he drew back, his eyes dropping to my lips and his thumb going to the bottom lip.

As though my brain wasn't working, my lips slowly parted, before Rafe slowly, oh so slowly made it's way inch by inch into my warm mouth before it was fully in, resting on my wet tongue. His lips parted as he let out a low breath; his eyes had now grown a darker shade and the heat in them is what caused me to close my lips around his thumb before slowly swirling my tongue around it, all while looking into his eyes that spoke words his brain was too scrambled to verbalise.

"Fuck" he bit out before yanking his thumb from my mouth and replacing it with his tongue as he attacked my mouth with his own. I blamed the fact that my mouth opened for him and one of my hands made it's way into the back of his hair while the other clutched the bottom of his grey North face jumper on the initial shock of his mouth on mine.

His lips were surprisingly sweet and so, so soft. His hips shifted, aligning them with the bottom of my stomach and my mind whirled as I felt the hard, tented evidence that I wasn't the only one feeling the affect of our dirty kiss. "Rafe" I gasped as he bought his face to my neck, licking and biting at the spot below my ear that caused a spark to shoot low in my belly, travelling straight to my core that was starting to throb more and more.

I was shocked at myself for the emptiness I felt when Rafe pulled his face away from my neck; one of his hands yanking my hair back in a closed fist while the other dropped to my ass, clutching it as if it was his life line. Who knew Rafe Cameron was an ass man. His nose rubbed against mine as we both panted heavily, his gaze resting on my lips.

"Tell me you want this. You want this don't you baby? You need it, I can see it in those pretty eyes of yours" he breathed out as he rolled his hips into mine, causing my eyes to flutter closed at the feeling of him rubbing against my clothed core.

I nodded quickly, trying to pull him to my mouth again by his jumper but he pulled back, his grip tightening in my hair until it was painful. I ignored the fact that the pain shot to my core, increasing the throbbing there. "Give me your words, I know you've got plenty of them" he chuckled deeply. "Yes. Yes Rafe, now please. Just please" I hated the begging in my voice but if he didn't touch me where I needed him soon I would go crazy.

"Please what?". I huffed out an angry breath at his words, why was he still talking? "Please fuck me Rafe" I breathed out. My words bought out the beast in him, as soon as they had fallen from my lips he lifted my legs around his waist and smashed his lips back onto mine.

Our kiss was messy and dirty, our tongues sweeping against each other, his teeth biting into the flesh of my lip every now and then before he would bite down hard, earning a small moan to fall from me. These sounds would only spur him on, his hips rolling torturously against mine as he held me against the wall before finally he had enough of feeling me with barriers between us.

Rafe's warm hand made it's way beneath my top, leaving goosebumps in it's wake before he gripped my breast hard and unforgiving. My breasts weren't large but I had never been so happy with that fact as it fit into his hand perfectly. He gripped the whole thing before focusing on my nipple, tugging the bud until it was hard and aching. I thanked any higher powers that existed that I had chosen not to wear a bra today.

"I wanna take this off, let me take it off baby. You want it off don't you? I need it off" Rafe spoke into my neck as he licked and sucked on it while tugging at the hem of my top. I lifted my arms as an invitation, afraid that if I was to speak it would be a load of gibberish; I was aware that Rafe Cameron's mouth on me had made me a simple being. Rafe breathed a sigh of relief as he ripped my shirt from my body, the sudden cold of the room causing my nipples to harden even more which I didn't think was possible.

"And these, they need to come off. I wanna touch you. Need to touch you, you want me to touch you right, baby? I'll make you feel real good" I suppose I had made him a simple being too as he rambled into my neck while playing with the button off my shorts. I nodded rapidly, that was all the signal he needed to pop the button open while I yanked the zipper down, both working together to rid me off my shorts, leaving me only in my thong.

"God, look at you. So perfect. So pretty" Rafe whispered to himself as he lifted his face from my neck only long enough for his eyes to rover over my body, switching from each breast before settling on the spot between my legs. I could feel that I had soaked through my panties, probably leaving a wet mark.

Rafe had stayed true to his word, he had made me a pretty little mess and he wasn't even inside me yet.

Rafe's lifted two fingers in front of my mouth, I parted my lips and welcomed them into my mouth as I slathered them up with my spit, his face strained as he watched with furrowed eyebrows and gritted teeth. Then, he took them out of my mouth with a pop and trailed them so, so slowly down my torso, between my breasts and down my stomach.

He left a trail of my spit as his fingers went lower and lower; it dried almost instantly, leaving a cold feeling on the strip of cold spit going downwards. Rafe's hand that was clutching my ass to help hold me around his waist tightened, his body going stiff and his gaze dropping to the action as his hands finally pulled my panties to the side.

I flushed with embarrassment and Rafe let out a low curse as we both watched my slick wetness leave a string from my pussy to the thong that he was slowly pulling to the side; I looked up at him as he watched, seeming as if he was in a trance.

Finally, he left the strip of my thong at the side near my hip and ran his two spit covered fingers along my soaking folds. "Shit" I breathed out as I clutched at the hair on the back of his head, my other hand reaching to my breast and tweaking my nipples.

"So wet. Soaked. Told you I'd make you feel good didn't I baby? This is all me. I'm making you feel so good. No one else could make you a mess like this. Only me" Rafe punctuated his ramble with his fingers as he plunged them inside me to the hilt, the filthy sound of my wetness punching the air. "Ohh, fuck Rafe. Fuck" I grit out as my eyes clenched shut, my grip on his jumper tightening as my head fell to his shoulder.

Warmth coursed through me as he pumped his finger in and out of me at an agonisingly slow pace, his thumb now rubbing back and forth on my throbbing clit. "Such a mess. Such a pretty mess" Rafe whispered to himself before he lowered his head to my nipple, licking a circle around it before pulling it between his teeth, wringing a gasp from me.

"Stop, Rafe enough" I gasped. I realized what I had said when Rafe pulled away in alarm, his hands leaving my body and his face alert. He made a move to put me down but I clung to him like a koala on  a tree, rushing to alleviate my mistake. "No, Rafe, Not like that. I just, I need you. So bad. I need you in me, inside me" I rushed out as rolled my hips against him. I know he wanted me too. Needed me. I could feel the evidence between his thighs and however ridiculously skilled he was with his fingers, it wasn't enough.

"You're fucking crazy" he chuckled as he turned around before laying me on his large bed, the soft duvet soothing against my hot skin. Rafe's eyes didn't leave mine as he stood before me at the bottom of his bed while he lifted his jumper slowly over his head, revealing inch by inch his beautiful bronzed skin. Once the jumper was off and thrown in the corner, I allowed my gaze to rove over his torso.

His abs glistened with a light sheen of sweat and his chest was flushed, rising up and down as he breathed steadily. My breath hitched in my throat as my gaze dropped to his long fingers, slowly and torturously pulling his belt from the buckles in his jeans, the action slow and controlled as he teased me without even touching me.

My breathing picked up as Rafe rid himself of his jeans and boxers, allowing me to catch a glimpse of his large angry cock before he lowered himself on top of me. "You still hate me?" he smirked as he ran his lips up the side of my neck. "You still classist?" I asked with a teasing smile on my face. It soon dropped as Rafe placed my legs around his hips and slid his hard cock that was dripping with precum through my folds and nudging my clit, wringing a moan from me.

"Always" he smirked as he rolled his hips, taking in my furrowed eyebrows and flushed cheeks. "Then yeah," I panted, "I still hate you". "Good. Because you're really not gonna like me after I fuck you like a slut" my retort to his words cut off as he slammed himself into me with no warning, his length reaching a depth within me I didn't even know could be reached. 

"Rafe" I yelped as I dug my nails into his shoulders, no doubt leaving marks as I tried to find purchase against his brutal thrusts. "Shhh, my dad's office is just down the hall" he whispered. His thrusts slowed down until they came to a halt, leaving me confused as he lifted his head from the crook of my neck to look me in the eyes.

"You don't want the man who murdered your best friend's father to hear how much of a slut you are, do you?" he smirked, his words hit me like a slap to my face as anger coursed through me. I shoved at his shoulders as he chuckled down at me.

"You piece of shit!" I snapped as I untangled myself from him and tried to leave the bed. I didn't get far as Rafe kept me pinned under him, flipping me over onto my stomach and holding my hands behind my back with one of his while the other clutched the back of my neck, pushing the side of my face into his pillows.

"Get off me! I hate you" I seethed as I squirmed beneath him. A gasp escaped my lips as he pushed back inside of me, thrusting slow but hard, causing my eyes to roll to the back of my head at the warmth in the pit of my stomach and the throbbing in my clit.

"You really want me to? You want to feel empty? You want to have to get yourself off when you get home? Want to be left throbbing like a little slut? Why don't you let me take care of you, baby. You know I can, I'll make you feel so good" he groaned as I clenched around him at his words. With guilt and remorse, I answered by thrusting my hips back into him, causing the pace of his thrusts to pick up.

"That's my girl" he chuckled as he thrust into me harder and faster, his panting in my ear turning me on more, making me wetter. "It worked didn't it?" he asked as he lifted my hips up so that I was on my knees with my face in the pillows and him on his knees behind me.

His thrust harder and harder as my eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Angry sex is so much better than normal sex" he leant down and whispered in my ear with a smirk on his face. I grew more angry as I realised what he did. "You di-" my words cut off as his hand landed roughly on my ass, leaving a delicious sting in it's wake.

"What was that princess?" I answered with a moan as his hand wrapped around to toy with my clit. He flipped me over again onto my back, his hand coming up to grip me by my throat while the other held my hip in a punishing grip to anchor his punishing thrusts. "That feel good?" he asked.

"Mmm" I mumbled, my eyes closed and bottom lip between my teeth. His thrusts stopped completely and my eyes flung open in alarm. "Look at me while I'm fucking you, you little slut" he snapped as his grip on my throat tightened, causing little white spots to appear in  my vision. "Please" I breathed out. "Please, I'm sorry" my voice came out as a whine due to his grip on my throat.

"Look at you" he smirked as he began thrusting his hips again, even harder than before if that was possible. I gripped at his hair, probably to the point that he was in pain but he didn't seem to care as he looked down to where we were one, watching his cock slip in and out of my soaking folds with each thrust.

"If only your little boyfriends could see how much of a needy little whore you are" he chuckled to himself. "But they won't, will they?" his gaze retuned to mine. I shook my head the best I could with his grip on my throat, not trusting myself to speak. "Only me. You're mine now, my little slut" he grit out. His eyebrows pulled together and his lips parted as he began to pant heavily.

The coil in my stomach was getting tighter and tighter, getting ready to snap, and I know Rafe was close too. "Rafe, I- I think I'm going to-" I couldn't finish my sentence as he gripped my tit and lowered his head to the other, taking it in his mouth.

"God, me too. Come for me, baby. Come on, let go" he said as he landed one particularly brutal thrust, causing me to see not stars but the whole galaxy as I felt his cum leak inside of me, only intensifying my crushing orgasm as I clenched around him, milking him and myself for all that we had.

Rafe lifted his head and looked at me, sweat pooling on his forehead and his hair hanging in front of his beautiful blue eyes as he looked down at me. "We're doing that again, right?" he grinned down at me as he wiped the tear that had fallen from my eye at some point with the pad of his thumb.

I realised one thing as I felt him begin to harden again inside me. Rafe Cameron fucked how he fought; rough, unfair, unforgiving and he always, always got what he wanted.

#rafe cameron #rafe smut #smut #imagine #outer banks #rafe obx

[my-cherie]

𝗗𝗢𝗘𝗦 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗠𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗪♡

pairing ꒱modern! step-dad! pantalone x male reader warnings ꒱ step relationships (though reader doesn't know it), cheating on pantalone's part, a few pet names (darling, sweetness, pet), grinding, dirty talk, praise. wc ꒱ 600+ thoughts ꒱ small genshin drabble bc pantalone doesn't get nearly as much appreciation as he deserves, this man is HOT, y'all. inspired by the abba song with the same name. NOT BETA READ.

You hadn’t seen your mom in a long time. Ever since you moved away for college she barely contacted you, so to say you were baffled when her wedding invite came in would be the century’s understatement. Putting on your best suit, you messed with your hair a little more and tried your best to straighten your tie, before giving up and just deciding to go like this. Not like you were trying to impress anyone.

While you were on the way to the ceremony, you checked the invite again. This was maybe your mom’s third husband ever since your dad left? You weren’t sure, but maybe this “Pantalone” (as you came to know his name from the invite) would be nicer than your other step-fathers.

… The place was fancy. You almost wish you hadn’t come, because the venue in itself already seemed straight out of an expensive magazine, with the full-on white decorations, roses and tulips and baby’s breath everywhere and a ton of seats in the middle of a cute, meadow-like wedding venue and now you were sure that this Pantalone guy was at least filthy rich, because your family sure as hell didn’t have the money for this place, even with the money your mom managed to get from her past failed relationships.

You stumble amidst all the guests, making small talk with some cousins, aunts and uncles, before finally settling into the back of the garden, nursing a glass of white wine that you were sure cost more than your apartment. Trying to look for anyone else you knew besides the few relatives you had talked to, you were disappointed to see only strangers. 

Fuck, was your mom gonna take too long to come out? 

“Hello,” you startled, who— “do you mind if I wait here as well?

Oh, that’s a very pretty man.

He’s wearing probably the most expensive suit you’ve ever seen, with a beautiful blue tie, silver glasses and— Is that a fucking Armani suit?

“Sure dude, uh,” you shift under his attention, distractedly biting the inside of your mouth, scrambling for a common topic you could talk to this stranger about, “do you know the groom?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” He chuckles in amusement and you realize suddenly that he seemed a bit... bored. He was just observing everyone and not moving to greet any of the people in the venue, even though you can see that quite a few people seemed to wave and smile at him.

The unknown man seemed to not want to socialize with anyone else, besides you, that is.

You mess with your tie again, trying to distract yourself from the beautiful, beautiful man besides you. Your tie just never seems to sit correctly on your suits, no matter how many times you've watched those tutorials on Youtube about how to do the perfect tie.

“Do you need some help there?” The man — fuck you forgot to ask his name — asks, clearly seeing you struggle.

“Please, if you could.” You smile at him, embarrassed.

He comes closer, slowly redoing your tie for you, and you stare at his face meanwhile. 

Without meaning to, your eyes are attracted to his lips and you bite your own again, thinking about how they look very much kissable. When you look up, he’s already looking directly at you, a smirk playing at his lips and his eyes muddled with arousal.

So you weren’t the only one to feel the pull of attraction between you two then, good. You weren’t even enjoying the wedding anyway.

(The man kisses hard, you dimly register, your body hidden away from view by the way he’s holding you, kissing you breathless.

His knees are slowly grinding your dick and fuck if it doesn’t feel good, making you moan each time he does it, holding his hair tighter.

“Do you like it like that, darling? Does it feel good?” He talks dirty like he’s made for it and when you don’t answer, he pulls away the tiniest bit. “Answer me.” 

And you have to gasp for breath, he has already made you into such a mess in a few seconds, it’s humiliating, but not enough for you to not beg him.

“Yes! Yes, it feels amazing! Please, please—“ You don’t know his name, god damn it all. He seems to notice your predicament, because he snickers a bit.

“The name’s Pantalone, sweetness.”

You give him your name as well, completely forgetting that your mom’s soon-to-be-husband has the same name as the stranger ravaging you. Even though it’s a very clearly unique name, your brain has been completely taken by his ministrations, hazy and distracted.

“Cute,” he says, before going back to kissing you to oblivion and starting to grind against your cock with his own, clearly hard and wanting to continue just as much. 

“I’m going to enjoy ruining you, pet.”)

#genshin impact #genshin pantalone #genshin regrator #genshin impact fanfics #genshin fanfic #genshin angst #pantalone x y/n #pantalone genshin #male reader #x reader #smut #pantalone x reader #Pantalone smut #pantalone #pantalone genshin impact #pantalone x reader smut #sub reader #x sub reader smut #dom x sub reader smut #dom pantalone #dom pantalone smut #dom pantalone x sub reader smut #genshin dom #x male reader smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #fatui x reader #modern genshin au #modern genshin impact

[starillusion13]

The Blue Bird

Pairing: Yeosang x f!reader W.C: 3.1k

Genre: Fluff, Dystopian au, Pirate au

Warnings: hostage, mention of cut and dried blood(just words), jumping from a high window pane, being chased, running through forest at night, patching up wound, getting scratched by iron and metal objects. The beginning is a bit dark but A soft scenario in the end.

Network: @kvanity-main

⛓️

“Why are you helping me?”

That was his third time asking you but, you were still busy finding a way to break the chains. Frustratingly, tugging the hairs behind your ears, you began to search around the destroyed arena. A metal rod hit against your ankle and you whimpered when it scratched deeply. You ignored the stinging pain and returned to pick up the rod. You took it in your hand and felt, it was too heavy but still it seemed more useful than any other object lying around you. Approaching him, he raised a brow at your figure holding a rod in your hand.

“Woah! Wait there. Why with a rod?”

You rolled your eyes, “of course to break the chains and please keep quiet.”

He chuckled but within a blink a glare was sent in your direction, “I know that, you don’t have to say something so obvious. I thought you have a key to the locks. Just tell me why are you here?”

“That’s nothing to worry about.”

You hit the joints of the heavy iron chains with the rod. The chains made clanking sounds with the metal against the floor. You didn't mind anyone hearing you but he was worriedly looking around the dark place to see if anyone had arrived at the location after hearing the loud sound.

“Are you crazy? They can hear us.”

“If you don't keep quiet then they will hear us before we could have run away.”

“And how are you so sure that we can run away from here?”

You gripped the metal rod tightly in your grasp and stared at him but didn’t reply anything.

No matter what you will save him.

The distant source of lights reflecting in his eyes, sparkling brightly. His front long bangs sticking to his forehead and rest disheveled, he was staring at you. Never dodging your gaze on him, he followed your eyes traveling to his black beaded gothic necklaces of various lengths around his neck with a black long V-neck vest with long white back and a black loose bottom pants. Everything was dirty after being locked up in the arena for almost a week. A smirk appeared on his face when he noticed your long stare at his body.

“Do you like the view? I guess you might have liked it more if we have more light. Right?” His tone was clearly indicating his smugness visible on his face. You didn't look at him and proceeded to hit the chains again. There was a crack sound from one of them and he stared between the broken piece and you. He could see a small smile on your face and he nodded to himself but quickly raised his brows when you stared at him.

“I did it.” 

Well, he was happy that you could break it but still he didn’t show his true emotions and you quickly returned to break the other chain. You closed your eyes when you felt the burning of your skin in the ankle from the cut earlier. Your wrist was aching with the repeated activity but you were determined to do it, till the end. With a few more hits, finally you were able to break the other chain. There was a metal box beside you, placing yourself on it, the rod fell from your grasp and you took deep breaths.

Between your breaths, still you managed to call out his name, “Yeosang…run…run away.”

He was still trying to pry off the remaining chains which were snaked around his body. When he heard your voice, especially his name from your mouth. He quickly turned towards you. He noticed your exhausted form leaning in the distance. Throwing away the last chain, quick steps took him to you.

He crouched down and stared at you, “why are you telling me to run away. What about you?”

You shook your head before parting your eyelids to find him near you, so close to you. You couldn't believe it when you noticed the worriedness in his eyes. You both were sweating but you were more exhausted than him. The close up view made your vision more clear to notice his red birthmark beside his left eye. 

Everything is still exactly the same.

You fought back the urge to caress his face, to pull him into a hug. You inhaled sharply before looking away, “Run before they can find you.”

“But they will catch you here.” he placed his hands on your knees. You bit your lip when you felt him against your skin, the white flared knee length dress was already torn and dirty in several places from earlier the day but at least you made it possible to set him free. 

“I can manage on my own.”

“But I can’t manage to lose you…again.”

Your head shot up and your wide eyes stared at him, “again?”

Both of you heard banging of the metal door to your side in the far, your scared eyes glanced at the direction of the sound and quickly looked back at him, “they are here. Go Yeosang. You need to run.”

He retreated his palms from your knees, you curled your fingers at the loss of contact but still you strongly held your gaze on him. So, he would be going away, far away from you. You wiped your tears and looked down at your lap.

A hand suddenly extended in front of you, surprising you when you looked at the owner. No emotion was visible on his face but you could feel him getting impatient with every passing second. He should run away. Wasting a little time would make his chance of running away impossible. You stared at his hand.

“Come on. We are going together. Let’s go fast.”

You shook your head, “No No. This is not possible. I’m not going with you.”

He rolled his eyes before grabbing your wrist and pulled you on your feet. Your protests were only to be ignored by him when he started running to the other direction from the door.

“Yeosang. Leave my hand. I can’t go.”

“Keep quiet. They will catch us before we can run away.”

Your lips curled up at his response. He repeated your words from earlier. Both of you skipped over some old wooden and metal objects lying all around you. The place was dark, only the source of moonlight and tower lights were illuminating all around. The wide arena was lining by a lot of rooms and you didn't know anything about this place so you frantically looked around when you tripped on a broken wooden chair lying down.

“Be careful.” His voice was deep but the caring was felt softly.

You nodded your head and followed behind. Well, you don't have any more options. He was holding onto your wrist so tightly that you were a child who would run away here and there if he let it loose.

Ending up in the very end room, there were shattered pieces of glasses all around the room and it was too dark from the outside. You were hesitant to enter the room but he assured you to be fine and to trust him.

Trust him….

You trust him…more than he can even think of.

There was a window at the opposite wall but it was too high. The fences were all broken and there was nothing that you could climb onto to reach that high. He left your wrist when he started looking around the room. His wrist which still had the heavy metal holes hit against the metal objects and he cursed under his breath. There was an old wooden shelf but it was not enough to climb and it could not be trusted. Still, he pushed it towards the window and placed it just under the window pane. 

“Climb up.”

“Me?”

“Just do it fast. They might find us here soon. Come on, do it.”

You again parted your lips to protest when he swept you off the floor by your waist and held you up so that you could easily rest your upper body on top of the shelf.

“Don't sit on that shelf longer. It might break anytime. Just jump on that window space.”

You did as he told you and held the rod beside the window. A sudden breeze hit you on the face, the view of the vast forest before you was a dark and dense area with trees. Are you really running away? With him?

You turned around to see him looking at the door.

“What happened?”

He signaled you to keep quiet. He held a finger to his lips and he moved closer to the door.

“Yeosang…”

“Jump.”

“No. I did so much to save you only for you to tell me to go away without you.”

He reached near the door and glared at you. Why? Peeking outside the room, he could hear some footsteps nearby and he quickly stepped near you. You were looking down at him with teary eyes. You can't leave him all alone.

“We don’t have time. Just jump off.”

“I won't jump without you. If they are catching you then I will be here with you. We will both face this together. Please.” You held your hand towards him, “grab it. Don't leave it again like the last time. We will fight this together.”

“Y/n….”

“Yes. I am here for you, Yeosang.”

With a final glance towards the door, he quickly ran towards the shelf, “it’s you.” he sadly smiled. You nodded and urged him to quickly get on the wood. His first attempt went in vain when his foot slipped and he got a scratch on the knee. He cursed to himself and tried again but the next following attempts were again not a success. But the last attempt was successful when you held his biceps and gripped tightly. But the shelf was losing its balance so he placed his foot beside you on the window space. He was breathing heavily but still you both smiled towards each other.

“You did it, Yeosang.”

“For you.”

You nodded and turned around, “we need to jump.”

You didn't notice but he was still staring at you when he suddenly pulled you in a hug. You missed this hug, you missed his warmth against you, you missed the feeling with him. You missed him.

Retreating himself from you, he intertwined his fingers with yours and held it tightly. 

With deep breaths, you both glanced towards each other, “Are you ready?”

“Yes! Always with you.”

You both jumped off the window. You whimpered when you felt the pain in your ankle worsened with the jump and he groaned beside you while rubbing his elbow. “Wow, that was high.”

When he noticed your painful expression, he shifted towards you and held your face in his palms, “is it paining?”

“Yes. I don't think I can run anymore.”

He shook his head when he caressed your cheeks and his eyes wandered around your face when he noticed a few cuts and purple marks, the corner of your lips had dried blood similar to his. Both of your conditions were almost the same. He kissed your lips, catching you off guard.

“I will take you to our destination.”

You were still lost in the thought that he kissed you a few moments before. The feelings of his lips against yours was still lingering on you and you kept looking at him. “But where are we even going?”

“Captain is waiting for us.”

Your eyes went wide with the expectation, “you mean Hongjoong?” 

He chuckled and held you in bridal style before standing up, “Yes. Our captain, Joong.”

“Do you think he will let me board his ship?” 

Your question made him stop in his tracks. He stared down at you in his arms. You avoided locking eyes with him so you averted your gaze everywhere except on him.

“Look at me, y/n. Please.”

His plea ached your heart when you turned to look at his hard stare on you which quickly softens, “no matter what. He would never blame you. You were never the part of that life which I forced on you one day. You always belonged to this place but, It was me who held you hostage in the ship. So, it was all natural for you to run away.”

“But I didn't want to.” You said quietly.

He again resumed walking. Now, when his ears perked up with some shuffle sounds and shouts from a distance, he was no longer walking. He made a run towards the shore. He knew very well the direction to the secret way to the pirate ship. Wooyoung had taught him all the hidden ways to escape the place but somehow earlier today when he came to save him, he had to run away because one of the guards went inside to keep an eye on the hostage.

You continued when you looked at his frowning face glancing at you often to ask so many things but he couldn't as he was running with you, “I loved being with you. With all of you. You are my only family, Yeosang. I didn’t run away because I wanted to. I did it to save you.” you scoffed, “but still you got yourself caught.”

He remained quiet.

Soon, he reached the shore where the pirate ship was visible and few figures were leaning against the railing of the ship. He put you down on your feet near the plank and was breathing heavily. 

“Are you okay?” you asked him softly.

He nodded, “you are heavy.”

You scoffed, “I hit the chains with that heavy iron rod earlier. To save you. I don't know why you let your ass get caught every time.”

“So that you can save me again.”

“Yeosang, it’s not funny.”

He held your shoulders to face him, he planted a kiss on your forehead and smiled, “Thank you. You saved me so many times. I owe you so much. I love you, y/n.”

“I have loved you since the day you called me as your family on the ship. I love you. I really love you, yeosang.”

He again kissed you and this time it was not a quick one. You kissed him back and pulled him towards you more. Tears falling down from both of your eyes. The longing feelings of both of the presence was all visible in the desperation of the kiss.

Someone cleared his throat beside both of you and you quickly pulled apart. Yeosang noticed the person to his side and rolled his eyes.

“Wooyoung.” he groaned when calling his mate’s name.

“Um…you both here? I mean that’s good…but how? Am I seeing things? Are you ghosts?” he placed his hands over his mouth and his eyes were wide.

“Shut up, wooyoung. I saved his ass earlier and now I’m back to my family.”

He squealed and ran towards you before engulfing you in a hug,” y/n…you are finally here.”

“Yes I am.” You said and patted his back.

Yeosang rolled his eyes, “well won’t you welcome me back? I am alive after you left me alone.”

You laughed at their interaction and bicker.

Wooyoung lead the way to climb up the ship and Yeosang pulled you closer to him, “we are back to our home.”

“Yes, we are. Together.”

When you both reached the deck of the ship, Hongjoong and Seonghwa turned towards both of you, “Yeosang?...and y/n.”

The said man proudly walked with you towards him and smiled, “my birdy saved me again.” He placed his hand around your shoulder.

“Really?” Captain asked in surprise but he was thankful.

“I don’t know if I’m allowed back here or not but I’m always by the side of Ateez. Also, I have collected a lot of information about the guardians.” 

Seonghwa nodded and Hongjoong chuckled, “if you leave, Yeosang will follow you back. And, we are not mad with you, y/n. you are always welcome back to the ship.”

You looked towards Yeosang who was already staring at you, “Yeosang…”

“Let’s go inside…you are hurt. Let’s talk there while I patch you up.”

You nodded and let him guide you to the medic room. 

Entering the familiar room after so many months brought back the memories of you both spending time together in there and you mentally thanked to stumble into the ship that day.

“Did you miss this place?” He was searching for all the things he needed and he cursed when he noticed Yunho had misplaced few things again.

You sat on the bed and nodded, “I missed this place……and you. This room is nothing without you. We have so many memories together here.”

“I never felt the same here after you left. I was again all alone with my own life and thoughts.”

He kneeled down in front of you to patch your leg and he noticed the amount of blood it was oozing out. He did all the step by step process to patch you and when it was done he was about to stand but you held him in place before crouching down in front of him and held his elbow, “ let me do it for you.”

“It’s okay, y/n. Don’t worry.”

“Yeosang, we promised that we will face everything together and that means we will take care of each other too. Now come on let me help you.”

There was a fondness in his eyes and you followed the steps he had once taught you.

When you both were done, you wrapped your arms around him and placed your head against his chest, “what happened, y/n?”

“I can’t believe you are here with me.” He smiled hearing your soft murmur against his bare chest. Your breath hitting against his warm skin and your ear picking up his heartbeat. You closed your eyes to feel the moment. Only with him.

He patted your back before stroking your head, “and this time neither of us is going anywhere. You know why I’m always back home and on my right track with you?”

“Because you can’t save yourself?” You smiled in the end of your question but quickly looked up. He cupped your face, “maybe I can’t but that’s not the point.”

“Then?”

“It’s because you are my little blue bird.”

The bird who always helps him to navigate back to his home. Like a ray of light of hope, you always showed him the hope to return to the family every time and brought the joy. And this time, his bird saved him again but also, he saved his bird from wandering around.

Note: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated. Spread love not hate.

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @hwanring @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon @hyuukah @kazscara @aceofspadesbiofalltrades @nvdhrzn @meowmeeps @vtyb23 @haechansbbg

[open!]

#kvanity #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez au #yeosang x reader #yeosang fluff #ateez yeosang #yeosang imagines #pirate ateez #ateez pirate au #yeosang scenarios #ateez scenarios #ateez lore #ateez storyline #ateez x you #ateez x y/n #ateez x atiny #ateez ff #ateez fic #ateez fluff

[strikersexhaver]

Feathers. 🔪🕊️

——

Striker ends up in a similar position as someone he despises.

(A/N) this is also based on a OC/Striker fanfic I wish to make eventually i also haven’t seen anyone do this?

SPOILERS FOR OOPS (S2 E6) WATCH THAT BEFORE READING!!

...

Pairing: Striker x Half Goetia! Half Imp! Reader

Genre: Angst

Content Warning?: Argument, Striker’s an ass this time,

After a long, shit, god-awful day, the only thing the serpentine imp hybrid man wanted was to watch his movies and snooze up to a lover’s embrace.

However, he got the polar opposite.

It’s almost comedic (or maybe even karma) for how badly it went.

To deal with people who sucked up to blue-bloods was a pain and to lose to them? Even more so, he also had received burns from a explosion’s fire, it may turn into scars- but he had to think about the present issue of the burns now.

You took care of him when he got home as well, you wrapped up his wounds, burns or not. He needed to rest… So now he was resting against your thigh, his shoulders relaxed and body stopped tensing up as soon as he was able to bask in the homey-comfort feeling. A feeling anyone could happily indulge in at times…

Striker watched as your tail move back and fourth like a dog’s tail in glee. It was adorable he thought, passing it off until it brewed. He then realized why was your tail so- feathery?

It never was like that before he recalled.

He grabbed a hold of it gently, you chuckled at the odd sensation not seeing his expression and assuming he was playing around.

“…What is it hun?” You asked, your voice tensing as he stared in silence.

He held your tail right by the tip of it, then showed it back to you. The feathers on your tail being the crime in his eyes.

“The fuck is this?” He angrily scowled, his eyebrows furrowed and his tail rattling like a snakes.

“I-… I can explain-“ you began, “i-it was for a costume.” You tried to lie, which did not go over too well with him. The nerves in your voice and the pounding of your heart intensified as you even continued.

It made Striker’s blood boil, he could see right through your lie clear as day. As an assassin he has had to charm his way through many, and see through falsehoods many times.

As for you, you were one of the people he thought he never had to.

“Quit lyin’- what are you? What the fuck is this!” He snarled, teeth barred.

You looked for words to say as you pulled your tail from his grasp. He winced as he got up, panting as his body was spent from fighting and now healing. You tried reaching out for him to help him out but all he did was back away from the touch, a feeling of betrayal and being lied to clouded his vision.

A stinging sensation was felt in your heart as he refused your touch, it took so long for him to even let you, even more so to lean into it.

But it seems it’s impossible to imagine it happening again.

You only never told anyone the Goetia side of you because you could never fit in with either crowd with both of you, only half of you.

The lower-class entirely, mostly imps, or hellhounds would dislike you for being Goetia. Then Goetia would never even dare to look at you because of your ‘lesser blood’ they called it. You never had a place, and so… You kept it to yourself.

“I- I wanted to tell you- for so long but-“ you started but he cut you off, “but what?” He hissed.

“You never told me! That I’ve been snoozin’ with a damn half-blueblood this entire damn fuckin’ time!”

“It’s not like that, I don’t even have contacts with my parents! You know this!” You exclaimed trying to have him hear you. You heard him, clearly, the strain and dryness of his voice was present.

“Nah- you didn’t even fuckin’ tell me either?! Ya’ kno’ the shit I’ve done for ya? The bleedin’ the killin’? Nun’ of it?” His tail accidentally knocked down a framed photo of the two of you making a loud clunking noise.

The two of you paused as you looked at what he knocked down, mutually both of you felt sadness but with different feelings.

You felt anxiety creaking up your spine, and he felt anger, betrayal, all over his blackened soul.

“Striker, please-“ he looked up at you as you spoke, “I don’t- I don’t belong anywhere because of this- it’s not that, I don’t trust you- I’m scared you’ll go.”

Striker’s breath hitched, his heartbeat slowing… You could see he was starting to think but he avoided eye contact with you.

“Please- let’s, let’s talk about this-“ you tried reaching out for him, again, hoping for a different result only for him to do the same once again.

He backed away, shaking his head as he winced, starting to painfully walk away.

“…Is that it? Are you really going to fucking leave!? Just like that?! Just because of what I am?” You sniffled, tears began to swell. Sadness and fury poured into those tears.

He paused, he perked up as he listened to your words.

“After everything we’ve been through together? I thought I was your ride or die! The one person I could go to about- fucking anything, we’ve killed together, I’ve killed for you and you for me! And this is what you want to leave me over?!”

He blinked. “… Ride or die’s ain’t supposed to hide shit from each other-“

“You fucking hide from me, constantly, where the fuck where you today? Huh? Messing with royals who might come after you!”

He huffed, his pride refused to admit his wrongdoing, but his body language spoke it. His tail hanged low as well as his neck and shoulders.

“I know what I’m doin’, I’ve been doin’ this shit long before I had ya’!” He turned back to you.

“But now you do, you wanna risk it all? All of it?” You gritted your teeth, your body tensing up with your fists clenching.

“Risk your life for pride? And now- us? Because of something you should understand I cannot control.. You’re a hybrid just like me, you should understand!”

“I don’t need to understand shit, because I’m above all this- I’m above-“

“Us? You’re above us? That’s what you’re trying to say?” You put hands upon your hips, your eyebrows furrowed and tears began to fall, down your face, and even dripping onto your shirt.

He scowled. “Ya’- I fuckin’ am! Because I ain’t gonna be coddled by a half-ling blue blood-!” He perked up angrily once more, “talking to me as if you’re my fuckin’ ma? Hah! Fuck no! I ain’t!”

Striker stormed out leaving you stunned.

The words he spoke stabbed your heart like a thousand daggers in the back.

It broke you down, brought you on your knees to only cry. You turned to the photo that was knocked down, and sobbed relentlessly.

All over a damn feather.

—-

Striker on the other hand, realized he’s just like the person he was spiting for so long… If he was better than him, this wouldn’t have happened.

He wouldn’t have brought down the one person who pulled him up.

The one person he wanted to marry.

#helluva boss #striker #striker helluva boss #helluva boss striker #striker x reader #striker x reader helluva boss #striker / reader #striker and reader #striker x oc #striker x y/n

[the-fiction-witch]

Words Swirl On The page

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Sweet AF

Requested: Hi! First off I love your writing you're so talented!!!! I was wondering if you could do a Jack Dawkins x reader where the reader's mom makes them go see Dawkins because she isn't good at reading(but it's like dyslexia like what Jack has) and the reader tries to explain that she can read she just has dyslexia. Jack doesn't know what it is and the reader explains that she heard about it somewhere. I know that's not realistic towards the time period but I think it would be cute to see them bond over it. You don't have to write it if you don't want to. Have a lovely day!

Writers Notes: Fun fact! Yeah bet you guys didn't know you were gonna learn something today! Dyslexia or 'word blindness' as it was referred to earlier on was actually coined in 1887 but having been researching them estimated as early as 1877  so yeah now you have a useless fact. 

I sat and kicked my feet a little in my anxious boredom in the hospital room, my mother paced around like a madwoman, I wanted to roll my eyes at her but I knew she was just trying to help. The door opened and a man stepped in he ran a stained hand through his blonde hair moved it over to the side, a well-stained once-white shirt with billowy sleeves, and a textured blue waistcoat slightly too big for him, and a pair of dusty brown trousers. 

"Good Morning, Miss?" He greeted,

"Miss Y/l/n," I answered,

"Lovely, now what brings you to see me today?" He asked leant his elbow on the table, 

"It's her eyes, doctor!" My mother panicked,

and I let out a sigh,

"Her eyes?"

"her eyes! Her eyes doctor! I fear she may be losing her vision!"

"I am not losing my vision mother." I sighed, 

"Alright, what makes you suspicious of her losing her vision?"

"She can barely read for a girl her age!"

"Mother." I snapped,

"Alright, alright, if you could go and wait in the entryway I'll send Miss Y/l/n along when she's done." He told her clearly as annoyed with her yelling as I was, 

She nodded and happily left, she closed the door and her footsteps led away,

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair again, "she always that loud?"

"Yes," I nodded,

"Christ I'm surprised you're not bloody deaf." he chuckled which made me giggle too, "I take it you think she's mad?"

"I think she's overreacting." 

"Mothers so often do," he said, "But how is your sight really?"

"It's fine, I see you just fine, I see the room just fine."

"Fingers?" He asked putting three fingers up near my face,

"Three." I rolled my eyes, 

"Alright, alright just checking." he laughed, before he stepped away leaning on the door and putting two fingers up "Now?"

"Two." I rolled my eyes again, "I have trouble reading I'm not going blind." I told him with a slight attitude which he picked up on because his next test was to hold up one finger of course his middle,

"Now?"

"Doctor!" I protested,

"Sorry sorry" he laughed, "Well your vision seems fine"

"I know,"

"You need to anyone else about this?"

"The pharmacist in the town before we moved here looked me over."

"Ohh did he now," he glared as he came back over organizing some tools, "Bloody crackpots the lot of them."

"They say the same of doctors,"

"Oh I bet they do." he glared, "You know you need a building and a year of training to be a pharmacist? A year. I've been doing this for ten years and I'm still learning new surgeries and new procedures." 

"That does seem ridiculous but he gave me these," I said as I pulled out my glasses from my pocket,

"May I?"

"Sure." I shrug as I hand them over, 

He took them giving them an investigate with his young between his teeth, "You don't wear them?"

"I don't see the point,"

"They help?"

"No."

"I see, not stall doesn't make reading any easier at all?"

"No. if anything worse because they keep falling off my face."

"Yeah eyeglasses aren't the most comfortable." he chuckled, "Ahh well no wonder they don't help they are barely even anything I wouldn't even class these a strength one you may as well just be looking through plain old window glass." He said, "And there is a huge scratch in the left lens." 

"Yeah, I threw them across my room,"

"Fair enough," He chuckled, "Well If I were you I wouldn't even bother with them either." He said, "If anything they are probably making you more strained and stressed." he said finishing looking them over, I opened my hand to take them back but his response was to snap them in his hand, 

"Doctor!"

"useless rubbish." he said as he threw them away, "but I'll check over just to be sure," he said as he came close and checked my eyes with some magnifiers and such doing the dance I was so used to, look left, look right, up, down, how many fingers, how many lights, so on and so forth. The only thing of note about it was of course now... strangely intimate such an exam is given the doctor had to stand with one of his feet planted between my legs at points his face inches from my own his breath across my skin, and I admit it made me a little squirmy in my seat given... he was rather an attractive man. "Doctor Dawkins by the way, I never said."

"Ohh of course, pleasure doctor." I nodded,

"Hummm... interesting," He said, "I can't see anything wrong with your eyes no damage, no cloudiness or anything, and your sight seems perfectly fine. You may have a very mild astigmatism but it wouldn't be causing you any problems with reading or sight if that's even what I'm seeing."

"Astigmatism?" 

"It's a fairly new thing, a cornea that's stretched into an irregular shape. Instead of being shaped round, the corneas of people with astigmatism are often oblong. But I mean... if that even is what I am seeing here and I'm not confident it's so minute that it wouldn't be giving you any issues." he said before he grabbed a book and handed it to me on a page, "read the words for me I'll watch your eyes,"

I nodded and looked at the page but immediately the cream paper and black ink began to fuzz and blur together, the words and letters seemed to dance and change the spacing of the letters going from close to miles within an instant, as it all read like...

'E v      ery     thin  g ha    s it  swon  ders, ev  en d      arkne    sand sile    nceand    I l    ear      n, what     tev      erstate I     ma      y b   ein, the     reinto b  e c    ont   ent.'

"Interesting, it's not your eyes that much is clear," He said, "But still you're struggling to read?"

"Yes," I nodded,

"Can you describe what's making it difficult?"

"It's like... the words are dancing."

"Dancing?"

"Like they won't stay still, everything moves and changes, and the spacing changes I feel like I'm trying to read letters on a bunch of bustling sheep."

"... The words swirl on the page?" 

"Yes!" 

"Really?!"

"Yes, exactly how did you know?"

"I- I get that too."

"You do?"

"yeah, I uhhh I've never met anyone else who does," He blushed a little, he sat down beside me and we looked a the book together, "to you are the words moving around?"

"no so many whole words more just letters,"

"Yeah! like you try and read the word there."

"Ev-Everyt- everything." I nodded, "But the E starts off here and then goes off down the page and then the V seems to want to go over there, and then the ery seems to be too squished that you can barely see the R the T seems to want to turn upside down, the H is dancing around like a damn child and then I completely disappears-" I explained and he took my hand which made me turn my face to his dropping the book,

"I- I see it like that too." 

"You do?"

"I do. I... I don't know what it's called or why it happens but I see if like that too."

"I- I thought I was going crazy."

"So did I!" He gleamed, "I... I've never met anyone like me before." 

"Neither have I." 

"I promise you, it's not you. It's not your eyes, it's not that you can't read or can't understand it just, whatever is makes it hard for people like us," he explained, "I. I never thought I'd find anyone who saw things the way I do." 

"me either, but... I have heard what this could be,"

"Oh?"

"I have been reading... slowly." I said and he chuckled, "About a man in Germany an academic and a surgeon specializing in the eyes, he has been researching and experimenting into what he refers to as word blindness."

"Word Blindness?" 

"That's what he calls it, word blindness or Dyslexia when the reading is impaired but no other sight or mental issues," I explained, 

"Dyslexia, well I will certainly have to read up about it, slowly." He chuckled, making me giggle too, "Sorry I just... I never thought I'd find anyone like me." 

"me either," I smiled squeezing his hand,

"Would-  would it be imposing if I asked to see you again?"

"To see me again doctor? proffesioanly or?"

"Not professionally."

"I would like that," I nodded, "we could go for a walk by the water something that doesn't involve any reading." 

"I'd like that," he chuckled, "It uhh Jack, Jack Dawkins,"

"Y/n Y/l/n," I smiled, 

"I am delighted to have met you," he smiled as he kissed my hand,

"I am too," 

#tbs #thomasbrodiesangster #tbs imagine #tbs imagines #tbs smut #thomas sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster #thomas sangster #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster smut #jackdawkins #jack dawkins #jack #jackdawkinsartfuldodger #the artful dodger #thearttfuldodger #theartfuldogger

[eddies-perm]

𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐧' 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐤

𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘱 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘳!𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘰𝘯 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

to celebrate (but mostly mourn) the end of my summer vacation, I figured I’d do a little something with camp counselor!steve.

warnings. smut!!, outdoor sex, hunter/prey vibes (there’s a little chase scene), hide n’ seek turned dirty, vaginal fingering, use of a gag (a bandana), P in V, unprotected sex, no use of y/n.

word count: ~2k

** it’s the annual camp-wide hide n’ seek tournament. you’re the leader the blue team, steve’s the leader of the red team. and it’s his job to find you. **

The sun at Camp Crescent Lake is slowly sinking behind the rolling hills, and that means it’s almost time for the camp-wide hide and seek tournament. 

Your team, the blue team, is all geared up and ready to go in their blue camp t-shirts. Steve Harrington’s red team is also ready to go in their red camp t-shirts. The rules are read out and everyone gets assigned their partners for the night. 

Steve walks over to you with a small smirk, tying the red bandana to one of the loop on his jeans.

“Looks like we’re partners this year, Bambi,” he says, handing you your blue bandana. “You can hide first.”

You roll your eyes, taking the piece of fabric from him and tucking it in your back pocket. “Whatever, Casanova. Get ready to lose, because I’m one of the camp’s best hider. I haven’t been found three years in a row.”

He lets out a soft but deep laugh, looking down at you with a certain glimmer in his eyes. He takes a step forward, never peeling his gaze from yours.

“Then you've clearly never had me as a partner before. I’ll hunt you down, Bambi, and when I find you...you’ll be sorry.”

“Right,” you say, trying not to get (too) hot over his threats. “Good luck with that.”

“I won’t need it.”

The airhorn blows and the countdown begins. You rush to your section’s designated hiding area: the arts and crafts pavilion. It’s up a small hill and in the middle of the woods, so there are plenty of places to hide. 

Most people go for the woods, but you and a few others head straight for the pavilion. You situate yourself behind some storage containers, laying on your side with your back against the wall.

A single blow of the horn indicates that the 50 second count is up and you quiet your breathing, auditory senses heightening as you wait for seekers to begin approaching the pavilion.

Several sets of footsteps surround you, around the pavilion and inside it. You watch and listen as several of the kids and counselors are found, watching the various pairs of dirtied and worn shoes pass by.

Not a single one of them is Harrington’s. You don’t see his signature beat up Nike Cortez’s with the red check mark pass by. That bastard isn’t even looking for you. Either that, or he’s just looking in the wrong spot, which would be hilarious.

The halfway point comes faster than you anticipated and by now, all the people in the pavilion have been caught. You peek up over the boxes, whispering to whoever may be left just to make sure, and no one responds. You’re totally alone in here.

You sit up and relocate to a different part of the room. Still, no Harrington. Great, he’s probably off fucking one of the other counselors. If that’s true, there’s no way he’s coming after you.

The 20-minute airhorn sounds and still, no sign of Steve. You huff, pretty much giving up on the idea that he’s ever gonna find you, or even look for you. You get up and dust yourself off before heading towards the door.

Suddenly, it swings opens and you stagger backwards, startled at the sudden movement. The door slams up against the craft shelves next to it and in walks Steve Harrington, looking surprisingly put-together. Either he’s gotten better at cleaning up after his little rendezvous’ or he really didn’t fuck anyone. The latter is highly unlikely, in your mind.

“And here I was thinking it’d be an actual challenge to find you,” he chuckles, holding his hand out. “Your bandana, miss.”

You huff, crossing your arms. “You’re a real dick, you know that? You really waited all this time to come looking for me?”

“How do you know that that’s what I did?”

“I saw all the pairs of shoes that walked in and out of this place, and your stupid Nike’s didn’t make an appearance once,” you gesture to his shoes. “I know damn well you didn’t come up here.”

He shrugs. “Well, I wanted to wait until all the others were out of here.”

“You--” You pause, eyebrows furrowed.  “Why the hell would you want to wait until I was the only one up here? What’s the point of that?”

Steve hums, taking a couple slow steps forward, backing you up against one of the craft tables. He shrugs his backpack off and tosses it aside, then looks back down at you.

“You don’t think I notice the way you look at me, Bambi? Your little lingering glances whenever you think I’m not looking?”

“I don’t...I don’t do that.”

A lie, you totally do that. But you’re not about to admit it to him.

“Haven’t you noticed that I don’t like you very much, Harrington?”

He smirks. “It’s just an act. Like the kid on the playground who’s extra mean to the boy she likes. C’mon, you know it’s true, give me some credit here. I know you’ve wondered if what those girls say about me is true.”

“With how much they all blab about it, especially Tammy, I think almost every counselor is at least a little bit curious.”

“Maybe. But I don’t see their lingering eyes on me.”

Your lungs suddenly feel tight and your breaths get shorter as he takes another step closer. You realize, then, that you’ve got no more room to step back. You’re already pinned up against the craft table. “What do you care? You’ve got a lengthy list of girls at this camp who’ve already been bedded by you, I’m sure they’d all love more of your attention, Casanova.”

“Yeah, probably. But I want the one girl who doesn’t throw herself at me. I want a challenge.”

“Well, you’ve got one,” you say, slipping away just as he leans in. You stand by the door, quickly tucking the bandana into the front of your shorts. “You want the bandana? Come and get it.”

Steve grins as you suddenly rush out of the pavilion and into the nearby woods. He jogs after you, keeping tabs on you but not quite making his move. He wants to draw this out a little bit.

You rush through the trees and jump over raised limbs, looking back every once and a while. When you don’t see him anymore, you hide behind a particularly large tree trunk.

You’re so focused on looking out from behind the tree that you don’t even realize him coming up behind you. He suddenly grabs your hips and you yelp, trying to yank yourself free from his grip.

“Harrington...goddamnit!”

He’s holding you firmly against him, reaching around to grab the bandana from where it’s tucked into the front of your shorts. Except instead of pulling the fabric out, he leaves it and his hand slips down between your legs, fingers teasing the warm, damp fabric of your panties.

You gasp softly, all movements suddenly coming to a screeching halt as he begins to tease your clothed clit with the pads of his fingers. He smirks softly, chin resting on your shoulder as he does so.

“There we go,” he hums. “If I’d known this is all it takes to get you quiet, I would’ve done this weeks ago.”

“Shut up.” You huff, chewing your lip.

“You’re cute.” His fingers dip down under your panties and run along your bare folds, collecting the wetness that’s formed there. “And you’re wet. You’re really worked up, hm?”

Your hips move instinctively against him, grinding down on his fingers as he touches you. More than a few times, his fingertips catch on your entrance and he quickly begins teasing the soaked hole.

“Do you want me to put them in? Do you want my fingers, Bambi?”

You nod wordlessly, cheeks burning.

He chuckles. “Use your words. Yes or no?”

“Yes, yes, jeez. Pushy much?”

“I just like torturing you.” Two of his fingers push up and penetrate your waiting hole, pulling a moan from your lips. “Mmm, good girl.”

Your eyes flutter shut as his digits begin fucking you. They feel so good inside you, it’s been so long since you’ve had any fingers other than your own...

“Shit, Harrington...”

“Does it feel good, sweetheart?” he whispers, nibbling at your earlobe. “Do you like my fingers?”

“Uh huh.” you breathe.

His pace quickens gradually until he’s fucking you forcefully, squelching sound filling the space around you. You have to lean forward and put one of your hands on the tree in front of you to keep steady.

You’re close within minutes, so drunk off the motions of his fingers. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna--”

Steve pulls away just as you’re about to cum. You let out a pathetic whimper at the loss, whipping your head around to glare at him.

“What w-was that for?”

He grins, grabbing the bandana as he pulls his hand away and begins to undo his jeans. “I want to feel you cum on my cock.”

You shudder, goosebumps rising on your skin. Once he’s fished himself from his pants, Steve turns you around and presses you up against the tree trunk. He lifts one of your legs up over his shoulder, then pushes your shorts off to the side before lining up with your entrance.

“Are you ready?”

As soon as you nod, he pushes in and both of you let out similar moans as he fills you. One hand grips your hip while the other props against the trunk. His hips accelerate almost immediately and he starts pounding into you.

You can’t help the noises, the gasps and whimpers, that escape you. He feels so good and god, it’s been a while since anyone’s been inside you. It’s official: everything you’ve heard about Steve Harrington in bed is 100% correct.

“Fuuck, you’re tight,” he groans, gripping your thigh and pushing it back towards your shoulder, allowing him to reach deeper inside you. “Knew you’d be a tight one...”

You moan in response, unable to form proper words. He smirks at this fact.

When you let out a louder moan, one of Steve’s hands comes to cover your mouth, chuckling breathily. “Jesus, Bambi, you gotta be somewhat quiet.”

“W-Whatever,” you huff, biting down hard on your lip to keep quiet. It doesn’t work, really, for only moments later, you’re letting out another moan.

Steve looks down at the blue bandana still in his hand and suddenly, a lightbulb goes off and his hips stop. 

“What are you--”

He quickly balls up and shoves the bandana into your mouth, muffling your noises. Your eyes widen and you gasp around the fabric, so turned on by this new development. 

“There we go. Now you’ve got something to keep that pretty mouth occupied.”

You’re close, oh so close, still incredibly worked up from his thorough fingering earlier. Your walls spasm and clench around him the closer you get to your release and he seems to feel this, pressing you further into the tree so that his hand can creep back between your legs.

It takes only a few swipes over your engorged clit to push you over that edge and you cry out around the bandana, falling apart around his cock. You drench his shaft in your slick and he lets out a soft moan, fucking you through it, staving off his own orgasm for the longest he can.

Only moments later, Steve’s pulling out and furiously jerking off until his spend shoots out all over your freshly-fucked folds. Your legs shake as he holds you up for another moment or two before letting you step back down onto the ground. 

He leans in and presses his lips to yours, giving you a soft kiss. He smiles when he pulls away, looking into your eyes as he tucks himself away.

“You were amazing,” he whispers against your lips. “So, so good.”

You smile softly, cheeks heating up again. He helps you pull your shorts back on properly as he continues to kiss you.  “I had a good time too, Harrington.”

Steve keeps a hand on your hip as he looks down at you and hums. “So...about all the things the girls said...do I live up to my reputation?”

“Oh my god.” you laugh, shaking your head. “...Yeah, you do live up to it.”

He grins, flashing you a playful wink.

“Good to know.”

~ masterlist ~

#eddies-perm #steve harrington #steve stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader smut

[blueywrites]

Where you and Steve swing with Eddie and Chrissy, and it gets complicated.

TO KNOW YOU'RE MINE (modern!swingers!au) (18+ only)

eddie munson x chrissy cunningham x steve harrington x you

fem!reader, chubby!reader, minimal use of y/n, body insecurity, swingers, mutual pining

chapter six: hey girl (18k) | playlist | AO3 | next

🎵 in this au, deftones=corroded coffin. the playlist is a combination of R's sad girl music vibes and some foreshadowing. the song for this chapter is #17-#23. All songs are mentioned by name with the exception of the last song, which is Gato de Noche. The Spanish lyrics mentioned in the text may hold some significance.

Wrapped up in her again

I was starting to spin

A record I can't pause

Hey Girl — Stephen Sanchez

You click in your lap belt, eyes fixed unblinkingly on the screen of your Switch balanced on your thighs. Your villager is seated on a mushroom log, her little head bobbing as she waits for you. She has many choices for how she can occupy her day. Perhaps you'll have her fish in the pond near her log cabin. Or maybe she'll start by checking out Tom Nook's shop for the daily selection of new furniture. You know for sure she'll be visiting her neighbors to see what new recipe she can learn to craft today.

Yes, your little Animal Crossing girl is waiting for you, and you try to focus on only that as the rumble beneath you intensifies, and the engine's roar turns nearly deafening. You don't look around the cabin, and you don't look out the tiny window to your right. But you do look at the girl to your left when her powdery-soft hand covers yours. You peer nervously into bright blue eyes and a megawatt smile that reveals slightly crooked teeth which only serve to make her look more charming.

"It's okay," Chrissy whispers, working her fingers between yours and squeezing comfortingly. "I'm right here."

You squeeze her back as the plane taxis on the runway. A hazel eye suddenly peeks at you from between the seats, concerned beneath a tousled head of brown hair. "You okay, baby?" Steve asks, and you nod, head bobbing extra hard as if to convince yourself. "It's only three hours. We'll be there before you know it. Want me to switch with Chris and sit with you?"

Chrissy, looks at you encouragingly. "Whatever you want," she says.

"...No," you reply, voice small. "It's okay. I'll be fine."

You feel the nerves intensify as the plane starts to rumble forward, slowly at first, and then faster and faster. Your breath begins to quicken as the acceleration pushes you back against the plasticky cushions—

Suddenly, a head of wild curls pops above the seat in front of you, brown eyes gleaming over a wide grin as Eddie plants his chin against the seatback. Anatomically, that would be impossible if he was following proper safety protocol; he must be breaking at least three rules of etiquette during takeoff. 

"Eddie!" You hiss, gaze darting around the cabin to see if anyone has noticed. "Sit down!" You glance at Chrissy, but she's eyeing her boyfriend with a flat, resigned stare, clearly used to being unable to control him.

"I am sitting down," he replies with a cheeky tilt to those full lips. His arms join his chin as he folds them casually against the seatback. "Well, I'm half-sitting, half-kneeling, but still—"

"It's not safe!"

Eddie scoffs lightly, expression rife with mischief. "I'm perfectly safe, sweetheart. Car accidents kill far more people every year than plane crashes. I'm safer here than I would be driving my van."

"Truer words have never been spoken," Chrissy mutters to herself. Eddie merely smiles widely.

"See that? Chris agrees with me."

The force of your outraged glare only makes him chuckle. You sputter, "Eddie… if we get kicked off this flight because you don't know how to sit still for three hours—"

"Oh, I can sit still." Eddie cuts you off, glancing toward the nearby cabin wall before his eyes return to you, expression smug. "And you may want to look out the window."

You realize the scenery outside now looks like a circuit board— darkness cut by hundreds of tiny glittering lights in hues of white, red, and yellow, arranged in lines and grids far beneath you now.

You let out a slow breath, hand unclenching from Chrissy's. Eddie smiles again, pleased this time. "Ya see? The worst is over." His head disappears as he flops back into his seat; you exchange a pointed glance with Chrissy as you hear him say, "Don't worry. I'll be back for the landing."

After Chrissy and Eddie had left the night of the rule break back in early May, you'd fully expected things to be awkward between you despite Steve's assurances that he wasn't angry. You'd figured that, at the very least, Steve would be distant or cold to you or Eddie, or that he might decide he wants to pause your arrangement. But it seems that Steve has made every effort to convince everyone things are entirely normal. In doing so, somehow, they are. 

At home, Steve is attentive and cheerful. He began a new habit of making dinner for you both on Thursday nights. He texts you whenever he's going to be home late, as well as throughout the day when you’re apart— sending you pictures that remind him of you, checking in on your work day, responding to your Tiktoks, or sometimes just leaving you cute little messages that make you giggle in the staff room while you eat your lunch. And when Steve’s hazel eyes shine as he holds you close and kisses your forehead, you feel a low flutter in your belly. You nuzzle into his chest, inhaling citrus and sea salt as he tells you he loves you. 

He says it all the time.

Group play still occurs at least once a week, and you can't detect any tension between Steve and Eddie. You figure they must have spoken privately soon after what happened, and you're relieved that Steve is full of broad grins, affectionate back claps, and friendly banter whenever they're together. You know that must put Eddie at ease. Though he hadn't breathed a word about it since you'd texted that night, you're sure he'd been upset to have angered his friend.

When your phone had buzzed the morning after the incident, your first instinct was confusion, thinking that Eddie was texting you again; he never texts you during the day. But you'd been even more confused— even nervous— to see it wasn’t Eddie. Your heart hammered at the sight of Chrissy’s name, and you'd swipe open her message before even turning your alarm off. You were expecting the worst— accusations, bitterness, anger, something— but you were left floored at what she'd actually said.

'Hey, hon! Just wanted to check in and see how you're doing today. I hope you're not still upset and that Steve's okay, too. Just know I'm here for you.' She'd followed it up with a few sparkly pink hearts. 

Chrissy's thoughtfulness struck you hard, and you found your eyes pricking with the sting of guilty tears at the utter lack of sourness in her message. 'I'm okay,' you'd replied. 'Steve and I talked last night, and he's okay, too. I really appreciate you texting.' You pause, lips twisting with remorse, shame sinking in your chest until you add, 'I feel like I owe you an apology. If I'd moved faster, this all could've been avoided. I'm sorry.'

You bite your thumbnail as you wait for Chrissy's response, but it comes quickly enough to stop your doubt from spiraling. 'Oh, babes, don't apologize!! It totally happens, and I'm not mad at all! Maybe next time, try squatting instead, so you have more leverage to push off when you need to. With more practice, you'll get used to it. You'll be a pro in no time." She'd sent a few kissy faces and heart emojis, enough that the guilt inside settled quickly, quelled with the force of her bubbly kindness.

'Thanks, Chrissy.' You'd sent her a heart too. 

And, by some act of fortune, that had been that. You hadn't spoken of the rule break since, nor had you noticed any lasting repercussions on your group dynamic. Chrissy is still insistent on constant attention, but not any more so than she had been before. Eddie is still attentive but happy to go with the flow, as usual. And even Steve has continued to behave exactly the same. He isn't possessive when you go to Eddie, and Eddie goes to you. And, in fact, Steve shocks you even more when he suggests you all take a mini-vacation together: a weekend getaway to Miami in early June.

It's a much-needed respite from the drollness of your weekly routine working at the pediatrician's office; a lovely way to kick off the start of warm weather. You've never been to Miami, and you're eager to share in the new experience with Steve and your friends.

You're half-expecting the other shoe to drop when Steve sits you down at the kitchen table a couple of days later, regarding you seriously. But the conversation isn't a rehashing of the rule-break you'd feared it would be. Instead, Steve calmly and quietly explains that he wants to pay for Eddie and Chrissy's half of the shared hotel room and their plane tickets. You think of the text message Chrissy received from her mother, sympathy churning as the understanding passes between you— that you both have some knowledge of your friends' financial troubles but won't discuss it. You take Steve's hand, squeezing it tight as you tell him you admire his generosity, that it's one of the things you love most about him. Though he protests, you insist on paying for your share of the trip, wanting to do something to contribute. Steve's hazel eyes shine as he kisses your hand, and the way you move together that night, just the two of you, is more tender than it's been in quite some time.

Ahead of your trip, you and Chrissy spend an afternoon at the mall, and it's just as delightful as your first girls' trip had been. The mini-vacation is short— just a weekend— and because Eddie can't take off from work, you’ll be flying on Friday night after his shift. This means you only have two days and one night to plan for, and you decide to purchase a new bathing suit and an outfit for Saturday evening. Chrissy doesn't want anything, though you offer to pay; she insists that she has plenty in her closet she still hasn't worn from last year, and it would be wasteful to get something new. You suspect it's an excuse, but you kindly let her hide behind it anyway. Just like last time, Chrissy encourages you to step out of your comfort zone, and you end up leaving the mall giddy with your daring new purchases.

Soon enough, the first week of June arrives. The days zip to Friday, you zip to the airport, and now here you are, Switch balanced on the armrest between you and Chrissy as she coos and squeals over how cute Animal Crossing is. She's adorably attentive, and you find yourself both grateful and endeared as she lets you show her every inch of your island: all the fish and bugs you've caught, now displayed in the museum; all the rooms of your heavily-decorated log cabin; all the flowers and landscaping around your villagers' houses. Between playing and explaining to Chrissy what you're doing as you do it, the three hours pass by almost absurdly quickly.

True to his word, Eddie pops back around for the landing once the flight attendants have strapped in out of sight, grinning down at you from above the seatback like the Cheshire cat as you eye him flatly.

"Does he never listen?" You ask Chrissy, and you share a long-suffering glance, crossing your arms in a nearly synchronized show of exasperation.

"No," Chrissy replies flatly at the same time that Eddie protests, 

"Yes!" He pouts, gaze darting between you both. "I listen—"

"When it suits you," Chrissy interjects, and you roll your eyes at the wolfish grin that splits Eddie's face.

"Precisely," he says, sounding utterly pleased with himself as you feel the skid-thunk of the plane landing on the tarmac.

Between your long night of packing on Thursday, your half day at the pediatrician's office, the long lines at the TSA, and the long-ish flight, you're now left thoroughly exhausted, swaying on your feet in front of the hotel check-in desk. Eddie is the only person who looks more tired than you— there are deep, dark circles under his squinty eyes as he leans his hands against the counter, elbows locked to keep himself upright. When you get your room, it's with silent agreement that you all prepare for bed. The guys strip down to underwear, you change into your pajamas, and Chrissy sheds all her layers to sleep nude. You don't even take a moment to examine your surroundings before you collapse into the bed furthest from the door, legs stretching against the luxurious sheets as Steve cuddles up behind you. He wraps you in warmth and the familiar scent of citrus and sea salt cologne that still clings to his skin.

You're asleep within seconds, and the pleased smile that kisses your lips lingers the entire night you spend in Steve's arms.

–

You wake to a balmy breeze and luminous sunshine flowing through the gauzy curtains. It's much earlier than you'd normally rise on a Saturday— early for everyone, you figure, especially Eddie, who looks like the walking dead with that nest of tangled curls around his head as he shuffles off to the bathroom. 

As tired as you were last night, you have yet to examine your hotel room. You know the sheets are crisp and smell pleasantly like fresh laundry, and the tile floor is pleasantly cool under your bare toes, but that’s about it. Now, you can see that the room isn't too big, but it has two full beds, a closet and a dresser, and a fairly sizeable bathroom. You’re glad Steve decided to spend up for the location as opposed to the size of the room— it’s clean and seems to have high-quality linens, which, in your opinion, is all that really matters, especially since you’re only staying here for two nights. There is also a balcony facing the ocean, only a block away. You catch peeks of the water from the sliding glass door when the long curtains billow, and you smile when you consider how nice it'll be to sit out there with a glass of wine or, perhaps, with a coffee on Sunday morning.

It's morning now, but you don't have time to indulge in a lazy morning coffee. You'd all decided to make the most of your two days by jamming as much as possible into this one and then leaving tomorrow open to relax a little after an expected late night tonight. First order of business: get to the beach soon to snag a good spot.

You glance towards the other bed to see Chrissy still nude as she riffles in her suitcase. You do the same, digging for your bathing suit: a bikini the deep yellow-orange of a ripe sunflower, bottoms cut high on your waist to show off your wide hips, and top constructed of simple, delicate triangles that reveal more than they conceal. It's much skimpier than you're used to, and you feel a flash of doubt now that you're actually here, thinking about wearing it in public. That self-consciousness had been quelled by Chrissy's eager enthusiasm when you'd picked it out together, but it resurges now. You quickly retrieve your coverup: a long flowy dress, loose but cinched with a dainty tie at the waist. It drapes over you sumptuously, reminding you a little of a Grecian goddess— light, cool, something you can both feel comfortable and half-hide in. Your compromise to yourself when you'd packed, which you're intensely grateful for now. 

You'd gotten used to these people seeing your body— Steve, who's donning navy swim shorts with little sailboats on them, messing with his hair in the full-length mirror; Chrissy, who's laid her even skimpier white string bikini out on the bed, ready for her once she finishes applying her suntan oil; and Eddie, who's rubbing sunscreen into his inky tattoos with care that seems out of place coming from him, pink tongue peeking between his lips in concentration. You may be used to them seeing you, but with that discomfort now wriggling in your belly, you don't follow Chrissy's lead; you duck instead into the bathroom to get changed.

Steve pokes his head past the half-closed door to find you with your foot up on the tub's rim, rubbing the white of your sunscreen away. You see him in the mirror, and he returns your smile. 

"Want me to do your back?" 

"Yes, please," you reply. He moves close behind you, fingers warm as he thoroughly rubs the lotion into your back, careful not to miss any spots. When he's done, you offer to reciprocate.

"Nah, I'm fine," Steve says, grinning at you. "I'm trying to work on my tan."

You eye him with fond exasperation. "You know you can still get tan with sunscreen," you point out, careful to avoid getting sunscreen on your dress as you lift it over your head.

You can hear the smile in Steve's voice behind you while you watch yourself tie the string beneath your breasts, adjusting the fabric til it drapes how you want it to. "It's not as good, though," he says lightly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. 

"If you say so," you say dryly, emerging to find Chrissy with her hair now in a springy ponytail, sunglasses perched on her head, beach bag slung over her shoulder. 

"Ready?" she asks brightly, and you notice she isn't really wearing a coverup— just an entirely sheer skirt slung low on her hips, meant to entice more than anything else. She must be serious about her tan, you think, watching as she drops the bottle of suntan oil into her oversized bag. You grab your own tote and slip on your sandals, glancing at Eddie as he says, still sleep-hoarse,

"As I'll ever be at this godforsaken hour." He's facing away from you, hair pulled into a low messy bun at the nape of his neck, and your face crumples in amusement as you notice that, despite how fastidious he'd been about his tattoos, the sunscreen applied to the rest of his body seemed to be slapped on haphazardly— streaky, still white on his shoulders and the backs of his calves. You suspect that if you were to touch the middle of his back where he can't reach, it would be completely dry.

"Hold on," you sigh. Eddie half-turns, eyeing you curiously as you approach him determinedly.

"What're you doin'?" He mumbles, brown eyes still hazy with sleep. You press your fingers to his shoulders to straighten them again, so he's facing away from you. 

Brisky, you squeeze sunscreen into your hands, replying with amusement, "How could you be so careful with your tattoos and so sloppy with the rest of you? Unacceptable."

Eddie huffs but holds still as you rub sunscreen into his shoulders, using the back of your hand to push up his bun so you can get his neck too. "D'you know how much pain I endured to get these bad boys? No way am I lettin' 'em fade." 

"Well, you should pay the rest of your skin the same respect. With how pale you are, you would absolutely burn to a crisp out there." You work quickly and clinically, smoothing your hands over Eddie's sides and the small of his back before kneeling so you can get his knees and calves where they're exposed beneath the black trunks slung low on his hips. When your cold fingers sneak up under the hem to cover the bottom inch or so of his thighs, Eddie yelps, leg twitching away from your touch. 

You twist your lips against a smile as he grumbles, "Your fingers are cold."

"Oh, don't be a baby," you retort lightly, patting him on the back of his calf when you're done. "There. Now you won't get skin cancer." He huffs again, brown eyes flashing as he twists to regard you flatly when you straighten. You beam at him. "Thank you, y/n," you prompt him, exaggeratedly cheeky.

Despite himself, a corner of Eddie's lips quirks then. "Thanks, I guess," he says, as you don your tote again. Steve slings his arm around your shoulders, and you smile up at him as he tugs you close. 

"Now we're ready," you announce— and with that, you all set off for the gleaming sands of Miami's beaches.

–

The nearby lifeguard stand— which is more a full structure with a spiraling staircase than a stand— is bright pink, orange, and green, the gaudiest you've ever seen as you all traipse over the sand onto South Beach. Despite the early hour, it’s already teeming with people setting up their chairs and umbrellas and towels, preparing for a day rife with the promise of summer fun. You all settle on a spot not too far from that flashy landmark, and you gaze out at the water as the breeze ruffles your dress and hair. Your eyes are fixed on the clear turquoise of the water, the line where it meets the periwinkle of the sky dusted with fluffy clouds. A perfect beach day.

Despite the alluring color of the water, you sink into one of the two folding beach chairs Steve sets up, supplied by the hotel. In front of you, Eddie flops stomach-down onto the towel he's laid haphazardly against the sand; beside him, Chrissy sits much more gracefully, leaning back on her palms as she stretches her bare legs, sheer skirt abandoned as soon as you'd chosen your spot. "Oh, this is so nice!" she exclaims, and you can't help but wholeheartedly agree as you reach into your tote bag for your beach essentials: a new book and your AirPods.

The sea breeze is balmy, and the sun plays between the shifting clouds, bathing you in relaxing warmth as you dig your toes contentedly into the sand. Despite the many strangers around you, the beach is not yet too loud. Everything feels subdued, dream-like almost, so you keep your earbuds out and instead listen to the chorus of the rhythmic waves and the distant cries of seagulls, letting them become your soundtrack for now. Steve's broad hand rests comfortably upon your knee, nearly hot through the light fabric of your dress, and his thumb traces a random pattern. Your head tilts as you sigh, a smile playing on your lips, eyes heavy with the peace of this moment as you glance at each of your companions: Chrissy stretched out to soak up the rays, skin glistening with suntan oil; Eddie with his curly head pillowed face-down on his arms, body so slack you suspect he's probably fallen back asleep; and Steve at your side, hazel eyes affectionate as you smile wider at him. His expression softens as he regards you before murmuring, "Are you happy?"

"Yes," you answer quietly. Sincerely. "I'm very happy."

Steve seems pleased at your answer, and when you brush his hair back out of his eye, he catches your hand gently to press a tender kiss to your wrist. "Good," he murmurs against your skin, another kiss lingering until he releases your hand. Fondness bubbling up inside, you lean over towards your boyfriend; when you kiss him, Steve tastes salty from the breeze on his lips.

This is how you spend the first couple of hours or so: absorbed in your book as Steve alternates between scrolling on his phone, resting with heavy, contented sighs, and occasionally pressing kisses to your fingers as you keep reading, ensuring that you feel steadily more full with hazy contentment as he pays you unobtrusive attention. At one point, he decides to dip into the water after asking if any of you want to join him. But Eddie is asleep, Chrissy is sunbathing, and the book has just gotten good, so he goes by himself without complaint. He wanders back soon enough, noting that the water is too cold for him to venture in past his ankles.

Around eleven, you crack open the tiny cooler Steve had packed, pulling out water bottles and cans of High Noon and Corona, then snacking on chips, salsa, and orange slices. You sit with Chrissy on her blanket as she peels the flesh from her orange rinds, and Steve nudges Eddie's leg out of the way so he can join in too. Eddie wakes up then, crossing his legs as he leans forward eagerly to peer into the container. "No strawberries?" he asks, pouting lightly, and you feel affection well up as you pass him the chip you'd just loaded with salsa in recompense. He seems adequately satisfied with the substitute, and you continue to indulge in salty chips, savory salsa, and sweet fruit until you're content. 

Not long after you've returned to reading, a flurry of activity some distance away draws your attention. By the green edge at the top of the beach, some men and women around your age are mingling in a clump near a portable volleyball net.

You notice Steve eyeing the activity with interest; you smile as you see his enthusiasm. "I think I'm gonna go over there," he says, neck craning to see better. "Doesn't look like they have enough people yet."

"What's— ooh!" Chrissy's blue eyes brighten as she twists to look. "I love volleyball!"

"Wanna get in on it with me?" 

"Oh, hell yes!" Chrissy exclaims, popping up without hesitation. Steve glances at you again, brows perked behind his bangs as if he's checking for your approval. 

"Go for it," you say, chuckling as he scrambles up immediately, brushing the sand from his legs as he and Chrissy jog over toward the group. You watch them exchange words with one of them, pleased when Steve's face lights up with a broad grin, and he claps the guy on the shoulder.

You feel your left side suddenly dip as the sand shifts when Eddie tumbles into the chair beside you, drawing your attention from Steve as you flash a smile at him. You go back to watching as Steve and Chrissy choose their spots around the net, book forgotten as you follow Steve's movements with interest— the broad muscles on his back, his tanned arms stretching as he volleys the ball easily before falling into a slight crouch, coiled and poised to move wherever he needs to. When he sets up a teammate and they score the first point, you can hear Chrissy's delighted shriek from across the sand. Steve and Chrissy exchange an enthusiastic double high-five before he glances back, hand dragging through his hair as his eyes dart. And when you wave your hand high in the air, so Steve knows that you saw his set-up, the broadness of his brilliant smile warms you inside.

Beside you, that smoke voice curls against your ear. "You make him really happy, you know." You glance at Eddie to see him looking past you, brown eyes still fixed on the makeshift volleyball court, gleaming with fondness. "He'd dated around a bit since Nancy, but you're the first girl he was ever really serious about. He's been much happier these last few years since you came around."

Though the sentiment settles comfortably behind your sternum, you can't help but also feel confused. "Thanks, I'm really glad he's happy," you say sincerely before adding, "Who's Nancy?"

Eddie's eyes had drifted back toward the game, but they snap to you then, suddenly wide. "Steve never mentioned…?" Eddie's voice is a little weak before he trails off, and when you shake your head, you watch his expression go a little panicked and sheepish. "Ah… shit," he finally says, face contorting in a wince. "I guess I shouldn't have said anything."

You frown. Eddie’s behavior reveals that not only had he expected you to know about this— which means it's something Steve is keeping from you— but that he considers it to be touchy enough that he regrets mentioning it. As your book slides on your lap when you lean toward him, you close it without looking, dropping it impatiently to the sand. "Well, now you have to tell me, Eddie." You stare at him as his eyes narrow hesitantly, but your expression is unwavering. "You can't just leave me hanging after saying something like that."

Eddie sighs heavily, hands rubbing against his thighs as he looks out at the ocean. He tugs absently on a lock of his hair as he talks. "Steve dated this girl, Nancy, for almost all of high school. She's the same age as you and Chris." Your eyes are rapt to Eddie's face as he glances at you. "They got together when she was a freshman. They became really close." He shifts, facing you more directly. "You know, a lot of couples break up when they graduate, especially if one person is still in high school and one is going on to college. But Steve was committed despite things being long-distance. He even got close with her family. Went on vacations with them, shared holidays, that kind of thing." 

Eddie's eyes soften with sympathy for his friend as they dart between yours, and he adds quietly, "You know what things are like with his parents, so..." You nod, somber as you remember Steve confiding in you the broken state of his relationship with his mother and father. He tries to pretend it doesn't bother him, but you know it's still a wound, especially around the holidays. It's why you always make sure those times are busy for him and full of cheer. It helps that your parents and older sister love Steve, and he fits in seamlessly with your family.

Eddie's voice snaps you out of your musing. "Nancy's younger brother was in D&D club with me in school, so that's how Steve and I got better acquainted. And, uh… that's kind of the basics." He pauses, and you feel your stomach sink with the expression on his face. Eddie speaks slowly, carefully, as if he's treading lightly for the first time in his recounting of this story. "And then they broke up. 'Cause she… well, she cheated on him." You glance at your lap, weighed down with the seriousness apparent in Eddie's voice, how he lapses into somber silence. Clearly, this event was defining in Steve's life. Quietly, Eddie adds, "He was upset about it for… a long time." He shrugs a little helplessly, contrite. "And that's probably about as much as I should say. You could ask him about it if you wanna know more." 

You nod slowly, chest heavy with sympathetic sorrow for your boyfriend. But your mind is swirling with all you've learned, all you'd never known. "Yeah," you say, unsure whether you will. Because even though you'd told Steve everything— about the two boyfriends you'd had before him; about how you'd done stuff with them but hadn’t gone all the way before him; about how he'd been the first guy you'd ever said 'I love you' to— even though you'd told him all of that, not once had Steve ever mentioned anything about Nancy. And you feel foreboding pang deep in the pit of your stomach, mixing with the weight of your sorrow until you're too uncomfortable to dwell anymore.

You ask quickly, "Did you and Chrissy start dating in high school?"

Eddie is clearly relieved that you've dropped the subject and won't press him for more. "Yep," he replies, "she almost got away— we started dating when she was a senior."

Desperate for the distraction of a story told with typical Eddie-level theatrics, you lean your elbow on the arm of the chair and plant your chin there, tilting towards him as you ask eagerly, "How'd you get together? Don't spare the details; I wanna hear it all."

"All right," he grins, flashing eye teeth as his eyes brighten at the promise of weaving his tale. Short curls sway around his pale quartz face as he gestures dramatically. "So, picture this: Chrissy Cunningham, head cheerleader, cute as a button. The sweetest, most popular girl in school; the queen—" Eddie's voice goes all breathy with dramatic awe, "—of Hawkins High." When you giggle at his antics, his expression falls into a broad grin. "And she's dating this bible thumpin' golden boy, head of the basketball team, personal torturer of nerds and outcasts everywhere. He's the king to Chrissy's queen, the supreme douche himself... Jason Carver." 

You stifle your amused smile in an effort to say seriously, "I take it you and he didn't get along."

"Oh," Eddie says easily, "hated each other's fuckin' guts. Anyway…" he plants his elbow on his own chair arm to mirror your posture, leaning in and affecting his voice like you're two girlfriends gossiping. "So what had happened was, Chrissy was getting a little sick and tired of all the pressure to be perfect all the time. Perfect looks, perfect grades, perfect boyfriend, perfect future. So she started lookin' for ways to, ah… take the edge off. Let loose a little bit." He eyes you cautiously, letting his voice trail into implication. "You know…" 

You assume Eddie is probably talking about drugs, though he seems to be reluctant to acknowledge it outright. "I get it," you say dryly, though not unkindly, and his lips tilt in a little smile before he continues. 

"So that's how we started talking. And what began as a little bit of business turned to some steamy meetings at the picnic bench in the woods outside school, and, ya know… this lead to that, and the rest is history." He smiles broadly. "So the queen of Hawkins High left the king and started dating the freak."

Eddie says the word 'freak' with the utmost lightness, but the word strikes you immediately. You frown, nose wrinkling as you repeat him incredulously. "Freak?"

"Yeah," he replies casually, lounging back, stretching his lanky legs comfortably. "That's what they called me."

You blink rapidly as you're left reeling with the absurdity of it— that someone could look at the gorgeous man sitting beside you and call him a freak. You scoff, mouth working soundlessly until you can finally speak, unable to keep from sounding appalled. "What, 'cause you… you were into heavy metal and, like, had your ears pierced?"

Eddie chuckles a little weakly, brown eyes darting from your stare, which is fierce with offense for him. "Well, I mean, it wasn't just that," he replies, shifting in his seat.

You swallow, leaning back and reigning in the vehemence of your reaction when you see how you're making Eddie uncomfortable. You want to question him more, to force him to tell you what else there could be to justify them calling him something like that. But Eddie's brown eyes are clouded, a little frown creasing between his dark brows as he taps his fingers against his thigh. You decide not to pry. "That just seems so… bizarre," you say. "That people would still think like that."

Eddie chuckles again, a little wry but not as weak this time. "Small-town Indiana, you know? It's like they're stuck in the fifties. Everybody's gotta be a certain way, or else."

"Well," you reply, smiling gently as he looks at you again when you say sincerely, "I'm glad Chrissy didn't fall into that stupid trap. You guys seem really good together." Fondness blooms in your chest when Eddie smiles back.

"It's been five years now. Moved in together near the end of last year, actually. It was a bit of an adjustment at first, but it's been good." 

Your eyes glint with mischievousness then, and you can't help but tease, "Wait, let me guess: you're a roll-under instead of a roll-over toilet paper guy, aren't you?" 

Eddie feigns a gasp, pressing a hand to his inked chest. "How dare you accuse me of such wretchedness."

You giggle, and he breaks the affronted act quickly, the husky sound of his genuine laughter warming you inside, fluttering low in your belly. You eye Eddie for a moment, realizing that this is the longest and most open conversation you've probably ever had with him. And there's something that's been nagging at you, especially since Chrissy had checked in so kindly with you after that night Steve got mad. It's something you were never going to bring up to Chrissy, but considering how forthcoming Eddie's been this morning, maybe he'll be receptive to you asking. "So, when we went to see Avatar back in May, I accidentally saw this text from her mom. Is Chrissy, like… okay?" 

Eddie sighs heavily, rubbing the back of his hair as his expression falls slightly. "Yeah, she's… she's okay." He glances away again. "She has a rough relationship with her parents, especially with her mom. 'Member how I said she had all that pressure, and that's why we started talking?" He glances briefly at you to see you nod. "They had all these expectations for what they wanted her to do with her life— go to church every Sunday, train hard for cheer while also getting perfect grades, go to the best college, marry Jason, all so she can become just like them. Look this way, say that thing. Be their perfect little… robot. And she just got sick of it. She didn't wanna do it anymore." 

After a brief pause, Eddie slumps a little lower in the chair, rubbing at his knuckles. And his voice, when he says this, is so casual— but the way it affects you is anything but. "You know, sometimes, I think Chris wanted to stick it to her parents, and that's why she started dating me: Mr. Bad Reputation. But it's been five years, and she hasn't left me yet," he jokes, lips stretching with a grin even as you frown, retorting immediately,

"I don't see why she would ever leave you, Eddie. I mean, what's not to like?" 

For a long moment, Eddie is quiet. Those brown eyes, normally so bright and lively, stay stuck on his hands as he fidgets with his fingers and ruddy knuckles. You figure he must be missing his typical rings, left back in the room to remain untarnished by salt water. He doesn't look at you, but your eyes are riveted on Eddie's downturned face, pale quartz framed by dark ink curls. 

And then Eddie finally meets your gaze, face a mask of bland indifference. "I sold drugs all throughout high school. I failed senior year three times and only passed by the skin of my teeth. Obviously, I never went to college." You blink, almost wanting to look away at the baldness, the flatness of his words. The utter lack of feeling that feels so wrong coming from Eddie. "I grew up in a trailer park. I lived in low-income housing 'til I was twenty-three. And now, I'm a mechanic who can't afford to take one day off for a vacation." He huffs a humorless chuckle, quirking a sardonic brow as he stares at you. "Need I go on?"

Speaking can often be difficult for you. You usually fight to find the right words to say.

But looking into Eddie's eyes, the most beautiful shade of brown you've ever seen, you don't need to fight now. Not with these words. These words surge straight up from the bottom of you, from that hidden place grown lush with deep roots and slowly blooming greenery that now strains from the soil, leaves quivering, bending toward the man at your side. They burst from your mouth, and you don't even have to think about them. "Eddie. First of all, you're ridiculously talented and so passionate. It's like… electric to watch you perform. And you're funny. When we went to get ice cream that first time we met, I was nervous it would be awkward 'cause I usually don't know what to say around people I don't know. But you just have this way of making people laugh and feel at ease. You pretend you're all mean and scary because you listen to metal, but you're actually so incredibly kind. Plus, you're probably the realest person I know. Totally authentic and unapologetically an absolute weirdo." And your eyes, which once had darted from the intensity of this man beside you, from the light that shines within him— they don't flit away, not even once. Fiercely, determinedly, you finish your speech. "So. Like I said. What's not to like?" 

There is another long pause as Eddie stares back at you, expression unreadable, blank aside from a little crease between his brows. You regard him calmly, patiently; you refrain from pressing him for a response, letting Eddie take his time to consider what you said. And you think, as the moment lingers, that perhaps you'll see it again: that pink on Eddie's black and white, the gentleness blooming out from his eyes, maybe now beginning to soften his features. Tentative hope builds as he holds your gaze, eyes darting between yours. And when Eddie's eyes dart to your lips, your heart thumps hard, moths fluttering; you scarcely dare to breathe.

But when Eddie's eyes meet yours again, he just shrugs one shoulder, letting it fall sharply as he looks away. When Eddie turns from you, he leans his chin in his palm, hunching forward; your stomach swoops with disappointment at his lackluster response, brow crumpling until you notice his knee bouncing erratically, hand fisted against his leg, knuckles white with the force of his grip. Your disappointment transforms to empathy as you watch him— tense, nostrils flared, brow tugged low over his brown eyes. 

You realize that Eddie just doesn't know what to do with what you said about him. He doesn't know how to react to you hearing all the negative things he revealed about himself and excusing them entirely, focusing plainly on his good qualities. The ones you suspect that, maybe, Eddie has trouble seeing in himself. And you think about all the times Eddie has helped you through your own hesitance and anxiety, reassuring you in that calm way that almost seems like it would be unnatural coming from Eddie Munson, but has always felt right, just felt like a part of him. 

Here is an opportunity for you to return Eddie's consistent kindness.

You move to stand in front of him, blocking Eddie's view of the ocean with your body. His brow crinkles as he looks up at you, fingers still curled over his mouth. "All right, you," you say brightly. "We're going for a walk on the beach. Maybe if you're lucky, we can get your pasty ass a tan." 

Eddie's frown softens fractionally when you grin at him, but he doesn't move, expression a little skeptical. You hold out your hands expectantly, wiggling your fingers until Eddie, rather reluctantly, puts his hands in yours. "Come on, then—" your voice goes tight as you haul him up. "Holy— you're heavier than I thought you'd be," you pant, shaking out your arms dramatically as Eddie finds his footing. Those brown eyes are no longer as flat now, instead twinkling with slight amusement as you grab your phone and your AirPods case, presenting one earbud to him with a flourish. When Eddie doesn't reach out to take your offering, you snatch his hand, pressing it into his palm.

"What's this for?" he asks, staring down at the white bud.

You navigate to the Spotify app on your phone. "Have you never gone on a beach walk listening to music like you're in an indie teen movie?"

"Uh—" Eddie huffs a chuckle. "Can't say I have." 

"Oh, you're missing out." When you see him eyeing you with skepticism, you roll your eyes exaggeratedly. "Look, I'll put my Spotify on shuffle. It'll be, like, seventy percent me, thirty percent you."

Eddie's laugh is genuine again, and you bask in the sound. "Somehow, I doubt that percentage," he retorts, though he gamely acquiesces, fitting the bud into his ear. 

"Oh, ye of little faith!" You drop the case and your phone into your deep dress pocket and lead the way; they bounce against your thigh as Eddie falls into step with you. The first song begins with an eerie tinkling of bells before the guitar comes in, harsh and aggressive. You tilt your head as you eye him, saying smugly, "See?"

Eddie raises his hands, a grin tugging at his full lips. "I eat my words, sweetheart," he concedes, and your heads bob in time to the beat as you walk along the beach listening to The Summoning by Sleep Token. It strikes you as exceedingly amusing that, while everyone around you is casually lounging around on the beach in sunny Florida, you and Eddie are listening to eerie wailing and a heavy-metal singer husking, 'You've got my body, flesh and bone…' You giggle as Eddie gets really into it while he walks, strumming his invisible guitar and tossing his head until some more curls fall loose from his bun. 

You walk in silence, soaking in the instrumentals until the dreamy soundscape interlude subsides into a funk breakdown, and the singer croons, 'Oh, and my love, did I mistake you for a sign from God?' "This is my favorite part!" You tell Eddie, eyes bright with enthusiasm as you turn to him. 

You read his expression as both amused and impressed. "Okay, y/n. I see you. This part is sexy."

Eddie grins wolfishly as you flush, cheeks heating as you purse your lips; you walk a little faster, so he has to lope with longer steps to keep up. You hear him chuckling to himself but choose to ignore it.

The next song is Slow Mover by Angie McMahon, and within the first ten seconds of hearing her drawling voice, Eddie remarks, "Now I feel like I'm in an indie teen movie." You aren't sure whether he's being critical, but his expression is only slightly wry as he twists to walk backward in front of you instead of by your side. "Feel like I'm the main girl who's recklessly hitched a ride on a train, runnin' away from home towards the inevitable homelessness waiting for me in the city."

It takes considerable effort to keep your expression neutral while you say this, but by some miracle, you manage it. "Well, you certainly have the hair for it."

Eddie's eyes widen in delight even as his mouth falls open in outrage. "You sayin' I have hobo hair?" He makes to grab your waist, but you dodge him with a shrill shout, giggling. "Might have to rescind your nickname if you keep criticizing me. You'll be sweet girl no longer."

"No!" You whine softly, pouting up at him as you let him snatch you around the middle. "Anything but that." You're joking, but you're also not, though you giggle again as Eddie shimmies you playfully back and forth.

"Then be nice," he says warningly, and you nod your obedience quickly, eyes wide and beseeching. "'Kay then. I'll trust you," he says, releasing you so you can continue your wandering path along the beach. 

As Angie sings, 'Friend, oh friend, I am a slow, slow girl,' you catch Eddie's brown eyes twinkling. "You are a slow girl," he says cheekily. "You're walking slow."

You pout, protesting his unfair assessment. "It's hard to walk on dry sand!" 

"Then let's walk down there," Eddie offers, and you dip down to the water's edge, sand wet and pliant between your toes as you squish along much more easily. As a wave recedes, you see a sudden small object scuttling away from you. 

"Look! A crab!" You exclaim, grabbing Eddie's forearm. Excitement surges as you trace its frantic path with your eyes until it disappears into the surf. You turn to Eddie, eyes shiny with innocent delight. His arm is warm under your fingers, and the breadth of his answering smile— the way it dimples his cheek and crinkles his brown eyes like the sun itself is shining in them— makes those wings flutter low in your stomach again. 

You suddenly realize that you've wandered far enough that the pink and green and orange lifeguard structure is no longer visible; you and Eddie are alone, surrounded only by strangers. The only other time you've ever been truly alone was when you'd gone to get ice cream the first time you'd met him. The flutters surge a little harder at the realization, but you don't have any time to process as Eddie says suddenly, "Let's go in the water."

Your hand falls from his arm, eyes darting to take in just how many strangers surround you. The answer is very many; the beach, by this time, is quite crowded. And while you aren't afraid of Eddie seeing you in your new bathing suit, that self-consciousness from the hotel room resurges at the idea of baring yourself to the possibility of stares and flickering expressions.

Your hesitance softens as Eddie moves closer, and suddenly all you see is that face you treasure: strong jaw, soft nose, full lips, wide brown eyes framed by long lashes. Dark curls that tumble around his shoulders when he pulls the band from his hair, slipping it onto his wrist instead. "Come in the water with me," he coaxes you, smoke voice quiet and gentle. And as you breathe it in, it soothes the discomfort, settling full and rich in your belly.

You nod, retrieving your phone and AirPod case from your deep dress pocket and putting away your earbuds. You let Eddie's nimble fingers pull the bow from the tie at your waist, and carefully, he gathers the flowy fabric, lifting it until your sunflower-yellow bikini is revealed. The bathing suit is more daring than anything you've worn in public before, and you feel like every inch of your softness is exposed, each vulnerable part of you on display. You take the dress quickly from Eddie's hands, folding it to give you something to occupy yourself with. You drop it to the sand beside you, gritting your teeth as you bend to tuck your phone and AirPods beneath the fabric, trying not to think about how crunching over probably makes your body look unattractive. 

But when you straighten, your eyes widen to see how Eddie's looking at you. His gaze is milder, more controlled than usual, but you still respond to the heat behind his dark eyes as they caress your body silently. He swallows thickly when your breathing quickens, eyes drawn to your breasts as they rise and fall visibly. Though the way Eddie is looking at you has dispelled your discomfort about strangers' judgments, this moment is quickly becoming tense and loaded. You feel a stirring of conflicting emotions: attraction, trepidation, and excitement mixing into a jumbled mess behind your sternum, underpinned with sluggish guilt oozing anew in your gut. 

Because you're alone with Eddie. And though a thrill races through you at the thought, you know you should not be thinking about kissing him right now. 

Rule number one, you remind yourself, shifting subtly backward and speaking in an attempt to break the tension between you. "I don't wanna go in all the way," you tell him. 

Eddie blinks as if he's suddenly just come back to himself. "And why is that?" he asks, sounding elaborately casual.

You eye him cautiously, alarmed by the sudden twinkle in his eye, the growing tilt to his wide mouth. "Because Steve said it's cold—"

He moves so fast you have no time to react, and you yelp as you find yourself suddenly hoisted into Eddie's arms. "Eddie!" You squeak, face flaming and stomach swooping in intense embarrassment as he holds you bridal-style. "You can't carry me!"

There's a reason why you've never asked any of your boyfriends to carry you, why Steve has never even attempted to pick you up beyond a quick lift a couple of inches from the ground. The words I'm too heavy hang unsaid on your lips, and your brow crinkles pleadingly; you're silently begging Eddie not to make you say it.

"Can't I?" He challenges, and your arms wrap desperately around his neck as you scrunch your eyes shut, prepared for Eddie to concede or to halt halfway or for his arms to simply give out due to his sheer stubbornness. But when you hear splashing, you peek to see him already calf-deep in the water. "Shit," he huffs, and you feel his chuckles rumbling in his chest where you're pressed against it. "All right, I'll admit it's kinda cold."

Eddie doesn't even seem to struggle as he carries you into the ocean, and you can't pretend you aren't surprised. I guess he's stronger than he looks, you acknowledge, shoulders relaxing fractionally as he eases into the water. "Told you it was cold," you mumble sourly, and you feel him laugh again, flutters stirring as you realize suddenly how Eddie's arms are wrapped around you, supporting you solidly; how warm his sun-kissed skin is against yours; how your nose is nearly pressed to the base of his throat—

"Fuck—!"

Your yelp is cut off as Eddie stumbles on a sandbar; together, you collapse into the water.

The shock of cold nearly steals your breath until, almost as quickly, Eddie hauls you up out of the water. "Holy shit," he gasps, hands tight against your upper arms as you sputter, trying to find your footing. The sand dips down right past the bar, nearly too far to stand, but Eddie steadies you before his palms find your face, messily pushing your wet hair back where it's covering your eyes. Eddie sounds so upset as he stammers, "Shit, y/n, I am so sorry—"

But you're laughing, head tilting back as Eddie tries desperately to fix your hair, though his attempts are clumsy at best. You take over for him, dipping into the water so you can slick the length of your hair back. "It's fine," you say through leftover chuckles, eyes widening suddenly in alarm as you register the wave heading straight for you behind Eddie's back.

He registers your reaction a second before you're hit, and you both somehow manage to duck in time for the wave to pass without jostling you too much. Still, Eddie's body drifts toward yours with its force, and when you pop from the water, his arms close around your middle, holding you up higher than you could reach yourself. Almost automatically, your arms wrap around his shoulders, and your legs do the same around his hips. You cling to him, buoyant, letting him hold you in the waves.

Eddie seems relieved that you aren't mad and, even more so, delighted that you'd laughed off getting unexpectedly dunked under the cold water. "Don't worry, sweet girl," he says, playfully tightening his arms. "I've got you. I'll fight off every rip current and seagull that tries to snatch you with my bare hands." 

You giggle, matching his energy with your reply. "Thank you, oh mighty bard, for keeping me safe from the terrors of the sea." 

"Any time." Eddie smiles broadly again, looking utterly pleased that you'd played along. 

And as your gaze runs over Eddie's dark hair plastered to his cheeks and neck, his long lashes beaded with saltwater, his lips so full and pink and his brown eyes so utterly alive, longing strikes you, swift and potent. Longing that begs you to bury your fingers in those wet curls. To taste the salt on Eddie's mouth. To hold him close, bury your nose in the crook of his neck, and never let him go.

It's so powerful, the impulse, that it zips straight down to pulse hard in your pussy, fluttering the moth wings wildly on the way. You feel your face sway instinctually toward him, your eyes dipping beyond your control to his lips. And as you register the dawning realization in Eddie’s eyes when your gaze darts back to beautiful brown, you remember, suddenly, Steve's anger and sadness, the distress he'd felt at the first rule you and Eddie had broken.

And that had been an accident. What you want to do is entirely intentional.

Trepidation and guilt win out. 

As you loosen your arms and legs, Eddie releases his grip immediately to let you put some distance between you. His brow is a little pinched, eyes almost worried until you splash him lightly, lips quirking with a small playful smile. When he smiles back, splashing you boldly, you internally sag with relief.

You and Eddie spend some time playing around in the waves, but it doesn't take long for the appeal of the sun's warm rays to draw you out of the sea. You squeeze the water from your hair as Eddie shakes his like a dog; you're half-amused and half-exasperated as he sprays you with droplets. You'd neglected to bring any towels, so you slick the water off your skin with your hands as best you can; you dry your ears with the hem of your dress, offering it to Eddie so you can both listen to music on the walk back. After, you drop your phone and your AirPod case into your dress pocket without wearing it. You figure you can just carry it for now, and by the time you return to your belongings, your body will be dry enough to put it back on.

The first song on your walk back starts strong.

'You say I want to be your girlfriend—' 

The playful affectation and cheery pop beat of Hemlock Springs' Girlfriend conjure opposing reactions in you and Eddie. While your mouth falls open in a delighted smile, Eddie's nose crinkles, head shaking as he crosses his arms in front of his chest, gesturing sharply. "No. Nope. No way," he says firmly, brow crooked in dismay as you skip ahead of him, entirely unbothered by his vehement rejection of the song.

"It's really catchy!" You protest, head bopping as the synths drop in. "Give it a chance."

Eddie grumbles as he catches up to you, eyeing your swaying shoulders begrudgingly. You walk together briefly before he falls behind, and when you notice he's no longer by your side, you turn, already frowning in anticipation of more complaints about the music. But Eddie's just bending to pick something up in the sand, hand wagging in the water before he straightens and jogs to you. He shows you that he's found a small scallop shell, banded bright red and white. He offers it to you, and you take it from him delicately, happiness blooming along with your brilliant smile. "Thanks, Eddie!" you say, shoulders back to swaying as you start to dance as you walk. You stare down at your scallop shell for another moment before slipping it carefully into the other pocket of your dress.

When the song's bridge hits, you spin to face Eddie, shoulders shaking jauntily, hips wiggling as you sing along: 'Secretly, I'm aiming for a rhythm that exceeds my expectations. Am I ever gonna get it?' You affect an attitude for the second line, rubbing your shoulder against his arm as you pretend to pout before smiling widely, dancing away. 

And you aren't thinking about the people around you as your feet play in the water, the breeze tickles against your bare stomach, and your ass wobbles when you sway your hips. You're not thinking about any of that. You're just in the moment— listening to a treasured song, dancing along the beach beside a treasured person.

By the song's end, you even catch a glimpse of Eddie bobbing his head, though he stops as soon as he sees you looking. Your shit-eating grin makes him huff, but it's too late for him to pretend he wasn't getting into it. You're just about to rib on him when the next song begins— the tonal shift strikes you, and your mirth fades as the acoustic guitar introduces Stephen Sanchez's Hey Girl.

This song is very different from Girlfriend. It's introspective and sentimental. You can feel the longing in his voice when he sings, 'Hey girl, with your head in the clouds: I wanna love you, I wanna love you—'

After the poignancy of earlier when Eddie held you in the waves, this song strikes you as too raw and vulnerable. Overwhelmed, you dig your phone out of your pocket to skip to the next one, but calloused fingers on your arm stop you. "Don't change it. I like this one," Eddie says quietly, voice husky like smoke; you glance to see his eyes fixed on your hand, and you're suddenly grateful he isn't looking at your face. 

Hesitantly, you obey, throat thick with the sentiment of the song. And where there'd been a comfortable gap between your bodies, slowly, by degrees, you feel yourself drifting closer as Eddie does the same, drawn together like you're being pulled in by some invisible force. The longing inside you transforms, sharpening, turning wistful as Eddie's hand brushes yours lightly, light enough to be incidental. But when Eddie's calloused fingers nudge against yours tentatively, you know the brush is deliberate. And though you keep staring straight ahead, you weave your fingers together, holding Eddie's hand as you walk back down the beach together.

You suppose, to all those strangers watching from their towels and beach chairs, that you and Eddie look like an average couple holding hands. But you're not. You're not that at all— not average, and not a couple. Yet when Stephen sings, 'Oh good God, I'm tongue-tied, I'm a landslide when you move,' and you feel Eddie's fingers squeeze yours gently, deliberately, you can't help the tremble of your chin, the slight sting of your eyes as your green quivers, growing taller. The leaves fan, full and plush and soft with downy fuzz. And as small white flowers, tiny and delicate, open their petals, you squeeze Eddie's fingers back. Gently, deliberately. 

A tiny smile blooms on your lips as you feel his thumb rasp slowly across your skin. And all the rest of what you feel— the trepidation, the anxiety, the guilt— it all falls away as you flutter with the tender affection of Eddie's touch.

All too soon, that gaudy lifeguard stand juts ugly into the sky, and as you spot the distant yet familiar forms now sitting in those beach chairs— a hairy man in navy trunks and a petite blonde woman in a bright white string bikini— you feel Eddie's fingers slide from yours. 

The loss of Eddie's hand is acute. It pangs within you hollowly, but you school your features as you approach your boyfriend and friend, whose expressions perk as they spot you and Eddie. And just like your feet sink into the sand, you let your feelings sink down until they're concealed beneath a layer of soft, protective dirt.

"You went in the water?" Steve asks as you approach his side, dropping a quick kiss on his cheek. 

"Wasn't it cold?" Chrissy adds, though she's quickly distracted as she pops up to wrap Eddie in a tight hug. 

"Yup," you reply, pulling your lips into a small smile as Chrissy giggles when Eddie bonks her cheek lightly with his nose. "It was."

–

The afternoon crawls by in snapshots of moments. Chrissy hops on Eddie's back so he can carry her to the beach's exit. You eat lunch at a local Italian restaurant called Crust and split a honey-truffle pizza and some small plates. Chrissy feeds Eddie tiny bites of burrata and prosciutto; Steve leans into you, hand landing comfortably on your knee. You browse the shops at Bayside Marketplace. Steve offers to buy you whatever you want, and he doesn't question when you choose only a dainty gold chain— plain, with nothing hanging from it. Chrissy swings Eddie's hand as they walk ahead of you down the sandstone. Later, you and Steve diverge from them and find yourselves wandering toward the Ferris wheel. 

And as you ride it— gazing out at Miami city, at its tall silver skyscrapers and its turquoise blue waters— you sit across from your boyfriend, Steve Harrington. He's lounging back, toes wiggling in his boat shoes, hair mussed artfully from salt and wind. He is handsome. His nose is alkaline, his brows are thick and dark, and his jaw is strong, dusted by stubble. Steve works at a bank and makes a lot of money. He is athletic, and he loves basketball. He has always been attentive and generous; he gives of himself to you and his friends alike. He has an ex-girlfriend named Nancy, whom he loved and who cheated on him. You've been dating for three years. You lost your virginity to him, and you share an apartment. He's been perfect on this trip. He's made you feel so loved. You love him.

And yet, Steve Harrington doesn't make your wings flutter like Eddie Munson does.

He never has.

And yet… 

As Steve clambers over to your side, you shift on the seat to make room for him. When his arm wraps around your shoulders, you lean into his side. You drag your nails lightly over his abdomen and the fur on his chest until he sighs, humming contentedly. And when Steve ducks his head toward you, you use that hand to cup his cheek as you kiss him.

Because Steve Harrington is your boyfriend, not Eddie Munson. Eddie Munson is Chrissy Cunningham's boyfriend. And you are not Chrissy.

So it doesn't matter how Eddie makes your wings flutter.

It doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter.

If you think it enough, maybe you'll start to believe it.

–

Throwing yourself into your preparations for clubbing wasn't just a welcome distraction— it was a necessary one. Thankfully, lounging on your bed with Chrissy, hair and bodies wrapped in fluffy hotel towels as you scroll Tiktok together, you'd managed to bury your emotions and revelations under a healthy mound of peat. It’s not enough to stifle them, but enough to keep them from surfacing when Eddie emerges from the bathroom in a puff of steam, curls dripping water down his chest to catch on the low-slung towel around his hips. 

Thank goodness for this hotel's overabundance of linens.

About an hour and a half before you plan to leave, you and Chrissy decisively oust the men from the shared bathroom. It transforms into a battleground of razors, toner, and eyeshadow palettes as you arm yourselves for your night out, meticulously readying every inch of your body. After your hair has been texturized, styled, and set, you apply your makeup side-by-side. 

It never ceases to fascinate you how Chrissy can so dramatically transform herself. Where normally she looks so young and innocent, with makeup, she becomes so fierce and sensual— almost like a different person, though you know by now that, really, it's just an extension of her inner self. Today she's opted for sharp black liner in the inner corners that extends out in a thin wing, with a swipe of metallic color on her lids and false eyelashes. Her brows are sharp, too, and she's highlighted her cheekbones to accentuate the angles and contours of her face. Bold, foxy. Totally Chrissy. 

You apply more makeup than you usually do, but you prefer something a little more subtle on yourself. You've tried bold eye makeup before, and while you are trying to step outside your comfort zone lately, you just… don't feel like yourself with it. You opt instead for a slick, nearly nude hue on your lids and plenty of mascara to accentuate the length of your lashes. You spend more time on your skin— you want to achieve a dewy, healthy flush, so you focus on blush and subtle highlight and shadow to add depth, plus a mauve, lush lipgloss that's slightly darker than your natural color. You're thrilled with the final result: it still feels like you, as if you're glowing from the inside. More ethereal.

You fawn over each other's makeup, and as you drop your towels to dress, you notice that Chrissy's efforts to get tan didn't go unrealized. Her skin looks a little more golden than it did this morning, and it accentuates the color of the mini-dress she's chosen for the night. It's a bright orange, not typical for Chrissy but entirely appropriate for the tropical location. Chrissy's dress is strapless, with large triangular cutouts at the ribs that point inwards and give the illusion she has an even smaller waist. She twists to look at herself in the mirror, and you can't help but admire her. She looks gorgeous, and you tell her so.

"Aw, thank you, babes!" She cups your face lightly in her hands and gives you a butterfly kiss with her eyelashes so as not to mess up your makeup. You carefully step into your dress, and Chrissy helps you zipper it; you feel a little sheepish as you look in the mirror, especially with just a tiny, lacy pair of underwear and no bra underneath, but Chrissy squeezes your shoulders reassuringly. "You look so amazing, y/n. This dress is incredible. I'm honestly a little jealous."

"Chris!" you exclaim, spinning to face her incredulously. "Don't even. You are a stone-cold fox. I'm serious— that dress was, like, made for you."

Chrissy beams, blue eyes shining as you flatter her. She drops a quick kiss on your bare shoulder as you examine yourself in the mirror, a small smile blooming as you accept the truth of your friend's words, truly believing them.

You do look amazing.

Your dress is satin, mid-length, with a long slit high up the side to the top of your thigh, revealing a sensual glimpse of your leg. The straps are tiny and thin, and there's a cutout beneath the bust, so it doesn't look right if you wear a bra. But your breasts sit nicely in it; there's enough support to keep you from sagging, and they look plump and natural. The color is a rich cream, like indulgent milk and honey. And, best of all, the dress fits you right— it drapes across your tummy and hips, hugging without clinging. There's no mistaking the wideness of your hips or the softness of your belly in this, but you don't feel fat. 

You feel like Aphrodite. You feel like a goddess.

And you feel even more like one when you and Chrissy emerge from the bathroom, and you come face-to-face with Steve as he turns, futzing with the hem of his short-sleeved blue linen shirt. He's wearing tailored khakis, and his hair is coiffed nicely, but what pleases you the most is how you see the moment his pupils dilate when he lifts his head to see your new dress for the first time.

His eyes drag over the length of your body, lingering in all the right spots, and you feel a little smug as he stutters hoarse nonsense before he can gather himself.

"See?" Chrissy says sweetly, and you glance to see her stepping into her stilettos, leaning on Eddie's shoulder for support. "Told you you look hot."

You don't let your eyes linger on black and white, but a flash is all you need to have your heart thumping. Because, even in Miami, Eddie just can't help himself: he's dressed in another white shirt, though this one is looser and thinner, unbuttoned halfway down his torso to reveal his guitar pick necklace and the dark ink of his chest. His black jeans are tight, his dark boots are chunky, and his rings, bracelet, and chains are the same as they always are. But his hair is, again, pulled into that ponytail. The one you'd told him you found sexy.

Considering whether Eddie had styled his hair this way because of you— or even for you— threatens to disturb the peat you'd so carefully mounded around your growth to protect it, so you pointedly avoid the thought.

Steve's hands find your waist, and you look up into his hazel eyes as he murmurs, "Baby, you look so fucking hot right now. Like…" he chuckles almost incredulously. "Holy fuck. Are you sure we have to go out tonight? Can't I just keep you here and fuck you senseless instead?"

"Steve!" you whisper, slapping his arm and flushing as your eyes dart to the couple beside you. Steve isn't talking very loudly, but for some reason, the idea of them overhearing his lascivious commentary makes you feel squirmy. But Chrissy just chuckles, hooking her thumb through the belt loop on Eddie's black jeans. 

"I mean," she says lowly, eyebrow tugging up suggestively. "We don't have to—"

"No," you interrupt firmly, though your expression is more entreating than commanding. "This is our one night in Miami. We're going."

"All right, all right," Steve chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. "We'll go." He grins at you.

"I was promised dancing," you remind him, not quite pouting.

Eddie chimes in then, for the first time this evening. "Then dancing you will have," he says, and when your eyes dart to his and his mouth tilts in a little crooked grin, you smile back. 

And if some of the dirt shifts to reveal a bit of green or a peek of white flowers, well, could it really be helped?

-

The club Steve and Chrissy chose— picked while they were waiting for you and Eddie to return from your beach walk— seems to provide all the best Miami offers. It's saturated with fractal lighting in modern shapes and colors, deep purples, mauves, and bright golds that crisscross the floors. The effect is nearly dizzying but also entirely stunning, like you've been transported into a cocaine-laden dream. You see that the dance floor is teeming with motion as you shuffle past the bouncers, daisy-chained by your hands to carve a path to the bar. Steve hands you a vodka soda before you've even asked, and you and Chrissy start to suck your drinks down while Eddie and Steve retrieve theirs, eyes scanning the writhing crowd. The bass is pumping, and even without any alcohol yet to hit your bloodstream, you're feeling amped up by the atmosphere of the place. You and Chrissy half-shout your conversation into each others' ears as you wait for the guys to get their drinks.

When Steve's hand finds its place on your hip, you and Chrissy enact your plan: you drag the men to the edge of the dance floor, hips wiggling to a mix of standard club beats interspersed with some hip hop and Urbano. The place is packed, but you form a little four-square together, holding your own against the crowds as you dance and drink. Well, that is, you and Chrissy dance, and Steve does some approximation of dancing, and Eddie mostly stands still, head bobbing as he sips his bourbon. 

Chrissy seems used to Eddie's lack of movement; she dances around him, wiggling her ass against him or drawing her hand across his shoulder as she struts in the tiny square you've formed between you. You are perfectly content to dance alone or with your other two partners; you throw your hands up, sway together with Steve, or dance closely with Chrissy when she saunters your way. You feel buoyant and gleeful as you and Chrissy squeal, joining hands during Maneater by Nelly Furtado, singing it to each other as your men watch you with affection and amusement. This moment— surrounded by your close friends and your boyfriend, loose from drinks, effusive from dancing, comfortable in the knowledge that you look amazing— is what you'd been looking for when you first thought about taking this vacation. 

It feels just as good as you'd hoped it would be.

It doesn't take long for you to feel both a little drunk and a little hot; though the club is indoors, it's humid from the climate and the press of bodies around you, and you feel yourself growing dewy with sweat. When Steve notices you fanning your neck, he offers to take you back to the bar. Chrissy and Eddie follow, too, happy for the respite and a chance for another drink. 

As you sip on a small cup of water, Chrissy's sudden exclamation nearly startles you. "Oh, my God! I can't believe I almost forgot— see that spot over there? Kind of close to the staircase, where the rope is?" You all crane your necks to see where she's pointing. When you look back, she's nearly vibrating with excitement. "I saw on Instagram that if you hang over there, the club promoters may invite you to dance on the stage behind the DJ! And then we could end up in their photos or videos! Can you imagine?!"

You glance over to the spot she's indicated again as Steve replies. "That is pretty sick, Chris. Are you saying you wanna go over there?"

She shrugs, blue eyes wide and shiny. "I mean, it couldn't hurt, right?" She looks around the group, and when her eyes catch yours, you nod your agreement. The idea of dancing on stage does intimidate you a little. But if you're surrounded by Steve, Chrissy, and Eddie, then that might be fun. It would certainly be an experience you've never had before, and then you could say you danced on stage at a Miami nightclub. You catch some of Chrissy's excitement as she beams widely, clutching Eddie and Steve's forearms in eagerness as she taps her stilettos on the ground. "Ah! Okay! Let's go!"

Chrissy's dainty fingers close around your wrist, pulling you forward. You reach back blindly for the next person in the chain, fingers stretching until they make contact with a broad palm. But where you expect softness, you instead encounter roughness, and a quick wide-eyed glance back has you realizing that the hand you've grabbed is pale, wrist adorned with a silver chain bracelet. 

You suppress the flutters that threaten to burst when you realize that you're again holding Eddie's hand. His fingers tighten around yours, gripping a little harder as Chrissy carves a determined path through the crowd on the dancefloor, heading in a diagonal for the spot near the stairs. You remind yourself that his grip is tight to ensure you don't get separated— and, plus, his girlfriend, your friend, has your other wrist in her grasp. Get ahold of yourself. You suppress a sigh of relief when you finally reach the stairs and you can pull gently from both of their grips.

You can't deny that despite being somewhat excited about the prospect of dancing on the DJ stage, you are skeptical that it will actually happen. Yet Chrissy is gorgeous, eye-catching in her sharp eyeliner and her bright orange dress; Steve is handsome, broad and tan with artfully-tousled hair and a charming smile; and Eddie is captivating, statuesque with his pale quartz skin, alluring with those dark eyes, the roguish ponytail, and his inky body armor.

So, really, you should have known better.

You've only been dancing in Chrissy's chosen spot for about twenty minutes when a man with a shaved head, wearing a black blazer fitted with a leopard-print pocket square, approaches your group. He's quite a bit shorter than Steve and Eddie, but he exudes top-dog energy as he smirks at Chrissy. "Hey," he says smoothly, eyes darting around the group, landing briefly on all of you. Well, almost all of you. Your stomach swoops slightly as that familiar feeling creeps up your neck, prickling hot along your skin. Because you can't help but notice that the promoter's eyes skip you over, almost as if you aren't even standing there. 

His gaze lands, somewhat unsurprisingly, on Chrissy. He nods his chin toward the staircase, smirking slightly. "You interested in dancing on stage?"

Despite the squirmy feeling building low in your belly, you can't help but smile at the radiant enthusiasm that fills Chrissy's face, shining in her bright blue eyes. "Oh, my gosh! Really?" Her voice is powdery-soft, and the way she beams when he nods is so sweet that you feel genuinely happy for her. Her eager eyes dart to Eddie next, and the promoter's gaze follows. 

"How about you, guy?" He asks, but Eddie shakes his head, falling back onto one hip.

"Nah, man," he replies, lips quirked in a small sardonic grin. "I don't dance." He glances at Chrissy. "You should go, though, Chris." 

You see Chrissy pout for the briefest second, but she gets over it quickly, too excited to dwell on Eddie's denial. The promoter unhooks and lifts the velvet rope at the base of the staircase, holding out a hand so Chrissy can climb up onto the bottom step. 

That prickling heat, that low squirm of self-consciousness in your belly, is nearly gone as you anticipate the moment being over. But the promoter doesn't replace the rope. Instead, for the first time, you watch his eyes quickly flick you up and down.

You try to suppress the self-consciousness that rises automatically— try to keep yourself from reading the promoter's face to quickly assess his reaction. But you can't help it; you read it anyway. You always do. 

And there is no reaction that you can discern— no twitch of a brow or a lip, no change to the glint of his eyes. But what this man does is almost worse than if he'd made a face. After glancing you up and down, the promoter turns immediately to Steve on your left, asking, "You wanna join her?"

His utter dismissal couldn't be any more obvious to you than if he'd spit in your face.

Entirely oblivious to the subtext of the promoter's interaction— or lack thereof— with you, Steve grins broadly, running a hand through the length of his tousled brown hair. "Yeah, sure," he says smoothly, beginning to join Chrissy on the stairs. On the second step, Steve glances back, frowning as he notices you aren't following. "Wait—"

You cut him off quickly, desperate to avoid any risk of Steve asking why you aren't coming with him. Though the promoter utterly ignoring you is bad enough, forcing a conversation about it would be unbearable. "No, it's okay, Steve. I'll stay with Eddie." You're firm but not tense; you smile brightly to show you're not upset.

And Steve, God love him… in this moment, you're grateful that your boyfriend is such an uncomplicated man. "Are you sure?" Steve's hazel eyes are still hesitant, but you can tell he's on the cusp of conceding. You just need to sell it— that you're not in any way sore about him going to dance on the DJ stage without you.

"Yes!" you exclaim, smile widening, voice earnest. "Go have fun!"

"Okay, babe." Steve smiles back— lopsided, relieved. He walks back down to the two steps so he can say goodbye. "See you in, like, an hour?"

"Sounds perfect," you say decisively, leaning in so Steve can kiss you briefly. You hear the click of the fastener and feel the brush of the velvet against your belly as the promoter replaces the rope then, separating you and Steve.

You wave as you watch him and Chrissy ascend the stairs, eyes deliberately avoiding the promoter as he settles into the corner against the wall. But once they disappear, there's nothing to distract you from the reminder of his dismissal. And you feel it threatening again— that prickling self-consciousness, the low squirm of something approaching shame. 

Quickly, you turn to Eddie. "Can we get another drink?" you ask him, and as he nods mutely, you lead the way back to the bar. 

You skirt along the edge of the dance floor rather than cutting through the middle as Chrissy had, trusting Eddie to keep up with you. When you hover at the corner of the floor closest to the bar, unwilling to elbow your way to the counter, you look for Eddie then. His features are even more intense than usual in the dramatic lighting; his shoulders are set, and so is his jaw as he stops a short distance from you, staring down into your face. As the lighting shifts, you realize Eddie's brow is lightly furrowed, and his dark eyes are unreadable, not warm like they usually are. 

Something is off with Eddie. He hadn't been overjoyed when you were all dancing together, but he'd seemed content. Nothing like he is now— coiled tight as if he's reigning something in. It makes you worried.

When your eyes dart away and return to see his stare hasn't wavered, you ask quietly, "Hey, are you… are you mad or something?"

"No, I'm not mad." There is no hesitation in Eddie's quiet answer, and some of your worry eases. But when he glances away and you see a muscle in his jaw twitching, you realize he isn't done speaking. It takes him a moment, but Eddie eventually looks back at you, voice carefully neutral. "He should have stayed with you."

You frown. "I told him to go," you point out, more puzzled as Eddie's expression doesn't change.

"I know," Eddie says quietly. And the way his intense gaze is piercing you… for the first time in a long time, you have to look away from him.

You hear him sigh as you distract yourself by watching people dance, eyes running over writhing bodies. "You want a drink, right?"

You glance back to find the intensity in Eddie's stare has softened now. "Yeah," you reply, grateful for the change of subject.

"What do you want me to get you?"

You consider another vodka soda, but find you're in the mood for something different. "Um… Sex on the Beach?" you ask, blinking innocently as you watch a smirk curl at the edges of Eddie's full lips. 

His smoke voice is smooth and exaggeratedly sensual as Eddie sways toward you, eyes locked on yours. "I mean, sure, sweet girl. But what do you want to drink?"

"Eddie!" Your face flushes bright red, heat prickling in your cheeks as he laughs huskily. You slap his chest lightly before crossing your arms under your breasts; you're squirming from his teasing, but you can't help the low flutters that awaken at the thought of having sex with Eddie on the beach. Or even in the ocean, in that position he'd held you in this morning— arms wrapped around his shoulders, legs wrapped around his narrow hips, no swim trunks or bikini bottoms separating his warm skin from yours…

Stop it! You chastise yourself, huffing, glaring until Eddie stops laughing. "Sorry," he says wolfishly, not looking the least bit sorry about it. "Couldn't resist."

"Hmph." You level him with one last unimpressed look before he gently takes your wrist.

"Come on," he says, lips tilting fondly. "Stay close to me."

You follow Eddie closer to the bar, hovering near his back as he orders you the drink you'd requested and another bourbon for himself. You carry your drinks to the edge of the dance floor, standing near one another as you sip the fruity alcohol. After just the first sip, it's already so much better than your typical vodka sodas that you question why you'd never tried it before. In fact, you may never go back to vodka sodas now that you've tasted the allure of orange and cranberry with your vodka. 

When your drink is half-gone, and your head is starting to get a little fuzzy, and the sight of bodies dancing is no longer an adequate distraction, you find your thoughts drifting back to what Eddie had said. But… you made Steve go without you. You'd basically forced him to. Right? You find yourself lightly chewing on your lower lip, thumb rubbing absently against the cold glass cradled in your hands. Eddie was there. He'd heard the whole conversation, and when you pointed out that you'd told Steve to go, he'd just said, 'I know.' What was he implying? That you should've asked Steve to stay with you, to give up his fun just because you weren't going with him? 

Is that really fair of you to expect Steve to sacrifice his chance on stage for you? The idea that you could have forced the issue— pouted or begged Steve to stay— makes you feel selfish.

But maybe that's not Eddie's point. He hadn't said, 'You should have asked him to stay with you;' he'd said, "He should have stayed with you." You suddenly realize what Eddie was really trying to communicate: that Steve should have chosen to stay with you. A crease forms between your brows as that realization settles heavily upon you. It begins to coil around your ribcage, squeezing you tight as you find yourself considering a dangerous question.

Would Eddie have stayed with me?

And you find, as the thought pops into your head, that you already know the answer.

You haven't quite noticed the tension overtaking your body until Eddie's hand brushes lightly against your upper back; you flinch, wide eyes darting to his face. "Sorry," he says, withdrawing his hand immediately, and you reassure him quickly.

"No, it's fine. I was just…" you don't have an adequate explanation for what you were doing, so you just trail off, eyes darting back to your drink.

"Do you wanna go dance?"

You purse your lips as you look out at the undulating crowd, the crush of unfamiliar bodies. "Um…" you hedge, but finally admit, "Not really. I don't really wanna dance by myself."

Your eyes flash to Eddie's face as he replies, "I'll dance with you."

"Really?" you blurt. "I thought you said you don't dance."

Eddie chuckles lightly. "I don't. Not usually. But the Latin stuff is pretty good."

You assess his pleasantly neutral expression, the warmth that has returned to his brown eyes. And you read something there— in the way his gaze flicks away and back to yours, brows tugging up, mouth tilting a little further. You could be wrong, but you get the impression that despite Eddie's reasoning, he's only offering to dance because he'd noticed you were in your head. 

He's only doing it for you.

Your smile is genuine, blooming tiny on your face. "Okay," you say softly, and Eddie grins in earnest, leading the way into the crowd. 

Luckily for Eddie, the set seems to be leaning more Urbano now, and the quick mambo beat of Rosalia's Despacha is the perfect remedy for that heaviness shrouding you. You face Eddie, swaying your shoulders and hips, dancing in some approximation of a mambo as you step forward and back to the beat. Eddie gamely starts to sway, too, and you beam as you watch him make an attempt. A little self-conscious flush blooms high on his cheeks as you watch him.

"What?" he questions you defiantly, though it's softened by the self-deprecating grin tugging at his lips. "Didn't you promise to be nice? Remember, your nickname is on the line—"

"I am being nice!" you protest, voice high and giddy with mirth and excitement that Eddie is actually dancing with you. "I'm just happy. Am I not allowed to be happy?" you add plainly.

Eddie's wide grin transforms. "Of course you are," he replies, and the gentle smoke of his voice has you taking a deep, bracing breath to ward off the flutters.

"Good," you huff teasingly, trying to keep the mood between you light. "Then let me watch you dance."

He laughs, husky and full. "All right," he concedes.

And you do— you watch Eddie dance for a while, secretly delighted as he starts to move his shoulders and hips, a little tentatively at first, and then more boldly once his bourbon and your Sex on the Beach are gone. Briefly, you leave your spot to discard them on a nearby table before heading back to the dance floor together.

But when you resume your positions— facing each other with a respectful distance in between— you feel a sudden presence behind you, different from the slight brush of other dancing people. This person is facing you directly; pants rasp against your ass as his broad warmth presses boldly to you, and you're washed by the unfamiliar scent of cheap cologne as hands grasp at your body, one landing high on your waist and the other low on your hip.

You freeze immediately, heart racing, wide eyes darting helplessly to Eddie's face as his gaze flickers between you and whoever this stranger is behind you. In a split second, he's closing the gap between you, face contorted in a frown as you tug from the stranger's grasp to meet him. Eddie's arm wraps around your waist as he pulls you against him, and your instant panic eases. You breathe in smoke and apples, letting Eddie’s scent comfort you, distract you from the unexpected violation of a stranger's unwanted hands on your body. Eddie is clearly uneasy, muscles corded and taut as he stands still, holding you against him for a tense moment until you feel him start to relax.

"Is he gone?" you ask timidly, nose skimming Eddie's throat as you peek at his face.

"Yeah, he's gone." His chest rumbles against yours, and you sigh, relief flooding you as you relax into Eddie's grip. "Um…" You can see him swallow, eyes locked on the pale column of his throat as he pauses before saying haltingly, "Maybe I should, like, stay closer to you. I don't want that to happen to you again."

You shudder a breath, wings fluttering at the thought of dancing— really dancing— with Eddie. "Yeah," you say, voice small. "Yeah, I agree."

His arm loosens so you can turn. The warmth of Eddie's body radiates against your back, brushing just slightly as you start to dance again. As the club beat eases into another Latin hip-hop song, and the relaxed fuzz from the alcohol settles again in your limbs, you sway your hips, feeling Eddie move against you with little teasing brushes of his rough jeans and his loose white shirt. You shift a little closer, pressing lightly back to feel more of him— not too much, just enough to keep constant contact between you. It grounds you, offering comfort in the form of his presence. And he seems to be adapting much better like this— without your eyes on him, he moves more fluidly, and he seems to have more rhythm with these Latin songs than he did with his striptease to Pony . Maybe he was telling the truth about liking the Latin songs more, you think, a tiny smile crossing your lips as you settle into the music again.

And as you dance with Eddie, you grow used to the feeling of his body moving behind you, so that your mind starts to wander. And turned away from him, without his face to look at, your eyes drift to the people around you. To all the women in their tiny mini-dresses, their tanned legs so thin and shapely in their giant heels. To their little waists and their lithe arms, just like Chrissy. You don't want to, but you go there, back to when the club promoter's eyes flicked over you, assessing your body and finding it lacking.

Not trim enough. Not thin enough. Not pretty enough.

It's not what you want to be thinking about right now. You want to be enjoying yourself, dancing in a Miami nightclub with a treasured person. But once the thought wriggles back into your brain, there's no shaking it; you can't stop dwelling on it.

You can never help yourself when it comes to this.

Your rhythm falters; you lose the beat, and Eddie's smoky voice is quick in your ear. "What is it? What's wrong?"

You stop dancing to turn in Eddie's arms and face him. Almost as if it's automatic, his hands settle lightly on your waist, and you drape your arms over his shoulders— not holding tight, just resting there. Your mouth twists as you consider how the memory of that man's appraisal has begun to eat you up inside, devouring all the happiness you'd found here tonight. And Eddie's brown eyes are warm, and his expression is receptive. He never judges you; he's so kind. And he always tries to help you. He always does.

So you tell him what's wrong.

"I just… was thinking about the club promoter," you say quietly, speaking to Eddie's chest; you can't quite meet his eyes. "How he barely even looked at me, almost like I didn't exist to him. Well," you chuckle breathlessly, a little uncomfortable. "I obviously know why he didn't, like, ask me to go on stage. I mean—" You glance down your body before your eyes land back on Eddie's chest. "I'm not exactly… you know…" You swallow against the lump in your throat, pushing the words out, hoping that by voicing them, they'll have less power. "I'm not as small as the other girls—"

Eddie cuts you off, and your eyes snap to his face to see his brown eyes wide and incredulous. "Are you fuckin' kidding me?" He sounds utterly baffled. Utterly disbelieving. "You're… you're so beautiful. Sexy as hell, I swear to Christ." He chuckles his disbelief as you look up at him hesitantly, face still angled down. When he sees you haven’t responded, Eddie frowns; his hand leaves your waist to gently but firmly lift your chin. "Listen, sweetheart. Don't worry about that guy. That guy's probably never been with a beautiful woman in his life. Never even touched one, I bet. Probably has a shriveled little baby carrot dick."

You wrinkle your nose, half-amused, half-disgusted by the crudeness of his final remark. Eddie laughs at himself, shaking his head slightly as he ducks closer to your ear to mutter, "Sorry, but if I'm totally honest, I'm only half-checked in to what I'm saying right now 'cause I'm distracted." 

You try not to think about how warm his breath is against your ear. "Distracted by what?" 

"By trying not to pop a boner with you dancing on me, sweetheart." 

You pull your head back to stare at him incredulously, a little awkward giggle escaping your lips. And it must be clear that you don't believe him because Eddie's eyebrows flick up, and his expression shifts slightly.

"I'm serious," Eddie argues through a chuckle. "What, you think I'm joking?" Carefully, he presses his hips closer so you can feel him. And your eyes widen slightly as you do, proving how Eddie really wasn't kidding. How he's a little stiff behind the thick black denim of his jeans. 

"Oh, my God," you mutter, cheeks flushing as you purse your lips against a bashful smile. 

"See?" Eddie says, lightly teasing, but quieter now. "Told you." 

And now that his point has been made, it's the right time for Eddie to move away. But Eddie doesn't move away. And the press of Eddie's pelvis against you feels good. And he just told you that you're beautiful and sexy, and the smoke of those words is settling inside you, filling you rich and heady. And the song that's just begun is slower, more sensual than the ones before. Alluring, drawing you in, just like the brown of those beautiful eyes, the dark curls framing his pale quartz face.

Gradually, Eddie's black and his white draw you in until, almost by instinct, you start to sway your hips against his.

You feel Eddie's chest expand in a deep breath as you move against him. But, though he tenses for a split second, he still doesn't draw back. Instead, Eddie's leg shifts, slotting between yours as he starts to move with you.

The feeling of Eddie's warm body is even more tantalizing like this, facing him. You relish the feeling of his hands on your hips, fingers resting lightly as you sway together, hips rocking in rhythm with the music. You notice the tickle of his loose shirt against your chest, your breasts brushing against the fabric through sheer satin as you dance. You listen to the song: ‘Pasa el día con él, yo soy tu gato de noche.’ You don't know what it means, but your blood is heating, belly fluttering low as Eddie presses close to you— a novel feeling through your clothes and his, out here in public rather than in the security of your bedroom. And you can feel the other people around you, bodies moving, grazing lightly against yours as the space packs in. You release a breath and wonder if it tickled the sliver of his bare chest when you feel Eddie's fingers twitch on your hips.

His voice is hoarse as he mutters against your forehead. "Can I touch you more?"

"Please," you breathe, and the word is nearly a sigh of relief as Eddie's hands drag across the satin of your dress, smoothing over the small of your back. Your arms tighten around his shoulders as you press yourself closer, breasts now tight to his chest, skin sticking together where his shirt is open. The thought strikes you suddenly that Eddie is a little sweaty— you can see his hairline is damp, and his hands feel warmer than usual, damp as they drag up silk to find the skin of your back. And the impulse strikes you suddenly: the desire to lick up the center of Eddie’s chest, to drag your tongue along the ink of his armor and taste the salt on his skin. Your pussy pulses, moth wings fluttering low as you imagine it. 

As you do, inevitably, the other emotions reemerge. Trepidation. Fear. Concern for Steve's anger. Guilt over the intentionality of breaking another rule. But Eddie's hands are so tender as they rasp over your skin, and you feel so safe in his arms. And you're in the middle of this writhing crowd, cloaked in anonymity and alcohol and neon lights and sensual music. And when you press your hands to Eddie's back, dragging them up his neck until your fingers tease at the edge of his hairline— the green reemerges from your protective mound of soil, flowers quivering, moth wings fluttering with a deep and powerful yearning. One that can no longer be suppressed. 

One that surges up from the bottom of you.

Your face draws back, angling up at the same moment that Eddie's tips down. And you get only a glimpse of those brown eyes burnished to deep amber, a flash of white teeth behind full pink lips as he begins to rasp, "Can I k—?"

His words are cut off as you pull him by the back of his neck into a desperate kiss.

Eddie deepens the kiss immediately, and the brush of his tongue into your open mouth is sheer blissful relief. You moan against his lips, a little pathetic mewl that makes you rush hot with embarrassment that you'd make that sound in public. But it just spurs Eddie on; his arms haul you flush against his body as his tongue dips insistently past your lips. You taste him back, lips pressing hard as bourbon and spice fill your mouth. And somewhere in the midst of this, you've stopped dancing, and so has he, though his hands are still roving over your back, grasping at you with a desperation that matches your own. 

As you lick into his mouth, the little sound Eddie makes has you shuddering, goosebumps rushing over your skin despite the heat of the dance floor. Your heart is pounding, pussy throbbing in time; and it's so utterly wanton, but Eddie's leg is still between yours, so purely by instinct, your hips twitch, dragging yourself in a little jerk against the roughness of his jeans. 

Flutters burst low, mixing with arousal as Eddie bends you back, hands dragging firmly down to grab your ass and press your hips against him. And that— your hips twitching, Eddie's hands on your ass— is what brings you back to yourself. You become suddenly cognizant that you're currently in public, basically dry-humping this man who is not your boyfriend on the dance floor.

The realization douses you like ice water, and you pull your mouth from Eddie's with a little gasp, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. Your chest is still heaving into his, and the breath that puffs against your lips still makes you flutter, but your face is creased with hesitance now. Eddie registers the shift immediately, pulling you out of the bend, though his arms still hold you close. He's breathing hard, cheeks lightly flushed as the warm brown of his eyes meets your gaze.

"Eddie," you whisper, voice soft and regretful. "We shouldn't. Not while we're alone."

And you half–expect a bit of Eddie's black to show, for him to guard himself in a wolfish grin and joke to break the tension.

But Eddie shudders a deep breath, almost a sigh, and you see his adam's apple bob in a thick swallow. "You're right," he says quietly. "I'm sorry."

And you hate to see how those beautiful brown eyes cloud, how those full pink lips, now swollen from your kisses, turn down at the corners. Your brow tugs up as you soothe your hand softly against Eddie's cheek. "Don't be sorry," you say softly, tenderly tucking some of the short curls that brush his jaw behind his ear. 

Eddie's eyes are molten as he leans in, and your lashes flutter as he kisses your cheek, lips warm as they linger there. And though it's long been there, the growth at the bottom of you, it's the first time that you truly feel it— the unfurling of your petals, the quivering of your leaves as Eddie holds you close and presses a chaste kiss to your cheek.

And you admit now that it's fruitless to try to convince yourself it doesn't matter how you feel about Eddie. Because you know it does. You know it.

–

You're on the beach. The sand is cold now, and the ocean is a black, churning mass, nearly indistinguishable from the night sky. The breeze is no longer balmy; instead, it chills you, cutting straight through your milk and honey satin. Arms cradle you from behind, partially shielding you from the sting as they hold you against a firm body. Your hands rest perfunctorily on the forearms encircling your waist, and your head is tipped back against the chest behind you. Citrus and sea salt lingers in your nose.

You're waiting for the fireworks to begin.

Chrissy's stilettos are loose. One of them tipped over when she dug her toes into the fine sand, and you stare at them to avoid looking at the couple beside you. You feel the rise and fall of Steve's chest as he breathes behind you. You feel the warmth from his body along the length of your spine. 

You feel the tilt of your green as it strives, reaching, searching for smoke and ink.

Your eyes are drawn to the sky with the first whistle and pop. Big and small, circular and narrow, red, pink, and orange arches— colors burst against the darkness in a rain of sparks that fizzle toward the water. It's enchanting, a stunning display of corporeal magic.

You're no longer watching it.

Instead, your eyes are fixed on black and white. 

Chrissy's arms are around his waist, clinging to him tightly, her back turned to you as she rests her cheek against his chest. Eddie's chin is on top of Chrissy's head, and his eyes are turned up to the sky. You can see the reflection of the fireworks in Eddie's eyes, and this is how you watch the show.

You can't help but notice that Eddie looks pensive. Melancholy, almost, as he watches the magic show. You think of his fingers squeezing yours gently, deliberately, as you listened to that song, walking together along the beach. You think of the tightness in his jaw when he told you Steve should have stayed with you at the club. You think of the dullness in his brown eyes when he apologized for kissing you, for breaking the first rule.

A flick and Eddie's dark eyes no longer reflect the colors in the sky. Instead, they're caught on yours, staring back as you watch him. And when you see it— the intensity of his gaze, the same intensity that your eyes had darted from earlier— you no longer look away.

The light show ends. A smooth voice behind your head asks, "Do you guys wanna head back to the hotel now?"

You are the first to speak. "Yes."

#tkym #blueywrites #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #chrissy cunningham

[xoxomoonlightxoxo]

Somewhere Between Hello and Goodbye | Ch. 2: It Was All a Dream, I Promise

a/n: Writing that has been italicized + highlighted blue represents past memories or dreams, while writing that is italicized + bolded is a letter.

Months have passed since I last saw Jungkook. From the day he was discharged till now, no one has heard from him or his family. No texts, no calls. Nothing. Even his academic advisor raised concern regarding his absence, and still, there was radio silence on the other side of the line. It’s as if he never existed in the first place. He left with the cold winter and never came back to see the blooming of the spring cherry blossoms. 

Naturally, the last three months have been nothing short of torture. Day after day, night after night, I prayed to God, prayed that he would bring Koo back to me. Every morning, I would call his number just to hear his voicemail greeting, the one we crafted together during our late-night run to 7/11. 

“Hello, you've reached Jungkook’s voicemail. Please don't leave a message unless you're Mira,” Jungkook says confidently, scrunching his nose at the way my eyes widened from disbelief. 

“Koo!? You have to take this seriously. What if an employer calls you?” I exclaim, gaze softened at the sight of his bunny teeth on full display. 

“I'm sure they'll be able to tell if they're you or not,” he grins, taking a sip of his strawberry milk before pulling my chair closer to him, placing a soft kiss on my forehead. 

My eyes swell with tears reminiscing our memories. It pains me to think of the possibility that he might not even remember me. I'm not sure how long, if at all, I'd be able to last in a universe where Jungkook sees me as a stranger again. After all we've been through, man, that would hurt immensely. Nonetheless, I hold on to the hope that he is not alone. Surrounded by his loved ones, I hope Koo is resting in peace, at ease. This wish, however, has yet to overcome the aching feeling in my chest, my desire to hold him in my embrace. To be close to him once again. To tell him how much I love him. 

“Mira? Miraya, honey, can you hear me?” my mom shouts through the phone. After all this time, she has yet to learn how to properly use Facetime. 

“Mommy, I'm looking at your ear. You have to turn the camera towards you, remember?” I giggle, eyes tearing up from the mere sound of her voice. I've missed her. I've missed my family. I wasn't able to go back home for Thanksgiving or Christmas, so it's been ages since I last saw them. Nonetheless, after trial and error, mostly error, I could finally see my mother’s beautiful face which was trying its hardest to hold back the built-up sadness. 

“My love,” she whispers, worried gaze searching my scattering eyes. 

“Miraya, what's wrong?” 

“Nothing, I just missed you guys so much,” I say softly, pulling my knees to my chest as my body sits crouched on the cold kitchen floor. 

“Just one more week, honey. Your dad is so excited, you don't even know. He has packed the fridge with your favorite food, and is holding it hostage till your arrival,” she chuckles, shaking her head at my dad's behaviour. 

“One more week,” I repeat, looking up at the picture of Koo and me on the fridge. The photo booth snapshots we took at the dumpling restaurant near the Oceana beach. I wonder if he kept his word. 

“Jungkook, what the heck?” I yelp, hitting his forearm. “I can’t show these to anyone now,” I point to the last photo, in which his face remained inches away from mine as my body froze behind his Iron Man hat. Compared to the previous three takes, this one clearly did not fit the friendly theme. 

“Why not? Nothing happened,” he grins, leaning his head back. 

“Nothing happened my ass, it's obviously suggestive,” I roll my eyes. 

“Let their imagination run wild then. I'm putting mine in my wallet, you can put yours on your bulletin board, I heard manifesting is a popular practice these days,” he chuckles teasingly, giving me a sly wink.  

“Oh, by the way, I sent you some clothes for when you arrive. It’s been raining here nonstop and I wasn’t sure if you packed good rain boots,” my mom’s voice brings me out of my daydream, as I nod my head accordingly. 

“Thank you, mommy. I’ll let you know when I receive them,” 

“No, they should have already been delivered. I got the notification today,” 

“Oh, okay, then I’ll check the mailbox right after our call,” I say with a soft smile. 

“Well, I’m not gonna take up any more of your time, I’m sure you’re busy with finals. Please, just confirm that you got the package,” my mom says, sending me a flying kiss as I wave her goodbye. 

“I love you, mommy,” 

“Love you more, Mira,” 

Putting my hair in a messy bun, I grab my keys and ID before heading out the door. I did in fact pack some rainboots upon my arrival to Korea, but didn’t have the heart to tell my mom that on the phone. Her smile was too contagious for that news. Anyways, who would pass on free clothes? So, I make my way down to the mail room before scanning the area for my number, 1289. 

“Okay, oop, jeez, how big were these boots?” I huff and puff from all the heavy lifting, before stumbling back on my tippy toes. Managing to finally open the box, my eyes widen from the amount of snacks my mom packed. You know, sometimes, I think my parents think that my university doesn’t provide food. As if I beg my neighbors for a cup of sugar each night. I can’t complain though, I really do appreciate the way they show their love and care. So, yes, I will be indulging in all of these before I leave. Locking my mailbox I get a better grip of the box before heading out, that is, until one of the front desk employees stops me. 

“Miss! You dropped something,” he points to the white envelope on the ground. 

“Oh, thank you,” I say with a soft smile before opening what seems like a letter. 

To Miss Jean,

Hello Mira, this is Mrs. Jeon. I apologize for not reaching out to you sooner, I’m sure you’ve been worried sick. But, I hope you can understand that we as a family needed to take some time to help Jungkook heal. He is doing well. Although, his memory, at least of last year has been completely wiped. It’s been a tough journey, but the fact that he regained his consciousness is truly a miracle on its own. We really thought we lost him. You have no idea how much I cried that day. For a mother, losing her child is worse than death itself. So, I thank God every day for his protection. 

With that being said, the reason I’m writing to you is regarding your relationship with Jungkook. Please don’t take this too personally, but I need you to cut all ties with him. When I received the phone call from the paramedics on site, they reported that he was found unconscious on the side of the road, holding onto a bloodstained picture of you guys. Now, I tried to remain as reasonable as possible, but he is my son and I would do anything to protect him. Even if that means coming in between you two. I’m not sure if you guys were dating or tied by any romantic relationship, but from the way he talked about you, the dots were relatively easy to connect. 

He doesn’t remember anything, Mira. He doesn’t remember you. In hindsight, maybe it's for the best. I truly hope that you will be able to understand and respect my decision. Don’t call, don’t write, don’t interact. Jungkook will be returning back to Seoul for the Fall semester, and I trust that you will follow the plan. If he initiates contact first, try your best to avoid it at all costs. Just please, don’t make me worry about him again.  

Feeling my throat tighten, my chest heaves up from the sudden flow of emotions. What is going on? What did I just read? Cut all ties? He doesn’t remember me? Did I just receive an ultimatum from Jungkook’s mom before ever meeting her? My eyes swelled with tears as I looked around, scanning the room for any sign of life that would confirm if this was real or just a bad, bad dream. 

“Miss, are you okay?” the man at the front desk asks gently, his smile slowly fading as my body drops to the floor. 

“I don’t know,” I whisper, before looking up at his worried expression. Feeling my eyes dissociate into the distance, there’s a trail of teardrops marking the wooden floor as the denial settles in. Don’t call … Don’t write … Don’t interact. 

- - 

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Toronto. It is currently 8 pm exactly and pouring cats and dogs outside. So, I hope you dressed appropriately. On behalf of the cabin crew, I would like to thank you for flying with Air Canada. Enjoy the rest of your day!” the pilot's voice mumbles through the speakers as the sound of safety belts being unbuckled fills the tight space. 

Mom was right, Mother Nature seems to not be too happy about something, because why is it thunderstorming? To be fair though, I love it when it rains. Something about its aftermath, specifically, the smell of wet cement the next morning just tickles my brain. 

Mira: Just landed! Will be out shortly ❤️

Mommy: Thank goodness, we can't wait to see you, my love!

Daddy: Miraya, honey, I'll be standing right by the doors to help with the luggage. 

Mino: I hope you packed lightly -_- 

Milo: Mira, did you get us anything? ;)

Having younger brothers is definitely an experience, but I can’t lie, I managed to miss them as well. And, as I rolled my suitcase down the exit, I could feel my heartbeat increase, palms getting sweaty from the nerves. Overwhelmed by the emotions, it takes only a glimpse of my father’s face for me to break down. With tears rolling down my flushed face, we pulled each other into a long embrace, as my mother’s hands caressed my dishevelled curls. Pressing a soft kiss on my forehead, she cups my face in her warm palms before searching my teary eyes. 

“My sweet, sweet girl,” she says softly, wiping my tears with her pink handkerchief, as my dad navigates us out of the airport to our car.  

The drive back home was rather sentimental. With every turn I caught myself reminiscing my childhood memories. The time I broke my wrist falling off the monkey bars in my elementary park, or the time my friends and I tried to sneak into a frat party dressed like those edgy college girls … you can imagine the outcome, I don’t even have to explain. 

“Peaches!” 

A faint voice brings me out of my dissociation as I snap my head towards my younger brother whose smile visibly fades from the intensity of my stare. 

“What?” Milo asks slowly, eyebrows furrowed from confusion. 

“What did you just say?” I scoff, a bit more harshly than initially intended. 

“Mommy asked what fruit she should use for her pie …” his words trail off into the car's ambience, as my eyes swell with tears. God, I miss Jungkook so much that I’m now hearing things. Surely, this isn’t healthy. 

“Sorry, I must have misheard you,” I try to subside the suspense with a soft smile before looking out the rainy window again. Feeling my throat slowly tighten, I try to shake away the thought that somewhere across the ocean, rests a soul whose heart no longer beats for me. 

“He doesn’t remember you, Mira,” Mrs. Jeon’s voice keeps replaying in my head as I bury my face deeper into the duvet, attempting to block the thoughts with my pillow. Unfortunately though, It’s not working as the haunting realization of our future, or rather, the lack of it, has already consumed my conscious mind. It’s not fair. I’ve lost him once and can’t bear to lose him again. Which, I guess … is exactly what Mrs. Jeon is feeling right now. 

“Ugh, Mira, shhhh. Please, just let me sleep,” I snap at my racing thoughts, turning aimlessly inside the soft sheets before feeling my body slowly give in to the fatigue as my vision goes pitch black. 

“Koo!” I call out his name as we run towards each other with open arms across a field of orange tiger lilies. 

“My sweet, sweet girl,” he says softly, lifting me in the air before we melt into each other’s embrace. Tucking a few strands of hair behind my ear, he caresses my cheek with the back of his palm before searching my teary eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks hushly, leaning closer as our lips rest inches apart. 

“Koo, please tell me that you remember me, that you remember us,” I cry out, placing my hands on his warm chest. 

“Of course, I do Peaches. What are you saying?” Jungkook’s voice is soft but full of worry as he moves my hand to his heart. 

“You lost your memory. Your mom said you don’t remember anything. Nothing,” 

“Mira, baby, please don’t cry. It was all a dream, I promise,” he says with a gentle smile, before wiping the tears off my face, resting his forehead on mine.

“It’s you and me, till my heart stops beating,” 

His words fade into the distance before I’m awakened by the feeling of sheer distress. Chest heaving up, there’s sweat dripping down my face as I reach for my journal on the nightstand. With shaky hands, I jot down the sudden overflow of my emotions in the form of a letter. 

Dear Koo, 

I saw you today and … it felt so real. Your embrace was warm, familiar and full of love. We were finally happy again. Except … it wasn't real, none of it was real. You promised it was all just a dream, but you lied. This … this is a nightmare.

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#bts #bangtan #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x yn #bts x yn #jungkook fanfic #fanfic #jungkook smut #romance #young love #college love #slow burn #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x female reader #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine #forbidden love #peaches & cream jk

[topnotchquark]

Alright I wrote some Luca x Pecco because I think we needed some. Yes it's boarding school au. Enjoy ~950 words.

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Luca finds himself wide awake at the cool blue hour of the morning. The alarms have some time before they pierce the ephemeral cold quiet of the boys residence. Luca finds his body adjusting to sudden wakefulness, he takes a moment and listens. The warblers are chirping in the distance, Bezz sleeps a couple of feet away from him on his bed, his breathing rhythmic and deep, in sharp contrast with Luca's unsteady booming heartbeat that had woken him up in the first place. 

He sits up and looks outside the window, it's promising to be a bright, sunny day. He would prefer remembering this day as clear and sunny rather than the unsavory alternatives. He doesn't have any obligation to turn up to the morning training session and while he is not one to skip team sessions, he wants a moment of solitude today. He leaves the room as quietly as possible despite knowing Bezz will sleep through almost anything.

He takes off into a slow jog towards the forest. Once he reaches the dilapidated small hut he slows down and starts looking around. It doesn't take him long to find the first time he had carved his name into the tree. He was 9, and the inscription looks about just as old. There are few others around the trees in this small clearing. He spots a sizeable one Bezz had made, and a small one Pecco had left. Luca fishes a set of keys out of his pocket and next to the oldest one carves today's date along with his name.

When he's finally back, the sun is up and Bezz has left for training. His bed is a mess so Luca straightens it alongside his own.

It's the day of the Investiture Ceremony. Luca is officially getting his Team Captain colors, and Pecco is finally being made Head Boy. Luca had known he would be made the team captain and pretty much had his duties already in place, but on this day, being felicitated in front of the whole school, he did feel some thrill deep inside him.

He showers and puts on a fresh crisp set of his uniform and sets out to find Pecco.

Pecco is sitting on his bed very still, shoulders tense in a way that Luca can tell it's been a while since he's been sitting like this.

"What's the hold up?" Luca inquires in his trademark steady voice.

Pecco takes a moment, presumably to gather himself, blinking at him slowly, "The tie".

Luca exhales a soft chuckle and holds out his hand.

Luca was 10 when he met Pecco for the first time. Boy from Turin with the dark curls, big brown eyes, and a distinct smattering of moles. It was the day before the new term was supposed to start and he found his bed had been assigned next to this new kid who very clearly looked on the verge of tears. Luca was prepared to see the weepy kids, he had been at the school for a year and had already dealt with all his homesickness related emotions.

When he tried to reassure Pecco he told him that he wasn't crying because he missed his mom. Pecco couldn't figure out how to get his tie to work. Luca remembered smiling then too and tying a half windsor for Pecco like his brother had taught him. They had been friends ever since.

Luca puts the tie around his neck and fashions a neat knot, adjusting it for Pecco's height. He can tell Pecco is different today. He's nervous, but much like that 10 year old boy, it's got nothing to do with any obvious reasons. It's not stage fright related troubles. Luca knows Pecco is stretched thin under the expectations of those around him. He's the headboy, he's on the nationals sports team, he still has his debating obligations, among other things. Luca knows that Pecco still does his best despite his emotional response to all this noise. Or maybe because of it. Luca is still trying to figure that one out.

Luca knows Pecco just about as well as anyone could, they had played with and against each other for years, had lifted trophies together and lost together, slept next to each other, trained and studied together. For all his bluster and bravado, Luca had seen Pecco at his most scattered. And he still liked Pecco. Had respect for him. Had fondness for him.

"Come here" Luca utters a request that sounds like a command out of his mouth. Pecco dutifully follows it.

Luca gently places the tie around Pecco's neck, adjusts the collar, his gestures controlled, his hands brushing against the smooth skin on Pecco's long neck.

Luca can tell Pecco's eyes are focused on his face. Once he makes sure the tie is fine, he gently places his hands on eithe side of Pecco's chest to smooth any wrinkles and finally meets his gaze.

In this moment, Pecco's face is open and tender, something a little insane in his eyes, the intensity of his small mouth almost too much for Luca.

Luca thinks for a moment and places a gentle hand on the side of Pecco's face and he imperceptibly leans into the touch. Luca bends down to press a kiss on his mouth. Momentary, because he knows how much Pecco can take for now. He doesn't want to overwhelm, that's the last thing Pecco needs right now. He can feel the heat from Pecco's face, he feels his plush lips. He can't allow himself to explore any further.

When Luca moves his mouth away he doesn't withdraw his hand. He gently rubs his thumb on Pecco's cheek.

"You will be alright." The words sounding as much of a command as Luca wants it to be.

#pecco x luca #pecco/luca #luca/pecco #luca x pecco #Luca Marini #pecco bagnaia #boarding school au #motogp rpf #motogp

[stxr-du5t]

My little Rosebud

Summary: Foolish and Rose have an special kind of friendship

Pairing: Foolish Gamers x Rose (Reader)

Contents/Warnings: None, just some teasing and fluff, Foosh being a sweetheart

Rosalie comes into her best friend's gaming room while he's so focused on the Minecraft Championship, she sees him and sits next to him in silence

"I swear to god do not mess this up for me. I'm like actually doing so well right now." Foolish was extra focused on MCC. It had been a pretty close game so far, with Foolish's team was slightly in the lead. It was a few hours into the stream, but Foolish was still as upbeat and entertaining as ever.

"Noah is doing so well, I'm impressed" Rose says sarcastically, feeling a little drained already from his energy

"Oh come on! I'm actually putting forth an honest effort here!" Noah threw his arms up in the air in mock frustration. He glanced over to Rose with a playful grin, trying to hide his own internal exhaustion. "You know what? I think you're just salty that I'm winning and your team didn't had me last year"

"Nuh uh, I can win easily, GG for me" She smiled, matching his energy even if she was soooo tired "I'm still being gentle with you"

"Oh please" Mocked Foolish. "I've seen you play... you're good, but not that good. I think you're just intimidated by my natural talent." He gave Rose a cheeky wink and a sly grin. "But I guess I can understand why. I'm pretty darn amazing."

"Come down form your cloud, Mr amazing" She jokes "Everyone know you might be good on this game but suck on Valorant"

"Hey!" Foolish let out a dramatic gasp, "I do not suck at Valorant! I'm not great, but I'll have you know that I'm actually pretty good!" He pouted and stuck his bottom lip out in a playful display of exaggerated outrage. "I may not be a pro-level player, but I can still hold my own."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart" Rose is clearly joking but suddenly the chat start to attack her for putting down their streamer

Foolish's playful expression quickly drops as he glances at his chat. "Hey, guys, seriously...? She's just joking." He turned back to Rose, genuinely apologetic. "Sorry about them. I don't know why they're taking that so seriously... but trust me, I really am not that bad at Valorant"

"I believe you, Noah, and I do, before you start barking at me" Rose chuckles seeing how the mods are doing their best to delete any hate and time out people

Foolish lets out a heavy sigh, relieved. "Thanks, Rose." He gave her a reassuring smile. "Thanks for sticking up for me... I don't know why people get so angry about jokes. Like, we're just playing around with each other, it's just harmless fun." He glanced back at chat, hoping that the negative comments had died down.

"Those are not your Doozers, they are goofy like you, there's maybe other people who don't know how to behave in a twitch chat" She says, sounding like Philza "And you know damn well all your jokes will be matched and upped with me" Rose chuckles lighthearted

"You're right about that." Foolish agreed, looking a little mischievous. "You and I are always going to take the jokes up a level, that's just how we are." He smirked, his blue eyes sparkling with laughter. "But that's the best part about our banter, it's like a continuous arms race of wit and sass. I love it."

"Now say it without blushing" She joked again "That's part of what we are, true"

Foolish started to feel the heat rise in his cheeks. "Oh shut up, Rose." He groaned, but his voice was more playful than angry. "You're the one who's always blushing first."

"Do you see me blushing?" She asks, and there's no blush, and she's not even wearing make up "I win this one"

"Oh come on, I've seen you blush plenty of times." He teased, smirking at her failed attempt to hide her embarrassment. "You're not fooling anyone." He rolled his eyes playfully, then laughed. "You're just as easy to read as I am sometimes, Rose. You can't hide that pretty pink tint in your cheeks no matter how hard you try."

"God damnit, Noah!" She hides behind her hands, very obviously blushing, his chat goes crazy again, this time they are shipping them "GiggleDuo my parents" She mocks the comment and giggles

"Aha! I knew it!" Foolish couldn't contain his laughter as he pointed at Rose, his voice full of glee. "I knew I could get you to blush! Always so predictable, Rose. You blush so easily, it's adorable." He teased, his eyes sparkling with laughter. "GiggleDuo, huh? I guess we should consider making that our official ship name."

Rose laughs at his comment "Oh please, no, My chat is probably here too and they never let anything go" She says seriously "Like the ship between Wilbur and I that ruined our friendship"

"Oh, come on, Rose... we've already gone this far, there's no backing down now." Foolish insisted, his smile growing wider. "You know how the internet is, they'll ship us no matter what we do. So we may as well embrace it and have some fun with it, right?" He gestured playfully to Rose, indicating the two of them. "Besides, you and I are like a dynamic duo, we're practically already a ship. It's just a matter of time until the rest of the world catches up."

"You're so fucking right" Rose smiles "Fuck it, GiggleDuo we are"

Foolish's smile widened as he heard Rose's agreement. "We're GiggleDuo now, baby! And there's nothing our chat or anyone else can do about it." He gave Rose a triumphant look, feeling more playful and mischievous than ever. "So let's give them something to talk about!"

"What?" Rose slightly panics, she knows how unpredictable he could be in that mood

Foolish's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Come on, Rose... you want to have some fun, right? Let's give them something more than just a playful rivalry." He gave her a playful wink. "Let's do something to make the chat go wild... something completely unexpected..."

Rose blinked a couple times and then smiles "Roll the clips, I guess" She leans in, looks in his eyes for second to then catch her lips with his in a short sweet kiss

Foolish's heart skipped a beat when Rose leaned in and kissed him. His whole body felt like it was on fire as he returned the kiss, his arms wrapping around Rose to pull her closer. As their lips parted, Foolish could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. "You just had to go and make it interesting, didn't you?" He teased, his voice a mix of amusement and affection. "Looks like the chat has more than enough to talk about now..."

"I was holding that kiss for a while, wow" She says, not really wanting to look at chat "Yeah, looks like it" She paused "Tina was right"

"Oh really?" Foolish's eyebrow rose in curiosity. "What did she say?" He looked at Rose expectantly, eagerly awaiting her answer.

"You do have a crush" She teases him, playfully poking his firm biscep

Foolish blushed deeply at Rose's teasing poke. "Oh shut it, you knew I had a crush all along," He huffed, trying to hide just how flustered he was. "But you're the one who made the first move... you're just as smitten with me as I am with you. Admit it, Rose."

"I was under pressure, you know what happens" She smiles at how blushy he was "Little Foosh has a crush!" She keeps teasing

Foolish's cheeks flushed even more at the nickname. "Goddammit, Rose!" He laughed, trying to play it off. "I swear, you're only teasing me 'cause you know damn well how to get to me, you adorable little tease."

She giggles and smiles proudly "I do know you very well" If chat could be on fire, they would be in that moment

"You know me too well," Foolish agreed. "You always seem to know exactly what buttons to push to make my heart race. It's like you have a direct connection to my nervous system." He gave Rose a sly look, feeling the fire between them. "You're my beautiful little tease, Rose. And I can't resist you."

Rose couldn't stop the squeal that came out of her as she blushes "And you're my favorite ken himbo that barks under stress" She laughs again

Foolish's blush only deepened at Rose's words. "Oh my god, did you really just call me a ken himbo that barks under stress?" He asked, sounding both amused and incredulous. "Why does that sound so hilariously accurate?" He laughed, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. "You do love messing with me, don't you?"

"Sounds accurate because it is" The girl gave glimpse side eye to the chat "And yes, messing with you is my favorite sport"

Foolish sighed dramatically, putting on a pouty expression. "I'm being seriously outmatched here... but I'm not complaining, not when you're the one messing with me." He smirked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Do your best, Rose... I dare you to make me blush even more."

"You look so cute when you pout" She said simply

Foolish's blush deepened to an even deeper shade. "Oh god, you're killing me, Rose." He laughed, feeling flustered and playful. "You're too good at this... I'm at a total loss for words right now." He was clearly enjoying every second of Rose's teasing. "But I'm not gonna lie... I think I kind of like it."

"This is going into a YouTube compilation titled 'Rose and Foolish being cute for 15 minutes'" She laughed softly "Sorry, GiggleDuo now"

Foolish let out a dramatic groan, his embarrassment only growing deeper. "Oh god, I'm not sure if I should be flattered or embarrassed right now... who am I kidding? It's definitely both. You're such a sly little tease, Rose." He shook his head, but he couldn't wipe the silly grin from his face. "I think I'm okay with being featured in a cute compilation. Anything with you in it is worth it."

"You're such a simp" She contains the inhumane screams she was about to drop "it's cute"

Foolish blushed deeply at Rose's words. "Hey, being a simp for you isn't so bad. It's like it's my official title now. 'Foolish, the Rose simp.' Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?" He gave her a playful wink. "You know you love me... admit it, Rose."

"That's sounds kinda badass, not gonna lie" She covers her mouth as she laughed "And I'm not going to admit anything until I get my lawyer"

Foolish rolled his eyes playfully. "Oh come on, Rose, you're such a tease. You love me and you know it. You're just too stubborn to admit it." He gave her a teasing, lopsided grin. "And a lawyer? Really? You know I can make you blush with just a look. No fancy lawyer is going to save you then."

Rose can't stop smiling now, her cheeks hurt "I give up, I admit it"

Foolish's smiled widened with triumph. "And there it is! The beautiful sound of Rose's admission of love. I knew I could make you say it." He chuckled, taking the opportunity to gently poke Rose's cheek. "You look so cute when you blush, you know that?"

"Stop it, Noah, I will explode, I swear to God" She's out of frame and so red, it's embarrassing

Foolish's smile grew even wider at Rose's reaction. "Aww, am I making my Rose blush too much? Does someone need a timeout for a few minutes?" He teased playfully. "Or are you enjoying this teasing... just a little bit?" He smirked, knowing full well that Rose was enjoying every second of it. "How can you say no to this cute little rosebud when she gets all pink and flustered, huh? I'm just too adorable to resist.

Off camera, Rose let out an inhumane squeal overwhelmed by all the teasing, she bright red, she looks at Foolish and fakes being an angry Chihuahua as she barks at him

Foolish laughed uproariously at Rose's cute impression of a barking Chihuahua. "Oh my god, Rose, you're too much. I can't handle how adorable you are when you get mad. It's like you're a little pink ball of rage and it's so damn cute." He grabbed Rose to pull her close, unable to resist her preciousness even in her angry puppy mode. "You may be a little angry flower, but you're my favorite flower and I wouldn't have it any other way."

She pouts embarrassed but gets close to Foolish and sits on his lap to hug him suddenly turning into little kid that's too tired to keep playing "I'm eepy"

Foolish let out an amused chuckle at Rose's sudden change in demeanor. "Oh my gosh, look at you... you just went from ferocious barking puppy to sleepy little kid in a snap. It's like you have multiple personalities or something." He teased, wrapping his arms around Rose to pull her close. "But don't you worry, my adorable little Sleepy Rose... I don't mind being your pillow. I'll protect you while you rest."

"What can I say, I hang out way too much with Roier and his 47 personalities" She laughed softly, so tired as she clings to his body getting comfortable

Foolish laughed at Rose's observation. "Oh yeah, Roier and his endless collection of personalities. It's like they just keep adding more to the mix, it's hilarious." He hugged Rose a little tighter. "But you know what's even more hilarious? The fact that you trust me enough to fall asleep on me. I must be one lucky guy to have charmed your rosebud self to the point of knocking out."

Rose laughs at that "I'm enchanted like the rose from beauty and the beast" She teased almost falling asleep

Foolish's smile widened as Rose's comment. "That's the cutest analogy I've heard in a while. You're my own personal Beauty sleeping on me... and just like the movie, I'll protect you from any wolves that try to harm you." He gave her a reassuring squeeze. "You can sleep peacefully, my little Rosebud ... I'll be here to make sure nothing bad happens while you dream."

"Shut up or I'll cry, first warning" She's starts to close her eyes but can't fall asleep completely, she hears Foolish talking with his chat and continues to play

Foolish chuckled at Rose's warning. "Oh come on, Rose, you know me... I like to rile you up. What fun is life without a little teasing?" He gave Rose a mischievous grin. "But I'll make a deal with you... I won't make you cry if you promise to keep sleeping on my lap and stay as cute and precious as you are right now." He wrapped his arms around her gently, his voice growing soft and sincere. "Fair trade, right?"

"Yeah" She sighs more than comfortable, trying to fall asleep

Foolish's playful teasing voice turned to a gentle and caring tone. "Good girl, you deserve a rest. Just relax and sleep... Let me take care of you." He held Rose close, feeling the warmth of her body against his. "I've got you, Rose... you're safe." The sounds of the stream faded into the background, and Foolish's sweet and soothing voice was the only thing left, lulling her into a peaceful slumber on his lap.

#foolish gamers fluff #foolish gamers #foolish gamers x reader #noah brown #qsmp #mcyt

[bidisasterevankinard]

This little thing was born after I saw tags by @shortsighted-owl

so Imagine Buck has scars on face after tsunami and sometimes he is really insecure. Or people make him insecure, but Eddie always here

For the last two years, Buck learned how to live with scars on his face. The largest one stretches from the cheek to the eye across the entire bridge of the nose, one under the eye and one above it. The half of his face turned into unpleasant scars. For two months after the tsunami, he couldn’t even look at himself in the mirror without feeling sick, panic, and fear. But over time, it all turned into hatred for the way he looks now. With his size and scars, he looks too intimidating, and definitely not the way someone like Eddie’s partner should look. But somehow Eddie chose him and now they have been together for almost a year. And Eddie, ever since the tsunami, had been trying to convince him that the scars weren’t so bad, and lately Buck had been believing it more and more. In recent months, looking in the mirror, he did not flinch and did not feel like a freak. Up to this moment.

He and Eddie went out to a bar on a date, as Chris went to a friend’s for a sleepover and Buck, as a good boyfriend, went to get Eddie a drink, only to return and find his boyfriend in the company of a pretty blond guy who is clearly flirting.

“C’mon, I can be really pleasant company,” the blonde says, moving closer to his boyfriend.

“I have a boyfriend,” Eddie says with a deliberately calm tone, but Buck can see how Eddie is really furious at the behavior of this stranger. At that moment, he raises his head and Buck sees his shoulders relax when they meet eyes. “And he’s here. So fuck off.”

The guy raises his head too and chuckles, “You pretty boy can have someone who doesn’t look like a scarecrow.”

Buck feels like he’s ready to cry here and now. He closes his eyes and tilts his head, trying to hide his face, miraculously he doesn’t drop their drinks. He puts them on the table when he hears this guy cry out in fear. Buck raises his head to see furious Eddie holding a guy his T-shirt and growling menacingly right in his face: “Call my boyfriend scarecrow again or just allow yourself to look in his direction incorrectly and there will be no bloodstain left from you.”

Eddie pushes the guy hard, so that he falls full and hurries away. Buck stays silent, still standing on the other side of the table, lowering his head again.

“Baby,” Eddie says softly, but Buck can’t stay here anymore, so he runs away, leaving his boyfriend. He only exits the bar when familiar hands catch him right at the door.

“Baby, talk to me, please,” Eddie says, trying to make eye contact and even putting both his hands on Buck’s cheeks and directing his face so that Buck’s blue eyes met his hazel. But Buck closed his own so that his beautiful boyfriend could not see his tears. Buck knows he shouldn’t cry at this asshole’s words, but his words are true. Why would Eddie need him if he can find someone better than Buck? And not just prettier, but smarter, kinder, more responsible. Someone who will be better than Buck at everything.

“I don’t need anyone else. Someone prettier, kinder, or more responsible. I need and want YOU, because you’re perfect for me, Evan. You’re my perfect partner. I love you,” Eddie says, and Buck feels even more stupid from what he said out it loud. “Please, look at me Evan.”

Buck opens his eyes and through tears, he sees Eddie’s soft look. There is so much love in him, as Buck still does not understand how anyone can have for him. But Eddie loves him so much and Buck doesn’t want to lose him and that.

“I love you too. But sometimes it’s hard to love myself,” Buck says and starts crying right in front of the entrance to the bar. Eddie just hugs him and lets Buck nuzzle his neck.

“I called Uber while I was running to catch you. They will be here soon. We will come home and cuddle all night in our bed,” Eddie says, while slowly running his hands over Buck’s back. “I know sometimes you can’t love yourself, and I hate that sometimes you can’t even believe you deserve love, but today I can love you enough for both of us. But please remember that I love you. And I love your scars. I hate you were in the tsunami and got them, but they show how strong you were to save yourself and our son. So please, when it gets hard, just remember that.”

Buck just nods. He can try to do it, but not today. Today he will go to their house with the love of his life and will cuddle with his boyfriend all night, proving to his demons that Eddie will not go anywhere.

#my fics #buddie ficlet #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 #911 abc #evan buck buckley

[link-posting]

Survival Instincts/Time Heals All Wounds Pt. 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

He insisted on coming out to see you.

Twilight had to move quick to catch Wild. His knees had buckled upon seeing Time, standing at the mouth of the Cave with Legend and Hyrule. Everyone else jumped up when they saw him, all of them letting out various exclamations of joy at seeing him. Despite all of their excitement (and worried scolding about him being on his feet), they didn’t rush him. At least, everyone besides Wild.

Once Twilight had stabilized him and Wild had a chance to recover his footing, he ran towards Time. He stumbled to a halt before crashing into him, looking up towards the towering man, clearly unsure of what to say or do. His hands were raised like he had been about to reach for Time but hesitated. Time took a second to steady himself before pulling his arm from around Legend and reaching for Wild, grabbing the front of his tunic to pull him the rest of the way, throwing his arm around Wild and holding tightly to him. Wild grabbed onto him, unable to hold back his tears of relief. Time held tightly to him, his face burrowed into Wild’s messy blond hair. Time still needed Hyrule to help him stay steady, and Hyrule stayed patiently while the two hugged. The rest of the Chain stood back, letting the two have their reunion. Wild had largely been in the dark for these long few days, so despite how much they all wanted to join in, they knew Wild deserved this moment.

Hyrule could feel when Time started losing the strength to stay on his feet. “Hey, Wild, I know you’re having a moment but the Old Man is a bit heavy,” he grunted- knowing Time wouldn’t admit how much he was struggling to stand. Wild shook his head but stepped back, wiping at his eyes. “Can you at least help me get him over to camp?”

Wild nodded and stepped up to Time’s side. He was much shorter, but he was surprisingly strong for his size. He helped get Time over to the fire, lowering him down onto Time’s bedroll after Sky rolled it out. Time grunted as he was lowered down, trying to keep his breathing under control. Thankfully his armor had been removed while he was in the Shrine, so he was wearing just his undershirt and trousers. That extra weight would have made it more difficult for him to move and for his companions to help pick up the slack.

Time patted the spot next to him for Wild to sit. He sat down, looking up at him with worry etched in his bright blue eyes. “How… How are you feeling?” he asked, quietly, clearly trying to process his emotions. He momentarily glanced over when he heard movement beside him to see Twilight sitting down at his side. He looked back to Time, who chuckled and rubbed the back of his head.

“Certainly not great,” he said, a pained smile on his lips. “But a lot better than last time I was conscious,” he added, trying to keep his tone lighthearted. He looked down at Wild, watching his head drop, eyes downturned, fists curled on his lap. Time reached over, putting his hand on his shoulder. “You saved my life, Wild. What happened is no one’s fault but my own, but if it wasn’t for you I would have died. I’ll never be able to fully express my gratitude or repay that debt,” he said gently, smiling down at the boy beside him.

Sky sat down next to Time and offered him a bowl of the stew Wild had made earlier that day. “Here, I’m sure you’re hungry,” he said with a relieved smile turning up the corner of his lips.

“You have no idea,” Time laughed, taking the offered bowl.

Wild looked over just in time to watch Time fumble with the spoon. He sat up straighter when he saw Time’s fingers clumsily try to grab the spoon- a motion that should be easy enough, but it was almost like he couldn’t quite get his fingers in the right position. He saw the momentary confusion on Time’s face before he shook it off and tried again, this time managing to grab it just fine. If anyone else noticed, they didn’t say anything.

Wild didn’t speak up either, but his mind flashed back to when he first woke up. His fine motor skills had taken a hit after spending 100 years in the same Shrine that Time had just emerged from. Back then, his hands shook and his muscles frequently betrayed him. It took weeks for him to finally get his body back under control… mostly. It took him much longer to recover enough to be even remotely close to how fit he was before his death. Weeks of fine motor fumbles stretched into months of regaining his strength and retraining his body to fight effectively. Even today his body sometimes twitched or spasmed against his will. He could only pray this was a one-off event, and that Time wasn’t about to go through what he had to.

Please, Hylia, spare him.

#tae writes #lu wild #lu twilight #lu time #lu hyrule #lu sky #linkeduniverse #linked unvierse #linked universe fanfic #linkeduniverse fanfic #lu wild angst #reblogs + comments feed my ego