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lokisgoodgirl · 2 months

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Be Mine [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: A morning meeting has an unexpected twist. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Language. Smutty. Avenger!Loki x Female Reader. Questionable flirting techniques. (w/c 2.8k)

The muscle at the side of Loki’s jaw flexed. He swallowed; an achingly glacial bob of his Adam’s apple making you want to claw your eyes out.

For some inexplicable reason he had opted to wear full leathers to today’s briefing.

It was seven nineteen in the AM. Thor was sporting a muscle vest boasting not one but three stains of varying complexity and a pair of shorts which left little to the imagination. Scott was wearing his dressing gown.

The rest of the team hung off chairs and flopped on the table in various states of undress. Steve stood at the head of the room as usual; prim and fresh in a crisp button-down and perfectly creased chinos.

“So what we’re seeing here,” Steve said, turning to the group from the Powerpoint, “is an up-tick in biological experiments-”

His eyes narrowed while they roamed over the doodling, distracted and hungover band sprawled around the table. “Lang.” he snapped. “Close your legs; there are ladies present.’

Scott shuffled up his seat, drawing the dressing gown down over his knees while mumbling apologies. A low rumble of mirth circled the room, but Loki’s gaze never left the Captain’s.

The curve of his dark lashes swept upward, features set in performative rapture. Loki's facial expression hadn’t changed as the scene unfolded, but for a miniscule twitch of his lip. Usually the two of you would exchange a few eye rolls; a few knowing smiles during a particularly turgid monologue about shoe storage post-mission...but not today. Today he hadn't even looked at you.

Steve sighed. He extended a finger and pushed his retractable pointer down to a stub. Pacing to the table, he dropped his head, laying his palms flat. When he looked up, disappointed-dad energy was thick in his eyes. “Folks, this just won’t do.” he said.

Natasha’s sunglasses slid down her nose. Scott crossed his legs making the swivel chair knock into Wilson and waking him up. The Falcon’s arms flew wide on instinct, whacking Tony in the chest. “Jesus Christmas-” Tony snorted, blinking wildly. “It was a party.” Natasha drawled, pushing the sunglasses back in place with disdain. “Maybe if you’d stayed after the cake you’d have those tight panties of yours in less of a spick, Rogers.”

“That’s Captain Rogers.” he snapped. “We’re on the clock.” “Calm down, Rogers.” Tony said, cresting his fingers. He was remarkably chipper for a man with whipped cream crusted in his hairline. “You’re all sitting on my clock. Remember that.”

Steve flushed scarlet. His eyes narrowed as Tony’s smirk grew.

“All I’m saying is it’s a sorry day when Laufeyson is the star pupil. Look at him!” Steve said, gesturing incredulously at Loki who remained in position; back straight, chin up. But now, one eyebrow arched. “All of you lot in your skivvies and Laufeyson’s in full dress?” Steve shook his head. “I fail to see the humour, Rogers.” Loki said. “Why is it so surprising that I come to our daily summons dressed thus? Certainly I have never presented myself in a tragic towelling monstrosity like Lang here.” “There was that one time with the silk nightie.” Sam whispered to Scott. Scott covered his mouth.

“A silk robe.” Loki snapped.

“Usually you only bring out the Asgardian shit when you’re brown-nosing. Or when you’ve done something shifty.” Natasha said, propping her chin up with a fist. You bet her eyes are closed. Wanda nodded behind her Starbucks.

“Or trying to impress someone,” the witch said. Natasha waved a finger in agreement. “Sexually.” Wanda added.

Loki released a scandalised snort. “How dare you.” he said. Leather creaked against his biceps as he folded his arms.

Beneath the table, your thighs squeezed together. The only thing hotter than Loki in leather, was an indignant Loki in leather. You suddenly became very aware of your quickened breaths making the buttons of your blouse strain. The god’s eyes darted to the side, meeting yours. “What?” he snarled. “Nothing.” you squeaked, swallowing. An awkward silence hung in the room. The scent of stale vodka suddenly seemed very strong. Steve sighed.

“Let’s call it for this morning-” he said, immediately met with muted hisses of celebration around the table. He patted down the air. “Rescheduled for this afternoon. Thirteen-hundred sharp. Wear clothes.” Approval turned to whines and hushed curses as chairs were swivelled and aching bodies shifted. “Unbelievable.” Loki snarled under his breath.

You watched out the corner of your eye as he stood; the flat of his iron stomach inches from your face. The scent of rich leather filled your nostrils while Loki’s fingers nipped beneath the hem of his tunic, tugging it down. He flipped the length of his cape with a sniff. You saw it swirl around his boots briefly as he stepped towards the window, clasping his hands behind his back.

Taking your time, you picked up each piece of carefully laid stationary at your seat. One by one, the rest of the team left the room. Steve was last, his hand hovering on the door handle while he shot you a wary look. As a parting gift, he opened the door wider. “You didn’t stay late?” Loki’s voice was a thick hum in the growing silence. His tone, inscrutable. “Huh?” “At the party.” he said. “You didn’t stay late.”

This time it wasn’t a question. “I usually head off when Thor starts making passes at everyone. I didn’t see you. Were you there?” “He did that?” Loki bristled. “To you?” There was a pause. “To everyone.” you repeated quietly. Loki’s shoulders stiffened. His fingers twitched, thumb digging into one exposed palm behind his back. He was still staring out the window.

“I’ll see you later.” you said, nerves fluttering in your belly. The god’s hair shortened as his chin dipped. You wondered how it would feel to wind those dark strands through your fingers as you rode him. Wondered how the grunts and signs and pretty curses from his lips would sound wet in your ear.

“No.” Loki said. “Excuse me?” “No,” he repeated.

You steadied against the table-top with the pads of your fingertips. Small stars began to burst in your field of vision. “I think the leather looks goo-good,” you stammered. And you didn’t know why.

The thought of him barring the exit of enemies in far flung realms using only that voice barged through the doors of your imagination with the force of a horny caveman. If that was the last sarcastic quip they heard, by god, you imagined they may just have died happy. And hard.

“It looks good.” you repeated, no more than a whisper. Loki turned his head. The sharp profile came into view at a glacial pace. First the peaked tip of his chin, then the slant of his regal nose, then the harsh peak of his cheekbone, then his eyes. Your ass met the table-top with a stumble. There was a small crease between his eyebrows. “Bold of you to make another jest without your compatriots around you, Agent.” he said. Across the short distance between you, venom dripped from his tongue; his hackles raised. “I wasn’t joking,” you said quietly as his gaze fell to your feet with a sneer. The quick breaths that made your buttons strain were back. Loki’s rising stare lingered on your breasts, a small smile tweaking at the corner of his mouth. Words tripped from your lips, forcing their way from behind your teeth. “I like it.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed. He turned fully with a ceremonial flourish, the hands clasped behind his back moving to the front and rippling his leather and silken cloak. It fluttered.

“Is that so?” he purred darkly. He didn’t believe you.

You imagined how this is how a rabbit felt in the eyeline of a fox. To look away was to admit weakness, vulnerability. It meant death. And yet – it was the only chance to escape. But did you want to escape? Not really. You wanted to feel the sharp of his teeth fasten to your neck as he sucked and bit and made violent love to every inch of you.

You nodded, not breaking eye-contact. Loki inhaled sharply, chin tilting up as he did so.

His eyes wandered over grim foam tiles as though an enemy lurked beyond the suspended ceiling. They narrowed, darting back and forth. With a thundering heart, you noted one of his heavy boots rise from the floor. He paced forwards slowly, ceremonially, stopping inches from you. Your fingers curled tight around the table’s edge, the messy in your panties beneath the skirt becoming intolerable. Loki cleared his throat. “Am I to understand, contrary to common rhetoric, that you find my Asgardian leathers enticing; Agent?” “I think ‘enticing’ is a little grandiose, is it not?” you laughed, cringing at the way you so easily mirrored his speech. Loki noticed it too. He tilted his head. “I am nothing if not grandiose, Agent.” Loki said. “Am I not impressive? Am I not imposing?”

He trailed a long finger down your bicep, his touch light as a feather. “So often, you mortals use such words as insult.” he mused.

“It is merely a reflection on your own feelings of inferiority. This morning is a perfect example. An attempt at ridicule to deflect from their own pathetic presentation. Each one more bedraggled and an abject embarrassment to their purpose than the last.” Heat began to rise in your cheeks as his finger drifted along your collarbone. There was a pause, his eyes dropping to your lips before the finger brushed the skin at the hollow of your neck. It graced upwards, tracing the curve and stopping beneath the tip of your chin. “But not you.” he said.

The god’s eyes snapped to yours. His cheekbones hollowed under fluorescent lights, mischief glowing from the depths of his irises and painted in every light wrinkle on his brow.

“What else do you like, Agent?” he goaded softly. “Do you like the idea of what lies beneath these leathers?” You swallowed thickly. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Loki-” you said, glancing towards the open door. He followed your eyes, rolling his own. With a flick of his hand the door slammed shut. “I want you,” he breathed, leaning closer so that the heat of his cheek warmed your own, “to tell me what else you like.”

You bit your lip, watching his beautiful face come back into view. With a prang, the thought occurred that perhaps you were not the rabbit after all. Perhaps you were the fox. Loki’s gaze lingered on your face, searching it.

Emboldened, you found the words. “Why should I?”

His brows peaked softly. He released a muted sigh, pursing his lips. “As much as I am loathe to admit it, Romanoff was right.” he said. The hand tilting your chin upwards returned to its mate, clasped against the leather tunic. “I was trying to impress someone, but not that insufferable Rogers.”

He raised his eyebrows.

Excitement blossomed deep in your belly; rising like shaken soda and fizzing around your chest. Loki bit his bottom lip.

“You see, Agent, I like you very much. And I’m afraid that now it has reached the juncture where I must know if you like anything about me...beyond my exquisite taste in battle armour.”

The change in his demeanour was so dramatic that you could only gape. But when it came to Loki, could you expect anything less? Without thinking you reached forward and grasped the belt slung over his chest, pulling him forward.

Loki’s mouth clashed with yours, the heat of his lips giving way to the thrust of his tongue. Your hands slid over his metal epaulettes, tangling in ebony waves that cascaded around his shoulders. He tasted like heaven, the scent of him deep and dangerously delicious in a way you’d never known. A scent a girl could lose herself in forever; gladly.

In seconds your back was flat against the table, its cool wood harsh against the heat of your skin through the blouse. Loki’s ravenous kiss consumed you, licking and dancing inside your mouth like a man possessed. His shallow moans ricocheted between slurps of his lips, wetness coating them.

“Tell me, you infuriating woman,” he panted as a thick forearm landed on the wood beside your head. The metal vambrace clanged against cheap wood. Saliva hung between your mouths as he stared deep into your soul; blue eyes darkening. “Tell me what you like.”

“About you?” you panted. Loki didn’t nod, only lowered his chin.

His nose nudged at your lips, dragging upwards, tongue tracing around the bottom one. He had begun to smile. One of his legs nudged your thighs wider. The god straightened and you felt a thrill run from your scalp to the tips of your dangling toes. He towered above like a monolith, leather tight to his rectangular body. Hair fell around his jaw, perfectly imperfectly wolfish curls flirting against his skin. His cape brushed against your bare calves as he shifted his stance, palms sliding up your thighs and pushing your skirt higher. “Yes; I like the idea of what’s beneath all this,” you whined as you pawed at his leather-clad stomach. It was so hard. Loki smirked, watching beneath half-lidded eyes. “I think about fucking you in the showers after training,” you whispered bashfully as your hips thrust up against your will. Loki raised an eyebrow. “More...” he rumbled. “I think about you all the time. All the awful things I want to do to you, y-you do to me- Loki, uhh-”

His hands crept higher as you spoke, fingers hooking around the hips of your panties. “If I pull these down, darling” he said with an air of reprimand, “will they be wet?” You let out a gasping moan, back arching against the table.

“Excellent.” Loki snickered, pulling the panties down the length of your legs before stepping back between them.

A hand flew to your mouth as you watched one long finger dip between your thighs, running lightly between your folds. He brought it to his lips, sucking gently. His cheekbones hollowed, finger slipping out. He swallowed with a groan of appreciation.

Loki settled himself between your legs, pushing them wider. The height of the table pressed your dripping centre against his crotch. You thought you might explode. His palms slid up your waist, exploring the curves of your body while your legs wrapped around his hips. The god’s cock pressed eagerly against the leather, strong and thick up the centre. His forearms came down at either side of your head, metal wrist-guards clinking.

“I will show you what it is to be mine,” he murmured in your ear.

Loki’s cock settled against your sex, rubbing in perfect gyration. “Oh...god,” you gasped as the weight of his body pressed against your own.

Fingers combed up from the base of his neck, tangling in his hair. The next moment, they grasped around his back, pulling him closer, catching in the folds of his cloak which draped across your bodies. The god grunted filthy praises in your ear as his bound manhood sent electric currents of pleasure deeper than you’d ever known. His searching lips found their way to your neck, your jaw. Every utterance from his throat more disgustingly sensual than the last. Hot leather filled your nostrils, the scent of him strong and intoxicating. Mounting orgasm bubbled in waves, a dream-like trance broken only with whispered groans of pleasure from your throats. Loki Laufeyson was about to make you cum. The thought was unbelievable. And yet, your pussy being tugged and massaged and owned by his leather-bound cock into the throes of heaven knew it to be true. Dry-humped like a teenager in the back of a pick-up.

“Be mine...” Loki mumbled breathlessly, a strangled choke gasping from deep in his chest. He immediately dove for a perishing kiss, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth and releasing it with a wet suck. He smouldered down.

Against the bright lights, his dark halo shone; tendrils curling against your cheek and brushing with every calculated roll of his hips. Every muscle in your body tensed. Your legs tightened against his hips.

“Be mine,” he echoed. His face was twisted, and you suddenly wondered how close he was to cumming in those beautiful leather pants. “Loki-” you gasped, clutching at his cape. Back arching, the last thing you heard as climax stormed your brain were the matching pants of the god. The last thing you saw were his peaked brows above dilated pupils so deep you could drown in them.

In the afterglow, all you could manage were garbled phrases as your forearm draped over your eyes. “That was...unexpected.” you panted when the god’s weight lifted from your chest. “Perhaps for you.” Loki winked. “It was very carefully calculated on my part,” You watched in dazed disbelief as Loki sank to his knees, leather creaking, and hoisted your hips higher. He lapped at your soaking pussy, muffled moans seeping from his throat as he buried himself in your fresh pleasure. The flat of his tongue licked a thick stripe from the base to your swollen clit, placing a gentle suck on the tip. His eyes flickered up, meeting yours.

“Immaculate, as expected.” he breathed. His chin glistened.

You groaned as he withdrew; grasping at the air as he went. That small caress of him against your sex was everything you could ever have dreamed. Loki let you reluctantly arrange yourself before offering his hand for the short hop off the table. “Not exactly how I imagined our first time,” you said with a sheepish smile. Loki scanned your face.

“Agent don’t be insulting. That was merely a sample,” he scoffed. “It barely counts.” He stepped forward, pulling you flush against him with a flat palm at the base of your spine. “We must ensure you have eaten something before more intimate activities are indulged in; lest you faint. Or worse.” “Or worse?” “You are only mortal, after all.” Loki smiled slyly. “And this,” he gestured to his cock; hard and straining against the leather, “can be rather a handful. As well can his Master.” You slapped him on the shoulder. Loki smirked. Remembering the unexpected schedule change, you frowned. “You think we have time before the meeting later?”

Loki snorted. “We’re not attending. The two of us fulfilled our obligations, unlike the more cretinous members of our party.” You raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to get me in trouble, I can tell.” Loki’s fingers danced up your back, a light thrust of his hips making your body keen. His dirty exhale flooded your ear, the warm scent of him overloading your senses.

“Oh Agent,” he purred against the skin; his eyes darting covertly to the pair of panties discarded on the floor. “As if you expected anything less.”

Taglist (continued in comments)

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fuxuannie · 11 months

Text

↳ pairing : miles morales x reader

↳ synopsis : shenanigans with your favorite classmate :) (maybe even a secret crush)

↳ authors note : i'm rlly trying to expand through fandoms, plzzz don't leave i promise i still write hsrr ;o; !!!!! i'm gonna be on a LONG atsv brainrot plz <\3 wuts a proof-read idk what that iz (/j)

MILES MORALES was the new student two years ago, some people thought he was an oddball since the first day encounter with his dad.. but you didn't really mind it honestly. You had much more important matters to attend to, like not listening to gossip.

After learning he was in some of your classes, you decided to try and get to know the guy. He seemed pretty cool, and you never passed an opportunity to know someone new.

"Morales, right?" Miles hears from behind him, it's currently lunch and so he turns his head to see you standing there with a tray in hand. "Mind if I sit with you?"

Since that day, you two hit it off like crazy, with sharing interests and hobbies it wasn't hard to talk every single day and run out of things to talk about.

"So, my Uncle Aaron took me to this crazy place like 2 years ago maybe? But yeah, it's where I did one of my first graffiti art." He explained, leading you through the dark traintracks while holding your wrist so you don't lose him in the darkness. "Sounds cool! Is it the same one that you used in your essay?"

You listen to the echo of his laughter. "Yeah, it is.. He was a great man, made me who I am today."

The way he talks fondly about his Uncle makes your heart sting a little. Though you were never able to meet him yourself, the way Miles talked about him to you made it clear he was a man who loved his nephew like he was his own son, and it was like you could emphasize with his pain of losing him.

However your thoughts are interrupted at the loud sound of a light switch turning on, illuminating the room and different graffiti art drawn on the walls. Miles laughs at your breathless expression, admiring the way your eyes seemed to glow at the art all around you.

"Heeey, look at that!" You chuckled, pointing at the 'Expectations' graffiti you brought up earlier. "You were so much shorter back then.." And Miles rolled his eyes at that comment, knowing that you were referring to the silhouette on the wall. "Very funny."

Then you realize theres a section of the wall thats covered with cloth, and he notices how you take notice of it. Miles immediately clears his throat, puts a hand behind his neck and looks at the ground. "Oh, uh.. that's a work in progress. I wouldn't want you to see i-"

Suddenly his spidey-senses go off, the second he looks up he already sees you right infront of the wall and about to touch the cover. "(name)!"

Pulling it off, it reveals a wall full of.. you? You were surprised that the details were down almost perfectly, your nose shape, your eyes and your smile. It was all so perfectly done that in a way it could either be flattering or a tiny bit creepy.

Of course, Miles being your best friend, you may or may not sketch or write about him every now and then (or rather all the time) depending on which one you felt like doing, but he didn't have to know that.

"I'm.. honored?" You laugh, looking back at your poor friend whos pulled his hoodie over his head and his hands covering his face. "Oh, come on! It's not that embarassing- And it looks good I promise!" You tried to reassure him, but the boy has no intentions on budging.

"I forgot I had that." Miles mumbled to himself, ignoring how you pull on his arm to try and get him to show himself.

At some point you've given up, and let the guy wallow in his own embarassment for a while. Your attention shifts back onto the art wall, seeing the several doodles and actual art pieces that you can only assume Miles was working on for the past 2 years you two were friends.

The much smaller doodles were your favorites, ones where he made you a tiny little creature were the cutest ones, and at some point you noticed how so many of them involved.. him. He drew tiny moments of you and him holding hands, going on walks, sharing earphones and little cliche date stuff.

You were about to say something, but are stopped at the realization Miles was right next to you while his eyes never seemed to break contact from yours. "Miles?" You say in almost a whisper, seeing how focused his gaze was on you.

"I mean, we're both smart enough to realize it.. right?"

The urge to play dumb was strong, it really was, but Miles could see through you like he was staring at glass. That's how well he knew you, and how transparent you were with him.

"And maybe I'm stupid enough to make up delusions in my head but.. do you.. feel the same?"

The question leaves you stunned, stammering to find an answer, but the serious facade Miles kept up melts at your nervous reaction. He begins to laugh, digging through his pockets and pulls out a paper you recognize all too well, it had to be either a drawing or a poem you had written for Miles and considering one of your recent ones going missing.. if what he had in his hands was that one, it gave him more than an answer.

That realization makes you gasp, and Miles' laughter only grows stronger as you've now realized what's happening in its full extent. Miles liked you, and he knew you liked him too.

"You cheeky-" You try to grab the paper from his hands, but the tall piece of shit tip-toe's just to make sure you couldn't grab it. "Whaat? What am I, hm?" He'll playfully taunt at you, still unable to control his smile as he knows that deep down you enjoyed this banter just as much as he did.

You two continue to playfully argue for a while, laughter echoing throughout the abandoned area as hours passed on and on. The talk about either ones feelings never came to light, but you two were content with the moment, and in another time you'd talk about the confusing thing that is the feelings you both mutually share.

You had all the time in the world, right? Miles Morales wasn't going anywhere.

#˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ bailu's candy stash #miles morales x reader #miles x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman atsv x reader #atsv x reader #miles morales x you

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riordanness · 4 months

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fictional — [p.jackson]

2.1K wordcount

warnings: none

requested: no

‘i put myself in another world, where i can be any other girl, cause i don’t really wanna face it. cause if it isn’t real you can pretend all you want…’

I sigh as the lyrics of ‘Fictional’ by Khloe Rose filter through my headphones. My head leans against the cool glass window of the bus, bumping my forehead every time the driver goes over a pothole.

Hey, call me crazy, but this is probably the most relatable song in existence. At least to me. Falling in love with boys from books and movies was basically my job at this point.

I had one, though, that meant more than all my other ‘fictional boyfriends’.

Percy Jackson.

I’d grown up with this character, laughed with him, cried with him, held fast and braved the storm with him. I’d adopted his personality, tried to be like his girlfriend, acted as if we were best friends, talked to him, dreamt about him, read and written fanfiction about him, anything you can think of. I am obsessed, and no, I’m not ashamed of that fact.

I’m five years running with this crush now, and it’s not going anytime soon. I let out another sigh as I realise, yet again, that this is impossible. He’s fictional, as much as it hurts to admit. He isn’t real, and I can’t live my whole life pretending to date and marry a fictional character. Life just doesn’t work like that. Sadly.

The bus pulls up at school, and I climb off, slipping my headphones into my pocket. I’ll probably get them back out during a boring lecture in one of my classes, but for now I’ll just keep the daydreaming at a minimum.

“Hey, girl.” Andie sidles up to me, nudging me with her shoulder. “What’s kicking?”

“Nothing,” I deadpan. “Unless you’re a goat, like Grover Underwood.”

Andie laughs, my sarcastic comment going right over her head. I love her to death, seriously, but the girl hasn’t got an ounce of sarcasm in her. She’s the most literal and honest person ever, but she’s also super sweet and sincere. So, sarcasm isn’t even a word she knows.

“I’m not a goat, silly,” she giggles. “But guess what?!”

“Yeah?” I am actually kind of interested. Andie usually has all the gossip (somehow), so her news tends to be pretty good.

“There’s a new guy in our class today,” she squeals. “Apparently he just moved here from New York.”

“New York is where Percy Jackson lives,” I say automatically. “I wanna visit there someday so bad.”

Andie rolls her pretty eyes. She likes Percy Jackson. I made her read the books, and she did, but just so that she knows what I’m talking about most of the time. “You and your fictional boys, I swear. This is a real boy, y/n! You need to get your head out of a book for once if you ever wanna meet somebody.”

I shrug. “Real boys suck though.”

And even Andie can’t argue with that.

I’m doodling in my notebook, half listening to Mr Mintar explain something about geometry. I’m not terrible at maths, so I figure I’ll just catch up if I need to. My brain doesn’t want to pay attention today.

I perk up, though, when I hear something new.

“Students,” Mrs May, our principal, announces. “We have a new student joining us today. Please be kind to Mr Jackson and show him around. Remember, you were once a new student yourself.”

Jackson? Like Percy Jackson? How cool is that, I thought to myself. I yank my headphones out of my ears and glance up.

A boy is talking quietly with Mr Mintar; who is probably explaining what we’re learning and where he’ll sit. We have assigned seats in basically every class, because a few boys in our grade are idiots, so I sit alone in every class. Apparently, other students are very likely to copy my work if they’re sitting with me, so the teachers decided to make me sit alone all the time. It’s kind of okay, though. Means I can do whatever I want with no one to tell on me for listening to music.

I watch as Mr Mintar talks with his hands, waving them a lot. The boy has his back to me. He has messy black hair, and he’s wearing jeans, converse and a blue hoodie.

Mr Mintar gestures at me, and I sit up straight. The boy glances quickly, nods at Mr Mintar, and I realise what’s happening. He’s being assigned to sit with me, which probably means I'll also be assigned his personal ‘welcome-to-our-school’ guide. Which means I’ll be forced to be this guy’s friend for the next few weeks. Yay.

The boy turns to face me, and I swear my heart literally skipped a beat. Now, this wasn’t like those dumb fanfics where a girl’s celebrity crush just so happens to turn up at her school for some stupid reason, and they fall in love blah blah blah.

This was an honest-to-goodness ‘what the hell is happening’ moment. The boy now walking towards me looks exactly how I’ve always pictured Percy Jackson in my mind. The same crazily messy black hair, loose and slightly curled at the edges, twisting around his ears and falling in his eyes a little bit. He has the same smattering of freckles on his nose, the same tan skin, troublemaker grin, the same glint of determination in his eyes.

And gosh, I’d know those sea-green eyes anywhere.

The boy slides into the seat beside me. “Hi,” he says softly. “You’re y/n?”

I can’t do anything but nod, and I try to not stare at him too hard.

“You’re supposed to be my guide, or something, I think.” The boy sounds apologetic, like he knows how annoying being forced to be a school guide is. “And I’m supposed to sit with you in all my classes.”

I nod again, a little dazed. Even his voice is Percy Jackson-coded. A slight rasp, a little accented, ugh.

I find my voice. “That’s cool. I’d be happy to show you around and get you into the groove of things here at East High.”

The boy smiles, and he has little crinkles at the side of his pretty eyes, as if he smiles a whole lot.

“Awesome. I’m Percy by the way.”

I blink at him, absolutely sure he’s pulling my leg somehow. “What do you mean?” I ask.

Percy frowns. “Like… my name? The thing that people call me? It’s Percy. Percy Jackson.”

I just stare at him.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks.

“Your name is Percy Jackson?”

“Yeah?”

“Like the book character,” I add, surprising myself with the calm in my voice. Inside my head, though, I was screaming.

Percy’s brow furrows. “A book character? I dunno. Never heard of a book character called Percy, but there probably is. I don’t read that much. Dyslexia.”

I nod slowly. “Of course.”

Percy frowns again, then chuckles a little. “You’re weird. I like you.”

My tongue feels like someone’s deep fried it in the microwave. I try to swallow, and it’s nearly impossible. “So you’re not messing with me right now? You’re really called Percy Jackson, and you have dyslexia and probably ADHD, and sea-green eyes, and your hair isn’t dyed, and…”

Percy laughs again. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes. What’s this about?”

I shake my head. “You wouldn’t understand if I told you.”

Percy raises his eyebrow. “Try me.”

It’s been a week since Percy’s arrival, and I’m still about 89% sure I’m dreaming. Not that I usually dream like this, but still.

I’ve spent basically all my school hours with Percy, as well as half my bus rides home, as his mum lives nearby to us.

The longer I know him, the more I’m sure that he’s real, that he’s actually here, and that he’s really, truly, Perseus Jackson, the not-so-fictional boy I’ve been in love with forever.

The weirdest thing, though, is the night after he arrived, I got home and all my Percy Jackson books and merch were gone. Mysteriously vanished. Even Andie doesn’t know what I’m talking about when I bring up PJO.

It’s like that movie, Yesterday, where everyone forgets about the Beatles. It’s like that, but with Percy Jackson. Oh, and obviously I have a real Percy to replace it; whereas Jack in that movie didn’t really have that.

Anyway, it’s crazy, it’s probably a hallucination, and it’s absolutely incredible. I’m spending every single day with my absolute favourite person in the universe, and he’s real.

The boy I’ve cried over, laughed over, loved for years… He’s here. He’s real. And he’s my friend.

“Marshmallows are not designed to be eaten alone,” I argue, pouting a french fry at Percy. “They aren’t even that nice anyway, but especially not when you eat them dry. All the powder, like, clogs up your throat and it’s disgusting. If you eat them on their own, you’re crazy.”

Percy laughs. “I hate them in my hot chocolates. They get all gooey and mushy, and… ugh.” He makes a face.

I roll my eyes. “You’re insane.”

Percy shrugs. “At least I don’t hate rice.”

“Hey!” I protest. “I have sensory issues! It’s not my fault the feeling of rice in my mouth makes me feel sick.”

“Hey, I know,” Percy says. “I was just kidding. I’m sorry.”

I relax. “It’s okay.”

I stare at him a moment, realising once again that this is really happening to me. That his pretty sea-green eyes are actually looking at me.

“What are you thinking about, love?”

“Huh?” I snap out of my trance, sitting up straighter. “What did you say?”

Percy smirks. “Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

To be honest, I barely remember. “Uh—nothing. Trying to think of what to do this afternoon after school.”

“You don’t have plans?” he asks.

I shake my head, and sip my chocolate milk. It tastes terrible.

“You’re going on a date with me, dummy,” Percy says, so casually I almost miss it. He leans his head back and throws a grape in the air, catching it in his mouth. It’s surprisingly attractive.

“Wait,” I say. “What?”

“You.” Percy points his finger at me, then himself. “Me.” He makes a swirling motion with his finger. “That new waterpark by the beach.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You’re asking me to go on a date with you?”

“You aren’t saying no.”

“No,” I reply, my voice soft, “I’m not.”

“Wow,” I say. “That’s an epic waterpark.”

Percy grins down at me, his eyes looking extra pretty in the afternoon sunlight. “You wanna race to the gate?”

I pretend to think about it for a second, then begin sprinting as fast as I can. I hear Percy gasp in laughter, then start after me. He catches me easily, his legs much longer than mine, but as he does, he scoops me up into a hug.

“Hey!” I shriek. “Put me down!”

I can tell he isn’t taking me seriously though, because we’re both laughing too hard. Percy eventually drops me gently on the ground. I can’t help but suddenly miss the feeling of his bare chest against me. I blink, and instantly shake those thoughts away.

“Buy me an ice cream and I’ll let you win all our races from now on,” I tease.

Percy scoffs. “Darlin’, you couldn’t win if you had a jetpack on.”

I try to ignore the flutter in my chest and roll my eyes. “Could so, and I don’t need any old jetpack.” I flex my nonexistent muscles. “You see these? I’m perfectly fine on my own, thank you.”

“Oh, oh yeah of course. Sorry, your majesty.” Percy has a stupid grin on his face, and I have an urge to kiss him right then and there.

And so I do. I grab hold of his shoulders, pull myself up onto tiptoe, and press my mouth to his. “I love you, Seaweed Brain,” I whisper into his lips.

Percy wraps his arms around my waist, causing the flutter to return, more greatly this time. He deepens the kiss, his head tilting downwards to accommodate my shorter height. His lips taste of the jellybeans we were eating earlier together. He had insisted on eating only the blue ones, of course.

The world around me blurs, and fades, and I’m left with only him, only Percy Jackson. His fingers on my waist, his mouth on mine, my heart in his hands. I am completely and totally his, as I’ve been forever, but now? He’s completely and totally mine too. My not-so-fictional boy.

#percy jackson #pjo #fanfiction #fanfic #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x reader fanfic #percy jackson fanfiction #walker scobell #percy jackson and the olympians #rick riordan #pjo series #pjo tv show #percy jackson x you #perseus jackson #fictional characters #fictional boys #fictional khloe rose

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elliesonlyhoe · 17 days

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Loser!ellie headcannons .ᐟ ⭐

A/N .ᐟ First set of hcs..😭 lmk if y'all want a pt. 2

Loser! Ellie who lowkey has a collection of plushies that all have names, ages, and probably birthdays (specifically dinosaur ones)

Loser! Ellie Who could not flirt for shit the first few months you guys were dating.. But you on the other hand? Always trying to mess with the poor girl until she's a flustered mess.

Loser! Ellie Who had been too much of a pussy to ask you out for the longest time, just for you to already know she liked you.

Loser! Ellie Who still can't look you in the eyes without getting nervous.

You were sitting in the living room beside Ellie talking to her about how one of your coworkers had pissed you off today while Ellie was looking anywhere but you. “Els? Are you listening?..” You said, tapping your preoccupied girlfriend on the shoulder in order to get her attention.

“I- I am…” Ellie mumbled, still looking away, the tips of her ears a bright shade of scarlet. You looked at Ellie noticing what was going on, you chuckled to yourself quietly “That's unfortunate.. My own girlfriend, the love of my life, doesn't even want to look at me? How upsetting..” You tease, as Ellie turns to look over at you, her cheeks a bright shade of red “I never said that!” She replies quickly before looking away once again “You're just.. so fuckin’ perfect..” Her own words cause her to be even more embarrassed prior to how much she was before. You try to hold in your giggles as you pull your girlfriend closer to you “I love you s'much, you know that?” you say in between your uncontrollable giggles “ I love you too..” she mutters back “And don't be a dick. Stop fuckin’ laughing at me” She adds before resting her head on your shoulder. You continue to giggle, which makes Ellie start giggling too.

After a few moments of you two continuously laughing your asses off, you pressed a soft kiss on Ellies forehead. “Now, Tell me about your day, love.” You smile as Ellie begins to give you a rundown about everything she had done that day.

Loser! Ellie who has a separate sketchbook to fill with small doodles of dinosaurs, planets, and occasionally drawings of you.

Loser! Ellie who never fucking sleeps, like this girl will be up til’ late at night doing lord knows what.

Loser! Ellie who hates when you beat her at any game, girl will start making up the most random excuses as to why she lost, sometimes if you tease her about losing she even goes to the extent of giving you the silent treatment

Loser! Ellie who loves spooning (defo calls big spoon before you guys are even ready to head to bed, yet still ends up being little spoon sometimes.)

Loser! Ellie who acts like it's the end of the world when she accidentally interrupts you while you're speaking. Like I'm talking non-stop apologizing and always arguing with you on whether she should continue what she was saying or if you should finish speaking (you always find a way to win the argument nonetheless)

Loser! Ellie who has the humor of a middle school boy.

Loser! Ellie who probably eats lunchables 4/7 days of the week.

“Els, there's leftovers in the fridge if you're hungry!” you callout before walking into the kitchen to see your girlfriend standing there like she got caught red handed, holding a half eaten pizza lunchable in her hand

“I'm not even surprised.” You say arms crossed, shaking your head slightly

“What?! They're good!” Your girlfriend argues back, taking another bite of her mini pizza

“Okay Els.” you chuckle, rolling your eyes playfully

“Hey! Don't roll your eyes at me..” Ellie scoffs “Don't knock it til' you try it.”

Loser! Ellie who has a backpack filled with space and dinosaur themed pins (also probably pins with corny ass memes on them.)

Loser! Ellie who either can't accept a compliment, or gets abnormally flustered by your compliments. (It all depends on the day tbh😭🙏)

Loser! Ellie who ADORES taking walks with you near lakes, creeks, and ponds.

A/N .ᐟ I love Loser!ellie so much omdysss🙏❤

#ellie x fem!reader #ellie williams fic #ellie x reader #lesbian #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #wlw #ellie headcanons #loser ellie #tlou fic

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forthelostones · 6 months

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𝚙𝚝.𝚝𝚠𝚘 ; 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 ─── ⋆

⟡⋆˙୨ᥫ᭡. 𝚗𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚞 - 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎!𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚢 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 ᥫ᭡.୧⋆˙⟡

synopsis: abby was a woman whose presence was becoming deeply irresistible to you. in your final year of nursing school, you toil with the idea of pursuing her — ruin what you have or enjoy what’s in front of you?

warnings. 18+ (mdni); sub!abby (eventually), mini slowburn, suggestive language, jealousy, nora & mel & ellie ft, smoking/drinking, mentions of parental death, nickname: dummy, and modern au - pre-established relation.

an: hi everyone, waaaa thanks for all the follows! i appreciate you all sooo soo much. this is something i just thought of idk, maybe a series who knows! i am thinking abt putting this on ao3 too!

(no y/n)

wc: 4.3k

pt one.

Alarm. Dress. Meet Abby. Go. Today was a lecture day and although long, at least you got to sleep in a little this morning. The only thing is Abby is always locked in and there’s no way to get her out of that headspace. She doesn’t take unnecessary breaks or doodles, she is virtually a perfect student. But you sit beside her scrolling through your notes, unamused.

Abby’s head is downwards, with her braid falling over her shoulder, focused on the presentation. Her hand moves quickly as she writes all the details down, while you type mindlessly. You notice how her bulging veins dress her hand peak-a-booing out of her cardigan. The way she gripped her pen enhanced the greenish threads under her skin as she drew diagrams and large title cards. Why was everything about her attractive, you thought. Mel was sitting next to you with her laptop open, scrolling on Pinterest, mumbling. Her clique of girls speak in what they think is a hushed whisper, but it's just a poor attempt. You feel your lips forming to sh them.

“Hey.” Abby snaps, holding direct eye contact with Mel.

Mel looks over her screen with disgust, like she just wished death upon her. But that lasts only a minute before they start up again and Abby sighs, slamming her pen on the desk which causes your professor to turn and look in your direction.

“Ladies, let’s focus.” She said.

At the 30-minute break, Abby stormed out of the lecture hall and you followed behind like a lost puppy. She stood in the hallway with her hands above her head, inhaling and exhaling with her eyes closed, counting silently. She rolled her shoulders back and finally looked to find your eyes. Which calmed her for a moment — seeing you there.

“Y’know what pisses me off about that Mel?”

She said her name like a swear word.

You were taken aback at the anger bubbling inside of her. Her calm demeanor was all you knew, she avoided conflict, never raised her voice but seeing her like this pang in your heart unlike anything else.

“She only acts like that because she doesn’t have the mental capacity to comprehend what’s going on. Not everyone can just throw their life away, some of us actually have to work for what we want.”

Her eyes were wide, her fists curled, and her lips tight. You walk over to her and just wrap your arms around her. She was reluctant to reciprocate but eventually did — give into you, and fell into your arms. Her hands linger on your lower back, tugging you.

“They don't understand.” Her voice cracked.

You knew what this was about, it was about her dad. You saw how reluctant she was to go into detail about him last night. She just changed the subject. You didn’t know what illness he passed away from, if any, she wouldn’t go that far.

“Abby, I know. They don’t.” You reply pulling away sooner than you both would like.

She composed herself and peered at your welcoming eyes and she suddenly forgot where she stood. In the middle of a high-traffic hallway, filled with the rustling of scrubs. Her hands came up onto your shoulders and she nodded her head. “You’re right and I can’t fault them for that, can I?”

The rest of class was incredibly quiet.

As you both stood at the entryway of your apartments you felt like you wanted to spend more time with her. Just because. You slid your key into the lock and swatted the thoughts away. “Dummy?” She asked.

“There’s a party today, uh, some sorority thing. I don’t really know anyone else going—“

“Yes, yea absolutely.”

You smiled at her and then closed your door with excitement, maybe too much?

Abby wasn’t sure what came over her, after overhearing the other nursing students she thought it would be nice to go out, since it had been three years. That text from Nora was burning her phone, flames encased it so brightly that she didn’t go on her phone all day.

After pouring a glass of wine and stripping to get in the shower she stood in the mirror examining her body. Checking her back out, quads, and glutes… she didn’t know why but looking at herself was so invigorating. She pulled her phone out and snapped a photo, forearm covering her chest, gently flexing. Her eyes brightly admired her frame and debated sending it to Nora. She had never taken a nude photo before let alone sent it to someone. She shook her head reaching into the shower, turning the knob, and throwing that thought aside.

When she was showering all she could think about was your embrace earlier. It was unusual for her to be held — well have human contact at all. She wasn’t one for physical touch, but in that moment she yearned for more. She wet her hair and paused, rekindling the memory in her mind, how you smelled, your warmth, and how she felt — safe.

She didn’t want to admit it to you this morning but she stayed up last night after you left. She replayed the quick events as she rinsed her hair, visualizing sections of your face behind her eyelids.

As she was on her last full body rinse, there you stood on the other side of her apartment door knocking, slightly startling her.

“Wait!” She hollered from the bathroom.

Quickly wrapping herself in her white towel, wet feet trailing to the front door, she peeped out the hole to see you nervously awaiting her arrival. “Hi, oh shit. You were showering, right. Sorry. I just, I should’ve texted you, but if you wanted to get ready at mine you can.” You said casually.

Abby felt your eyes flick toward her collarbones, making her pull the towel taut.

“Yea perfect, leave the door open for me ‘kay?”

After closing the door Abby became self-conscious instantly. Her sopping hair clinging to her wet face made her feel strange, especially with your lingering eyes. Abby wasn’t the type to rush but she wanted to be closer to you as quickly as she could. She blew her hair dry, finished her wine, and got dressed in twenty minutes, already walking through your front door.

She had never actually ever seen your apartment in its full glory. It was cluttered by her standards, decorated by yours. “Hey Dummy, it’s me.”

You peered your head out of your bedroom and welcomed her to help you pick an outfit. You sighed at Abby fully dressed, all ready to go, and completely misunderstanding the concept of getting ready together.

“So, I was thinking of this combo.” You say, breaking her wandering eyes from your unpolished bedroom.

Abby looked at your dress, long sleeve, black number, comfortable and easy. She imagined you in it and it made her tense as her mind began to wonder.

“That’s pretty.” She replied eagerly.

You were in your silk robe that wasn’t very well at hiding what was underneath, she became flush and attempted to focus on the stitching on the dress or something. But when you bent over to reach for the next item you laid out on your bed she fought herself to look away. Your skin was freshly moisturized and the scent filled her nose so instinctively making her nostrils twitch with pleasure.

“I think so too, but I also have this. I used to wear this a lot, I don’t know. Should I try them on for you?”

You showed her a dark brown number with a swoop back, flowing out at the knee in a wing-like manner. She thought about how high up the hem of the bottom was and blinked her eyes vigorously, unsure if this was a dream or not. She said no words but just nodded her head.

“Okay, let me change, there’s tequila on top of the fridge.”

Abby pulled her hands into her carpenter-style jacket and retrieved the liquor. She took the bottle, no glasses, and waited for you at your dining table. Her forehead was misty with beads of sweat looking for an escape, she felt sheepish at how turned on she got from looking at your body. What the fuck is wrong with me, she thought.

You walk out in the black dress and look at her eyelids lifting at the fabric hugging your body. She brings her hand to her chin as you do a spin for her and then pose. Abby watches you walk towards her in what she swears is slow motion, and straightens her back as her eyes drift up and down your body. She looked completely hypnotized by you. You reach for the bottle, removing the cap in a swift motion and then bringing it to your lips. Abby latched onto each of your movements. In her comatose state, she made it a mission to let it be known at that moment that she was yours. Her thick eyelashes hung heavy as she watched you move your hand to her chin, lifting it and pouring a shot directly into her throat. As her lips came to a close you swiped her chin.

“I like this dress a lot.” She said, now having an excuse to peer down at your body.

“Me too,” you smiled. “Let me show you the brown one.”

She couldn’t refuse the pleasure of watching your ass switch as you went to change. She took another pour into her mouth and shook off the heat coming from her core and throat. You threw your arms up and spun again.

“I like both but the black one, it’s— it’s really pretty.”

“So, I’ll wear that one then.”

Abby felt a light bubble form in her stomach from your willingness to listen to her and do as you’re told. She watched your hips sway into your bedroom, just moments after she realized her jaw was set like a rock, wide open, admiring your ass.

Abby held all the doors open for you as you exited the apartment building, which rendered small thank you’s from under your breath. The sound of your boots clattering against the pavement filled both, you and Abby’s ears, prying at the silence in the air. She looked exceptionally clean tonight, most days you don’t see her outside of her uniform but today, you were really mesmerized by her. You questioned if it was the drinks you consumed or just her sweet scent enticing you.

Her black boxy tee was blanketed in a woody sage perfume, just nipping above the hem of her dark-washed denim that was slouching below her hips, exposing the skin around her navel.

“I haven’t been to a party in a while,” she sighed.

You smiled at hearing her voice within the stillness.

“Me too, I’m glad you invited me.” You reply. She peers over to you with a bewitching smirk that makes your cheeks hot.

“To be honest, I wouldn’t have wanted to go with anyone else.” She says matter-of-factly, not knowing how sweet her words sound. You think of a reply, but nothing seems good enough at the moment.

You both slip side glances at each other as the moon shimmered on your skin. You kept tucking your hands in your hair and adjusting accordingly. In this moment, you became conscious of how close you two were huddled together. Occasionally her knuckles would tickle yours and she’d hum a sorry, but you couldn’t help to indulge in the brief moments of her touch.

The house party was secluded, the bass of the shitty music vibrating the outside of the porch that was sprinkled with stoners and nicotine rats. Abby grabs your wrist to guide you up the steps sees your dress ride up your bottom and gently tugs it down, following behind you. Your mind buzzed with the image of her hand drifting further.

You pull open the jagged screen door and inhale the miles of smoke trailing outside. You look over your shoulder to see Abby retreat into her turtle shell and instantly become turned off. You reach for her hand and clasp it, to which she refuses and intertwines them, tying her clammy hand into yours. Your palm pushes wet bodies to find a corner worth standing in. The house was crumbling under the music and clabbering feet.

Abby saw you were struggling to plow your way through the crowd so she took the lead. Her eyes were like darts, locking in on the target. She used her elbow as a driving force, the pull of her weight had you tripping over your feet. You ended up at steps going towards the basement, florescent with colored lights. The vibe was mellow and not as many people were here. After hitting the last step, you feel the release of compression from Abby’s hand, and you casually cross your arms.

“You good?” She asks, hand softly grazing your hip as she leans in.

All you can muster is a nod.

The room was surprisingly cold, the old basement that had been decorated in FSL graffiti and memorabilia. In the corner was Mel and her friends from class who instantly spotted you and Abby like a sore thumb. Sitting on the couch were two women, legs laid on top of each other, sharing a dab pen. The brooding brunette peered over at you and you swore you could hear her voice by the look coming from her eyes. Abby taps your shoulder and gestures to all your classmates who are now loudly offering drink service. Mel lifts a bottle of flavorless vodka to Abby’s lips, pouring it into her mouth, while nursing her open jaw.

“Good job, Anderson.” She practically moans. You’re unsure if she’s being condescending or flirtatious, either way, you become uncomfortable.

Mel was in a mini skirt and a tube top, both white and pristine. Her hair was pinned back and tied in a low bun, embellished with a pink silk bow. Her makeup was simple but flagrant, enhancing her features so beautifully and highlighting her predator eyes on Abby.

Suddenly, after handing you both a shot, Mel’s perfectly polished fingernails were gripping Abby’s strong shoulder. Massaging it and laughing as if she hasn’t been an asshole to her for almost four years. Obliviously, Abby just continued to collect shots from Mel, being drawn into every string pouring out of her mouth. You follow shortly behind but are left out of the conversation, standing behind Abby, watching like the Secret Service. Mel’s hand slowly creeps down towards Abby’s back, under her jacket, and now making some joke about our professor, throwing her head back and forth, then setting it on her shoulder, rubbing her.

You glance over to the couch to see the cat-like woman sizing you up. She waves her pen in front of her face like a dangling carrot. You strut towards her and she pats the couch and you swear you see dust fly into the air. She brings the pen up to her lips and lets the smoke brush her bottom lip. Her hand comes to rest on your thigh and then blinks narrowly at you.

“Why haven’t I seen you before.” You whisper in her ear.

She waits to pull away, allowing the pattering of your breath to trill against her skin.

“Don’t know,” her hand slides upwards. “What’s your major?”

“Nursing.”

Her arm was colored with an interesting tattoo that you find yourself tracing. Her hand came up to the curve of your ass. “Smart girl, so if I get an injury say… here,” She brings her mouth to graze your neck, then places a soft kiss. “Then you’d help me out?”

Her lips flick against your ear lobe which makes you shift under yourself.

“I certainly can.”

In the midst of the ever-present tension, Abby walks over with her pinky wrapped around Mel’s, a smile, unapologetically flashing gums and teeth. “Coming to dance with us?” She asks.

“Yea we can come.” Your new companion replies.

Abby smiles stiffly at her, then dashes her eyes back at you, saying your name, and then lets go of her connection to Mel.

“Sure, be up in a minute. Get us some beers?” You smirked.

Even under the lights, you can see how flush Abby became. Mel dragged her off, their hands back in love. You look back at your partner, cup her chin, and follow shortly behind.

Abby stood in the corner with Mel waving her hips against the beats of the song. She held three bottles of beer by the neck in her large hands. You two caught each other’s eyes and for a moment you could see her grin. Once you join them in their designated area, your date retrieves the bottles from Abby and sips behind you, wrapping her hand on your waist.

“I love this dress?” Her voice vibrating against your damp skin.

Her hand kept running over the smoothest parts of your body, gripping, pinching, — drinking you in.

“What’s your name?”

“Ellie.”

Abby came over to you and asked if were you okay to which you replied with a nod. Ellie was pushing her pelvis against your ass, gyrating desperately. Her hands became sticky with desire, practically bending you over, forcing you to arch your back.

Mel pulled Abby into her sphere and tacked her arms around her neck, tossing her head wildly, and making Abby slide her free hand on her lower back. Mel’s eyes were glossy with a feminine ache, the same one you had. You stood confused watching it all play out and Abby went along with her. Something boiled inside you, lust or jealousy, you didn’t know. It distracted you so much you didn’t realize Ellie’s lips pressed on your nape.

You turn to her and she latched her lips onto your neck, tattooed hand cupping your ass, dipping you back as she fused with you. It felt so good to be wanted like this, you felt your eyelids flutter and you could've sworn you smelt Abby’s shampoo. You could feel Ellie’s hands widen, and you could see the shimmering blonde locks under the flashing lights, and the formation of Abby’s name on your bitten lips.

“What?” Ellie pulled away in a half-hearted laugh.

“Hm? Did I say something?” You yelled.

Ellie couldn’t stop peering at your mouth, then glancing upwards, then down again. As she closed her eyes and moved inward, a shove from behind you interrupted your connection. Ellie yells at them but all you see is Abby locking lips with Mel, her hands full of her ass and Mel’s knees buckling. You see how Abby casually slides her tongue inside her mouth, and Mel accepts it like it’s hers.

Ellie bucks up to the guy who pushes you. His beer split on his shirt, hair soaked in sweat, mouth sloppy, and hollering slurs at her. Abby looks over at the situation and notices you in the midst of it all and pulls you away.

Her lips were bright and wet as she looped her arm into yours and put you behind her. You bring your hands up to her shoulders and tug at her when you see Mel searching for Abby in the crowd. Abby’s steps stuttered as you led her out of the house. It was like being released from a chokehold as the fresh wind smacked your face. You guide her down the steps and she smiles, teeth on display and eyes wedged into her cheeks.

“Abs?”

“Hmm… fuck me. I’m drunk.”

Her voice was resonant, sexy.

She stumbles over to you and dangles her wrists off your waist, face-to-face. Although drunk, she had no issue flashing you a playful gaze. You analyze her soft face and stare at the tip of her nose, then her lips, and back to her eyes. You break out of your tipsy and notice how fidgety her hands are, causing your panties to dampen.

“You think you can handle me?”

“Wha— what do you mean?” You choke.

She reaches into her coat pocket and dangles her keys, which you take for safekeeping. Thoughtlessly, her hands return and cascade towards your ass, fingers brushing your dress fabric. You stay like this for a moment, relishing her touch.

“Let me get you home Anderson.”

She tried her best and pick her feet up off the ground and not wash her shoes against the concrete. You held her by her waist, looping through her outer arm, hoisting her up, which wasn’t an easy feat. The puffs of her breath filled the air in front of you and you couldn’t believe you were carrying her home.

You walk her through her apartment and lay her out on her bed, turning on her lights. She groans loudly, pressing her palm against her temples, “No, turn it off. Open the blinds.”

She sounded so sweet, totally different from her persona at the house party. So you comply, the moon was full in the sky, cascading over the room like the sun, illuminating her face. Abby sat up lazily and attempted to remove her shoe, but all she could do was giggle at her failure. You sat the the edge of the bed and unlaced them, placing them across the room. She manages to remove her jacket alone, but you insist on tucking your fingertips under her shirt and pulling it upwards. The static made her fly-aways stand up, which you naturally brushed downwards. She observed you as you then moved to unbutton her pants. The beats in your chest were obnoxious in your ears — you were sure Abby could hear it too. The only noise in the room was the huffing of her breathing, which was two touches away from becoming moans. Abby sat before you, legs spread, dangling off the edge in her nude bra and matching lace panties. Her dainty underwear in contrast to her toned body filled that cave in your belly. She brushed her hands through her hair, rolled her neck, and fell back on the bed.

You ran in the kitchen and filled a glass with water, leaving it at her bedside. She was now under her sheets, admiring you.

“I’ll come check on you in the morning.”

A heavy pause floated above your heads.

“Wanna just… s—?” / “I’m gonna go.”

You both speak simultaneously, you freeze, curious if you let her repeat herself, but you don’t.

“Okay.” She smiled weakly.

“If you need me just knock. ‘Night Abby.”

You peeled your dress off and tossed your shoes and underwear on your living room floor. Your naked body glistened with goosebumps, making your nipples harden. They became so sensitive, begging for touch, and suddenly you wished you didn’t leave Abby alone. You fall into your bed that was plush with warmth, ruffling the sheets under you. Your mind painted images of Abby’s hands slipping under your dress, pushing aside your panties, and sticking her fingers in your slick that she was responsible for.

Your hands trailed to your aching core, surprising you with how wet you stayed all night. You roll your arousal-covered clit languidly, imaging Abby. The picture of her partially nude body flashed clearly, making you sweat. Once you build up the courage to slip your fingers in you groan her name. Abby. Letting her name levitate in the air as the sloshing noise between your legs increases.

The Saturday sun broke through the curtains of your bedroom, revealing the state you left yourself in, nakedly aroused. A soft pattering was rhythmic at the door, which spooked you. Your back is now erect, and you don’t care to remember how or why you were this nude in bed, you just reach for the nearest t-shirt and cover your top half as you open the door. Abby was grinning, a smile as bright as the sun, holding two coffee mugs. She had ditched her matching attire for red and black plaid pajama pants, with an old college top that was worn from time. You undo the chain lock and let her in, kicking aside your dirtied clothes.

Even hungover, she still looked beautiful.

“Good morning.”

You were slightly upset that Abby woke you up this early on a weekend, especially looking this good. You run to the bathroom and see the caked makeup on your face and wash it fresh. You lead her to your room where you ruffled through your dresser for a clean pair of underwear. Abby shot her eyes to the ground as you lifted your shirt to slip them on. You accepted the coffee from her hands and sat on your bed, curdled in the corner.

“Thanks.” You squint.

“I woke up feeling like shit.”

“You had a night.”

Just for a moment you had forgotten the Mel fiasco, but quickly remembered.

“I did?”

“You and Mel…” You allude.

Her face falls into her palm, “Oh no,”

You force a giggle but you hated seeing it.

“Full tongue.”

“Fuck. I really — I don't really know why or how that happened.”

“She got you drunk, kept feeding you drinks… hands all over you.”

“But it’s Mel! It’s Mel, she hates me.”

“Hmmm.”

She stares.

“There you go with that again.”

“What?”

“The hmmm stuff.”

“You’re just hard to understand sometimes Abby.”

“Maybe I’m not meant to be understood.” She smirked, watching your face contort with agitation.

She leans against your headboard and just stares at you.

“Did I do anything else?” Her voice suddenly capricious.

You shook your head in reply as you sipped.

“I just didn’t know she liked girls.”

“Abby, she doesn’t.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Glad nothing further happened. Right?”

“Nope. I mean unless something happened just as I put you to bed.” Her eyes lit up at this news, something ignited in her, mostly gratified. You drink more and feel your body tensing up under her lens.

“Put me to bed?” Her fingers find her ridges in your sheets, the same way they did to your dress, and smooth them out. You shudder remembering her drunken touch. Her eyes glaze over with a sharp look, almost as if she remembered too.

#abby x reader #abby anderson smut #ellie williams smut #abby anderson x you #abby smut #abby anderson #sub!abby #sub abby #ellie smut #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson tlou2 #abby the last of us #abby tlou

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ghostofhyuck · 2 months

Text

Taguan ng Anak series 4

Idol! Donghyuck x coffee shop owner! reader

Summary: Donghyuck was a dreamer. He dreams of becoming an idol someday. You know that as his childhood friend turned girlfriend, that’s why you let him go.

But he also has other dreams, which is you. To have a family with you. Can his other dream still come true?

cw: mentions of pregnancy.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“Thank you for today’s hard work!”

“We’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Fighting everyone!”

Donghyuck watched as the backup dancers left the practice room one by one. They were laughing and chatting, excited about going to this barbeque place nearby. Donghyuck could only hold on to his stomach as it grumbles — he’s starving but he’s on a diet right now.

“Hey,” a soft nudge removed his hands from his stomach. “Starving yourself is different from dieting, okay? Go eat something and then burn it with exercise.” a long-time friend and the head choreographer of his team, Ten said.

“Ugh hyung! You know how mad Johnny-hyung will be if he finds out that I ate something,” Donghyuck complains. Sometimes, his manager Johnny can be strict especially with taking care of his body.

Ten rolls his eyes, “I’ll tell him to cut you off some slacks. Your concert’s in a few days! If you fainted due to starvation then I’ll give him an earful lecture.”

Donghyuck only pouts. Giving time to think about it.

“Come on now! My treat! I heard that there’s a new coffee shop near this studio — I passed by the place and the smell was something!” Ten suggested, tugging the idol out of the dance studio.

“Hyung~” Donghyuck complains.

“If Johnny lectures you, he'll have our divorce papers sent to his office the very next day,” Ten mischievously grins. “Now come on!”

Donghyuck doesn’t fight anymore and follows Ten who keeps on lecturing him about maintaining a figure that is not all about cutting his food intake. Their feet found their way towards a coffee shop painted sky blue and had a huge teddy bear displayed on the window. Donghyuck couldn’t help but smile at how oddly unique the teddy bear was.

“Welcome — oh. Hello.”

Donghyuck's eyes went wide. Stopping his tracks when he saw you by the counter.

“Good, it’s just you here,” Ten smiles, scanning at the menu plastered on the wall. It was handwritten neatly on the blackboard, Donghyuck knows that it was your handwriting and the doodles were also made by you.

“Can I have one large americano please and oh, the glazed donuts looks delicious, I’ll have two please but can you wrap the one as a takeout?” Ten said casually, not even noticing Donghyuck’s stare at you.

You ignored Donghyuck’s piercing gaze, punching the older guy’s order.

“That’ll be 16,800 won,” you simply said, trying to fake a smile as you accepted Ten’s card.

“Wait a second. Hey Hyuck, what's your order?” Ten turns around to Donghyuck.

“I got it from here hyung, find us a table please,” the younger one says, shooing his friend away who seems to agree with him somehow.

You only roll your eyes. Trying your best to pretend that he’s just a random customer.

“I’ll have the taro latte and matcha brownie please,” Donghyuck says.

You didn’t say a word, punching his order.

“How have you been?”

“That’ll be 14,900 won sir,”

“Wow, you’re unbelievable,” Donghyuck mocks. “Do I have to remind you that you’re the one who broke up with me?”

“Yes, that’s why I am ignoring you,” you smiled sweetly. “Your order’s 14,900 won. I’ll just put it in your friend’s card too.”

“Really, you broke up with me with no valid reason over a text! You think I’ll let it slide that easily!?” he taunted, raising his voice a little bit. It was a good thing that it was a graveyard shift and it was only you who’s manning the shop.

“Donghyuck,” you whispered. “You’re an idol, I’m just a girl who’s working at a coffee shop. You have everything in this world, a breakup from your high school love shouldn’t change a thing.” you handed him the receipt and was about to go to the kitchen when the back door of the coffee shop opened.

“Mama!” a tiny voice shouts, making you run towards the voice. Your daughter sometimes gets so excited that she might trip while running.

“Haesoo, I told you to stay put inside the office,” you went to your knees and smiled endearingly at your daughter.

“But I’m bored! I want to go home,” she pouts. You tried your best to find an excuse when a shadow hovered over both of you. That’s when you realised that you made a mistake.

“You…” you looked up to see Donghyuck standing in front of you. His eyes locked on Haesoo who you immediately hid behind you. But your daughter seems to have caught Donghyuck that she slipped out of you.

“Oh you’re Haechan! You’re that idol,” Haesoo excitedly shouts pointing at Donghyuck who was in disbelief. Tan skin, bright eyes, and the set of fucking moles on her cheeks — the child looks so much like him.

“Yah, is she…I — she looks exactly like me!” Donghyuck shouts as if he’s not an idol. It was really a good thing that you’re the only person working during that hour.

“Hey, what’s going on here…” Ten’s voice trailed off as his eyes wandered at Haesoo who’s staring at Donghyuck, still starstrucked.

“What the fuck,” Ten whispers. Hands covering his mouth, gagged apparently.

Donghyuck was a dreamer. He wanted to sing. He has loved singing ever since he was a kid, which leads him to performing at many events. On your little town’s festival, on school events, or just any occasion that will give him the opportunity to showcase his talent.

He also has another dream — you. You were his childhood friend. Neighbours, classmates, friends, and eventually lovers.

Loving Donghyuck was the easiest thing that you could do. It was as if it was a natural thing for you to do. You know all his fears and deepest secrets and at the same time, he has seen you at your lowest and most fragile moments.

Eventually, Donghyuck has to choose between his dreams. When he heard that he was accepted as a trainee for one of the biggest agencies in South Korea, you don’t know whether you should be happy for him or not. You know what will be the end of your relationship if he becomes an idol, he’ll be in the spotlight and having a girlfriend is considered to be scandalous.

But Donghyuck fought for you. He wanted you to be part of his dreams, he was willing to keep everything a secret because he loves you so much that he doesn’t want to let you go. And so did you, so in the remaining years of his trainee life, you two shared a secret affair that made your love stronger than ever. You even moved to Seoul just to support him which has been the hardest for you especially when you’re balancing college too.

You didn’t tell Donghyuck that the reason why you broke up with him was because one of the staff of their agency caught you two. You weren’t threatened but instead, you were told that for the sake of Donghyuck’s career, you have to break up with him. Seeing that he’ll be debuting soon. You knew that it was best that you don’t go in his way.

And weeks later, you realised that you were right when you found out that you’re pregnant. You were scared at first but asked help from your family who helped you. You went back to your hometown and soon, everyone knows that you’re carrying Donghyuck’s child. They didn’t feign any disgusts to you but instead helped you in raising Haesoo especially when they know how much it hurts you that you have to let go of Donghyuck.

Haesoo was raised to be loved by everyone, the same way Donghyuck was raised to be loved by everyone. You wanted to stay in your hometown but when your friend pulled you into opening a coffee shop, which has been your long-life dream, you couldn’t miss the opportunity.

But it seems like fate is pulling the strings because somehow, you’ll end up meeting Donghyuck after many years.

“I’m angry!” Donghyuck shouts with annoyance. “You hid all of this from me! Do you know how devastated I was that I wasn’t even happy that I debuted!?”

From the outside. The coffee shop’s signage was written closed. Three tables away sat Ten and Haesoo who seemed to be enjoying each other’s company.

“I want to be his godfather!” Ten exclaimed, gushing at how cute Haesoo was.

While you and Donghyuck sat at another table. He says he wants to talk but it seems like his emotions are still all over him.

“I can’t believe it! I mean, look at her! She’s so cute!” Donghyuck shouts. “And you hide her from me!? I wasn’t there when she was a baby! I didn’t even carry her when she was a baby!”

Now Donghyuck was being overdramatic. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“Donghyuck you know the reason why I hid her from you,” you said with a serious tone.

“Why!? Because you think I’ll choose you over my career?”

“Yes! That is why I made a choice for you! You were about to debut! I don’t want a child to stop you from achieving your dreams!” you shouted back.

“Stop that,” Donghyuck calmly said.

“I’ve known you ever since I was a kid, I know how much you love performing and becoming an idol. That’s why…I have to make a choice for you. I know that you don’t want to choose so that’s why I did that.”

“You’re stupid you know that?” Donghyuck sneers. “You’re so so so stupid. Do you even know me that much? You know that you’re also my dream!”

You stop when Donghyuck stands up and pulls you away from your seat. Confused, you didn’t even notice how Donghyuck’s hands slipped perfectly to yours.

“I may have achieved my dream of becoming an idol but you’re still the dream that I want to achieve the most,”

“Donghyuck —”

“I love you so so much. Don’t ever let me go again, okay?” Donghyuck promises to you. “I don’t care if I get scolded by my managers, just stick with me this time okay? You’ve fought for me, now I’ll fight for you.”

“You’re such an idiot Donghyuck,” you said breathlessly. You know that no matter how many times you say no to him, Donghyuck will come running after you.

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot,” he teases.

And even before you can even speak, Donghyuck holds your cheeks gently and crashes his lips onto yours.

#nct #nct dream #nct fic #nct imagines #nct dream fic #nct fluff #nct x reader #nct dream imagine #nct scenarios #nct dream fluff #nct dream haechan fic #nct dream haechan imagine #nct dream haechan #nct haechan imagines #nct haechan #haechan #nct haechan fic

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the-offside-rule · 2 months

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Pedri Gonzalez (FCBarcelona) - Come With Me

Requested: by @httpswiftie

Prompts: 3) "I'll stay with you as long as you need me to."

4) "I trust you more than anybody."

Warnings: nothing

Pedri and Y/n sat on the beach enjoying the warmth of the sun on their faces. As Y/n sat doodling on her sketchpad, Pedro sat telling her all these random things he remembered or anything that came to his mind. Laughter and shared secrets had become the soundtrack of their friendship, making moments like these all the more precious. However, today, there was a weight on Pedri's shoulders, a hint of something important that he hesitated to share.

"Can I tell you something?" Pedri asked. "Of course." She replied. "And you can't tell anybody! You can't! I trust you more than anybody with this!" He said. "Did you get a girl pregnant?" She asked. "No!" Pedri almost shrieked. "Thank god." He chuckled before dropping the bombshell. "I'm moving to Barcelona." She turned to look at him. "To study?" He shook his head. "No, no. The club. The club wants me."

"Holy shit." Her heart sank. She didn't realise her face had changed so much until she saw Pedri looking back, almost disappointed. She managed a smile, masking the turmoil inside. "That's incredible, Pepi! I'm so happy for you." Pedri frowned, sensing her unspoken emotions. "Y/n. You can't tell anybody yet. I trust you more than anybody." Y/n took Pedri's hand in hers. "I swear, I won't tell a soul." He smiled, but the more he looked at Y/n, the more he knew something was up, and he had a good idea of what it was. "I need you to understand that this doesn't change anything between us. We can still talk, visit each other." She nodded, forcing a smile. "Of course. I'm just worried things might be different."

Pedri squeezed her hands, his eyes filled with sincerity. "I'll stay with you as long as you need me to. Distance won't change our friendship. You mean the world to me." Y/n's eyes glistened as she held back tears. "I'm going to miss you so much, Pepi." He pulled her into a hug, whispering. "I'll miss you too, Y/n. But no matter where I am, you'll always be in my heart." There was a brief silence between the pair as they let the ocean and the birds fill the quietness, before Pedri spoke with gentle reassurance. "Y/n, distance won't change how I feel about you." She smiled gently, nodding along. "I know. Just don't forget me when you're famous." She replied sarcastically. In response, Pedri scooped up a handful of sand, teasingly tossing it in Y/n's direction. "If that's your aim, Barcelona won't be keeping you and you'll be right back here in no time." Y/n joked. Pedri rolled his eyes before practically tackling her onto the sand.

Soon, laughter echoed on the shore as they engaged in a lighthearted battle, sand flying between them. As Pedri fianlly caught up to Y/n with a playful grin, he tackled her again, tumbling onto the soft sand. The laughing died down slowly, they locked eyes, their playful expressions turning more earnest. Pedri looked between Y/n's eyes and her lips. "Don't do something you'll regret." She whispered. Her heart skipped a beat. In that vulnerable moment, Pedri gave a soft smile. "I don't think I will regret this." Without much more to say, the gap between them closed and their lips touched for the first time. Y/n found herself pulling his closer and deepening the kiss.

"Come with me." He murmured into her lips. "Already?" The pair broke the kiss by laughing, making Pedri fall to his side. The pair looked up to the sky, watching the birds and clouds pass them by. "I mean it." They looked over at eachother. "Come to Barcelona with me." He said again. "What about my family? I can't leave them." He looked down. "Please. I can't go without you. Not after the kiss." He took her hand and placed it on his chest, allowing her to feel how his heart beat for her and her only. After a moment of contemplation, Y/n smiled. "Alright, Pepi." She said, smiling and scooting closer. "I'll go to Barcelona."

#football #football imagines #football blurbs #fcbarcelona #pedri x yn #pedri x y/n #pedri x you #pedri x reader #pedri blurb #pedri gonzalez imagine #pedri imagine #pedri gonzalez #pedri gonzalez x oc #pedri gonzalez x yn #pedri gonzalez x you #pedri gonzalez x reader #pedri gonzalez blurb #pedri

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lovestay-channie · 8 days

Text

Belated Birthday- Hyunjin Imagine

Pairing: Hyunjin x gn!reader

Genre: fluff fluff fluff

Summary: it's been a month since hyunjin's birthday, and you decide to surprise him <3

Word Count: 830+

Warning: n/a

A/N: a late birthday post for hyunjin! i'm sorry i haven't been writing as much as i used to. i hope you enjoy this belated birthday post!

Long distance relationships are never easy, especially when someone is an idol. You are very grateful for technology so you can FaceTime Hyunjin on his secret iPhone he still has. It was Hyunjin’s birthday last month, but Hyunjin’s schedule didn’t allow you two to see each other. You tried to coordinate celebrating during his holiday break, but you had multiple work trips that didn’t allow you to be together. Therefore, you decided to surprise him.

Schedules finally cleared up for you, and you wanted to do something for Hyunjin not only for his birthday but for all the hard work he has been doing. You texted Hyunjin before his schedules started, telling him to come to your apartment when he is done at 8PM. You baked him a small, simple cake, blew up pink and white balloons, put on a birthday hat, and had a popper in your hands. Your present was waiting for him on the table next to the cake. Nerves started to build in your stomach as time was reaching closer to when he is supposed to arrive. The little surprise had to be perfect. Time hasn’t been kind to you both, and you wanted this to be special for him.

Ding dong.

The doorbell rang. He is here. You take a deep breath before you shout, “Come in Hyunnie!” Right as Hyunjin walks through the door, you pop the popper in your hand. “Surprise!!”

Hyunjin’s face brightened at the setup you have for him. His cheeks turn pink as he sees you with your cute birthday hat that was definitely made for a child’s head. “Baaaabe! What are you doing?” he says, walking to you with open arms.

You wrap your arms around his middle. “I wanted to celebrate your birthday properly.”

“We already celebrated my birthday though,” he says, kissing your cheek.

“Yeah through a video call!” you pout.

“Being with you is all that matters, near or far,” he smiles. You roll your eyes and tuck your face into his chest. He giggles and squeezes you tighter, leaving a kiss on your forehead. He turns his head to the kitchen table. “Is that a cake?”

You pull away from his arms, “Yes it is! You want a piece?”

He nods his head frantically and skips to the kitchen. You follow behind him and grab a knife. You slice the cake to place them on paper plates. Hyunjin pulls out a chair to sit down. He takes a bite of the cake, making his cute “Hmm” noise as he eats. “This is yummy!”

“I’m glad!” you say, taking a bite of your cake.

Hyunjin’s eyes scan over to the pink wrapping paper next to him. He picks it up and glances at you with a questioning look. “Is this for me?” he asks.

“We aren’t celebrating my birthday,” you tease.

He chuckles at your sarcasm before pushing his cake to the side to have his present in front of him. He picks up the card that was taped to the top of the box that hid new paint supplies you got from Paris. He carefully opens the envelope to see a homemade card. It was simple, white with little flower doodles surrounding the handwritten words ‘Happy Birthday Hyunnie’.

“I wrote this before your birthday. I wanted to send it to you so it would arrive on your birthday, but I was too late to the post office. So, here it is now!” you explain.

He smiles fondly at the card before reading.

My Dearest Hyunjin,

As the sun rises on this enchanting day, I am filled with an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the gift of your presence in my life. Today, as we celebrate the anniversary of your birth, I am reminded of the countless reasons why you are not just my partner but also my soulmate and my greatest treasure.

Your birthday is a beautiful reminder of the light you bring into the world, illuminating even the darkest corners with your infectious laughter, boundless compassion, and unwavering love. With each passing year, you become more extraordinary, more inspiring, and more deserving of all the happiness and love this world has to offer. I am forever inspired by you.

On this special day, I want to express my deepest admiration for the incredible person you are and my unending devotion to the journey we share together. May this day be filled with laughter, joy, and unforgettable moments, and may the year ahead be brimming with blessings, adventures, and endless love. Happy birthday, my love. Here's to celebrating you today and every day, now and forever.

With all my heart,

Y/N

Tears form on Hyunjin’s waterline. His chin quivers as he reaches the end of the letter. He puts the letter back in the envelope and pulls you into a tight hug. “That was the most beautiful thing I have ever read,” he says, pulling away to cradle your face. “I love you so much, Y/N. For eternity, I will love you.” He pulls your face to give you a longing, gentle kiss.

You pull away slowly, “I love you for eternity, too. Happy belated birthday Hyunnie.”

#lovestaychannie #stray kids #skz imagines #skz fanfic #stray kids fluff #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hyunjin imagine #hyunjin x reader #stray kids imagine

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rip-quizilla · 5 months

Text

Impossible to Hate You ~ Part 5

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Summary: Everything is falling- leaves from the trees, rain from the sky, you for Eddie, and Eddie for you.

Word Count: 10.1 K

A/N: Big thanks to @the-unforgivenn (happy birthday❤️) for all of the help you gave me on this chapter, and honestly this whole fic in general. You've been an invaluable part of the writing process of this story, and the fact that you care so much about Eddie & Ace just makes me feel so loved... you don't even know. Ily wifey✨

Thank you @vintagehellfire for your priceless tattoo knowledge- I hope I did you proud!!

Also thanks to @blueywrites for helping me decide on what Eddie would tattoo on reader back in our Tumblr DMs in June😂 y'all that's how long I've had this scene in my brain. This part of the story has been a long time coming.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Part 5

Fall, 1983

“Rick, are you serious, man?”

“Dead serious, I’ll sell it to you for twenty.”

You caught the tail end of their conversation as you approached the red plastic picnic table in Forest Hills trailer park. Today was the first day of fall, and while it may not have felt like biting cold and crunchy leaves yet, it did feel like flannels tied around waists and long-dead grass that broke beneath the soles of your shoes. You hopped up onto the surface of the table, swinging your feet around to rest beside Eddie where he sat on the bench.

“Sell what?” you asked, producing three cans of Coke from your bag that you’d brought from home and handing one to each of the boys. Rick had grown accustomed to your presence since the spring, so he actually cracked a smile when he answered your question and nodded in thanks as he accepted the can.

“Munson wants to buy my old tattoo gun.”

Your jaw dropped. “Wait, seriously?” you asked Eddie.

He didn’t take his eyes off Rick. “And I’m wondering what the catch is if you’re selling it to me for so cheap.”

You cracked open your can of soda with a hiss, joining Eddie in his Rick stare-down. “Hmm,” you mused, “I bet he forgot to clean it and it’s staph-infested.”

“Nope,” Rick popped the ‘p’ after taking a swig from his shiny red can. “Never been used, so I can guarantee it’s staph-free. Always meant to use it, but after that brush with the cops I had last month, I don’t want to risk having it.”

You narrowed your eyes at Eddie, trying to discern whether or not he’d thought about the fact that if he bought it, then he would be in possession of paraphernalia for illegal Indiana activities.

Then again, you knew he smoked weed and that was most definitely against the law as well, and he hadn’t been caught yet. You trusted him not to be stupid enough to get arrested.

You turned your line of questioning on Eddie. “Why on earth do you need a tattoo gun anyway?”

“Well you see, Ace-” Eddie lifted one of your feet up from the bench, straightening your leg and presenting your right shoe- your white converse, half covered in mythical creatures and random doodles that Eddie had slowly been adding to with his fine-tipped Sharpie ever since you’d bought them in early August. “-it seems that I need a canvas for my art, and it won’t be long before I run out of shoe.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “So now people are the canvas?”

Eddie held up his arms, bare skin nearly translucent in the afternoon sun. His nearly-too-small Iron Maiden tee showcased just how much bare skin he had to spare along the contours of his limbs. “If by people you mean me, then yeah.”

“You’re going to tattoo yourself?”

“Yep!”

“Without practicing on someone else first?”

Eddie smirked, “You volunteering?”

You rolled your eyes, but for some odd reason the idea stuck. You decided to play along.

“Let’s say I am, what would the tattoo be?”

Eddie hadn’t anticipated this answer. He was so surprised, in fact, that he choked on the soda that he’d just sipped into his mouth before your question. In a cacophony of coughs and wheezes, Eddie managed to regain his composure as you smiled wryly, feeling as though you’d bested him somehow in some small way. To fluster him with something as small as this, something he hadn’t expected.

“You’re serious? You want a tattoo?” Eddie responded skeptically, before turning away from you to fiddle with his soda can still held in his hands.

You shrugged, as if he were asking if you wanted a pizza, not a permanent brand inked on your skin. “Why not? I think I’d look pretty badass with a tattoo.”

You weren’t sure what was making you feel so bold today, but you had a feeling it might be related to the thought of Eddie covered in ink that wound up and down his skin that was making you ache to touch it when it was still naked and peach-pale. You scooched a couple inches down the tabletop to the left, placing your seat directly behind Eddie’s neck.

Then, in a stroke of something between bravery, stupidity, and need, you carefully slung your legs over Eddie’s shoulders so that they sat in the bends of your knees.

It was a simple gesture- familiar, even. You made a point to lean back a little, bracing your hands behind you on the tabletop so that the apex of your thighs stayed a good distance from the back of Eddie’s neck. You felt Eddie’s shoulders stiffen, each muscle under your jeans tensing for a moment before relaxing into the closeness.

Then Eddie brought his hands to your ankles, his fingertips brushing the spare skin between your high tops and the cuffs of your jeans. The pads of his thumbs barely caressed the skin but they felt like a kiss- a thing coveted and then forbidden, then coveted even more.

His touch drifted over your legs, warm hands coming to rest over your shins and squeeze, heating the denim that separated his skin from yours. You were holding your breath. You’d been so confident a second ago yet here he was, knocking the very air from your lungs.

You waited anxiously for him to say something; if he didn’t you were sure you were going to do something stupid. Something that would involve more of his skin on your skin.

“Would you want this tattoo of yours to show?” Eddie asked at last, breaking the silence between the two of you- well, the three of you. Rick was still there, taking in the sight before him with a smirk on his face.

“Not easily, my parents would kill me.” you said, ensuring that your tone of voice was nonchalant, casual. “But I don’t see the harm in something small that I could hide.”

Eddie tilted his head back and up, earthen eyes flicking up to yours. “What happened to ‘looking badass’?”

You pursed your lips as you leaned forward, bringing your faces to hover parallel over each other. “You’re saying that taking my pants off to reveal a surprise tatty isn’t badass?”

You watched as Eddie’s eyes flashed darker for a split second- nearly imperceptibly so- before his lips stretched sinfully into a mischievous grin. “Oh, under the pants then, huh?”

His hands traced higher, ghosting on your knees and burning his fingerprints through your jeans.

“Easy to hide,” you said, struggling to keep your voice even. “It’s a practical placement.”

Eddie’s thumbs stroked absentminded circles into the flesh of your lower thighs, tight denim puckering with the motion. “Practical placement…” he murmured, low enough that it sounded like he hadn’t even meant to say it out loud.

“You could put it on your hip.”

Both of your heads whipped around to focus on Rick, who was grinning at both of you like he’d just discovered a fun new game to play. He shrugged, hopping up to sit beside you on the tabletop. “You want it to be hidden all of the time, right?” he leaned to shove you congenially with his shoulder. “When’s a good girl like you gonna be showing off some hip? I bet the only one who’ll see that will already be married to you when he lays eyes on-”

“Hey!” you interjected. “You act like I’m some prude, I’m not a nun.” Rolling your eyes, you looked back down at Eddie hoping to meet his gaze and laugh together over how ridiculous Rick was being. However, you looked down only to find Eddie’s chocolate browns trained on Rick with wide-eyed warning. A silent message was clearly being exchanged, but it wasn’t for you.

Rick was smiling smugly down at Eddie, unbeknownst to you, and Eddie was getting the message loud and clear:

It’s time to raise the stakes, kid.

“Perfect!” Rick chirped, smug eyes still trained on Eddie’s. “So you wouldn’t mind letting Eddie use your hip as his, uh… canvas, then?”

If Eddie’s looks could kill, Rick would be a dead man.

“Yeah.” you choked out, refusing to give yourself time to chicken out of what you’d gotten yourself into. “Yeah, why not?”

***

Rainy days in autumn just felt right.

Sure, you were in Latin class. Sure, you were supposed to be working on a packet the substitute teacher had just passed out. However, it was raining outside. The sub was easygoing enough that she hadn’t made a move to stop Eddie from doodling on your shoe that was perched comfortably on the crook of his hip.

You sat behind him in every class you had together- there were four of them this year- and Eddie had gotten into the habit of reaching back to tap you on the leg whenever he knew he was losing focus. Every time he tapped, you would carefully stretch your leg forward until his hand caught on your ankle, lifting it up until it rested on his lap. His sharpie would go to work on whatever blank spots he could still find on your white converse, and the mindless activity of his drawing would keep his mind awake enough to listen as teachers droned on and on.

The change in Eddie wasn’t lost on his teachers- they had all noticed the impact that your company seemed to have on him, and it was the only reason why they hadn’t had any issues with your constant companionship. When you were around, Eddie actually paid attention in his classes and turned in work- that was good enough for them.

The silence of the classroom and the soundtrack of rainfall beating against the roof and windows had created the perfect work zone for you, and your focus on your classwork was only interrupted when you noticed a folded piece of torn notebook paper on the edge of your desk.

Smirking as you felt Eddie continue doodling on your shoe, you unfolded the paper and read the slanted scrawl that you’d come to recognize instantly as Eddie’s handwriting.

Were you serious about the tattoo thing? It’s OK if you’re not.

Your cheeks heated, contemplating whether you were still serious about it or not. The only fears you had about it were completely logical- Eddie had literally no clue what he was doing. Yours would only be his second tattoo after his own. Worst case scenario, the tattoo would get infected and you go to the hospital. Eddie gets arrested for tattooing without a medical license. Best case scenario… you get to sit there while he grips your naked thigh for as long as it takes to leave a permanent reminder of him on your hip.

You blinked a couple of times, letting that mental image wash over you, before confidently penning your answer beneath his message.

I’m serious.

Folding the scrap of paper and handing it back to him, you felt his Sharpie leave your shoe as he took the note and read it. You watched him register the two words, glance back at you through the loose strands of hair that hung over his shoulder, then smile softly into a shake of his head. A second later, he was handing the note back to you.

If you say so, Ace. What am I tattooing, and where?

You had to think about it for a moment before passing back your answer

Hip is fine. What are you gonna do? We could match.

Eddie’s reply came faster than you’d ever seen him write any of his notes in class, that’s for damn sure.

You want matching tattoos?? Are you sure?

Your heart began to race. Was that bad? Was he judging you for wanting to match him? Maybe you were being too clingy, trying too hard… you glanced down at his jacket, which was wrapped around you almost every day at this point- it was practically a second skin. His handwriting was all over your shoes. You stared at your fingers, scarlet polish chipping from the tips of your nails, and you remembered that you’d chosen red solely because he’d mentioned it was his favorite color.

Were you coming across as desperate? Were you weirding him out? Maybe you needed to dial it back-

A new piece of paper slid across your desk, Eddie’s eyes glancing your way with nothing but warmth in his gaze before he returned his attention to your shoe on his lap.

I’m fine with it if you are.

Putting bats on my forearm.

You released a breath that you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, giving ways for butterflies to take flight inside your chest. You grinned, jotting down your reply beneath his writing.

I’m more than fine with it.

Could you do just one little bat on my hip?

Eddie took a little longer this time with his response, and you understood why once you saw the adorably small silhouette of a bat penned in black on the paper he’d passed back to you.

You leaned forward, letting your chin nearly brush the fabric of his denim jacket as you whispered low enough that the substitute teacher wouldn’t hear.

“It’s perfect.”

A snicker from the other side of the classroom caught your ear. Eddie and you both turned to see a cluster of letter-jacketed assholes staring at the two of you, whispering and laughing with each other.

You knew deep down that you didn’t care what they thought. You knew that you should just keep your head down. Ignore them.

But then you caught the tail end of one of their sentences.

“...fucking freaks.”

Two things happened simultaneously: your eyebrows jumped, and Eddie’s stomach dropped.

The ringing of the bell was all you needed to angrily shove your belongings into your backpack and march over to the other side of the classroom, stopping the jocks in their tracks. Eddie was right behind you, tugging you back by the crook of your elbow as you steadily ignored his pleas to sit down and ignore them, they aren’t worth it.

“You want to repeat what you were saying over there, Alan?” You stared up at the freckled boy, his harsh features sneering down at you from where he stood nearly half a foot taller than you. His height did nothing to deter you, however. Neither did Eddie’s death grip on your arm.

Alan snorted, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the two of you before him. His eyes flicked over you, appraising for about two seconds before directing his attention to Eddie behind you. “You letting your girl pick your fights for you now, Munson?”

Eddie didn’t have a chance to respond; you didn’t give him one. “Don’t look at him.” you stepped forward, bringing you mere inches from the freckled football star. “I asked you a question.”

Alan and his cronies laughed, apparently amused by the show of dominance you were trying to make. You opened your mouth to berate him further, but the sharp tug on your arm from Eddie was strong enough this time to jerk you away from them and toward the door of the classroom.

“Wh- Eddie, quit it!” you tried to shake off his grip but it wasn’t going to budge; Eddie marched you out the door and down the hallway like a man on a mission.

“Yeah, Eddie, quit it!” You both could hear Alan’s patronizing whine from the classroom, his voice thrown into a reedy falsetto that made your blood boil. His voice trailed off, melting into the nasal snickers of his friends.

Eddie didn’t let go of your arm until the two of you reached his locker, at which point he finally looked you in the eye- and his stare embodied an intensity that you hadn’t seen from him ever before. You’d seen him intense, of course… just not like this.

This looked like fear.

“What the fuck was that for?” Eddie bit out, his teeth clenched and eyes wide.

You crossed your arms, suddenly defensive. Had you messed up, somehow? “I… I mean, they were calling us names, I wasn’t going to just sit there.”

“Alan’s an illiterate asshole, you don’t need to explain yourself to him.”

“I know I don’t need to, but…” You chuckled humorlessly, that familiar vengeful feeling from moments ago beginning to bubble back up. “You know what, no. I do need to. I’m not the kind of person who can just sit there while jerks like him run around slandering good people, it’s wrong!”

Eddie huffed, his hands on his hips as he glanced around and shook his head. “Slandering, huh? That’s a big word, Ace. What’s that, the college word of the day?” You raised an eyebrow, watching him closely and curiously.

He was fidgeting nonstop, repeatedly picking up his feet and replacing them on the floor only an inch or so away from where they’d been before. His eyes darted in every direction, as if scanning for potential threats so that he could run from them before they decided to pounce.

“Eddie, why are you so afraid of those guys?”

Big brown eyes widened to saucers, refocusing on you. “This isn’t fear, Ace, it’s just common sense.” Eddie checked over his shoulder to ensure the jocks were gone, then took a step closer. He leaned his shoulder against the locker, lifting his opposite arm to gently place his hand on your upper arm. You shivered, feeling his thumb trace small circles through his own black leather. Maybe that’s why he’s so scared all of a sudden, you pondered, leaning closer to Eddie. He’s given me his armor.

You lowered your voice, sympathetic to Eddie’s plight. “You know I wouldn’t let them hurt you, Eds.” Looking up into his eyes, you expected to see them soften, gratitude coating his gaze. Instead, they widened and crinkled slightly at the edges. Eddie huffed out a gaudy laugh, incredulous at your admission.

“Hurt me?” he shook his head, stunned, and began to rifle through his locker for the books he needed for next class. “Ace, I just don’t want them to hurt you!”

You balked. “Me?” an eyebrow raised, you crossed your arms over your chest, defensive once again. “You really think they’d hit a girl? They’re jerks but I don’t think they’d go that far-”

“Nah, they’ll only sick their girlfriends on you.” Eddie punctuated his sentence with a slam of his locker door. “Purebred harpies with matching scrunchies who’ll make your life a living hell and then pretend that you’re the crazy one.”

It was a struggle to keep up with him at the rate he was walking, strides each a yard wide as he tugged you along by your hand.

Your hand. Eddie Munson was holding your hand.

“You, uh… you speaking from experience?” You stuttered over your words, cheeks heating at the sudden skin-to-skin contact. He had just admitted that he didn’t want to see you get hurt- his blatant protectiveness of you coupled with the way he was decisively dragging you by the hand to your locker right now was nearly too much for you to handle.

“Trust me,” Eddie sighed, swinging you around as he reached your locker and (to your dismay) letting go of your hand. “You get asked out on a dare enough times, you figure out how their coven operates.”

Eddie wasn’t meeting your eyes. You had to actually place your hand on his shoulder to capture his gaze. “Eddie,” you said, making a conscious effort to keep your voice steady and be something stable for him to feel at least a little grounded on. “Deep breath.”

Surprisingly, he did as you said. Eddie closed his eyes, inhaling deep and allowing his lungs to fill long enough that his chest expanded before his exhale blew softly on your cheeks. It smelled like the apple you’d brought for him at lunch.

When you were once again treated to that warm hazelnut gaze, your hand acted without thinking and flew up to gently rest against his jawline. You were crossing some invisible line- you knew that- but the light in the hallway was causing shadows to take up residence in the dusting of whiskers that decorated the sharp incline that led to his chin. Your fingertips brushed his skin reverently, and he seemed frozen. Eddie didn’t dare move; you were like a butterfly that had deigned to land on him of all people, and damn it all if he was going to fuck it up and scare you off.

“I’ve got you, you’ve got me… right?” Your voice was barely loud enough to be heard through the noise of bustling students. “We look out for each other, Eddie, we’re stronger together.”

Eddie remained still under your caress, wishing he could focus on your touch. Wishing he could rip his eyes away from where they were trained behind you- held in terrified contact with a sadistic-looking Alan who stood with his cherry-lipsticked girlfriend across the hallway. Alan’s lips were curled into a sneer, watching as the thing that Eddie wanted most became his worst nightmare.

You were openly touching him, while wearing his clothes, standing in shoes covered with his drawings- and Eddie watched in horror as the harpy pushed up on her tiptoes to whisper something in Alan’s ear before both of them refocused not on Eddie, but on you.

They laughed like fucking heyenas, eyeing their next meal.

It took every ounce of self control Eddie had, but he gently took your hand in his and lowered it from his cheek. He ignored the way your eyes gazed up at him the same way a scorned puppy begged for some kind of affection, any confirmation that they are, indeed, loved.

“It’s the together part I’m worried about, Ace.” Eddie whispered, keeping his voice low.

You were quiet, which Eddie hated because it was his fault.

“Oh, and um-” Eddie raised his shoulders and shivered, rubbing his hands along his upper arms to warm himself with the friction. “-it’s a little chilly today… you mind if I wear the jacket?” His hand drifted down to the flannel that hung loosely tied around your waist, taking a corner of the material and feeling it between the pads of his thumb and forefinger.

“This’ll keep you warm, yeah?”

You stared blankly for a moment, stunned. You had nearly forgotten that the jacket was his to take. You’d assumed he liked that you always wore his jacket, but… perhaps you’d made that up. You were eager for him to want things like that, after all… ‘more than friends’ kinds of things. However, asking for a borrowed item to be returned was completely normal for friends. You chided yourself for reading too much into it and smiled warmly up at him.

“Yeah! Of course!” you sprung into action, setting your backpack down on the floor as you began to shrug off the jacket. “You’re right it’s frigid in here today.”

You handed the jacket to Eddie, who donned it with a thin-lipped smile. Parting ways for your next class, you departed in opposite directions down the hallway.

Upon arriving in your calculus class, you glanced out the window eager to zone out as you watched the rain, only to be greeted by a gray sky drained of its water. The rain’s reprieve left nothing in its wake but a tired sun, soft mist that obscured all surety, and packed Indiana dirt softened to mud too loose for one to find their footing.

The sort of mud that, should you try to walk through it, you’d be destined to slip and fall.

***

When Eddie thought of Halloween, he thought of blood and sugar.

It was a strange contradiction, the way that Halloween’s association with horror and gore had balanced itself out with candy corn and fun-sized Snickers bars, and yet the juxtaposition of the two brought a smile to his face. The combination of sweet and terrifying embodied the holiday perfectly. On Halloween, there was no need for any kind of steely exterior that might protect him from judgment. No need to hide the way he really feels behind the scary metalhead armor he’d so carefully curated as a defense mechanism.

On Halloween, he wasn’t just allowed to be a freak. He was celebrated for it.

On Halloween, he could just be.

It was the reason why Halloween just so happened to be the day he’d had enough courage to look through your bedroom window exactly four years ago. It’s the day when Hell meets Heaven to make something sweet, and anything can happen.

Anything- including matching tattoos on the floor of his trailer.

Everything was ready- Eddie had laid out sheets of newspaper to cover what he’d deemed the tattoo zone, and broken down a cardboard box to act as a stable surface on the soft carpet of his bedroom floor. Eddie had scrutinized every instruction he’d been able to wrench from Rick for how to work the tattoo machine. Grips, needles, fucking rubber bands that were apparently very necessary… he’d made sure he had it all. He’d even practiced on an orange that he’d swiped from the kitchen counter.

A thick black cable now snaked across his carpeted floor, connecting the machine to a pedal, the pedal to a power supply, and the power supply to the yellowed plastic outlet on his wall. Beside the machine sat a stack of paper towels and all sorts of other shit Rick had advised him to make sure he used. He was lucky that Rick had bought a bottle of black ink- Eddie wouldn’t have known where to seek out medical-grade ink in a state where it was illegal to ink your skin without a license.

Your knock at his door made Eddie jump; he wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. It would be easy to write his nerves off as adrenaline before his first tattoo, but who was he kidding- it was you. You’d gone from someone who made him nervous to someone who made him nervous for different reasons, and all of this was very inconvenient for Eddie.

“Trick or Treat,” You’d chirped when he opened the door, and it was at that moment Eddie realized that this night may very well be the death of him.

You wore your favorite baggy sweater over a tight black tank top, which you’d tucked into some high waisted acid washed jeans. Unsurprisingly, the chucks on which he’d scribbled his claim were fastened securely on your feet. In your hands was a variety pack of halloween candies and a shopping bag from the local drugstore. Everything about you radiated warmth, and Eddie had to fight the urge to change tonight’s itinerary to movies and a blanket fort and spend the whole evening on the couch with you, surrounded by candy wrappers and the light of his television set.

“I brought antibacterial soap,” you said, bringing Eddie back to reality. You rifled through your shopping bag to show him your spoils as you stepped through the threshold and into his trailer. “-large bandages, and a little travel first aid kit just in case. Oh, and I did a little bit of reading at the library and I couldn’t find much on tattoos, but the one commonality between every book and article I could find said to make sure you wash the wound often and disinfect everything-”

“Ace,” Eddie interrupted, taking the bag from you and closing the front door. The corner of his mouth quirked up, keeping an amused chuckle at bay. “You went to the library to read about how to safely care for an illegal tattoo?” Your expression soured, shifting to a half-scowl, half-pout.

“Well one of us has got to do it,” you huffed, grabbing the bag and marching towards Eddie’s room. “And I know you wouldn’t set foot in the library unless you were forced.” You continued to yell at him from his room, “You’ll thank me when your kitchen-scratched tattoo doesn’t get infected, and you get to grow old with all of your limbs intact!”

Eddie stayed glued to his spot as his smirk grew into a goofy grin. You were fucking adorable.

You hadn’t argued when Eddie insisted that he start with his own tattoo- before he got started on permanently marking your skin, he wanted to be sure that he at least had gotten the hang of it first. He immediately started getting to work with his trusty fine-tipped Sharpie, sketching out a scattering of bats on his forearm and glancing every once in a while at his notebook for reference. You’d flipped through that notebook on several occasions when the two of you had sat idle during classes or study sessions. The drawings were always sprawling, sharp and gruesome in a way that wasn’t so much scary as it was fascinating to you.

You laid stomach-down on his mattress, positioned behind where he sat on the floor, his back leaned up against the bed frame and close enough that you could probably reach down and play with his hair if you were bold enough. You didn’t- no matter how tempting it was, you didn’t want to risk anything that might mess up his focus. You settled for watching Eddie’s reflection in the mirror that sat leaned up against the wall in front of him.

When the Sharpie stencil had dried and Eddie picked up the tattoo machine, you couldn’t deny the nervous uptake in your heart rate. You watched him gingerly begin the process of permanently inking his drawing into his skin, and before the needle touched skin, Eddie looked over his shoulder at you and winked, whispering a surprisingly shaky “Point of no return.” Before you could ask if he was having second thoughts, he was already outlining the first bat, his socked foot pressing decisively on the pedal that whirred his machine to life.

Minutes ticked by before you uttered a soft “Does it hurt?” to break the awkward silence. Normally, Eddie had some sort of music playing, Metallica or WASP or something along those lines spinning on his cheap old turntable- but tonight there was nothing but the electric buzz that filled the small bedroom, and it was starting to make you antsy.

Eddie huffed, and it was as much of a laugh as he could afford while holding still. “Well, Ace, it’s a needle sticking in and out of my arm repeatedly, so if I’m being honest it ain’t exactly sunshine and rainbows.” You watched him wince as he moved on from outlining the first bat and started on the second.

“Does it at least make you feel a little badass?” You watched his reflection in the mirror glance up through the curtain of his hair and raise an eyebrow at you.

“That depends,” He said, “do I look badass?”

“A little.” You teased. “You’ll look more badass when the tattoo is finished.”

That earned you a snort from him. “What, fifty percent of a tattoo doesn’t cut it?” His reflection flashed you a genuine smile, that lopsided grin affecting you the way it always does, spiking your body temp and rushing the thump of your heart.

“Nope. Though, if your intention is to tell the world that you have commitment issues-”

“I do not have commitment issues-”

“Then what kind of issues do you have?”

Eddie parted the needle from his skin, taking a moment to glance wryly over his shoulder in your direction.

“You.” It was punctuated by a tongue that peeked out from between his lips. You followed suit, shoulders shaking as you chuckled.

Silence threatened to fall for a moment then, but Eddie put a stop to that. “Keep talking.”

“Huh?”

His voice was quiet, muttered like he was biting the inside of his cheek as he spoke. “Hurts less when we’re talking.”

You smiled, watching as he avoided your eye contact in the mirror, focusing on his arm as a subtle blush began to creep onto his cheeks. Tempting as it was to tease, you opted for a more neutral topic.

“Which is better, sour candy or chocolate?”

You could barely see his eyebrows furrow behind his curtain of curls as he considered your question. “Chocolate.”

“You’re crazy.”

He barked out a laugh. “After all the ridiculous shit I’ve said, that’s what crosses the line for you?”

You shook your head, amping up your reaction for his benefit; he was laughing, and it was music to your ears. You were greedy for more of it.

“Sour candy is a whole experience, chocolate is just sweet! That’s all it has going for it!”

Eddie gawked but kept his eyes trained on his skin. “What do you have against sweets?”

You rolled your eyes, flopping from your stomach to your back and staring up at the water stain on Eddie’s ceiling. “I haven’t got anything against sweets… I just like a little tart to go with it. Oh hang on, that reminds me-”

You stuck your hand into the plastic bag you’d brought with you, producing a variety pack of cheap Halloween candies. “Do you normally get trick-or-treaters? I thought we could pour these into a bowl and set it out on the porch- you know, so we don’t have to keep answering the door.”

Eddie Shook his head. “Nah, not a lot of kids who live here. Those who do always high-tail it to the neighborhoods where the good shit is, like-”

“Loch Nora?” you finished, smirking.

Nodding his approval, Eddie echoed, “Loch Nora.”

“Well in that case,” you yanked open the bag of candy so hard that a few individually wrapped pieces were flung onto the bedspread as well as the floor below. “I guess we’ll have to eat all of this ourselves.”

Eddie paused his tattooing to glance at a fun-sized packet of sour gummy worms that had landed on the carpet beside him. “Gummy worms?” he asked.

You flicked the back of his head while the needle was off his skin. “Uh, yeah, they’re delicious.”

“Did you at least get candy corn?”

You gagged. “Candy corn?!”

The two of you passed the next hour like that, debating about various arbitrary topics and inevitably disagreeing on almost all of them. There were only three things that you both agreed on without any debate whatsoever: Santa Claus was the superior holiday mascot, Joan Jett could easily beat Cyndi Lauper in a fight, and The Empire Strikes Back was way better than A New Hope.

When Eddie was finally finished with his tattoo, you were off the bed in an instant and already reaching for the antibacterial soap.

“You should wash it under some warm water first before anything gross has a chance to get in there-”

“Hey hey hey, whoa hold on!” Eddie was laughing, eyes wide as he smiled at you. Your hand was already encircled around his wrist, tugging his arm (and the person attached to it) toward the bathroom. “Ace, you haven’t even looked at it yet, c’mon you’re bruising the artist’s ego here.”

You sighed but couldn’t hide the rueful grin that danced on your pursed lips. Softening your vice like grip on his wrist, you shifted your hands to cradle his forearm and survey the last hour’s work.

“It looks good, Eddie… really good, actually.” You absently swiped a thumb over the soft skin of his wrist. “If you’d told me it was professionally done, I’d totally believe you.”

“Yeah?” He looked up from where your thumb stroked the base of his forearm, eyes shining.

“Yeah,” you smirked. “Of course, I’d tell you to try and get your money back, but-”

“Oh shove it up your ass, Sweet Tart.” The playful shoulder-check had you letting go of his arm, but both of your faces were painted with ear-to-ear smiles.

Eddie washed his new tattoo in the bathroom sink, admiring the way the bats stretched and shifted with every flex of his forearm. Your mouth hurt, as did the muscles in your cheeks; you couldn’t stop smiling. He was so happy with his work, and you had to admit that he had actually done a really good job with that tattoo machine.

“We’ve got to get you out of Indiana, Munson,” you murmured to the mirror where he continued to scrutinize his work from every angle. “I think you may have just found your calling.”

His eyes were wide and shining with pride as they glanced your way. “You think?”

You nodded, that saccharine smile stubbornly staying put on your lips. To be fair, you didn’t fight it.

“You’re coming with me, then.” Eddie replied, his own smile glowing in the dying light above the bathroom mirror.

There it was- that familiar fire beneath the skin of your cheeks.

“Oh I am, huh?”

“Hell yeah.” Eddie braced his arm on the doorway, leaning over you until your faces were mere inches apart. “We’re stronger together, remember?”

Breathe. Breathe… Why can’t you breathe?

You’d barely managed a nod before Eddie was ducking around you through the doorway, grabbing your hand, and leading you back to his room.

“Your turn, Ace.”

Oh yeah, you were also getting a tattoo today. You’d almost forgotten. Were you nervous? You weren’t sure. Actually, yes, you were very nervous- not so much about the tattoo as you were for where the tattoo would be.

In minutes, you were both sitting on Eddie’s bedroom floor- Eddie readying everything he needed for your new ink, and you sitting eerily still as your soul started to feel like it might leave your body.

“Ace,”

Eyes refocusing, you blinked a few times. “Yeah?”

Eddie’s expression was calm, sympathetic to the inward freak-out he had a feeling you were on the verge of. “We don’t have to do this, you know. I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

You tried to laugh, but it came out sounding a little more strained than you had intended. “Hah…you saying I have commitment issues?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, but Eddie’s eyebrows stayed knitted together above his big brown eyes. “No,” he murmured. His voice was soft, as if he were speaking to a stray animal and trying not to spook it. “I guess I’m just… trying to give you an out, so you don’t feel pressured or anything.”

You shook your head, “I don’t want an out.”

Eddie blinked, “No?”

“No.”

There was a second of silence between the two of you before you both took in a collective breath, exhaling simultaneously and giggling when you both realized that you were breathing in sync. Perfect harmony; sour and sweet, nervous but willing.

“You, uh…” Eddie stammered, his eyes flicking down to your lap and back up to your face. “...you still want it on your hip?”

Your heart rate doubled.

“Um, yeah.” you awkwardly shifted your weight onto your knees, grabbing hold of your waistband and unbuttoning your shorts. You shimmied them over your hips, revealing the rest of your leotard- leotard, Eddie realized. Not a tank top. You were wearing a black leotard. It was almost like the kind that he’d seen ballerinas wear, except it cut so high on your hips that he was sure it wouldn’t be allowed in any of the dance studios he could think of, and….yep. YEP, it was practically a thong. Your ass was out. You were sitting on the floor of his bedroom with your ass out.

Chill out, Munson! He screamed inwardly at himself, Chill the fuck out!

Of course, you couldn’t tell that there was a war going on between Eddie’s ability to function and the short-circuiting that threatened to render him unable to do anything but stare at you. All you could see was the way his jaw had gone slack and his eyes bugged out of their sockets.

You smiled shyly, a twinge of something between satisfaction and guilt nudging at your heartstrings. “I figured this thing would be less awkward than if I was sitting here in my underwear,” you laughed nervously as you gestured to your leotard.

Eddie gulped. He couldn’t see much of a difference. “Yeah, totally.”

A beat passed. You grabbed a bag of gummy worms from the floor, tearing it open with a crinkle of the plastic that would not have been so loud if the two of you weren’t dead silent. You bit into the candy where the color changed from pink to blue, then finally muttered through your chewing, “Ready when you are.”

Eddie blinked rapidly, taking his Sharpie in his hands. “Uh, yeah… yeah, okay.”

With your free hand, you pointed to the part of your hip where your flesh naturally creased as your thigh met your pelvis.

“Is here good?”

Eddie gulped.

“Yeah, that’s good.” But Eddie was very much not good. He was the opposite of good, he felt like he was malfunctioning. When he placed his free hand on your upper thigh, he almost apologized. Why the hell did he feel like he had to apologize? He had no clue. His palms were sweating- did you feel how sweaty his palms were? Oh god. He forgot what a bat looked like- you were trusting his artistic skills enough for him to permanently ink his drawing into your skin and he couldn’t even remember what a goddamn bat looked li- oh, wait, he had them on his own forearm now. Eddie glanced at his arm, reminding himself what a goddamn bat looked like.

He’s never felt like more of a nervous idiot than right now.

Meanwhile, you felt like you were about to explode.

His hand was warm. So warm as he grasped your thigh. Whenever he’d touched you before, there was always a barrier, some form of separation between his skin and yours- jeans, a sweater, a flannel.

A leather jacket.

That’s right- he had taken his jacket back. Maybe you were reading too deep into things, but you had this unshakable feeling that taking back that jacket had been a message.

We’re just friends. Nothing more.

But if that was true, then why was he looking at your thighs the way he was? Why had he looked at you the way he did when he said you should go with him when he leaves Hawkins?

He wasn’t your boyfriend… you knew that.

So why couldn’t you shake this undeniably girlfriendish ache in your chest?

“Okay.” Eddie’s voice jolted you out of your downward spiral into your very inconvenient feelings. “Check that out in the mirror, make sure you like it.”

You straightened up, walking on your knees until you faced the mirror leaning against the wall and inspected the tiny, perfect little bat that he’d drawn on the fullest part of your hip.

It matched the bats that now decorated his arm, now surrounded by an angry red halo that bloomed across his skin. Once that bat was inked, it would be something connecting you and Eddie forever- a shared experience, a secret that the two of you would always be in on.

Suddenly, you realized that in this moment there wasn’t a single thing you wanted more than a matching tattoo with Eddie Munson.

Well, there was one thing. But you had a feeling that wasn’t happening tonight. The tattoo, however…

“I love it.” You looked over your shoulder at Eddie, but his eyes were a little too busy staring at your practically naked behind to meet your gaze.

“Ahem.”

Breaking free of his trance, Eddie shook his head a tad, which drew a small chuckle from your smirking lips. Eddie couldn’t help but smile too, albeit more shyly than you.

“Distracted?” You teased, unable to hold back your glee at this kind of attention- any kind of attention- from Eddie.

He sighed, blinking rapidly while he finally met your eyes. There was something new in the way he was looking at you- if you didn’t know better you might call it frustration, but it was an amused sort of frustration. Almost like his eyes were saying “what am I going to do with you?” but through sunglasses tinted with desire.

You wanted to bottle that, stow it away for emergencies. Wanted to preserve the way that gaze made you feel so that you could experience it over and over again.

“No.” Eddie murmured through a rueful grin. “Lie down, it’ll be easier to ink the skin while it’s flat.” You did as he instructed, feeling the crinkle of newspaper underneath the skin of your rear. Once again, you found yourself staring up at the water stain on Eddie’s ceiling until his face came into view, looking down at you as he readied the tattoo machine.

“Are you?” You heard him ask.

You raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

The pads of Eddie’s fingers poked and prodded at the skin around where your tattoo would soon have an indefinite spot on your hip, and you wondered if he could tell that your temperature shot up ten degrees each time you felt his hands on you.

“Are you distracted?” he clarified. “Because it hurts less when you’ve got something else to focus on.”

“Oh.” Suddenly, your mind went blank. Of course, the moment you wanted something to distract you, all ideas turned tail and ran. “Um…”

Snap!

Your jaw dropped as the elastic of your leotard snapped back to your skin from where Eddie had pulled it away with his pointer finger. “Where’d you even get this thing?”

Now it was your turn to short-circuit.

“Uh-” You stammered, interrupted by the machine beginning to buzz.

Eddie didn’t wait for you to finish your thought before reminding you what he’d asked. “C’mon, Sweet Tart, where’d you get the leotard?”

You knew he was trying to distract you so you didn’t feel the pain, but you couldn’t help the tensing of your muscles as the needle pierced your skin. You winced, staring at the water stain with a newfound intensity. “Dance store.” you gritted through lips that formed a tight line.

“Dance store, huh?” You could hear the smile through Eddie’s words. “And why were you in a dance store?”

You huffed out a short, breathy laugh, careful to keep your hip still as Eddie’s needle continued to do its work. “I was making a Flashdance costume. Heard about this Halloween party a few weeks ago, but then we made the tattoo plans… and I had already bought the leotard, so…”

It was disconcerting to speak with Eddie without looking at him; he was a very expressive person, always talking with his hands, always making sure that he looked you in the eyes when you spoke to him. But now he was focused on his work on your hip, leaving your eyes to shift between staring at his ceiling and fluttering closed.

“You were going to wear this thing to a party?” he asked, incredulous.

Your eyebrows wrinkled over your closed eyes. “I would’ve worn tights under it…”

He snorted. “That wouldn’t have made a difference.”

You winced, groaning as the needle hit a nerve that particularly stung. “What- ah, shit- what are you trying to say?”

The buzzing stopped for a moment. “Fuck, you okay?” Eddie’s face leaned into your field of vision, his frizzy brown hair backlit into a halo by the light from the lamp behind him. “You want to take a break?”

You shook your head, taking a mental snapshot of how ethereal he looked like this. “No, you can keep going, I’m fine.”

Cautiously, Eddie got back to work. A few wordless seconds ticked by before you spoke.

“What did you mean, ‘that wouldn’t have made a difference’?”

Eddie’s reply was matter-of-fact, but you could have sworn that you heard a hint of protectiveness in his voice when he said, “Tights or no tights, the whole party would have been staring at your ass, Sweet Tart.”

The “T” sound in “Tart” was soft this time. So soft, it was barely there at all, and it almost sounded like he’d just called you sweetheart. If only. You’d give anything to be Eddie’s sweetheart.

Whether he’d meant to blend that consonant or not, it made you brave. “Is that a bad thing?”

A pause. Then, “Is this a trap?”

“Answer the question, would a bunch of people staring at my ass be a bad thing?”

Eddie sighed. “This is definitely a trap,” he muttered, before replying “No, Ace, objectively it would not be a bad thing. But sometimes people view girls differently when they walk around with their asses out.”

“Do you look at me differently when my ass is out?” You were being cheeky, you knew it.

“No, I don’t look at you differently.” came his instant response, muttered through nearly-closed lips. “I just look at you.”

Nothing could stand against your smile, not even you. “Yeah, that much I could see in the mirror.”

“You don’t sound too upset about that.”

This was different from the flirting you were used to with Eddie. Your regular flavor of flirtation had always been surface-level banter; nothing past a jab here and there, a joke at his expense or a nickname thrown your way.

Now? You were talking about the way he looked at your body, and the fact that he could tell that you liked when he looked. The two of you were in uncharted territory, and you buzzed under his touch in time with the inky needle at the beautiful unknown of it all.

“Okay, the outline is done but I’m about to start filling it in.” Eddie warned. “This part hurts a little more. You wanna take a break?”

You nodded. While Eddie jumped up to get you both a glass of water, you sat up on your elbows and peered over at your hip to get a look at your new ink. When you saw it, you gasped so fervently that you startled yourself.

It was perfect. The perfect little bat.

It wasn’t completely symmetrical. The outline was a tad thicker in certain places than others. But those imperfections made it his. And the fact that it was on your skin made it yours.

You couldn’t wait to wake up and stare at it like this every single day.

Eddie returned a moment later with two mismatched cups of tap water. Once you’d both rehydrated, he got to work replacing the needle at the end of the machine with a new one, as well as changing out various attachments and fiddling with a knobby-looking piece until he seemed satisfied with what he’d changed.

You were impressed with how intensely focused Eddie was on this sort of work; it didn’t seem to be taking him long to get the hang of this. It also didn’t take him long to come up with another topic of conversation that teetered on the line between friendly and flirty.

“Ever played Fuck, Marry, Kill?”

You had not, but the title of the game brought an unexpected chuckle out of you. “Edward Munson, I am a lady! At least take me out to dinner first-”

“I’m going to take that as a no.” Eddie chuckled, and you could hear his deadpan in the tone of his voice. “I say three people’s names and you have to tell me which you’d fuck, which you’d marry, and which you’d kill. Comprende?”

“Uhh-” whatever you’d been about to say was cut short by a harsher buzz than before, accompanied by the aggressive sting of needles on your skin. “Mmh, shit, okay yeah sure let’s play.”

Eddie smiled to himself. He wasn’t sure why he loved the little noises and whispered curses that spilled from your mouth while he tattooed you, but he honestly thought they might be the cutest sounds he’d ever heard. You were taking the pain like a champ- he was actually pretty proud of you in this moment as you remained still through the sting.

“Lars Ulrich, James Hetfield, and Kirk Hammett”

You rolled your eyes. Eddie had ensured over your many rides in his van this summer that every Metallica song he’d played had been an educational experience. Eddie had picked up a cassette of their debut album in July, and ever since he’d become obsessed. Already, he was trying to persuade the other members of his band to figure out how to play The Four Horsemen by ear.

Needless to say, you knew enough about the band to at least answer the question.

“Well I’m killing Lars for sure.”

“Poor Lars never stood a chance.”

You grinned, willing the distraction into something great enough to numb the pain. “And I think I’m gonna have to fuck Hetfield.”

“‘Have to fuck Hetfield,’ such a sacrifice.”

You carefully stretched your arms up to rest above your shoulders, cradling your head on your hands like a pillow. “Hey, if someone’s got to do it, I’ll take one for the team.”

You heard him snort, then after a moment’s quiet he added, “So you’re marrying Kirk Hammett, then?”

“I guess so.”

“What makes Kirk marriage material? Over the other two, I mean.”

You thought about Kirk Hammett’s wild, dark curls. His build. His brown button eyes. The way he looked holding a guitar.

“I don’t know, there’s just something about him.”

Eddie thought about the way he’d been trying to make himself look more like a rockstar ever since he’d first seen the tiny, grainy picture of the Metallica members in the corner of a page of Rolling Stone; he’d been bumming copies off Jeff’s subscription since the seventh grade. How he’d started growing out his hair after seeing Kirk’s long, black mane. He smiled.

He must be doing something right.

“Alright, Mrs. Hammett,” He quipped, “My turn, hit me with bachelorettes one through three, please.”

You thought over your options, trying to think of women you’d heard him mention before. Wondering if he thought any of them had something in common with you, and praying to God he didn’t kill them.

“Olivia Newton-John,”

Already, Eddie was descending into a fit of giggles.

“Why are you laughing? She’s pretty!”

Eddie launched into a falsetto rendition of the chorus from Grease’s Hopelessly Devoted to You, and you were instantly fighting the giggles too.

“Shut up! I’m not done yet. Olivia Newton-John… have you seen Fast Times?”

His response came in a tone of voice that was the vocal equivalent of a side-eye. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I don’t know if you know who Phoebe Cates is.”

“Oh,” Eddie sighed dreamily, “I know who Phoebe Cates is.”

You rolled your eyes, but chuckled nonetheless. “Okay then- Olivia Newton-John, Phoebe Cates, and Carrie Fisher.”

Eddie barked out a joyous “Ah!” before answering, “Well this is easy, Ace, say goodbye to Newton-John!”

You mock-gasped. “You’re killing Sandy?”

“I’m killing Sandy.”

“That is brutal. She was so innocent, too.”

Eddie squinted at the half-filled tattoo, smirking into his explanation. “Okay, I see the appeal, Ace, I truly do. That outfit at the end is killer.” He paused. Should he say it? Would he be too obvious if he did?

Ah, fuck it.

“I’m a sucker for a woman in red shoes, let me tell ya. However-” Eddie quickly glazed over that last sentence, as well as any opening you might have gotten to think about how that might relate to you. “-I’ve gotta fuck Phoebe Cates. Because… y’know-”

“Boobies?” you beat him to the punch.

Eddie confirmed with a matter-of-fact “Boobies.” He glanced up at your face for a moment, curious to see if he could read what you thought of his answers, but you were staring pensively at his ceiling, expression unreadable. “And you have to have known I was marrying Leia the moment she was an option.”

“You have a thing for Princess Leia?”

“Are you joking?” Eddie asked, incredulously. “How could I not? The woman’s the definition of a spitfire, she kicks ass and takes names. Not to mention, she’s got a thing for scoundrels.”

You hummed. “Do you think you’re a scoundrel, Eddie?”

“Well I’m certainly not a scruffy-looking nerf herder, I’ll tell you that much.”

You winced playfully, “A nerf herder you are not… but you are a bit scruffy.”

“You’ve got me there, princess.”

Eddie went silent. The nickname had just slipped out- all this talk of scoundrels and princesses and strong women who weren’t afraid of a fight and before he knew it, he was seeing more similarities between you and Leia than he’d realized were there before.

Princess had just seemed right. It just slipped out.

The line between friendship and dangerous territory had been so clearly drawn in Eddie’s mind before tonight. Where had he gone wrong? That once clear line was getting blurry.

Eddie was absolutely convinced that he would probably find a way to single handedly ruin your friendship before he was finished filling in your tattoo- which you would inevitably hate, because it would remind you of the asshole who you used to be friends with before he made things weird between you.

“My turn,” your voice cut through Eddie’s downward spiral, drawing a relieved sigh from him that tickled the skin of your thigh. “Let’s make this round more interesting. Only names of people from Hawkins.”

“Hm, that is interesting.” he mused, the needle inching its way toward the last remaining centimeter of bare skin left within the outline. “Let me think… Chief Hopper-”

You barked out a laugh, “Oh great start, Eds.”

“Chief’s a good looking guy! I don’t know why you’re laughing!” but Eddie was smiling ear to ear, delighted that his awkward apprehension had already begun to dissipate. “Principal Higgins-”

“Are you only going to give me old men as options?”

Eddie was going to do exactly that, because he didn’t want to picture you marrying or- God forbid- fucking any men in Hawkins that you might actually enjoy doing either of those things with. He wasn’t jealous, per se… but none of the shitheads in Hawkins were good enough for you. Eddie wasn’t even good enough for you; not yet, at least. He could picture a future version of himself one day taking his chances with you, once you’d both skipped town and found your way in some thriving city somewhere.

You were both too good for this place- you were the first person to make him think that about himself.

“What was that security guard’s name at the mall? Average joe looking guy? Quentin? Quincey?”

“Oh, you mean Quinn?”

“Knew his name started with a Q.” Eddie softly bit his bottom lip as he finished the last bit of your bat’s wing. “Hopper, Higgins, and Quinn. Those are your options.”

You groaned. “These choices suck, can I just kill them all?”

“I kinda like it when you go all bloodthirsty, Ace.”

You rolled your eyes before letting them flutter closed. “Ugh, well I’m obviously killing Higgins… he’s never been nice to you and all he cares about are school sports. I guess… I mean if I have to, I’ll fuck Hopper.”

Eddie was beside himself with giggles, “I mean, that’s one way to get out of a speeding ticket.”

“You’re lucky I can’t smack you right now.” You ignored Eddie’s snickering and continued. “And I don’t think I’d mind being married to Quinn, he always smiles at me and asks how my day was. Plus he’s kind of cute, he’s got nice hair.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose. “I don’t see it.”

You laughed, and the jingling tone of your voice suddenly sounded too loud as the buzzing of Eddie’s machine stopped.

“Alright, Ace,” Eddie announced, leaning back to survey his work. “Check out your new ink.”

You didn’t need to look at it again to know it would be perfect, but you looked anyway. You stood on your sleeping legs and gazed at the little black bat on your hip- it sat beautifully balanced on the skin framed by your high cut leotard, and you knew at once that you’d think of Eddie each time you saw it. This was exactly what you wanted- a daily reminder of exactly how he made you feel, of who he was to you.

At this moment, it dawned on you exactly what it was that Eddie made you feel. The way you always wanted to be around him, and the way he had become a balloon that inflated your chest every time he made you laugh, and how you knew- just knew- that you’d follow him anywhere if he asked.

You loved Eddie Munson. You were in love with him.

And you couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot at that little asymmetrical bat.

Taglist: @emma77645 , @rustboxstarr, @josephquinnsfreckles, @rozxartaki, @sheneedsrocknroll92

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #stranger things fic #impossible to hate you #ithy #friends to enemies to lovers #friends to lovers

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missuswalker · 5 months

Text

missed you || tate langdon x reader

✮ summary: you left him alone all day, did you expect him NOT to snoop? he just missed you

✮ warnings: sexual references, tate being a gaslighter, short, not proofread

note: this isn’t my best work, i’m trying to break my writers block LMAODHUNDUUND (request, i need ideas)

tate hated school. it’s not like he had to go, but it kept you from him. eight grueling hours all by himself. he didn’t have much to do to pass the time, either. think about you, talk about you, write about you. today was different, though. he hadn’t seen you since thursday morning. it was friday. where the hell were you? he was going crazy.

he walked through the door of your room, peeking inside. still the same way you’d left it. clothes on the floor and notebooks out on the desk. he shouldn’t. you’d be mad. the last time he snooped around, you yelled at him. then again, what did you possibly have to hide from him?

he shuts the door behind him, walking towards your desk. he flips through the notebooks full of vocabulary and math equations, a few doodles and song lyrics as well. your loopy handwriting made him smile, his name in cursive letters on a random page. he shuts the notebook, turning to your dresser. opening the first drawer, he finds something he was hoping to see.

he’d deny he was a perv whenever the thought came into his mind, but as he stuffed a pair of panties into his pocket, he couldn’t exactly justify why it wasn’t a perverted action. he’d simply say, “it’s my girlfriend’s, it’s fine.” after exploring your drawers a bit more, he quickly grows bored. instead, he moves to the closet. more clothes, shoes, and random trinkets filled the shelves, though nothing caught his eye.

“tate?”

oh, shit. he was in big trouble.

“y/n, where were you? you said you’d always tell me if you wouldn’t be back after school,” he says, immediately guilt tripping you to distract you from the fact that he was just rummaging through your things. “i stayed at a friend’s house, we were working on our project. what are you doing?”

god, he had missed your voice.

“you didn’t even tell me that you were staying at a friend’s house.” he was avoiding the question, typical tate behavior. when you roll your eyes, he grows frustrated, his fingers tapping against his thigh. “it’s not that serious, tate, i was gone for a day, i’m not going to come all the way home just to let you know where i am 24/7,” you huff, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“well, if you don’t want me to worry about you, just break up with me! i know you want to,” he shouts, bringing out the tears. you knew exactly what he was doing, yet you couldn’t stop yourself for falling into his trap again and again. “tate, i’m not gonna break up with you, i just don’t want you going through myself when i’m not here,” you sigh, putting a hand on his arm.

“i wasn’t going to, i just missed you, i didn’t have anything to do,” he defends, though he doesn’t pull away. he was getting just what he wanted, you to feel bad for him. “i’m sorry,” you frown, rubbing his arm. you had nothing to be sorry for, but it’s what he wanted to hear.

he gives you a pout, looking at you with those big eyes. god, it was never that serious. he walks into your arms, resting his head on your shoulder. “you still love me, right?” he asks. he knew you did. he just wanted to hear you say it. that’s a win in his head. “yes, tate, i still love you,” you says, rubbing the boys back. how did he do this so well? you were just mad at him! “i love you too. just stop leaving me for so long.”

y’all this did not eat, trust i will put out something better

i’m BEGGING the evan fans to find me PLEASSEE

#evan peters x reader #ahs murder house #tate langdon #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon x y/n #ahs murder house x reader #american horror story #y’all i need evan requests #kai anderson x reader #kit walker x reader #kyle spencer x reader #james march x reader #murder house

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joshlmbrt · 11 days

Note

i am in the middle of a charlie walker brainrot so. hear me out on this req. what if he had the biggest crush on the reader, like writing all his thoughts about reader in a diary or something. and reader finds the diary. you can decide the rest

charlie walker brainrot you say? (i am as well). thank you for this request!! sorry it took so long! i hope i do it justice! <3 w; fem!reader - anyone can read though, i barely use descriptions :) (you can change the pronouns to your liking!) fluffy!

the door flies open, causing your brows to lift slightly and charlie’s hair to jostle at the movement.

“did you forget i was coming?”

“what? no, no. of course not. i-i was just - uh - i was finishing up on homework.”

wrong.

he was writing in his journal about how you looked today and how he could barely even speak. he’d gotten every answer wrong when called on because he was only thinking about you.

“mhm,” your left brow stays slightly lifted as you give an accusatory up and down causing him to shift on his legs. “so… are we gonna watch those cheesy horror movies you picked out? or do you want me to just stand on your doorstep?”

he thinks you’re serious or upset with him, but he notices the teasing smile that makes its way onto your face. “no. sorry. come in,” he walks away. “i’ll get started on popping some popcorn and getting some other snacks. any drinks?”

“cherry coke?” you’re already halfway up the steps, stopping just to peek into the kitchen over the railing.

“of course.” he nods, watching you disappear up the steps. he lets out a little sigh, tossing the unpopped kernels into the microwave, pressing 2, the smell of butter filling his nose.

meanwhile, you make yourself comfortable on his flannel sheets, rolling onto your stomach and grabbing the tapes on his nightstand he had rented for your movie night, a journal falling to the ground.

‘DO NOT OPEN’ was written with black ink, several lines going over the lettering which makes it look slightly indented.

your brows lift, head tilting as you pick it up from the ground. your eyes cast a look towards the door you’d kept slightly open, before looking back towards the journal that you’re clearly not gonna look in.

you chew at the inside of your cheek, letting out a dejected sigh. “sorry, charlie…” he shouldve had a locked diary at least.

your interest was piqued when you noticed a little doodle on the first page. charlie was quiet about his talents - writing? wonderful. small drawings or doodles? believe it or not, he was great at them.

your fingers run over the doodle of yourself, a small smile pulling at your lips. you slowly turn the page and read the date before the chicken scrawl that was charlie walker’s handwriting.

‘it’s infuriating really - how she doesn’t know. about how i crave the affection she can give me, yet i still run from it. it’s not her fault really, she didn’t decide to be a loveable creature with pretty eyes and-‘

the journal is yanked from your hands, your eyes wide as you stare at charile who’s face is red and eyes turned down in embarrassment.

“can’t you read?” he points to the front.

“i definitely can…” you nod. “i… did you mean those things?”

he lets his shoulders slump and allows himself to sit next to you because this is probably the last time you’d want to be around a creep like him.

nothing he wrote or drew is remotely something an actual creep would do - yet he can’t help but think about how disgusted you might feel.

“yeah,” he shrugs. “for…for awhile - i think?” he never looks up once and you wish he would so you can look at him. “i…im sorry. i know you probably don’t like the way i wrote about you or-or-”

“charlie…” your hand reaches for his. he finally looks up, hesitating and pursing his plush red lips. you smile softly, your thumb moving along his knuckles as you scoot closer. “can i… kiss you?”

his brain short circuits and his lips part, brows lifting slightly at the words because he wasn’t expecting you to say that. “i…uh, yeah. sure. why not?”

you smile at his stumbled on words, leaning closer, eyes fluttering close as your lips brush against his. it’s hesitant because it’s still so new. his lips press against yours finally, hand reaching up and cupping your cheek with more sure movements.

he sucks in a deep breath, tilting his head and your head the way he wants to go, thumb pressing into the soft skin of your flushed cheek. you smile against his lips, pulling away slowly and resting your forehead against his.

“does…that mean you like me too?”

you laugh softly, your own hands lifting and tucking his hair behind his ears before holding his cheeks and rubbing your thumb over his cheekbone. “i believe it does, walker.”

#cherry writes ✿#charlie walker x fem!reader #charlie walker x reader #charlie walker x you #rory culkin x fem!reader #rory culkin x reader

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leavemeslowly · 1 month

Text

III. queen of peace

Pairing: Susie Glass x Edward Horniman

TV show: The Gentlemen (2024)

word count: 1472

warnings: angst, alcohol consumption, not-super-graphic smut, love/hate? relationship

„The queen of peace

Always does her best to please

Is it any use?

Somebody’s gotta lose"

Susie and Eddie become partners, tell each other some dark truths and well… Susie listens to him against her better judgement.

Susie and Eddie stumbled into his office, laughing about something that Freddie shouted after them when they left the party happening in the living room.

Eddie closed the doors behind them and moved to the front of his desk where he hid a certain document. He handed Susie a blue fountain pen and asked her to sign. Naturally, not with her real signature because that could prove their professional relationship to the authorities. She signed with a doodle of a gun. He then drew a middle finger next to it. Their deal was done. They were in business, together.

„So, now we are equals?”, Eddie asked after he put the document inside of a safe hidden behind one of many paintings purchased by his father. Susie smiled enigmatically.

„Ta, I suppose we are. I will miss giving you orders."

"I am sure you will continue giving them anyway.” Eddie moved to a mini bar and poured them drinks. She smiled at him, thinking that he was probably right. Susie also knew that he will be more than happy to take them.

“Any plans what you want to do first?” She asked when he gave her a full glass.

“No”, She lifted her eyebrows. “I mean I do, but not today. Anyone ever told you, you are a workaholic?”

That is why she appreciated his companionship. He wasn’t afraid to challenge her and say it as it was.

“No.” Her expression changed to a more serious one. "Everyone else is too scared to tell me the truth."

“I am not afraid of you.” He searched for her eyes and his voice softened as if there was another dimension to his words. „I know what you are capable of when I pushed you. I have learnt my lesson.”

Susie sat in an armchair behind his desk and looked very pleased with herself taking his place.

„When I told Gospel the truth about his brother what led to his visit on your estate, I did it because you lied to me. I was angry at you, Eddie. It was personal. Don’t betray me again.”

Eddie nodded and moved closer to her. He leaned on his desk when looking down on her and not knowing how to respond to her confession. Admittedly, he was surprised by it. She sounded hurt rather than angry but he didn’t pointed that out aloud.

„I told Johnston, back when I still considered his support that I do not want any of your family members hurt. Of course, you too, Susie.” He paused to catch her eye and ensure she understands. „I don’t want to fight.” She looked up and met his eyes with openness he wasn’t prepared for.

„Is there anything you want then?”

„You know I want a lot of things.” He answered vaguely but not without understanding the hints she was dropping. „And it is all your fault.”

„Oh, really? I don’t think it is, Edward. I think you have always wanted it all. Military, this whole protector of your family act were meant to conceal your ambition. You don’t have to hide from me. We have already showed each other our darkest colours.”

Eddie was blindsided by her words that caused all of his pretences to tumble and crush into pieces. She stripped him of his defences with few punctuated words. Susie knew it and couldn’t contain her smirk of satisfaction.

“Always so smug, aren’t you?” Eddie countered gracelessly. She rolled her eyes and raised from her seat. Her words were the first loud declaration of his deepest and most sinister thoughts. “You don’t what to hear what I have to say?”

“No, not particularly.”

Eddie knew better so raised to his height and looked down on her. Her perfume lingered around him and the truth was he was under her spell not other way around. Nevertheless, he will try to even out the odds.

“You have it all, right? You are immaculate in protecting your empire but not for yourself, not really. For your brother, your father. You have a fucked up notion of obligation from which you can’t free yourself. You should want something just for you, Susie. Something substantial because I know you are not easily satisfied. Is there anything you would want? Anything I can give you, perhaps?”

Susie’s expression changed but she still was almost rigid. She had her head slightly tilted so she could gaze on his face. Finally, she slowly leaned in. Her hand landed on his lapel.

“You have no idea what you are asking for.”

He inched closer to her face and slowly, testing the waters, placed his hand on her cheek. Susie shivered at his touch, probably because of a coldness of his signet. Her eyelashes fluttered when she felt his breath on her lips. Eddie wanted to ruin her perfectly painted red lipstick which tempted him so many times before. He knew it will happen but the wait was crushing.

“Come on, Susie, tell me. What is that you want?” He caressed her cheek trying to encourage her to relax. “Should I give you an idea?”

He noticed the way her throat bobbed trying to mute any unwanted sounds. It was satisfying, going exactly in the direction he imagined.

“You should just kiss me, Edward, and stop teasing. For your own good.” Susie regained her old self and an ounce of self-composure.

Her words were like a sound of a gun being fired. Eddie crushed his lips to her. She immediately responded with need he didn’t anticipate. Still, her taste, her small noises were like magic. Until this moment, he didn’t realise how much he missed closeness and simplicity of a touch. This need was pathetic. He called out Susie on her weaknesses but he wasn’t better when he turned them around and pinned her to his desk and manoeuvred her to sit on it.

„You do justice to your family name, Eddie” Susie mumbled between their kisses. If he could, he would roll his eyes but just laughed, too busy kissing down her throat. Her fingers slipped into his hair, tugging it and he could not contain his moan. „So you like it like that? Not so tough anymore."

„You are talking too much, Susan.” Eddie raised his gaze to her stormy eyes. She slowly smiled but could not conceal desire looming there.

Her fingers slowly circled his tie and pulled it forcing him to kiss her again, but slower, according to her own want. She took it off and untucked first buttons of his shirt. Eddie's hands roamed over her back, then down her things and back up under he vest. Suddenly, she almost sobbed into his mouth. He discovered she wasn’t wearing anything under it so his cold fingers came into contact with her bare skin.

Her jacket dropped to the floor next. Before she could react, Eddie was moving her to stand in front of him and brace her palms on the desk. He wanted to evaporate her thoughts, end her worries and let her finally relax. He pressed himself to her back and she moaned feeling him tall and unyielding.

It was right how she fitted between his arms, almost a head lower and staring up into his eyes. Her own were glazed with pure want that if necessary would send Eddie to another war. He touched her jaw to draw her to him and kiss her thoroughly while his other hand embraced hers. Their fingers intertwined and she gasped when his hand slid down her throat to slowly embrace her breast and pleasure her with his touch. He observed her opened mouth and small cries she let out.

„Eddie, it is too much.”

„So do you know now what you want?” He was teasing but he needed her to voice her desires. Perhaps, it was not strictly necessary knowing his own desperate craving but he wanted her to have it burned in her memory. That it was her own decision to fuck him and let him close enough to see her vulnerability. He did not want regrets and another cause for war.

„Eddie...” She didn’t want to admit it aloud. Still, she tried to express it when he forced her to look at him and saw her eyelids half closed and felt her slow grinding against him.

„Say it, Susie, God, please say it.” He was slowly losing a fight he began when she on the other hand was regaining control. It was her turn to foreshadow all the things she could do to him. Against his better judgement, he clutched her thigh and finally pushed into her ass. Not expecting that, she abruptly tilted her head back onto his arm and thrusted back with more fierceness.

„Yes, Eddie, yes, do your worst."

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ilguna · 1 year

Text

☼ lovable friend (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; you thought you and Finnick were nothing but friends, while he was developing feelings for you the entire time.

warnings; swearing, high school au, emotional cheating.

wc; 2.4k

–

The only reason why you refuse to let your English teacher move you from the back of the class anymore, is solely because she placed Finnick Odair in front of you. If it weren’t for him, you would’ve begged to be moved closer to the window by now.

There’s something about him that makes the class go by faster. There’s never been a day that you don’t look forward to coming in. He’s always the first person to greet you with a smile when you walk in. And his attention doesn’t leave you, because he’ll turn around in his seat just to ask you how your day’s been so far.

In a way, you’d consider him to be one of your closest friends, despite never hanging out with each other outside of the classroom. You’ll see him in passing periods, at lunch you’ll spot him across the room, and you share a few mutual friends like Johanna and Peeta. Still, you’re never at the same place at the same time, except for here.

And today, he’s nowhere to be seen.

Which is fine, of course. You’ve missed a few days of school yourself. However, each time, you managed to find yourself feeling a little absent because you missed your piece of sunshine for the day. A bright smile, the crinkle at the corners of his eyes, his contagious laugh.

You push yourself to the end of the day to see him, because he can make your day better than anyone else you know. You wonder if he feels the same way that you do, sitting on the edge of his seat, waiting for you to round the corner. While you brace yourself to hear his shout.

You’ll survive without staring at his bronze hair for the entirety of class, dodging his head to see the board for even a second. Maybe you’ll finally understand a lesson enough to not have to ask for his notes, teasing him about the fact that the two of you should switch seats.

You sigh, doodling a flower in the corner of your paper. It’s going to be a long hour.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Cashmere asks. You assume she’s talking to someone else, probably Enobaria. Her newest boyfriend is a weightlifter. You’re not sure how she finds him attractive. “Hey, I’m talking to you.”

You’re in the middle of drawing another flower, this one intertwined with the first, when the side of your desk is kicked by a white tennis shoe. You pause what you’re doing, taking in a breath through your nose, before turning to look at Cashmere. Not only is she looking at you, but so is Enobaria and Gloss.

These three are the reason why you would’ve moved closer to the window a long time ago. They’re loud and annoying. You’re not sure who decided they should be the popular and well-known friend group of your grade for all these years, but they chose the worst. Out of all the people you’ve tried to make friends out of, they were the first you got rid of.

Which is a shame, because you like having friends in all corners of the school, in case you need to pull a favor out of thin air. It’s worked, the yearbook team has already agreed that you’ll be nominated for the ‘lovable friend’ title, which is something you’ve been gunning for since your freshman year.

Cashmere, Gloss, and Enobaria are just plain mean, though. There’s no point caring about their opinions, because you already know how everyone else feels about you, and that’s all that matters. They must’ve figured this out, though. It’s why they try to get under your skin at every chance they’re given.

“Where’s yours?” You shoot back, watching Cashmere’s nose crinkle.

Enobaria looks you up and down, “Maybe he finally got tired of you.”

“Not as tired as I am of hearing your nasally voice.” You roll your eyes.

“Ouch, that one really hurt.” Cashmere mocks, flickering her curls over her shoulder.

They don’t say anything else, so you go back to your flowers, trying to make this one more detailed. It doesn’t work, it looks like the other flower, which loosely resembles a daisy. You try to draw a tulip, or a rose, and they all fall flat, so you settle on erasing it all, leaving a dark smudge on the corner of your paper.

“Johanna, I told you to drop it.” A familiar voice snaps.

Your eyes dart up, you straighten up at your desk at the sight of Finnick, who’s clearly agitated by his best friend. Johanna’s a hard person to make a friend out of. She’s like Cashmere in a way, but less bitchy and more straight-forward. While Cashmere has a tendency to be mean behind people’s backs, Johanna has no problem airing her issues to your face.

“It’s kinda hard to drop it when Annie’s been hounding me for the past two weeks.” She snarls. Following Finnick up the aisle. He briefly locks eyes with you, and immediately his face twists at the sight of you.

You sit back in your seat, crossing your arms.

“I don’t know what she wants from me. I broke up with her.” He drops his bag on the floor carelessly, the strap whips your ankle, you let out a hiss. In return, both Johanna and Finnick glare at you.

There’s an uneasy feeling rising in your stomach, so you avert your eyes and try to rub at your ankle without drawing too much attention to yourself. It stings for a few seconds. When you’re done, you pull out your phone to scroll through tweets while they argue. You know, to give them the false idea of privacy.

“She wants a reason, Finnick.”

“I don’t have to give her a reason.” Finnick shakes his head. “I like someone else, it’s as plain as that.”

“Except, you’ve been dating her for three and a half years!” Johanna suddenly bursts, slapping her hands onto his desk. A few students around her quiet briefly, before trying to resume their conversation. You wince at her tone, partially wishing you could disappear into thin air when she sends you another look. “And now you have a crush on miss—!”

Finnick stands up from his seat, getting within inches of Johanna’s face. You can’t stare at your phone, gritting your teeth, slightly afraid for her. You’ve only seen this side of Finnick when he gets competitive. It’s almost like he becomes a completely new person.

“Don’t.” The word is firm.

The bell rings. Your teacher normally sits next door until the bell rings, so it’s only a matter of time before she comes into the classroom. Despite this, neither of them move, and it’s arguably the longest thirty seconds of your life. It looks like they’re playing a game of chicken, as if Johanna’s trying to see if Finnick’s bluffing, but he holds his position.

It’s only when the sound of heels on tile is heard, does she finally move. “You don’t even know her, Finnick.” She shakes her head, and then heads to her seat. She used to sit to his left, but got moved up front when her grade dropped. She pays more attention to her phone than she does the class.

“Go ahead and take her side, Johanna. It shows what kind of friend you are.” He says back.

She sends him a look over her shoulder.

Finnick makes sure she doesn’t turn around to retaliate, before he bothers to sit in his seat again, back facing you. You were halfway expecting him to finally say something to you, but that fight obviously has something to do with you. JOhanna blatantly glared, and she’s right, it’s not like Finnick to break up with Annie. He gushes about her too often for that. And yet…

You bounce between staring out the window and writing down what little notes you can see on the board. You can’t focus on what she’s trying to teach, so you hope that you’ll be able to make out the notes later on. If Johanna was implying that FInnick likes you… You try to keep track of time, counting down the minutes until your escape. You think it’ll be faster if you go around the back of the classroom instead of the front. Even if that means you run into Cashmere and Enobaria.

The worst part about this, is that you really don’t want to get caught up in whatever’s happening in their friend group. You know Annie, and Blight for that matter too. They are a tight-knit group. When they get in fights with each other, it’s usually a big blowout, because they don’t fight often.

Annie and Finnick have been together since freshman year. They’ve been elected homecoming king and queen of your class every year so far. The yearbook group was talking about putting them on the ‘perfect couple’ page. If they’ve actually broken up, it’s going to be the most talked about subject of the school.

And if Finnick did it for you—not saying that he did, but you have a strong feeling that it’s the case—then you can kiss that yearbook title goodbye, as well as most of your friends. The last thing you want to be is on everyone’s shit list because Finnick developed feelings for you. You never thought that you’d care about status this much, but it’s the only thing you have going for her.

Besides, the idea of the Finnick Odair having a crush on you is a joke of itself. He’s gorgeous, and funny, and a complete dreamboat of a boyfriend. He’s the epitome of popularity, everyone knows his name. You can ask anyone how they feel about him, and all good things would come out of them. If you asked who his soulmate is, they’d all say Annie.

You let out a quiet laugh to yourself, hiding your face in your hands.

You need to stop thinking about this before you get your feelings hurt. Finnick doesn’t like you. He’s just a friend. There’s probably another girl that he’s got his eyes on, and Johanna was just mad because you were clearly eavesdropping. Although, maybe she should consider lowering her voice next time if she doesn’t want you listening in.

As soon as the bell rings, signaling the end of class, you shoot to your feet. Your bag’s swung over your shoulder, and you’re turning to leave, when a hand grips onto your wrist like an iron lock. You don’t move from where you stand, staring at the bookcase in front of you, before closing your eyes.

“(Y/n), can we talk?” Finnick asks, fingers loosening.

You take in a shaky breath, forcing a smile while you turn around. You don’t look at him first, though. You find Johanna, nose flaring, face turning a shade of red at the sight of the two of you. When she meets her eyes, she shakes her head at you, telling you not to do it.

“Don’t look at her.” Finnick murmurs. You find a small smile on his face, and he’s doing the thing where he looks through his lashes.

You swallow thickly, wondering if you can smother the butterflies that are swarming in your stomach. “Um—only for a minute, I’ve got something planned with Katniss and Peeta.”

“Unbelievable.” Johanna sighs, stomping out of the room.

Finnick lets go of your wrist, which feels bare without the warmth of his palm. Your teacher looks up at the clock, before clearing her throat. “I’m going to the teacher’s lounge for a minute, Finnick. When your club gets here, can you let them know?”

“Of course.” Finnick smiles, “Can you shut the door? I need to talk about a student council surprise with (Y/n), and I can’t have anyone listening in.”

“Not for long.” She gives him a pointed look. “Five minutes at most.”

“Five minutes.” He agrees.

On her way out the door, she sweeps up the door stopper. You and Finnick watch in silence as the door shuts tightly, sealing the two of you in here together. Five minutes begins.

You take in a breath first, “Please tell me that argument with Johanna had nothing to do with me.”

Finnick makes a face, tilting his head. “I really wish she hadn’t said that.”

“Well, you two were looking at me between sentences. It wasn’t subtle.” You murmur, rubbing your wrist.

He lets out a sigh, “Listen, I wanted to do it a different way, but Johanna has a way with ruining stuff when a situation doesn’t go the way she wants it.” Finnick gives you a smile, “I like you, a lot.”

You stare at him, waiting for him to laugh, a part of you hoping that this is some sort of cruel joke. There’s no way that he would throw away a three year relationship because of you. You almost never talk to him outside of this classroom, so what does he really know about liking you? He doesn’t even know you. Johanna’s right.

“Are you sure?” You ask, watching as he jerks back in shock. You keep your voice steady, “Because right now, it feels like you’re confessing on a whim. It’s been two weeks. I’m a rebound.”

“I’ve liked you for months.” He tells you, “I broke up with Annie because I want to be with you.”

You raise your eyebrows, staring at him wordlessly. This really has to be a prank.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why?”

“How could you like me, when the only time we talk in the day is this class?” You shake your head, “You see how you sound ridiculous?”

“(Y/n), you have listened to me more than Annie has in our whole relationship.” He sits up, “You’ll bring up stuff that I wouldn’t expect you to remember. You’re kind, and passionate, and beautiful—on the inside and out.”

You don’t know how he wants you to react. This is so surreal.

“Fine, don’t believe me.” He stands up, and your gaze directs up to continue to watch his eyes. “I’ll give you time, I’ll wait, because I have no issue doing that. Please, just think about it.”

There’s pounding at the classroom door, drawing the two of you out of the conversation. Finnick turns slightly, and you peer around him to see the faces of his friends, pressed against the glass. He lets out a sigh before turning back to you.

“Promise me that you’ll text me later.” He grabs your hands. They’re warm.

“I promise.” You whisper, “But this feels wrong, Finnick.”

“It doesn’t have to feel that way.”

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