#i know that i probably sound like i’m joking or exaggerating when i say that but i’m not

[eclipsedsuns]

i love you “do you think i care for you so little that betraying me would make a difference?” i love you “thank you for making me feel special” i love you “i have a duty of care” i love you “every time we do something like this, i keep thinking, ‘what if something happens to you?’” i love you “she might meet someone she can't bear to lose. that happens, i believe.” i love you “i’m changing history to save clara” i love you “i will not let clara die” i love you “i’d know you anywhere” i love you “when do i not see you?” i love you “there was a crowd too?” i love you “if you love me in any way, you’ll come back” i love you “i never said it was your mistake” i love you “because if clara oswald is really dead, then you'd better be very, very careful how you tell me” i love you “everything you’re about to say, i already know. don’t say it now. we’ve already had enough bad timing” i love you “if you think because she's dead, i am weak, then you understand very little. if you were any part of killing her and you're not afraid, then you understand nothing at all.” i love you “and you'll still be gone. whatever i do, you still won't be there.” i love you “four and a half billion years” i love you “i was dead! i was dead and gone. why? why would you even do that to yourself?” i love you “i had a duty of care” i love you “look how far i went for fear of losing you” i love you “i don’t think i could ever forget you” i love you “smile for me. go on, clara oswald. one last time” i love you “it’s okay. don’t you worry. i’ll remember it” i love you “if i met her again, i would absolutely know” i love you “you said memories become stories when we forget them. maybe some of them become songs” i love you “

#they make me violent batshit sick bonkers murderous crazy dizzy insane #the greatest love story ever told #(real) (unbiased) (fact) #i know that i probably sound like i’m joking or exaggerating when i say that but i’m not #to me they are have most compelling love story i’ve ever encountered #like. two people so perfect for each other but so terrible for each other #the two most emotionally incompetent people in the whole of time and space #they’re so if i loved you less i might be able to talk about it more #they’re so whatever souls are made of yours and mine are the same #they’re so i’ll take care of you it’s rotten work not to me not if it’s you #they’re so i love you it’ll pass #they’re so. GOD #there are so many more quotes i want to include in this #this is me practicing self control #theyre so. fucking. GOD. #top two characters i would send to therapy #favorite shows: doctor who #otp: i had a duty of care #shut up carley #clara oswald #twelve<3 #doctor who #twelveclara #whouffaldi

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (02)

chapter two: in plain sight

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut warnings: cursing, drinking, suggestive content at the end, could've been edited more but oh well lol word count: 4.9k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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Damn baby, I'm a train wreck, too I lose my mind when it comes to you I take time with the ones I choose And I don't want to smile if it ain't from you

boyfriend - Ariana Grande ft. Social House

You end up not seeing Minho, nor any of your other friends, at all in the few days leading up to Yeonjun’s party.

True to your words, you were mostly holed up in your place, running on nothing but caffeine and sheer frustration, trying to finish your elective class’ final paper on the differences between the views of Greek philosophers. Time really flies when you wish it would slow down, because you could've used a couple more days to perfect the godforsaken thing.

You’ve been texting Minho though, and honestly, the man is practically a saint. You barely even talked about anything besides your stupid paper and your high maintenance perfectionist professor, and yet, he still listened to you yap away. He even offered to help you with your footnotes and citations, which you didn’t need, but the gesture was nice. If you had turned to Seungmin with your whining, he probably would've muted your notifications after three messages.

Regardless, all complaining aside, you did manage to pull through and finish the paper in the end, letting out a big sigh of relief the very second you clicked on the Send button on yours and your professor’s email thread just five minutes before the deadline.

Before you know it, it's already Saturday and Minho should be here any minute now so you two could go to the party. You’ve been working hard. You deserve to let a little loose tonight.

Even though a college party isn’t exactly your top choice of ways to wind down from stress, the mention of free and unlimited booze sure does sound alluring.

When your phone lights up with a simple i’m here from Minho, you quickly throw on a cardigan over a simple black camisole and denim shorts and check your makeup in the mirror one last time before heading downstairs. He texted you a couple hours ago, saying he had some stuff to pick up near your place and asking if you wanted to walk to Yeonjun’s together. You sent him back an enthusiastic yes!!! in a matter of seconds, because lord knows you’d rather not enter the front door of that house unaccompanied. 

You opted for a simple fit tonight, mostly because you couldn’t be bothered to put on anything more decent only to go to the equivalent of a frat party.

“Hey, Min.” Your voice pulls him away from scrolling through his phone, diverting his attention to you instead.

“Hey,” he says, tucking the device into the pocket of his jeans. When he gives you a once-over, you do a little twirl for him, finishing off with an exaggerated kick of your foot at the end. “You look nice.”

“Just ‘nice’? I’m trying to get laid tonight. ‘Nice’ isn’t gonna cut it,” you joke.

He stares at you, a bashful expression befalling his features, the corner of his mouth lifted upward as he smiles in hubris. “You’re trying to get laid by whom?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “You tell me.”

He rolls his eyes affectionately before throwing an arm around your shoulders to pull you close. One of his hands musses up your hair that you spent twenty minutes trying to make look perfect, prompting you to poke him in the side so he would let go of you.

“Hey!” you scowl, smoothing over the strands that he flicked out of place. “I worked hard on that!”

“Sorry,” he chuckles, clearly amused by the temporarily sulky look on your face. “Didn’t want you to look too pretty. Can’t have all of the attention on you. Someone might try to steal you away from me.”

“Did it occur to you that maybe I want some attention tonight? I’ve been a hermit all week, I deserve a little something.”

“Is my attention not enough for you?”

You squint at him for a second. Then, you start walking in the direction of Yeonjun’s house without waiting for him. You hear Minho launch a laugh your way, and the scuffling of his shoes on the concrete pavement as he easily catches up with you in a few strides.

He leans down to whisper directly into your ear, making your cheeks heat up but you’re glad that they’re partially masked by the poorly lit street. “You know you never have to try.”

The walk to the party takes about fifteen minutes. When you’re rounding the street corner that leads to Yeonjun’s place, you can already hear the booming music coming from the biggest house on the block. Even from a distance, you can see people on the lawn and the two balconies on the second floor. You gotta give it to the guy - he sure knows how to throw a party.

The second you enter the premises, you’re almost taken aback by how crowded it actually is even though you expected this. A typical Yeonjun party.

You tug on Minho’s shirt, beckoning him to bend down so you could talk into his ear over the sounds of bad EDM and people basically having to scream in each other’s faces. “Are Hyunjin and the others here yet?” you ask.

“They got here right before us. I think they’re in-”

“Y/N!” The two of you whip around at the sound of a shrill voice calling out your name. Yeonjun practically shoves his way through the crowd of people when he spots you, bounding up to you and Minho with a bright grin on his face. “Glad you could make it!” he says, paying no mind to the man next to you at all. He eyes you up and down, shamelessly tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. “Damn, you look really good tonight.”

You give him a playful eye roll. Nonetheless, you still tell him, “Thanks.”

“You look that good to come to my party?”

You don’t mind at all the fact that Yeonjun is a natural flirt. That’s just a part of his personality, he’s inherently charming like that. It’s harmless and it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. Everything is all in good fun.

“Would you believe me if I said this is what I’d wear on a midnight convenience store run?”

“Ouch, you wound me.” Yeonjun says, holding a hand over his heart to emphasize his point. “C’mon, you can admit it.”

You open your mouth, a quick comeback about to be thrown his way but Minho chimes in from beside you.

“You should believe her,” he deadpans, stepping closer to you, one of his hands grazing your back. He's even standing straighter, with his chest all puffed out. “She even dresses like that when she takes out the trash.”

You turn to gasp at him before punching him right in the pec. “Hey!” Yeonjun is all but forgotten in a blink of an eye, because you have to defend your honor first.

“What? I’ve seen you do it wearing this exact same outfit.”

“Stop lying. It’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? I distinctly remember you wearing this when you went to take out the trash that night a couple of weeks ago while we were hanging out at your place.”

“Nuh uh. I didn’t take out the trash that night,” you protest, frowning. “I made you throw it out for me on your way-”

Yeonjun interrupts you with a chuckle, glancing between you and Minho as he gives your friend's shoulder an awkward pat. They share a look that you don’t quite understand. “Alright, duly noted. I’m gonna make myself scarce,” he says. “Help yourselves. Booze is in the kitchen!”

After you’ve finally squeezed your way into the kitchen that’s overflowing with people, you narrow your eyes at Minho. “What was that about?”

“What?” He scans the selection of liquor bottles on the kitchen island before asking you, “Rum and Coke?”

Your favorite.

You nod eagerly, momentarily distracted before you have to circle back to your question.

“What was all that back there with Yeonjun, Mr. Grumpy Cat?”

“What was what?” He pulls out two solo cups from a nearby stack, along with some napkins, and meticulously wipes the plastic cups even though they look pretty clean to you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You raise a disbelieving eyebrow. He shrugs.

“I didn’t know you and Yeonjun were that close.” Minho seems casual as he tells you this, not looking at you as he fetches the necessary liquor and soda from the sea of glass and plastic bottles in front of you.

“We’re not. I’m kinda friends with him because Jess is friends with him.”

“Okay,” he acknowledges, though he doesn’t seem entirely pleased with… you don’t even know what. “I don’t like him. He’s loud.”

“That’s not a reason. Aren’t you friends with him too?”

You watch as he mixes your drinks, a sight you’re familiar with whenever you attend house parties together. He’s always your designated bartender.

One for you, one for him.

One part rum, two and a half parts coke.

“It is a reason. And ‘friends’ is a stretch,” he says, handing you your cup before he tends to his own. His has less liquor in it, because you both know you like yours stronger. “We’re acquaintances at best.”

“You’re loud too.”

“My brand of loud is different.”

“Is it?”

He gives you a look. An offended cat, if you’ve ever seen one.

“Well, Yeonjun’s not bad,” you tell him. You take a sip of the drink, then give him a subsequent thumbs-up. “He can be a bit much for some people, but I don’t really mind it.”

When he’s done, you both try to navigate the battlefield that is Yeonjun’s extremely cramped abode. You try to stay as close to him as possible, meaning away from the loud boys that are either trying to get shitfaced as quickly as possible, or trying to suck faces with any girl they could find as quickly as possible.

“Still. You don’t think the flirting was a bit much?”

Minho pulls you to him by your elbow when some guy - probably a little more than tipsy, judging by the unsteadiness of the legs that carry him - tries to bulldoze his way through the crowd behind you.

“He’s always like that. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s harmless.”

“If he asks you out, would you say yes?”

You blink at him in surprise, feeling like the question came out of nowhere. “What kind of question is that?”

“It’s just a question,” he says, then repeats himself. “So, if he asks you out, would you say yes?”

You let him guide you to a spot that’s more breathable, where people aren’t practically on top of each other trying to weave their way through. You think about it for a second, then realize that there isn’t much to think about. “No,” you say decisively.

Because it doesn’t make sense to envision you and Yeonjun together. You practically sit on two opposing ends of the same spectrum. People often say that opposites attract, but this isn’t one of those cases.

And… because you simply feel strange thinking about yourself and someone else. Like it's something you shouldn't do.

Minho gives you a hum in acknowledgment of your answer, which you barely catch over the loudness of the party. You do catch the hint of a smile that tugs at the corner of his lip though, before he cranes his neck to scan the room for any trace of your gang of thieves.

“If I didn’t know any better,” you run the words over in your head before you decide to utter them out loud. Like you told him just now, harmless, right? “I’d say you’re jealous of Yeonjun.”

He turns, stares at you for a moment with unreadable eyes. 

“And what if I am?”

There’s something incredulous in the way you look at him. You think he would just wave you off or roll his eyes and move onto a new topic, not expecting him to fire back with a question you can’t really answer.

Or maybe he’s just playing along. You can’t tell.

“Am I that good in bed?” you chuckle, hoping he doesn’t notice the inkling of nervousness in your voice. “Did I do a number on you?”

He raises both eyebrows, pursing his lips as if in thought. Then, he answers, “Something like that.”

There’s a part of you that wants to dig deeper, to get him to say what he really means because there’s something in his eyes and there’s something in the way that his hand has moved to its designated place on the small of your back that makes your stomach roll with anticipation.

Again, you don’t like that he keeps getting harder for you to read.

You try to think of words to say, of questions to ask, though you know this party isn’t the best place to voice them. “What d-”

“There you are!” Hyunjin pops up from behind Minho, practically jumping onto his back like a jumpscare ghost in a horror game, startling the both of you and almost making the grumpy cat spill his drink. Minho groans as he tries to shove his friend off, before sending Hyunjin a glare that makes the man bow his head in apology. He promptly drags you to where your friends are gathered on a big couch near the back of the room - Chan and his girlfriend Jess, Seungmin, Changbin, along with a distinct absence of a few more faces.

“Where are the others?” you ask, plopping down next to Changbin, followed suit by Minho.

“Jisung is stuck finishing a project,” Chan informs you. “And Jeongin is taking his girl to that new drive-in movie place.”

“They’re still in their honeymoon phase?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Ah yes, young love. Good for them.”

You catch up with everyone about your week, about their week; gossip about how much Yeonjun might’ve spent on this party and where his family’s downright insane wealth actually comes from, about Seungmin’s on-and-off situationship (which might be more interesting than all of the above).

Minho remains seated next to you the entire time you’re all drinking and laughing with each other. He keeps subtly touching you one way or another - a hand on your back because no one’s really noticing, a shoulder brushing yours, a thigh touching yours, a knee nudging your own every now and then.

It’s not until you finish your drink that Minho asks if you want another one, then stands up to head to the kitchen when you say Yes, please.

The second he’s out of earshot, Hyunjin jumps into action, motioning for everyone to huddle together, like he’s about to share classified information.

“Minho is seeing someone,” he says immediately. 

“What?” Changbin asks. You hope he doesn’t notice the way your body immediately stiffens at the conversation’s sudden turn. You try to look as nonchalant and quiet as possible, as if this is just a talk about the weather, missing the way a pair of eyes flits to you outside of your peripheral vision.

Hyunjin purses his lips, before clarifying, “I went through his phone last week.”

“You went through his phone?” Chan frowns, shaking his head disapprovingly. “That’s not cool, dude.”

“He was in the bathroom and his phone was just sitting there unlocked. Then he got a text and I had to!” Hyunjin holds up his hands defensively. “Anyway, I don’t know if they’re dating or if they’re just fooling around, but there is someone! He’s simping hard.”

“How do you know that?” Seungmin chimes in. “Do you even know who it is?”

“I don’t know who it is. That’s what I need you guys to help me find out. There wasn’t a name name. He just calls her his-”

“What on earth are you guys doing?” Minho’s voice makes everyone disperse, leaning back into their respective seats like they were caught doing something they shouldn’t. He sits down beside you again, handing you your cup back. You give him an appreciative but awkward smile. “What is Hyunjin blabbing about this time?”

“Nothing!” Hyunjin practically squeaks. The poor guy can’t spin a little white lie to save his life. Then he has the audacity to look offended as he gapes, “Also, why did you automatically assume it was me?”

“Because it’s always you at the scene of the crime.”

“It happened one time! No, twice. It was only those two ti-!”

Seungmin cuts in flatly. “He said you’re whipped for a girl you’re seeing.”

Everyone stops to stare at Minho. Even you turn your head to look at him, trying to gauge how he’ll respond to this. It makes you a little guilty, seeing that you’re part of the secret too, and yet he has to shoulder the lies by himself.

Well, technically, there hasn’t been any lying involved up until now. Just a simple withholding of the truth.

His face hardens for a brief moment, and you think he lets it show on purpose - his way of telling Hyunjin that he’s annoyed - because Minho can put on a flawless poker face when he wants to. There’s a couple of seconds where he clenches his jaw before he relaxes, the sharpness of his features softening as he shrugs off the accusation. “I am most certainly not whipped for anyone,” he says. “It’s just a casual thing.”

“If it’s just casual, why were you being so secretive about it, huh?” Hyunjin prods. 

“I wasn’t being secretive. I just didn’t think it was anybody’s business,” Minho answers coolly. 

“We’re your best friends! I tell you guys everything.”

“You sure do. Even things I’d rather not hear about.”

Jess and Changbin burst into light laughter, and you chuckle along with them but you don’t really find it that funny. You’re just trying to blend into the background, be a fly on the wall and observe how things unfold. Minho has assured you that there’s nothing for you to worry about, that there’s no way they could find out about the secret, but still.

Hyunjin groans exasperatedly. The nosiest drama queen you know. “Seriously, who’s the girl? I’m dying of curiosity here!”

“Drop it.” Minho glares at him.

“Just give me a hint! Is it someone we know?”

“You haven’t eaten tissues in a while, have you?”

“Try me. I’m not scared of you anymore.”

“Hyunjin, I swear to-”

“Okay!” Chan claps his hands together suddenly. “Let’s just all agree that we are all entitled to our privacy and people can share whatever they want with whoever they want when they’re comfortable, yeah?”

Everyone nods in agreement, except for Hyunjin who narrows his eyes petulantly at Minho as if to say This isn’t over. No one wants to poke a disgruntled tiger, let alone about something he seems so disinterested in sharing. Minho has always been a notoriously private person, even with the rest of the group.

Changbin shuffles a new topic into the mix to move things along, which you aren’t very keen on contributing to at the moment. When no one seems to be looking, Minho places a hand on your knee, rubbing it soothingly as if he can sense the unease that you’re feeling. It makes you glance at him, though neither of you says anything. You just look at each other for a moment, then turn back to the group when someone calls your name.

Two hours and three rum and coke’s later, you were coming down from a good high when someone suggested ditching Yeonjun’s party to go to a club.

Normally, you would say no. You could only do one social event at a time, needing to recharge your metaphorical battery before you let yourself be dragged into the next one.

But you decided to make an exception for tonight.

Though, you promptly realized that it was probably a mistake.

You prefer the loudness of Yeonjun’s party than here. It’s loud and crowded, since it’s a Saturday night, and since it’s a club. The air is sticky and stuffy. The lights are perpetually blinding and headache-inducing. You’re not even on the dancefloor; you’re just hovering near the entrance and the bar, and there’s still barely any room to move. People keep trying to shove you out of their way, even with Minho attempting to act as your human shield. 

You let your displeasure be known through a deep frown.

Minho catches onto your chagrin almost immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asks, leaning close to your ear to make sure you hear him over the music.

“Too many people,” you try to raise your voice so the booming noises don’t drown you out. “Can we go somewhere over there?”

He turns around, taps on Chan’s shoulder to get his attention before gesturing vaguely to that spot near the back that you just pointed out to him, presumably to let the others know that you’ll be wandering over there.

He takes your hand and leads the way. In the back, it’s still loud but less deafening than before, and much less crowded compared to the areas surrounding the dance floor.

“Better?” he asks.

You lean against the wall though you probably shouldn’t. The ick is apparent, but at this point in the night, you yourself are already feeling pretty gross anyway.

“A little bit,” you say. “Thanks.”

“You wanna go home? We can leave if you want.”

“Without saying goodbye?”

“Did you know that people who leave parties without saying goodbye save two days a year? It’s been researched.”

You rephrase your words so Minho would understand better. “Without Hyunjin’s permission?”

“Hyunjin has been pissing me off plenty all week. I can play my card for you.”

“What card?”

“The ‘I don’t give a fuck’ card.”

You tilt your head, clearly amused. “And how does that usually work out for you?”

“I don’t care how it works out because Hyunjin is not gonna do anything to me.” He shrugs. “Besides, I can always just throw him in the airfryer when he gets too annoying.”

This makes you laugh, recalling the exact moment Minho brought up the legendary instructions on how to cook Hyunjin.

“How violent,” you comment with a snort.

“He deserves it.”

“You know you still have a soft spot for him,” you say.

“I have a soft spot for you,” he replies.

“Now look who’s trying to get laid.”

He grins. “Could you blame me?”

Some drunk girls stumble into your space on their way to the bathroom, bumping into you, pushing you into Minho’s body where he instinctively puts a hand on your back to keep you steady. You glance up at him after the girls have safely arrived at the bathroom, only to find him already staring down at you. His back is turned toward where the lights are coming from and the angle shrouds his face in darkness, but you can still make out the stars twinkling in his eyes.

The sudden lack of space between your bodies makes your breath hitch.

“Are you still drunk?” he asks.

“No. Not really.” You don’t like the way your voice comes out small, vulnerable.

“I…” he starts, hesitating for a moment before he continues. His eyes flicker to your lips, and the breath that was previously caught in your throat further thickens. “Fuck, I really want to kiss you right now.”

For some reason, your heart leaps to your throat. It’s probably because of the remnants of alcohol refusing to leave your system, because how else would you explain the way your pulse quickens just from hearing those words coming from him?

He bites his lip, similar to how Yeonjun did it just a few hours ago, but seeing Minho do it is at least a hundred times more enticing.

You want him to kiss you too. You really do.

“What if the others see?” you protest meekly, but you’re already staring at his mouth, finding yourself gravitating toward him like he’s got you hypnotized.

“We’re all the way back here,” he tells you. “They won’t see anything.”

He leans closer until his lips are brushing yours. With a hand on your hip and the other on the back of your head, he meets your mouth in a soft kiss, which is a stark contrast to the upbeat and booming music blasting all around you. Some guy drunkenly gives you two a sleazy whistle, the sound coming from somewhere on your right, but neither of you pays it any attention.

Your hands come to clutch at the collar of his shirt like a lifeline. He’s never kissed you outside of the comfort of your bedroom before, let alone amidst a sea of people like this. It feels strange to be intimate with him in public, but at the same time, it excites you. There’s still a sense of anonymity because you’re camouflaged by the lights, masked by the darkness, hiding in plain sight.

The kiss gets more heated. He guides you a step back until you’re all pressed up against the wall, your hands tangling in his hair, tugging on it the way he likes that makes him groan against your mouth. He sucks on your bottom lip before shoving his tongue into your mouth, the wet muscle dancing with yours, making your knees buckle. It’s dizzying. It makes your head spin, and you don’t know if it’s because there’s still enough residual alcohol in your system to knock your world off its axis, or if it’s just him.

The hand previously on your hips sneaks underneath your shirt to rub at your bare skin. He gropes your breasts over the bralette you chose to wear tonight, squeezing the soft flesh in his palm, all the while slotting one of his legs between yours to help you grind on him. Your clothed cunt rolls over the denim of his jeans, and even though the friction is coarse and your movements are limited in this crowded space, the pleasure still sets your entire body alight. Minho spreads all over you like wildfire, and Minho consumes you like a hurricane.

You moan into his mouth when he rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, over the flimsy material of your undergarment. “Min,” you whimper desperately. You don’t know if he can hear you over the obnoxiously loud sounds coming from the speakers littered all over the place, but he groans against your mouth regardless. Almost like the nickname is driving him crazy.

He pulls back just slightly, to let the both of you catch your breath. “Should we go back to yours?” he asks, eyes still focused on your mouth.

You nod eagerly. You know you must be wet as hell right now, and if you have to wait any longer, you will probably explode from frustration. You might just drag him into that disgusting bathroom over there and let him have his way with you, but you will definitely regret it afterward because it’s a bathroom in a nightclub. It’s beyond revolting.

He helps you smooth out your hair, gentle and tender. In turn, you wipe your lipstick smudges on his face. Instead of taking you by the hand like he did earlier, he wraps an arm around your shoulder and navigates the two of you through the crowd, shielding you from anyone who might bump into you. You lean into the touch; it’s just comforting.

As you make your way back to the group - or what’s left of the group at the moment - his hand drops to his side again. There’s an inkling of disappointment that blossoms in you, but it dissipates quickly when Hyunjin spots you and lights up. Him and Seungmin are at the bar, seemingly trying to get the bartender’s attention. Changbin is next to them, but he doesn’t seem to care about anything other than the girl he’s chatting with. You try to scan the crowd for Chan and Jess, and find them a couple minutes later, standing in a corner, pressed up against each other just like you and Minho moments ago.

“Where did you run off to?” Hyunjin asks. Clearly Chan was too preoccupied with his girlfriend to relay the information.

“It’s too loud in here, I was getting a headache,” you say, only half a lie. You know your face must still be flushed from your impromptu makeout session, but you hope your friend can’t see the rosy shade painting your skin under all the flashing lights. “Min and I just went back there to see if it was quieter.”

“Okay.” He seems to believe you. “We’re trying to get drinks! You want anything?”

“I think I’m gonna just go home. You guys stay and have fun though.”

Hyunjin looks at you like he’s so flabbergasted. “It’s not even 3AM yet!”

“Headache,” you say, pointing to your temple with an exaggeratedly pained expression on your face. “I’ll stay out all night with you next time.”

“But-!” The second he opens his mouth to protest, Minho cuts in sharply, his tone leaving no room for anyone to argue despite the gigantic pout on Hyunjin’s face.

“I’m gonna take her home and call it a night too,” he simply says.

Hyunjin groans, but he relents in the end, muttering to you something that sounds like “You owe me one,” when you go to hug him goodbye. Before you and Minho can reach the door, you hear your man child of a friend call after you two in his pterodactyl voice, “Don’t make Minho’s girl jealous!”

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 04.01.2024]

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #lee know fluff #lee know angst #lee know smut #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know x you #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #stray kids #lee know #lee minho #fic: wishful thinking

[umeoniii]

aot men beige flags

eren, jean, reiner , levi , armin , connie

!: sfw

（＾∇＾）

eren:

☆ makes weird voices.

high pitched, low pitched, shaky he doesn’t care.

like sometimes as a bit he just uses weird accents and stuff.

he’ll speak like a caveman for one day.

“me want ooga burga” he’ll scratch his head like one too

and you’ll just stare at him like, “this mfs crazy” bcs literally wtf is he on about?!

the next day he’s trying to sound french

“oui oui mon amour”

and he’s wiggling his brows and has his imaginary mustache in between his fingers.

☆ his next one is he’s kind of oblivious to a lot of things.

you can pull out the ugliest outfit known to man to test him and he’ll say “that looks so good baby”

not bcs he’s setting u up. no, because he doesn’t think that lime green ripped jeans and a orange cropped hoodie look bad together.

you’ll have to show him what fashion looks like and he’ll get better as time goes on.

jean:

the tickle monster.

☆ when you’re around him u have to watch your back. he’s serious about it.

u can have a super cute sentimental moment with him and he’ll pull it out.

“i really love you baby.” you’d say

“who else do you love, because i know you’re cheating on me with him.”

and you’re like WHAT.

“with who?!”

he’d pause and stare at you for a few seconds.

“THE TICKLE MONSTER!”

and he’d tickle you until you can’t breathe and almost pee yourself.

and after that you don’t trust him but then proceed to slip up multiple times.

u guys are gonna hate me for this next one…

☆ he does “the face” when he’s gonna kiss u

u guys know what i’m talking about

“the face guys make when they go in for a kiss”

his isn’t horrid, only because he’s attractive

sometimes he actually over exaggerates it to piss you off.

it’s not super horrible but it’s giggle worthy

reiner:

☆ he’s a cringe bf. unironically. it’s sweet but not all the time.

by cringe i mean “i just found out about periods, god it must suck to be a beautiful goddess :/.”

or he’s like

“hey! tell you’re period it can’t hurt you like that, it’s not cool!”

☆ he’s also a scaredy-cat.

behind all that muscle is a big baby.

he jumps at scary movies even when he knows what happens next.

cannot play something like fnaf with him

he will throw the phone and scream like he got stabbed in his chest.

he’s probably still scared of the dark but it’s kind of sweet idk. he literally cuddles with you at night like a mother and her baby. you’re practically holding him like a frail little princess, except he’s kind of the exact opposite.

this is actually kind of cute though..

levi:

☆ now his beige flag is that he can be SUPER sarcastic. ik he is.

he’s super snarky and sassy.

like he’s the type to tell what’s considered a ‘corny dad joke’ but instead he’d say it with a stoic face.

like if youre talking and couldn’t remember and say something like “remember when umm…” and you just sit there and think, he’d come back with “no i don’t remember when that happened”.

he wouldn’t laugh or anything.

i feel like that’s why it’s funny. he could make a childish poop or fart joke and it would only be funny bcs he looks like this 😐

he would own a stupid t-shirt that says something like, “find your patience before i lose mine”.

☆ he’s a karen as well. he’s not super bad but like at restaurants and stuff when his foods not right or the tables are not bussed…

i’d be in the bathroom crying my mascara off if i was his waitress

armin:

☆ he’s scared of animals.

this includes typical house pets like dogs or cats.

it’s bcs “they don’t speak , so you’ll never know what they’ll do next.”

his fear stems from one small thing that happened when he was younger.

a cat jumped onto his lap.

he thought it was trying to attack him and so he screamed and the cat got scared.

that’s it.

he can’t even visit the zoo because he’s scared the animals will break out. (he’s super serious about it, it’s not even something he jokes about)

he’s tried to like animals and it worked for a while.

until the dog started to play a little too much to his liking.

☆ also he just randomly informs you of random facts.

completely random.

you could be on the toilet and he’ll come in the bathroom like, “a shrimps heart is in its head…”

no “did you know?” or “isn’t it cool that?” he just says it.

if you ever go onto a game show you’ll probably win it with all the useless knowledge he’s given u.

connie:

☆ you could tell him the most god awful thing happened to you and he’ll be like

“wait, this reminds me of something that happened in something i just watched.”

he’ll proceed to whip out his phone and show you the tv show, news report, tiktok. whatever it was he saw.

this tends to happen to every experience that you have.

you could be held hostage and they’ll call him for ransom and somehow it reminds him of this one part of a tv show.

sometimes it’s funny sometimes it’s not.

☆ he sleeps like he hasn’t slept since the day he was born.

he hops into the bed and sits there for 1 minute before he starts snoring aggressively.

he looks dead, like actually…

sprawled out and snoring with his mouth open.

one time he slept with his eyes wide open and you shook him awake panicking.

he belittled you and was all smart and cocky saying “i would never sleep with my eyes wide open” even though he did.

he sleeps to the rain sounds with the thunder. but sometimes is so sleepy and forgets about it.

tagz!🐬: @hangesgirlypop , @yiugen , @heartshapedtearss

♡

a/n: heyooo! b4 u guys request it, im doing girls next ;). i just think this trend is the cutest thing ever, plus it feels good to write fluff. also im actually getting back to requests. like frl this time, i’ve been grinding non stop all night so i could be done by hopefully friday. feel free to request cute things u guys, i will absolutely write it! and also feel free to request other characters, i feel like u guys don’t request them bcs u guys don’t see them and so u think i won’t do them. trust i probs will!

#umeswritin!~ #aot x reader #aot hcs #attack on titan #aot imagines #aot #aot smut #armin aot #aot jean #aot headcanons #aot x black reader #eren aot #aot levi #eren x reader #jean x reader #armin x reader #reiner x reader #levi x reader #connie springer x reader #connie springer smut #levi smut #eren attack on titan #eren smut #armin smut #jean smut #reiner smut #eren headcanons #levi headcanons #reiner headcanons #armin headcanons

[feelbokkie]

i'll be here for you

☀️Feelbokkie M.list☀️

genre: sick fic, angst

pov: 2nd person

description: Seungmin can tell instantly from your voice that something is wrong, so he drops everything to take care of you.

pairing: bf!seungmin x gn!reader

warnings: hospitals, swearing, mentioning of food and eating, open ending, talking about weight, reference to death

word count: 3,054

a/n: allow me to be self indulgent and dramatic and over exaggerate for a moment.

©feelbokkie (2024) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

Mong, mong. Mong, mong. 

You sluggishly pull your phone out of your pocket, sitting as you do so. You let out a long, shaky sigh before plastering on a smile and answering the phone. You’re not sure why. It’s not like he can see your face through the phone. But maybe smiling will trick the rest of your body into thinking everything is okay.

“My Seungminnie!” You cheer into the phone, your face winces in pain from the sudden movement.

“Hi Y/n,” You can picture the small smile that’s slowly creeping onto his face vividly. “Did you just get home?”

“No,” you lean your back against your headrest. “I got home earlier than I thought I would. I read the end time on my schedule wrong.”

You can hear the chaos in the background. Changbin’s voice booms over everyone as he yells about something to do with Minho and Hyunjin. You can make out Felix’s faint laughter too. “You should’ve called me.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt practice. If I called you, you would have worried. How’s dance practice?”

“Hmm, Minho hyung has glared at Chan hyung twice, put Hyunjin in a headlock, and threatened all of us with various cooking styles about six times. He’s going to be sending me to you as soup.”

“Soupmin doesn’t sound too bad. Tell him to send side dishes,”

“Speaking of which, did you have a good lunch today?”

“I did,” You lie. “What about you? Did Minho let you eat or is he punishing you guys for not picking up the choreography?”

“We nailed 2 songs so he treated us. I had kimchi-jjigae!”

“You’re going to turn into kimchi-jjigae at this rate. You had it almost every day this week.”

“You just said you’d like Soupmin! ...Ugh, hyung, get off,” you hear a loud slap and some more laughter through the phone. The background laughter and chatter quickly becomes distant. “Sorry, Chan hyung lives in my bubble. What did you have for lunch?”

Click!

You assume that Seungmin had enough of whatever is going on in the practice room and left to talk to you somewhere peaceful. “Just some leftovers... I had some rice from dinner a couple of days ago so I make kimchi fried rice with some chicken.”

Seungmin is quiet on the other end for a second, “What did you really have?”

“I just told you,” You sit up, shifting your phone to your other hand and pressing it against your ear again.

“You’re hiding something. A couple of days ago you said you had pasta. What did you have for lunch today?”

“Kimchi—“ You double down.

Seungmin lets out a loud sigh, “This is a silly thing to lie about. You know that, right?”

“I’m not—“ You pause as the pain in your stomach reminds you that it's still there. “Fine, I just had some soda for lunch.”

“That’s all?”

“I told you, I wasn’t working as long as I thought—“

“You’re not eating properly and I can tell by your voice that you aren’t sleeping properly... Are you sick?”

“Probably,” You give up. When Seungmin has his mind set on something, it's difficult to argue with him.

“What do you mean ‘probably?’”

You bite your lower lip and run your free hand through your hair. “It’s nothing,”

“What’s going on?” It's subtle, the way his voice wavers with worry. If you weren't tuned into most of his habits, you would have missed it.

“Seungmin—“ You try to say calmly, wincing in pain as you lean back down against your headrest.

“Don’t try to lie or play it off. Something is wrong,” His voice raises an octave. You're not sure you can remember the last time he even slightly raised his voice at you. Even in a joking manner.

“…Fine." You squeeze your eyes shut, your current position only worsening your pain. "I just haven’t been feeling well lately.”

“What do you mean?”

You pause, contemplating how much you actually want to tell him right now. “My stomach gets upset. It’s fine though, probably just a bug.”

“And it’s causing you to not eat or sleep?”

“It only hurts after I eat. Well, it hurts in general now but if I eat it hurts a lot. Except for pho for some reason. But I can’t eat that all day every day,” You try to sound light and calm so that he doesn't worry more than he already is.

“You said 'now.' How long has it been hurting?”

“A while,” You mumble, playing with the hem of your shirt.

There's more movement in the background. You hear a faint scoff before you hear Seungmin huff as he presses the phone to his ear again.

“Have you gone to your doctor?”

“I called. They can’t see me until next month. But they said they’ll call me if a closer appointment comes.”

“Urgent care?” He suggests.

“They’ll just have me sit in the waiting room for hours and then spend 5 minutes with me before prescribing me antibiotics. Which is good and all but I know that's going to do fuck all if I can't even eat with the pills.”

“If it’s that bad, they’ll prescribe you something else.”

“Unlikely,”

You can practically hear the gears turning in Seungmin's head on the other end while he tries to come up with another solution for you. You're almost certain he's come up with all the same solutions that you have, none with promising enough results.

“What about the emergency room?" He tries again.

“For a stomach bug?” You chuckle, holding your stomach to attempt to control the apparent throbbing your stomach.

“A stomach bug wouldn't last that long. And you're not eating or sleeping. I don't know what else to do." His voice cracks. He's not trying to mask the panic in his voice for your sake anymore. He sounds as scared as you feel inside.

You squeeze your eyes shut again and rub your free hand over it. "Let's say I agree with you taking me to the emergency room. We'll still be there for hours--"

"I'm a pro idol. Plus my mom is a doctor,"

You've never known Seungmin to abuse his privilege as an idol, even at times when he should have. Especially when he should have. The fact that he's even insinuating that he'll use that part of his life if it'll help you is both heartwarming and intimidating.

"Don't involve your mom in this--Look, it's fine. I'm fine."

"It's not--" You hear Seungmin mumble a string of swear words that you're not sure you've heard him utter before.

"Seungmin? Hello?"

The background noise starts up again. This time, you hear Jisung scream singing loudly in the background as Hyunjin laughs. You hear some rustling in the background and finally a zipper. You pick up Chan's concerned voice, low and deep as chaos ensues in the background. You hear Seungmin tell him that he has to go, 'a family emergency' he explains. And then you hear Minho's soft voice as the noise in the background dies down. And then more rustling and zippers before the faint yet familiar jingling of keys.

"Seungmin!" You call out again, hoping he can hear you now that the room is quieter.

You hear a faint, 'one second' from Seungmin before he clears his throat, "I'll be there in about 20 minutes. Get your stuff ready."

Click

He hangs up before you can even try to argue with him that he doesn't need to leave practice to check on you. You let out a long shakey breath as you toss your phone on the bed and let yourself slump over from frustration.

***

"I can't believe you called your mom," You mutter under your breath.

Your arms rest firmly across your chest as you sit up on the examination bed in the emergency room. Seungmin sits at the foot of the bed, watching your every move. Like you would try to bolt if his eyes left you for even a second. You've thought about it.

"If you saw how pale you looked, you would have done the same thing. What did you want me to do?"

He looks so unlike himself. This is the first time you've seen him so disheveled, even after a dance practice. His usually neat hair points in all different directions from him running his hands through it. His windbreaker is zipped all the way up to hide his wrinkly, sweaty t-shirt. His face is darker than it normally is, showcasing whatever is running through his mind.

"Not call your mom!" You whisper. The emergency room beds don't offer you much privacy, only a curtain separating you from other beds. There's been a man screaming in pain in one of the makeshift rooms since you walked in. "I told you specifically not to,"

The sterile stench and bright lights from the room are starting to make your head spin. You feel bad taking up a bed when you know some people need to be examined more than you.

"I'm sorry but if you saw me in the state you're in, trust me, you would be calling anyone who could help. You lost a lot of weight too. I don't think I can even pinch your cheeks without it hurting you."

"You're overreacting," You scoff, rolling your eyes.

"You look like a sickly Victorian child,"

"Seung--"

Swoosh

Seungmin quietly gets up from his spot on the bed and stands next to you, resting his hand on your shoulder. Your doctor from earlier walks back in, nurse behind him this time. Her forced smile does nothing to distract from the dark bags under her eyes. You can tell how exhausted she is just by looking at her. She looks how your brain feels.

"I just finished talking with my attending. We both agree that you may have an ulcer. However, we cannot be sure without further testing. You have a few options but we recommend..."

You started to zone out, relieved that their first suspicion is an ulcer and not something more serious. An ulcer is treatable and the fatality rate is relatively low, based on what you read when you first started feeling sick.

"...admit you."

"Excuse me?" You tilt your head to the side, confused about what you just heard. You feel Seungmin's grip on your shoulder tightens, nails practically digging into your shoulder.

"Like I said, we do have a few other concerns so we believe it's best to admit you while we run a few more tests to be certain." The doctor repeats.

"But you just said that it's most likely an ulcer." You uncross your arms, your hand instinctively reacting for Seungmin. He grabs your hand with his free hand, refusing to let go of your shoulder.

"Yes, but some of the symptoms you're experiencing also align with other ailments so we would like to admit you for a couple of days while we do thorough tests," she explains, flipping through the papers on her clipboard.

You turn to Seungmin, whose face is clamped shut and eyes are fixed on the doctor. He's been doing well, keeping his composure for your sake, but now he looks as pale as you probably do. You try to focus your breathing so that maybe, just maybe, your heart will stop threatening to pound out of your chest. If it does, however, you're in the perfect place.

Seungmin's hand slides down from your shoulder to your back, rubbing soothing circles as he continues to talk to the doctor. You can't hear what he and the doctor are talking about, your ears are acutely aware of the swooshing of the blood from your heart.

You wanted it to be nothing. It's one of the main reasons why you put it off so long, playing it off as common stomach issues so you wouldn't have to go to the doctors and have them find something wrong with you. But it's inevitable now. There is something.

"It'll be okay," Seungmin whispers. Normally, you can read him like a book, but right now, you can't tell if he's reassuring you or himself.

~~~

You stare at the words on your phone, absorbing none of them as music plays loudly from Seungmin's headphones. You can't even register what song is playing right now, your mind too full with thousands of thoughts plaguing every quiet second you have.

Seungmin left you his headphones and phone charger before he left to get you some things from home. He stayed a while, being a quiet yet comforting presence while you got admitted. He sat, holding your hand as a nurse drew your blood, humming softly to distract you for a little bit.

He didn't want to leave. Not at first, but the two of you quickly realized that you couldn't ask anyone to get what you needed from your apartment. Seungmin has the only remaining key and you argued that it would be too much to ask one of the boys to come to the hospital to pick it up, get what you need from your room, and then come back to the hospital. So Seungmin went himself.

You were put into a private room, which you know is probably Seungmin's doing, but right now, you would prefer to be in a shared room. Just for the comfort of knowing that you're not the only person in the room.

Hot tears roll down your face, as your mind plays all the worse possible scenarios like a movie. You can't skip it, each scene is worse than the first, stressing you out more. You rest your head on the TV tray, trying to get your body to stop shaking and the images from popping into your head.

"Y/n?" You feel the cool air rushing to your ears and Seungmin's panicked voice, "What's wrong? Are you in pain?"

He sets down the bags in the chair next to your bed and tries to get you to lift your head so he can see your face.

"N-no. I mean, yeah it hurts, but that's not why I'm crying." You whimper, lifting your head and looking at Seungmin through tears.

You can't see it, how red and swollen Seungmin's eyes are. Even if you did, you know he'd tell you a little white lie about allergies. You hate how this is affecting him. It's one of the reasons why you didn't tell him in the first place. Because you knew he wouldn't be able to do anything to help, no matter how much he wanted to. You don't even want to think how badly he'll suffer if it's something serious.

"It's okay to be scared," Seungmin whispers. The remainder of the sentence lingers in the air between the two of you. Unspoken but understood.

It's okay to be scared. I am too.

"What if it's something serious? And I waited too long and,"

Another unfinished sentence that doesn't need to be completed for the two of you to understand, this one heavier than the last. Its weight quickly soaking up all the oxygen and light in the room, making it hard to breathe. Or maybe it's whatever has been slowly killing you from the inside finally putting you out of your misery.

"Maybe it's a parasite," Seungmin suggests, his normally steady voice breaking. You finally look up to face your boyfriend. You're bet with the top of his head as he's turned away from you, looking at the ceiling. His hair is neater than it was before, still slightly wet. He's now wearing a light grey hoodie with matching sweatpants.

"That's disgusting," You sniffle, a smile smile appearing on your face.

Seungmin, still not looking at you, lets out a loud and long sigh. "But you're smiling, right?"

"Because you're an idiot,"

"A smile is a smile. I'll take it."

Seungmin tilts his head down and rubs his sleeve-covered hands over his face before turning his attention to you. His eyes are glassy and red. Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach at the sight of him.

"It'll be okay," You whisper, taking Seungmin's hand in yours. It's more for your comfort than his.

"Whatever it is, I'll be here. Okay?" Seungmin says loudly, squeezing your hand tightly. "So lay your burdens on me,"

"I can't ask you to do that. You're getting ready for a comeback--"

"You think I would be able to focus on that if you're...if something is wrong with you?"

"I've seen you seen you separate Kim Seungmin the idol from Kim Seungmin my boyfriend."

"Yeah, when we're having a fight or something. But not for things like this. I already talked to Chan hyung. I didn't tell him everything, but he understands that you need me right now."

"Seungmin..." Your voice falters, any argument you could think of dies in your throat.

But he's right, you do need him. You've been shouldering the burden of your pain alone for too long, you're not sure how much longer you can last. He was gone for one hour and you completely fell apart. And that was just at the thought that it might be something serious.

"I have to call my parents," You breathe, calming down a little bit.

"I can help you with that," Seungmin replies softly.

"And I need to let my boss know I can't come in."

"I'll help with that too,"

"...But right now, I kinda just want to lay down with you,"

"I can do that too," Seungmin gently climbs into the hospital bed next to you, carefully watching the IV in your hand.

Once he's settled, he pulls your head down onto his chest. You freeze for a moment. It's not usual for Seungmin to initiate physical contact like this. Especially when a nurse can walk in at any moment. But the slight tremble of his body and the pounding in his chest let you know that he probably needs this more than you, so you relax into his touch.

"I love you, Y/n," He mumbles out, just like he did the first time he said it.

"I love you too, Seungmin," You breathe into his chest, gripping the fabric of his hoodie.

"I'm here," He says loudly this time. "It'll be okay,"

"I know,"

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

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[poisonedprose]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕷. KINKTOBER DAY 14. PURRING PERFECTION

ellie williams x hybrid!fem!reader

warnings: 0.8k words, kinktober smut, kitty hybrid!reader, pet names (kitty, hun, baby), cursing, thigh riding, pwp, first heat

masterlists

Ellie’s fingers mindlessly scratch behind your ears, listening to the sound of you purring on her chest while she read some book about space. You thought it was so attractive when she was indulging in the things she was passionate about. Your face nuzzled into her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her aroma.

Your body was warm, warmer than usual. Ellie brought it to your attention but you insisted that you were fine and that you didn’t have a fever. But both of you forgot to consider the possibility that you were on the brink of starting your first heat. You didn’t know much about them, only relying on the few elder hybrids that resided in Jackson, but even then there wasn’t much information to go off of.

As far as you were concerned, you were a late bloomer. You were grateful you didn’t have to deal with such a burden of having a heat. You were told that the first heat was the worst, but no one would ever elaborate. You just figured they were all exaggerating but when a warm substances warmed your cotton panties you knew you were fucked.

Your panty covered core was pressed against your girlfriend’s thigh. Your shirts were thrown askew on the floor, along with Ellie’s jeans. The sun that shone down on Jackson was close to unbearable. Your tail was swaying nervously back and forth, from side to side. Ellie and you hadn't really done anything physically, the both of you opting to take things slow, so it was safe to say you were panicking.

Ellie's hand slid from the top of your head all the way down to your ass, giving it a quick squeeze before trailing her fingers up your tail. Your purs only grew louder and your cunt only grew wetter. You shifted trying to get in a comfortable position, maybe you could wait it out until she left and take care of it by yourself. But of course, why would anything work in your favor.

Ellie moved her thigh at the same time you were readjusting your position, making your clothed cunt grind against the soft plush if her thigh. A whine escapes your lips. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” She apologized sincerely and softly, figuring she probably bumped you and hurt you. She offered a comforting pat on your butt with a small smile.

“Els.” You whine, a pout evident on your face. “I said sorry, kitty.” She was still under the impression that you weren’t currently drenching your favorite pair of underwear. “No, no, Ellie…” You grind your self down on her thigh involuntarily. “Huh?” She looks outright shocked to say the least. “You need me to take care of you or something?” She shows you a toothy grin, mostly joking to ease the tension of what you just did.

She wasn’t expecting you to actually nod and agree. “Pretty please, I’ll be a good kitten.” She’d only ever heard you beg twice. One time when you were begging her to let you come on patrol with her and another time when you wanted her to cuddle with you. She’d never heard you beg like this.

It didn’t take her long to figure out what was happening. Your hot body, your swollen lips, your rose cheeks, your whiny voice. “Holy shit.” She mumbles to herself, she wasn’t sure what she should do in this situation. “Come sit.” She pushed the book aside and grabbed you by your waist and sat you on her thigh. After all, this would be the first time the two of you have been together this intimately.

You instantly took her invite, immediately rubbing yourself on her thigh. “Holy shit.” She mumbled again as she looks up at you. She can’t help but think how beautiful you look while riding her thigh. “It’s okay, hun, yeah? It’s alright.” She says, her words full of breath as her own arousal pools in her boxers

“Wanna tell me what’s up?” She asks as she guides your hips against her thigh. Her space book was long forgotten. “It came out of nowhere Els.” You whimper, ears pointing straight up and your tail curling in pleasure. “Yeah, I noticed.” She chuckles lightly. With two fingers she gently pulls your panties to the side. A string of your arousal sticks to the cotton. Ellie bites her lip as she watches you rut your bare pussy on her thigh, coating her skin with a thin layer of slick.

“Mmm, baby, as much as I’m enjoying this, I don’t think i’m supposed to let you do this.” It was true, a few of the hybrids had mentioned it’s best to hold out going through your heat for the first time with a partner. “No, no, no! Please don’t go Els, need you to help me. I dunno how to fix this.” You felt embarrassed by how desperate you felt— and probably looked.

Ellie had way more experience than you did, you knew she did. You knew she’d take care of you better than you could ever take care of yourself. She sighed, fingertips denting the fat of your hips. “Alright, alright. How could I say no to my pretty kitty, hm?”

#! ☢ ₊˚✧ tlou . #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #the last of us #the last of us x reader #the last of us smut #tlou #tlou x reader #tlou smut #first time writing hybrid smut #i’m scare #d

[izvmimi]

“Have you ever thought of becoming a teacher?” 

Clack goes the knife loudly as it hits the cutting board, and in the subsequent quiet, the sound seems to elevate the importance of the question. And now when you really think about it, maybe it is more of a serious question than you had initially considered.

Yuuji hasn’t yet answered. You put down your knife, and turn, wondering if he’s even in the room with you still. He isn’t, and you resolve to not ask again, but in a second, he reappears again in the kitchen doorway, this time with another paper bag full of groceries which he sets on the counter.

“Oh, did we forget those?” You pivot. You’d gotten so excited with the prospect of making sure dinner was ready in time for your friends to come over that you’d started preparing the side dishes immediately, the produce quickly washed and thrown onto a cooking surface.

“Yeah,” he says. His voice has softened, and you can tell he’s thinking. He draws closer to you to get to the sink, washes his hands, then smiles to himself for a moment. For a reason you don’t understand (well, really you do), your heart flutters as he softly huffs through his nose before turning off the faucet.

“You know, I really did not plan to live this long,” he says finally, his hands drying on a towel. You take that in, and he moves to stand beside you, grabbing the knife gently out of your hands.

“I’m not done yet,” you whine.

“Let me take over,” he says back, mirroring your voice in a singsongy tune. You acquiesce, but lean back, wondering if he’ll say more. There are things to put away, and you move to do so, watching his back carefully as he works. You’ve watched him for so many years now, since you first met, but as clear as he speaks his mind, and as pure his intentions are, you always worry about his heart. 

Sometimes when things are too obvious, they become suspicious, and you feel like it’s always been this with Yuuji. The fact that he liked you so earnestly since high school gave you pause, that he’s always been there for you made you fear abandonment. Right now you wish he would offer you anything more than the truth, which is that he really wasn’t meant to escape his fate as a sacrificial lamb.

“I could,” he muses. He turns, and his smile is brighter than the sun. “Do you think I could be like Gojo-sensei… or Nanamin?” 

It’s such a simple question, childlike and innocent. Not something you’d expect for someone who has lived horrors, has been a horror himself.

“Probably better than Gojo. Catching up to Nanami might take some work,” you joke. His eyes crinkle. You put away the last few things in the pantry and wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head on the space between his shoulder blades.

“There are a million other things you could do, you know, if you really haven’t thought about it,” you offer.

He sighs but it’s light, and you waddle with him, still holding on tightly as he moves through the kitchen to the fridge to grab himself a soft drink. He opens it and offers you the first sip, twisting in your loosened hold to face you properly; you shake your head no and he takes a sip before responding. He’s leaning against the counter now, and you look up at him tentatively. He basks in your interest, making an exaggerated contemplative gesture.

“Being your boyfriend isn’t enough, huh?” He teases.

You roll your eyes.

“Please.”

“Mmmm…” he leans in, eyes sparkling. “How about househusband?”

Your cheeks warm.

“Are you proposing to me, Yuuji?” You break away, taking a step back, your arms crossed as you quiet your flustered emotions.

He laughs and presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“Not yet.”

You blink, but he’s already returned to his task, and you find some other way to busy your hands before you ask another question for which answer you may not be prepared.

#yuuji x reader #yuji x reader #yuuji itadori x reader #itadori x reader #mimi's notes #daydreams: jjk

[eddies-ashtray]

When The Rain Starts To Pour ⌂ Chapter 1: The One Where Eddie Hates Paul

 ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Pairing: Eddie x Fem!Reader

Chapter Preview: 

“You smoke?” You ask, pointing at the cigarette held delicately between his index and middle fingers. You’re feeling a little awkward for some reason. Maybe because you’re not used to Eddie being silent. 

Eddie sniffs, says, “Yeah. Trying to quit.” Then snuffs out the half-smoked stick by crushing it against the concrete. He knows the habit might bother you. It bothers the others as well; Nancy has called it a ‘cancer stick’, Steve has often taken to flushing his cigs in protest, and Robin simply informs him that it stinks. He also knows that you have your date with Paul tonight, and as much as he dislikes the guy, he doesn’t want you smelling of smoke for your date. 

“Hm,” You hum, coming up beside him and leaning over the wall, a blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders. You shiver and he has the urge to remove his leather jacket and wrap it around you. 

There’s a lull then, in which Eddie wonders why you might have come out here. From the sounds of your prior conversation with Robin, you need to start getting ready for your date soon. Why come out here just to stand around with him in the cold? 

CW: Brief discussion of financial struggles, vague talk of poor parental relationship (not necessarily abusive though), jealousy, loneliness, reader talks of being unhappy in her previous life circumstances, probably lots of bad jokes, poorly concealed Friends references, age gap (between reader and Paul), lots of tropes, non-canon compliant (duh—but also the upside-down does not exist), kinda pervy/douchey behaviour from Paul (nothing crazy though, just generally douchey).

 WC: 17.4k

 A/N: Ah! It’s finally here! I am so so so excited to share this first chapter with you after so long. I really hope it lives up to expectations. I just wanna note that while writing, I imagined the coffee shop and the apartments from Friends, so the decor and layout of each of those places are pretty much the exact same in my descriptions of them. Here’s a link to the apartments and coffee shop layouts if you’re interested. Also, I am going to do the best I can to make this era- and setting-appropriate, but keep in mind that I was not born in the 90s, nor am I from New York City (or the US in general), so there may be some inaccuracies. Anyway, enough of my rambling, happy reading!!

Series Masterlist

Read it on ao3

Next Chapter [coming soon]

 ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

“I’m so broke it’s not even funny! Like, seriously, look,” Robin exclaims before placing her mug of tea on the coffee table and proceeding to lean back awkwardly on the couch so she can turn her pockets out. They are indeed empty–a metaphorical sign of her poverty. 

Nancy clicks her tongue from her spot on a sage green chair next to the couch, reaching over to place a coaster under Robin’s steaming mug. 

It’s a relatively quiet Saturday afternoon at The Ugly Mug, only a couple other patrons milling about and occupying the various other seats around the small establishment. There’s a short woman with long, thin braids seated by the large front window and a stout man in a purple beanie sitting on one of the stools near the coffee bar. There’s also been the occasional patron coming in to pick up a to-go order–bringing in with them a rush of chilly November air–before rushing back out the dark wooden doors. 

“I’m fucking screwed. I can’t afford that big, stupid place alone,” Robin complains, retrieving her tea from the table after she’s tucked her pockets back into her jeans. 

“You could always get a second job,” Eddie offers from the opposite end of the couch, an oversized red mug half-full of very sugary coffee in hand. “Ya know, moonlight as a rockstar like some of the rest of us?” 

Robin rolls her eyes at his over-exaggeration and looks over at him as she replies, “Don’t you guys get, like, one gig per month?” 

“No…We get two gigs per month,” Eddie corrects like the disparity between her answer and his had been larger than it was. 

When he realizes that his correction wasn’t much of a correction, he adds, slightly more helpful this time, “But it’s better than just working in the restaurant. At least I get a little extra every month.” 

Robin sighs. “I guess…But it’d suck to double my exhaustion just to take another job I hate. At least your second job is something you love...I wish I could get, like, a raise or something,” She complains, head falling back against the couch in frustration. 

From beside her, Steve’s hand lands on her shoulder, placing his own mug of coffee on the table before doing so. “Why don’t you-”

“No,” She replies before he can finish. 

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!” Steve defends and Robin lolls her head to the side to shoot him a deadpan stare. 

“I am not putting an ad in the newspaper,” She states plainly. 

“It’s a strategy! How else would you find a roommate?” 

“I agree with Robin,” Nancy pipes up from Robin’s other side. “It’s not safe, Steve. There’s so many freaks out there; you don’t know who you’re inviting into your home.”

“I live with a freak and I’m fine,” Steve jokes. 

“Hey!” Eddie exclaims, mildly offended, and slaps Steve on the arm halfheartedly. “It’s been six years, Harrington, when are you gonna stop calling me that?”

“How about never!” Steve bites back childishly. All too quickly their civilized conversation about Robin’s living situation devolves into an immature argument between two grown men. It’s almost surprising how they manage to live together and not tear each other’s heads off. Despite their silly arguments though, they surprisingly get along quite well–most of the time. 

“Hey! Can we get back on topic, please?” Nancy interrupts, mildly anxious about the eyes of the other patrons on them. Normally, she wouldn’t let others’ judgment get to her; she’s aware that she hangs around a pretty rowdy group of adults, but it’s so quiet in here today and she’d like to keep it that way. 

“Actually, I’m perfectly content right in the middle of this. I could use a distraction,” Robin says, settling into the couch beside the two bickering men.

Sighing contentedly, Robin gets comfortable and shuts her eyes, the soft light of the café causing the back of her eyelids to glow a soft orange. The boys’ bickering continues to her right as Nancy reaches over from her left to squeeze her hand in reassurance. Robin opens her eyes again to turn to her and gives her a tight-lipped smile. 

“I need a roommate,” she concludes, tone solemn. Nancy’s lips part, about to impart some advice when-

The small golden bell above the door tinkles its charming chime as it opens, and in rushes the late November bite, and a frazzled-looking young woman. As she enters the space, she makes such a commotion that Robin startles and turns to take a look at who’s causing the ruckus. The others turn to the door as well (including Steve and Eddie whose bickering has now ceased altogether due to the interruption). 

In her tow is one large suitcase, in her hand is a large black trash bag (the plastic material stretching into a grey colour in some areas), and on her back is a large backpack (stuffed so full that the biggest pocket isn’t even zipped all the way). 

It must have begun to rain at some point during their hours’ long stay at the coffee shop because the woman appears to be quite damp without an umbrella or hood on her jacket. 

Finally, Robin's eyes land on the woman’s face. In a shock, she realizes that she recognizes her. However, seeing as none of her friends are acquainted with the woman, they’re rather occupied by the seemingly magical appearance of this person who looks to be in need of a place to stay at the exact moment that Robin expressed her need for a roommate. The four of them gawk at the woman with the luggage for a moment until someone can’t help himself and must break the silence to acknowledge the absurdity of the situation. 

“And I want to be rich and famous!” Eddie exclaims, gesturing widely to the door. Unfortunately, his wish does not manifest as Robin’s had. 

Robin passes her tea to Steve, who takes it without question as she stands from her spot on the couch, passing Nancy as she rounds it. The woman is at the counter now, though as Robin nears her, the woman is not ordering a coffee or any other warm beverage. 

“Excuse me? Do you know-” You begin, but before you can finish asking the café employee about your friend's whereabouts, you feel a soft tap on your shoulder. 

 “Y/N?” 

Immediately, you recognize her voice and turn around. Many summers and phone calls throughout your childhood and teen years had familiarized you with it. 

Once you’re face-to-face, relief releases the tension you’d been holding in your shoulders. After over 12 hours of driving across the country (maybe more, you stopped keeping track at some point), countless times getting lost (your sense of direction completely failing you, even with the aid of a map and any living soul you came across), many pit stops at dank, shady rest stops, and a lot of fast food later, you’re just happy to see a familiar face. 

“Robin! Thank God! I went to your apartment-” you begin, eager to recount the story of your travels. 

“My apartment?” Robin asks, confused that you’d known her address. 

“-but you weren’t there! And I almost left to look for you myself, but then your neighbour saw me knocking and told me I could probably find you here-”

“My neighbour?”

“-and I thought, ‘It’s worth a shot,’, so I dragged all my shit back down the stairs and through the stupid rain and you’re here! But, come to think of it, I don’t even know why I brought all this stuff up with me instead of just leaving it in the car. Like, that was sort of presumptuous of me to show up at your door with a bunch of luggage, but I guess it probably wouldn’t have been a great idea to leave it in that parking garage anyway,” You finish your rambling, out of breath now and slightly lightheaded. 

That was likely an inappropriate way to greet her after all this time, but you find that you’re exhausted from your travels and electrified with adrenaline from your impulsive decision to come to New York. 

At first, it was nice to get out and stretch your legs after spending half a day in your car, and walk around this new city in search of Robin’s apartment, but now you could just collapse right here on this scuffed hardwood floor. 

Robin’s brows furrow as she tries to process your word vomit, but still cannot find an answer for her biggest question. Though she’s concerned that one of her neighbour’s so easily gave away her location to a stranger who was banging on her door and curious to know how you’d found her apartment, she’s more interested in your story for now. In learning what got you here after all this time.

“Why are you here? I mean-it-it’s great to see you, but, um-why don’t you sit down and tell me what happened?” Robin suggests, leading you gently towards the couch. 

“Okay. Yeah, that sounds great,” You agree, navigating carefully around velvet-upholstered stools with your bags in hand. 

A man with long hair and tattoos stands from the couch to take a seat on a chair to his right in order to accommodate you as Robin helps you place your bags on the floor next to the woman with the curly hair and high cheekbones. 

Finally, you sit down on the plush orange couch next to a happy looking guy with gorgeous, voluminous hair. He smiles at you kindly once you’re settled in and you breathe out, willing yourself to relax so you can attempt to coherently explain your situation to your friend and, apparently, these strangers. 

Their eyes on you make you nervous, but once Robin takes her seat next to you, you feel more at ease. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” Robin reassures as she tucks her legs underneath herself on the couch. You nod, taking one more deep breath and collecting your thoughts before beginning. 

“So-I know this is, like, totally crazy that I just kinda showed up here out of the blue after, what? 5, 6 years?” You begin nervously, looking to Robin for confirmation on how long it’s been since you last saw each other. She nods after turning her body to face you. 

“But I just–I don’t know if you’ve ever felt like this but–I felt like I was on autopilot or something, just kind of drifting through my days: going to work at a boring job with boring people, coming home to my shitty apartment, going to sleep, and doing it all over again and again and again.”

In your periphery, you notice a few of them nodding in agreement and feel relieved at their earnest validation. It gives you the strength to continue your story. 

“And one day I guess I woke up? I realized that I hated where I was, who I was with, what I was doing, what I wasn’t doing. I just sort of…panicked. I knew I couldn’t stay there–in that life and that apartment cause it was, like, a total shithole-”

“Why was it a shithole?” A voice interrupts from your right; The One With The Tattoos. You’d been so into your story for those 30-some-odd seconds that you nearly forgot that it was more than just Robin you were venting to. He seems genuinely curious and well-meaning, so you’re not perturbed by his interruption, only surprised, which is what causes you to pause before answering his question. 

In the moment you take before you respond, you clock the bat tattoo on his forearm (though you’d recognized his inked skin earlier, you hadn’t examined the art close enough to discern what the tattoos were of), among a smattering of many other patchwork tattoos, and hope you remember to ask him about it later (if there is a later with these people–there’s all the chance that Robin could send you packing). 

Finally, you shake off your surprise and respond, “Well, aside from the fact that my apartment was definitely mold-infested and my building had a serious rat problem, my landlord was a total creep.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” He agrees, brows furrowing.

“Yeah. So, I just couldn’t live there anymore, or go back to work, and I definitely was not about to go back home to live with my mother–phone calls once a week are already more than I can handle, I don’t think I could take her constant scrutiny for more than 30 minute increments,” You explain, scoffing lightly. “But, um-” You stutter, looking down at your lap and pulling at the skin of your hand absentmindedly. 

“Anyway…I panicked and I decided that I needed to get out of there as soon as possible, so two weeks ago, I put in my two weeks at work and pretty much packed up my whole life into my car and started driving without a destination…And then I remembered hearing that you’d moved to New York a few years back,” You recall, gesturing to Robin, who smiles warmly back at you.

“So I looked you up in the phone book and when I found your name I just felt like it was the right thing? Which I know sounds kinda kooky, but it was the first good feeling I’d had about something in a long time, so I just decided that I needed to trust it,” You conclude, squeezing your hands in your lap. “And I know it’s a lot to ask of you, especially since it’s been so long, but…is there any chance at all that you might need a roommate?” 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

When you step inside the apartment, you immediately love the place. For one, it’s bigger than your old apartment and even has a pretty sizable balcony (that can only be accessed through a window). To your left is the kitchen with exposed brick, a simple small table with four mismatched chairs surrounding it in the middle. 

Just past the modest kitchen is the living area, which is just as eclectically decorated as the kitchen with a sofa, a fluffy looking armchair and an armless chair adjacent to each other, a coffee table, and a television set sitting atop a sideboard. Two doors are on either side of the living room. To the left of the living room is a large window (complete with a cozy looking window seat) which looks out onto the balcony. 

You marvel at the place as Robin leads through the apartment, the rest of the crew following in behind you two before the door slams shut and you enter what appears to be a bedroom slash storage space. Despite the bed in the middle, there are things strewn about on the floor, seemingly haphazardly tossed in here and forgotten about. 

After introductions to the group (you now know their names and the fact that Eddie and Steve live across the hall, while Nancy lives a few blocks away), Robin had informed you the available room at her place might be a bit of a mess since she’s been using it as storage space for a while. The only guests she has live close by enough that sleepovers were a rarity. 

“So, this’ll be your room,” Robin explains, rolling your bursting suitcase inside it. Steve enters last, dropping your trash bag full of clothes to the yellow-ish hardwood floor and you do the same with your backpack. 

It’s a fairly nice room; a simple square spacious enough to fit the queen size bed and a side table, while also allowing extra room still for a chest of drawers and vanity (which you will eventually add to the room). 

Though anything without rats, mold, and a creepy landlord would be an improvement, this place is a definite upgrade from your last and you find yourself containing a joyous squeal as you take it all in. You’ve never been a fan of change–enjoying the comfort of familiarity instead–and have always agonized over every decision you’ve made, but for once, you have no doubts about your decision to come here. This actually feels like the first real decision you have ever made. 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

When Steve opens the building's front door, the smell of fresh rain and pavement hangs in the air, an oddly nostalgic scent. It reminds you of childhood, of early mornings at summer camp with Robin. 

The sun hangs low and bright orange in the sky–it’s getting late so you’ll probably only be able to make one trip to your car and back before the sun goes down, and then have to collect the rest of your things tomorrow. 

Though you grabbed as much as you could carry from your car (which remains parked in a garage about three blocks away) before going in search of Robin’s apartment, you obviously couldn’t take everything with you, so the bags you just dropped off at your new place were only a fraction of the things packed away in your vehicle. 

Robin’s friends kindly offered to help you drag the rest of your belongings back to her apartment. Since none of them have a car, and it is apparently nearly impossible to find parking in this city, you have no choice but to carry everything back by hand. 

You lead the way to the parking garage, Robin at your side and the rest of the gang following behind you. 

As you walk through the city, past storefronts, HELP WANTED signs in windows, and people with briefcases in long coats and giant scarves walking briskly like they have someplace important to be, you’re reminded of an imperative piece of information.

“Robin?” You say as you cross the street. 

“Hm?”

“I don’t have a job here.” 

The whole reason Robin was looking for a new roommate in the first place was because she can no longer afford her place on her own. And you, as her new roommate, have been recruited to help solve that problem for her. But without a job, and a bank account that is less than impressive, you’re on the clock to find a new job–and fast. 

“You can work at Hannigan’s with Eddie and I!” She offers excitedly, her hand smacking your arm in her enthusiasm. Sorry! She apologizes quickly before continuing: “We’ve been working there forever, I can put in a good word for you with the owner.” 

“That sounds great…But what’s ‘Hannigan’s’?” You ask, because in her haste to offer a solution to your little problem, she had left out vital information. Eddie pipes up from the rear and steps forward so he can walk in step with you and Robin as he answers your question. 

The way the sun hits him from behind outlines his body in a soft orange halo, causing his long hair to shine in the early evening light. This lighting softens his features, making him look angelic and pretty as his pale skin glows. You find yourself content watching him as he speaks.  

“It’s one of those fancy upscale restaurants. The tips are usually pretty good, but sometimes you gotta endure some light harassment to get them,” Eddie explains, and when he sees the apprehensive look on your face, he jumps to reassure you: “Sometimes we get to take home leftovers though.”

“By ‘get to take’, he means steal,” Steve corrects and you look to Robin for confirmation.

She just shrugs. “They’d go to waste anyway.” 

“I guess I’ll just have to invest in some armour, then,” You say, implying that physical armour could somehow protect you from rude customers. Eddie smiles at that, a dimple carving into his cheek. Briefly, you note how charming his smile is, but before you can stare too long, Robin grabs your attention by lightly elbowing you. 

“Don’t worry, snooty rich people can’t be as bad as Harrington's snotty children,” She says. 

“Oh! You have kids?” You wonder, turning to Steve as he strides along casually a few steps behind you, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets. 

“No, not yet. I work at one of the preschools in the area,” Steve supplies. 

“Oh, nice. You like working with kids?” You wonder. 

His answer is apparent on his face which lights up instantly at the question. “Love it. The kids are really great, and so much more capable than people give them credit for! People are quick to dismiss kids, especially four and five year olds, but they understand more than you think.” Steve rambles, his passion clear. 

“Hey, is this the garage?” Robin asks, bringing your attention back to the task at hand. 

It is. The place you left your car a mere two hours ago, nervous and unsure of what came next. But now you have a new place, something akin to a job offer, and three kind strangers and one old friend by your side. 

Once you reach your car–which is parked all the way on the top floor–you unlock the back seat doors. 

“Okay, so, let’s try to grab all the stuff from the front and maybe a few things from the back?” You suggest, then move to unlock the trunk of your car where the boys stand. 

“Jesus. How did you pack all this shit in here?” Eddie asks, marvelling at the trunk of your car which is stuffed full of most of your belongings. 

“Are we about to find your kitchen sink packed away in here, or what?” Steve adds. 

“Uh, I don’t know, really,” You say, answering Eddie’s question. “I packed it all up so quickly I didn’t really notice how much stuff it actually was, but it’s like my entire apartment is stuffed into this trunk.” You say, and it kind of is. You’re surprised your trunk could even shut with how crowded it is. 

Robin and Nancy grab the remaining bags from the back seat, while you and the guys grab a couple boxes from the trunk. Then you lock up and start back to your new apartment. 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Your first thought when you gain consciousness in your bed is a thought that no one would ever want to have—especially not before eight in the morning. Someone has broken into my apartment. 

Your eyes shoot open, staring up at the ceiling–your new ceiling! In your new apartment! That you’ve lived in now for a solid 48 hours. But your time here may be cut short if the intruder has plans that involve you and a knife.

You know for a fact that it is not Robin because you share a wall with her and can hear her shuffling around her room getting ready for the day, and the person out in your living room right now definitely opened your front door and is now shuffling around out there.

Thud. 

What the fuck was that?

Most people in your situation might freeze in fear and simply lie in wait for the intruder to come to them, accepting their fate. Others might run and hide. But you, on this random Tuesday in November at 7:43AM were apparently a force to be reckoned with. The Old You might have chosen one of the two above options, but New York You–the new, and hopefully improved, you–has a job interview today and are not going to let some intruder stop you from making it. 

You are not about to have your fresh start end so soon. So, you carefully pull the covers off of your body and as quietly as possible get out of bed.

Inching slowly towards the door, you decide you first need a weapon to defend yourself. There’s no use going out there and meeting the intruder if you can’t protect yourself against them. However, since you’re not in the kitchen, you don’t have access to a knife or any other kitchen utensil that could be wielded as a weapon. And since many of your belongings are still packed away in bags and boxes scattered around the room, you don’t exactly have many options. 

Quickly, you grab the first object you see that could potentially be used to incapacitate the intruder. Then, you very slowly reach for the handle of your door. 

Twisting the handle as gently as you can manage so as not to draw attention to yourself, you begin to open the door, revealing an inch of the kitchen, then another couple inches which reveals a sliver of the living room. Heart racing wildly in your chest, you decide it’s now or never. 

Bursting from your room while brandishing your weapon of choice, you let out what some may describe as a battle cry, startling the intruder in the living room. Startling them so much that they bang their head on the coffee table when they try to get up from where they’re laying on their stomach on the floor between the couch and table. 

You don’t have a great view of the intruder from where you stand right outside your door, so you slowly step toward them where they lie. 

The intruder groans in pain, forehead falling to rest on the rug below them as they bring a hand to the back of their head. A head with long, messy curls that you vaguely recognize. 

Oh. Oh, God. 

“Eddie?” You question meekly, lowering your weapon as waves of guilt crash over you. 

“Uh-huh,” He replies weakly, voice muffled by the rug he’s practically eating. 

“Oh, God,” You moan before placing your weapon on the table and rushing to his side. He lifts his head then, and you help him up onto the couch. He groans again as he sits back into the plush cushions and all you can do is apologize. 

Taking a seat on the coffee table, you grimace at his grimace. “I am so sorry, I thought you were an intruder,” You explain, squeezing your fingers in your hand. Your heart still races in your chest. 

“It’s-It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Kinda did it to myself,” Eddie jokes, still rubbing the back of his head. You nod once, biting your lip, still feeling guilty because, yeah, he technically did do it himself, but he wouldn’t have if you hadn’t stormed out of your room like a crazy person and screamed bloody murder.

As your heart slows to its normal pace, you begin to wonder what he was doing here in the first place—laying on the living room rug for that matter.

“Um, I don’t mean to be rude, but what exactly were you doing on the floor?” You ask, finally taking in his dress now that the situation has deescalated some. He wears red and black plaid pyjama bottoms and a white tank top so see-through that you catch a glimpse of dark ink beneath the material. The sight steals your breath for a moment. 

“I was, uh, looking for my rings. Thought they might have fallen under the table,” Eddie supplies, drawing your eyes back up to his face. His eyes are warm and soft. God, you don’t think you’ve ever seen eyes so large and round. He looks like a baby deer or something. A cute, injured baby deer. 

“Oh. Did Robin let you in?” You ask, because it doesn’t matter that he looks like a baby deer, what matters is that it is very possible that he simply let himself into your apartment and you’re not sure you’re comfortable with that just yet. I mean, you’ve only just met him and the others two days ago, and have only seen them one other time since then when they had come by to help clear out your new room. 

Eddie looks like the guilty one now as he replies, “Uh, no…?”

“Sorry,” He apologizes quickly. “Let me just…try this again.” 

You’re not sure exactly what he means until he stands and begins walking backwards in the direction of the front door, all the while making strange noises with his mouth that somewhat resemble the sound of rewinding a tape. He’s literally starting over, resetting, going back in time to try this again because he saw you weren’t comfortable with his uninvited presence in your apartment.

All you can do is sit and simply stare at the strange, yet comical display as Eddie awkwardly reaches behind him, opens the door, reverses out into the hallway, and shuts the door with a slam. 

Too stunned to laugh for a moment, you sit in silence for approximately five seconds, thinking that might be the end of it, before a knock sounds at the front door. 

You hesitate, staring at the door strangely. But you’re intrigued now by his strange display, wanting to know how it ends. So you stand and stroll over to the door, opening it to, of course, reveal Eddie, who smiles brightly at you. 

“Good morning,” He greets politely. “You mind if I come in?” 

Stifling a giggle, you nod. “Of course.” And open the door wider, stepping to the side to allow him space to enter. He enters swiftly and you shut the door.

Eddie saunters over to the living room once again, about to resume the search for his rings when he spots your weapon of choice sitting innocently on the coffee table where you left it. He pauses and stares at it for a moment, tilting his head, and you stare at his back as you remain in the kitchen, watching as his dark curls shift and fall to one side, cascading over his shoulders. 

The presence of the weapon is new to him since it obviously was not there when he entered the apartment the first time. He also hadn’t seen it even when he’d gotten up from the floor because you’d sat on the coffee table, and therefore blocked his view of the object. 

Now, Eddie wanders over to the coffee table, gingerly picking the weapon up like it’s some sort of precious antique, then spins around smoothly to face you. Holding it loosely at one end, he lets it dangle just above the hardwood floor.

Eddie raises his eyebrows at you. You stare back at him, unsure of what’s happening. 

“What?” You wonder. 

“What were you gonna use this for?” Eddie asks, tone humorous, and dark eyes sparkling with mirth. 

“To-to defend myself against the intruder,” You answer, suddenly feeling strangely self-conscious about your choice of weapon. 

“With a bathrobe tie?” Eddie exclaims, shaking the flimsy terry cloth material around so the long fabric wiggles in the air.  

“Y-yes!” You defend weakly.

“What were you gonna do? Spa-day me to death?” 

“No! I-I thought it could be used to, like—choke someone?” You say, cringing as the words come out of your mouth. 

Eddie barks a laugh. But you can tell he's not laughing at you. He simply finds the situation and your choice amusing. In the little time you’ve spent around Eddie, you don’t get the impression that he’s mean-spirited or judgmental. The exact opposite actually–to you, he’s only been accepting and kind. 

“It’s creative, I’ll give you that. But not very practical,” Eddie critiques.

“My robe was hanging on my door, okay? It’s not like I had a knife in there or something,” You attempt to defend, playing along. 

“Still!” He laughs incredulously. 

“Let me get this straight: first, you break into my apartment, and then I very kindly invite you back in, and you insult my choice of weapon?” 

Eddie seems to mull this over, recalling the events in his mind to confirm that, yes, that is indeed what has happened.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so…Ya know, you should really talk to Harrington. He’s the king of wielding random objects as weapons. When we first moved here, he thought we were getting broken into all the time, and this one time he grabbed our floor lamp and-” 

Before he can finish his story though, Robin comes out from her bedroom, dressed in some jeans and a striped long-sleeve. She makes it a few steps before she notices Eddie and you standing almost ten feet apart in the living room together, both of you still dressed in your pyjamas, and one of you grasping a purple bathrobe tie. Robin stares for a moment like she’s suspicious of something, shifting her eyes from you to Eddie and back again. They land on Eddie when she slowly asks, “What’s going on?” 

“I was looking for my rings. You seen ‘em?” He explains, effectively diverting her attention from the strangeness of the situation. 

“Yeah,” She nods, walking towards the kitchen again. “In the dish by the door.” 

“Cool. Thanks,” Eddie says, walking towards you now. Before he walks past you to retrieve his rings though, he takes hold of the other end of the bathrobe tie, pulling it taught, and presenting it to you with a slight bow. “Your sword, m’lady.” 

Grabbing the tie from him, you thank him, and he continues toward the dish by the door. Eddie’s theatrical and kind of strange, but instead of weirding you out, you find that those traits endear you to him. You’re sick of boring people and to finally be around someone who is so unapologetically themselves is refreshing. Especially someone as interesting as Eddie. 

Turning around to the kitchen where Eddie is carefully rooting through the dish for his rings and Robin is grabbing a juice from the fridge, you realize something strange about what just happened. Though surprisingly, none of it has to do with Eddie. 

“Um-if you were in your room getting ready, how did you not hear my scream?” You ask, because you doubt that she just didn’t hear it. You were pretty loud. 

After taking a sip from the small plastic bottle, Robin explains, “Huh. I guess I’ve learned to sort of tune out the noise. Living across the hall from two idiots who barge into my apartment without warning has kind of become my new normal. Loud, sudden noises aren’t really surprising anymore.”

“It’s worrying how desensitized you are,” You reply, mostly joking. 

Robin takes another sip of her juice and shrugs. “Don’t worry, you’ll get there someday.” 

“Ya know, I really hope I don’t.” 

Robins snorts, approaching the counter where Eddie is still picking his rings from the mess of keys and other small trinkets in the dish, and crouches down to retrieve her tote bag from the shelf below the counter. You ball up and toss your robe tie in the general direction of your room before Robin pops back up and turns to grab her juice from the table behind her. 

“Okay, so I gotta go run some errands, but I should be back just after your interview,” She informs and you nod. Eddie goes to leave as well, opening the front door as Robin tells you, “Good luck, you’ll be great!” Then heads for the door as well. 

Gratitude swells in your chest. Robin has been more than kind to you these past two days. Before Saturday, it had been years since you last spoke.

You and Robin were best friends at the summer camp you attended as children and remained close as you entered your teen years and later became camp counsellors at the same camp. You were the first person she ever came out to and it often felt like you shared a brain; for many years she was your sister. 

Despite your living hours and hours away, you and Robin maintained your friendship during the non-summer months; talking on the phone often and mailing letters back and forth. 

Eventually, though, your individual lives got busy and neither of you had the time to maintain the long-distance friendship or attend summer camp as counsellors anymore. Phone calls decreased and letters stopped being written and mailed, until eventually, your friendship fizzled out. There was no major falling out of any sort; the end of your friendship was simply the result of poor management on both ends. 

You often thought about calling her up to see how she was, but it wasn’t until last week that you made the impulsive decision to contact her again. And you’re glad you did. She’s given you a new home and she even helped you set up your job interview at Hannigan’s. You’re grateful that she’s given you the opportunity to start fresh in this new city with new, interesting people, but much of your gratitude comes from the chance you now both have to breathe life back into your cherished friendship.

“Hey,” You call, causing Robin to pause and turn to you before she exits the apartment, brows expectantly raised. “I know I’ve already said it so many times, but I just want to say thank you one more time for everything you’ve done for me these past two days. And I know it’s been a long time since we’ve been friends…but you’re a really good friend.” 

Robin smiles softly at you. “You’re a really good friend too. You always have been.” 

It’s then you rush to her at the door where you embrace her in the biggest hug and hope the action translates the magnitude of your thankfulness and love for her. 

“I’ll see you later,” She says after you part, walking out into the hallway. 

You sigh.

It has been one hectic morning, and your interview starts at 10:30, so you should probably start getting ready now. But Eddie lingers in the hallway, just outside his front door. 

Before you can even say anything, he preemptively apologizes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to, like, eavesdrop, but you have your interview at Hannigan’s today?” 

You’re not mad though. Nothing you said was a secret. And so far, you trust Eddie. He cares about the way people around him are feeling and takes action to remedy situations where people aren’t happy or comfortable. That much is clear from this morning. It’s why you don’t dismiss him and leave to get ready. He’s a good person. 

“Yeah, I do. Why?”

Eddie takes a couple steps forward so he’s standing just inside your apartment once again. 

“Would it help if I gave you some tips? I’ve been working there for a while and I kinda know what they’re looking for, so-”

“That would be great!” You exclaim, because you really need this job if you want to continue living here. 

Eddie just smiles brightly at your reaction as you say, “Just let me get dressed and then I’ll knock on your door when I’m ready?” 

“Sure,” Eddie nods, grabbing the edge of the door on his way out to close it. 

“Oh! And Eddie?” You call out just before the door shuts. 

“Yeah?” He responds, popping his head back in the apartment. 

“I really am so sorry about this morning.” 

“It’s alright. I’m sorry for breaking in…Although you seemed pretty unprepared, so, yaknow, this was probably a good learning experience for you,” He teases, that same sparkle in his eyes that had appeared when he was questioning your weapon returning. 

You bite your lip over a smile as Eddie winks at you and disappears behind the door, the heavy wood slamming softly shut. 

Getting ready in record time, you end up knocking on Eddie’s door across the hall approximately one hour later, leaving more than enough time for Eddie to give you interview tips and for you to walk over to Hannigan’s to arrive early. 

As you stand in the hall awaiting his answer, you feel oddly giddy, a swarm of nervous butterflies fluttering rapidly in your belly. Briefly, you think your butterflies can be explained on account of Eddie making you nervous. But you bat that thought away as you hear footsteps approaching and remind yourself that it’s more likely that your upcoming job interview has caused the butterflies. 

When Eddie answers his door, you find he’s also gotten dressed in the hour since you’ve seen each other. He wears a simple black t-shirt with a band name and logo you don’t recognize on the front with a long-sleeve underneath, and some light-wash jeans. His hair is noticeably more tame, his curls flowing neatly over his shoulders. Eddie also wears the silver rings he was searching for this morning; three on one hand, and one on the other. The fluttering in your belly intensifies for a moment, but again, you bat them away. 

“You wanna come in or are we gonna do this out in the hall?” Eddie jokes when you make no move to enter his apartment, unaware of this strange battle you’re having within yourself at his doorstep. 

Shaking yourself free of your thoughts, you mutter a quick apology and take his joke as an invitation to enter. As you do, you realize this is the first time you’ve been inside his apartment. Which isn’t a surprising fact. You’ve only been here for two full days, and haven’t really left your apartment much since then.

His apartment is smaller and you might describe it as drab, but their decor choices are vibrant in their own way. 

The kitchen is immediately to your right as you enter, a table to your left, and as you wander further into the room, a counter separates the entrance slash kitchen area from the living room. In the living room sits two black recliners and a large wood entertainment centre with a television set. On either side of this are two closed doors. 

The far right side of the apartment has two windows and a red sofa sitting beneath it. Beside that is another door, this one open (revealing tiled floor and a closed shower curtain). 

There isn’t much in the way of wall decoration (aside from a lone dart board hanging on the wall and a few posters), but on some of the shelves of the entertainment centre are framed photographs. Some of the photos feature what appears to be two younger versions of Steve and Eddie, presumably taken in high school. In one photo, Eddie has his arm around Steve’s shoulder and they both hold beer cans in their hands. Eddie smiles cheekily for the camera, while Steve puts on a faux grimace at his friends close proximity. 

Other photos feature boys who appear to be much younger than Steve and Eddie (possibly siblings?) and there are also photos that include Robin and Nancy, some recent and others clearly taken years ago. Another includes Steve and Eddie carrying a boy with curly hair–who wears a graduation cap and gown–on their shoulders, all of them smiling widely. You can tell it's candid as they all appear to be laughing and unaware of the camera photographing them. 

“Who’s this?” You ask curiously, pointing at the photo as you turn around, finding that Eddie hasn’t moved from his spot at the door and has likely been watching you inspect his living area this whole time. Suddenly you feel like you’re intruding. “Sorry, I-”

“No worries. You can look. That’s what they’re there for,” He shrugs, finally joining you in the living room. 

At your side now, Eddie inspects the photo you pointed to and a fond smile crosses his face. His side profile is soft, and you spy just a hint of shaven stubble on his cheeks. It distracts you for a moment. 

“Dustin,” Eddie says after a beat. 

“What?” You ask dumbly, now preoccupied with the freckles you’ve spotted that dot his pale skin lightly. 

You’ve never been this close to him before. All you’d have to do to get right into his personal space is take one short step forward. But of course you won’t do that. Why would you? 

Eddie looks from the photograph to you. “In the picture,” He explains, nodding to the framed image. “That’s Dustin. It was taken at his high school graduation, like, two years ago? He’s a good kid…Well, he’s not really a kid anymore, but I guess it still feels like that sometimes.” 

“How do you know him?” You hear yourself say. The kid looks like he’s about five years younger than Eddie and Steve, so naturally you’re curious about how they know him. 

You’re supposed to be here getting pointers for your job interview, but instead, you find that you’re more interested in the details of Eddie’s life. 

“Uh, we were in high school together and I had this club that he was a part of,” Eddie explains, hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“What kind of club?” You wonder, electing to ignore the fact that he somehow attended high school with this kid. 

He seems reluctant to provide you with an answer to your question. Up until now, he’s been a pretty open book; someone who doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him. But now all of the sudden, he’s guarded? 

“I won’t judge, yaknow,” You reassure, because you won’t, but also because his reluctance to reveal what sort of club he ran makes you all the more curious to find out. 

Eddie side eyes you, squinting. He must determine that your remark is genuine because he straightens up from where he’d bent slightly to view the photo and provides you with an answer. 

“Ever heard of DnD? Dungeons and Dragons?” 

You furrow your brows for a moment, vaguely recognizing the name, but not remembering why. 

“Oh!” You exclaim after a beat. “Yes! Was that the one that people were freaking out about years ago cause they thought it caused Satanism?”

Eddie snaps his fingers as he responds, “That’s the one.” 

Then, he glances back at the photograph, and you think you can almost make out memories behind his eyes. Fond ones. You lean forward slightly, trying to catch his eyes again.

“You still play?” 

Your question shakes him out of his momentary reverie, and he looks to you once again. “Not as much as I used to…But Dustin and the other guys and I try to organize a couple meetings throughout the year. It’s hard though because everyone’s kinda spread out now. And busy.”

His tone is wistful as he continues to glance around at the photos sitting on the shelf. Had you just upset him? First, you assist him in banging his head against your coffee table and now you’re potentially causing him some emotional pain too! Good going. 

You’re about to apologize or change the subject, but Eddie speaks before you can. “Anyway! We should probably talk about your interview now. How long do we have?”

Looking around the room to find a clock, you spot one by the door. The little hand points toward the nine and the large hand points toward the six. 

“About a half hour before I should get going,” You respond, turning back to Eddie as he takes a seat on one of the recliners behind you. You sit down as well. 

“Great. So…do you have any questions first?” Eddie asks, unsure where to start. 

“Uh,” You say, trying to remember any questions you had, but you can’t seem to recall any as you roll up the sleeves of your thick sweater, the ink on your wrist and forearms revealed as the fabric is pulled back. 

Immediately, Eddie’s eyes shoot down to the action and for the first time, he catches sight of the ink.

“I didn’t know you had tattoos,” He remarks, like it’s something he should have known. As if it’s been more than 48 hours since you met and it’s ridiculous that he didn’t know. 

“Oh. Yeah,” You say absentmindedly, glancing down at your arms. 

“Tip number one: your tattoos are sick, but at Hannigan’s, they aren’t exactly appreciated, so you should make sure you cover them up.”

“Gotcha,” You say, rolling your sleeves back down the length of your arms.

Suddenly you’re reminded of your first day when you spotted his inked arms. The seven bats decorating his forearm. “Um…Yours are really cool by the way,” You compliment. 

Then, “When did you get your first one?” You ask, veering further off topic. You can’t seem to stop yourself and you don’t know why. 

“Uh…heh,” Eddie huffs a short laugh, almost as if he’d forgotten until this very second when you’d asked him. “I think I was, like, 16, 17? I did a really shitty stick-and-poke on my leg–the initials of my band name: Corroded Coffin.”

Every new thing you learn about Eddie intrigues you. Of course this long-haired, tattoo-having, ring-wearing, Dungeons and Dragons-playing 20-something would also have been in a band. Your surprise is likely evident on your face.

“You’ll have to come to one of our gigs sometime,” Eddie invites casually, as if it’s not the most cool thing to say in the world. Eddie didn’t used to be in a band, Eddie is in a band! 

“You’re still in the band?” 

“Yeah, the other guys live out here too, and we do regular gigs a few times a week…but, um, what about you? When did you get your first tattoo?” 

Still gaping at him, you must pick your jaw up off the ground before you can respond. Cool and humble. How is he real?

“Oh, um, I was 18…I actually got it cause I knew my mom would hate it and it would probably piss her off,” You say, a little embarrassed by that fact. You don’t know why you reveal the information to him in the first place. Maybe because for some odd reason you know he won’t tell anyone. Even still—his story was way cooler. Especially since it preceded the reveal that he’s in a band. But maybe that’s also part of the reason you share it. You want him to think you’re just as interesting as he is—though you’re not sure who would be impressed by the information you just shared. 

“Did it work?” Eddie asks. To your surprise, he seems invested in your answer, leaning over the edge of the recliner's armrest. As if what you’ve said was equally as interesting as his response. 

“Did what work?” 

“Was she pissed?” 

“Oh!” You say, like a total ditz. “Um, yeah. Big time. She hates tattoos.” 

“Is that why you have all of them?”

“No, I only got the first one to make her mad. And then when I realized I really loved it, I just kept getting them,” You respond, pushing your sleeve back slightly to brush the one on your wrist with your thumb. 

When you look back up at him he’s smiling softly at you, but he quickly averts his gaze and his eyes find the clock on the wall. “Shit,” He says, a little panicked. “We only have 20 minutes.”

Whipping your head around to glance at the clock, the hands confirm that it’s 20 to 10 and you’ve barely discussed what you came here to discuss. 

“I guess we’ll just have to lightning round this shit,” Eddie says, determination set in his tone. 

And you do lightning round this shit. In just over 20 minutes, Eddie tells you as much as he can about the owner of the restaurant—Cordelia—who is going to be interviewing you. He tells you how to sit, what to say, how to say it, anything and everything he can think of to help you secure a job at this place. 

As you two stand and Eddie walks you to the door, he shoots you a few final pointers.

 “Obviously it helps that you have experience working at an upscale restaurant, so, um, she’ll probably ask you about that too,” Eddie says, and you nod.

When you reach the door, you turn to him. 

“Thank you so much for your help,” You say sincerely. “You really didn’t have to do this, so it means a lot that you did.” 

“Of course I did,” Eddie replies, like it's just that simple. Your brows furrow. “You’re a member of this party now, and as a fellow party member, it’s my duty to help other party members out when they’re in need.”

“A ‘party member’?” 

You’re sure you catch the faintest blush across his cheeks from your question.

“Sorry, uh, I guess it just means you’re one of us now…A friend,” Eddie explains. 

“A friend,” You repeat. And you find the word involuntarily pulls your lips into a soft smile. 

“Anyway, you should probably get going,” Eddie reminds with another glance at the clock. 

“Yeah, okay,” You agree, turning to open the door.  “Oh, um, where did you say the restaurant was again?” You ask when you’re out in the hallway. 

“It’s um…You know what? Why don’t I just walk you there?” Eddie offers. 

“Really? You don’t mind?” 

“Not at all,” Eddie says with a charming smile. 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Cordelia was an intense woman. Eddie had warned you of this, though you had wildly underestimated the level of intensity the woman embodied. She was tall, and wore her long, black hair up in a sleek ponytail, not a flyaway in sight. Her office was large and so neat that you thought it looked like some sort of staged set for a decor magazine. 

During your interview, you learned exactly one thing about Cordelia: Cordelia does not fuck around. She did not have time for exchanging pleasantries, and a simple handshake and a “take a seat” was the only introduction she provided you with before she began the interview, which mostly felt more like a police interrogation than a job interview. 

By the end, you thought you felt good about how it went, but Cordelia was hard to read. You never once saw her smile or provide you with any kind of verbal or non-verbal communication that would indicate that she was impressed with your resume or any of your answers to her questions.

It was likely one of the most strange job interviews you had ever had. It didn’t necessarily leave you full of hope as you got up from the leather upholstered chair and Cordelia informed you that you would receive a call if she decided to hire you. 

Walking through the restaurant–which was void of patrons, but had some staff preparing and setting up for opening in a few hours–, you finally come to the large glass entrance doors, and push one open. The late November chill blasts you in the face immediately and the switch from the warmth of the restaurant to this shiver-worthy weather is jarring. Had it somehow dropped five degrees from when you’d walked here? 

Turning right and beginning your trek back home, you hear a voice call out your name from behind you. 

You ignore it at first, thinking that the person can’t be calling out to you since you know a grand total of four people so far (five if you count Cordelia—but you don’t) and surely there are other people in this massively diverse city that also have your name. 

“Hey!” The voice calls again once you’ve made it no more than fifteen feet from the restaurant. 

Finally, you stop walking and spin around to locate the source, and what you find surprises you.

Eddie is currently jogging toward you. 

He’d waited this whole time? Out in the freezing cold? With that effortlessly cool leather jacket that is an extremely pathetic excuse for a winter coat and is definitely doing nothing to keep the warmth in?

“Hey,” He says again once he reaches you. 

“Hey,” You say. “You didn’t have to wait for me, Eddie.” Because he really didn’t and you don’t want to be a burden or make him think you’re taking advantage of his kindness. 

“Seeing as you’re going in the wrong direction, it’s probably a good thing I did,” Eddie tells you, nodding back in the other direction with a gentle, c’mon. You feel your face warm even as the wind whips you. 

“Thanks,” You say sheepishly, walking in step with Eddie—in the correct direction now.

“So, how’d it go? Did you crush it?” He asks hopefully, head turned to look at you, and his shoulders pushed up by his red-tipped ears as though he’s trying to conserve heat. 

The furrow in your brow and your soft stuttering must be enough for Eddie to understand exactly how it went, as he speaks before you can provide him with your best approximation of how the interview might have gone. 

“Yeah, that’s normal with Cordelia. That woman is impossible to read,” He says, shaking his head as you both stop at a crosswalk. 

“Right? Oh my God. I’m glad it wasn’t just me,” You say, relieved because that means that the interview wasn’t a total disaster. Is that what that means?

“Yeah, we call her Medusa,” Eddie remarks with a sidelong glance at you. 

You snort unattractively at the nickname and just as quickly bring your hand to your face, covering your mouth as if the action could force the sound back in. 

“Fitting,” You say, coughing as a cover for the noise when Eddie looks at you, brows raised, supposedly amused by your amusement. 

Eddie smirks to himself, barely noticeable, before asking, “Did she say she’d call?” As you look both ways before crossing the street with many other bundled-up New Yorkers. 

“Uh, yeah, why?” 

“That’s a good sign,” He answers, his shoulders shaking with a sudden shiver. That simple statement allows just a little drop of hope to blossom in your chest. 

“Are you cold?” You ask because he can’t not be freezing. He’s not exactly convincing you otherwise. 

“Yeah. I can’t feel my fingers,” Eddie states plainly.

“Wanna jog the rest of the way?” You offer, mostly joking. 

“Please,” He replies anyway.

Though you don’t exactly jog the last few blocks home, you do pick up the pace, and when you get back you make him some tea to warm him up (and hopefully bring back feeling in his fingers). 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Since your interview every time the phone rings you basically leap over any obstacles in your way to get to the phone, hoping it will be Cordelia calling about your waitressing position as Hannigan’s. But each time the phone rings and it’s a telemarketer, or the bank, or anyone other than Medusa herself, you lose just a little more of that small inkling of hope you allowed yourself to have. 

At present, you sit on the couch in the living room beside Robin while you eat noodles; the rest of the Chinese spread sitting on the coffee table in front of you or in the laps of Steve, Eddie, and Robin. 

On the plush chair to your left sits Steve who is currently chowing down on some dumplings while staring with rapt attention at the television, and Eddie–who announced his newfound aversion to normative seating options upon his arrival in your home–sits on the floor by your socked feet. 

Though the TV is on, you aren’t really paying attention. It’s been just over a week now since you moved in and one week to the day since your interview, and by now you’ve lost all hope. 

Privately, you decided that you would call time of death on this potential job by the end of today and start searching for a new one tomorrow. You know there’s plenty of other jobs out there, but the prospect of working with Robin and Eddie had excited you and made you a whole lot less anxious about working in this new city.  

Ring! Ring! Ring! 

Hope surges inside of you despite your intentions of abandoning it. Suddenly, you feel three sets of eyes on you. Even Steve—who had been incredibly invested in the lifeguards running in slow motion on the television screen—looks at you now. 

They all knew you’d been waiting for the call. They also knew that you hadn’t received one. Not the one, at least. You wish you had time to get up and answer the phone that sits on the side table in your bedroom because you’d really rather not admit to them that it’s simply another telemarketer. 

Since you don’t have the time to reach the phone in your bedroom though, you pull in a deep breath, reach over the sofa arm, and pick up the landline that sits on the glass end table. 

“Hello?” 

“Hello, this is Cordelia Hannigan from Hannigan’s-”

And after that you think you black out. Because you don’t hear anything after that. Because this is the happiest you’ve ever been about getting a call about a job. Which sounds ridiculous since it’s just a waitressing job. But it represents so much more. It’s the seal that cements your place in this city with these people. It represents your new beginning. 

With that realization you decide that you should probably listen to your new beginning. Trying your best to tune into Cordelia’s words, you hear her throwing words and phrases around like strict dress code and uniform and training and first shift. When she’s done, you tell her thank you, and return the phone to the base, hanging it up with a resolute click. 

Three sets of eyes remain on you and your frozen body. When you don’t say anything after one second of hanging up, they get restless. 

“So?” Steve prompts, leaning forward in his chair in anticipation. 

“Was it Medusa?” Robin asks from your side. 

You nod slowly, not believing it yourself. “Uh-huh…I got the job.” 

“You got the job!” They all shout in freaky unison. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. You think you hear Steve mutter déjà-vu to himself as Robin and Eddie continue their cheering and congratulating. 

“I-I start training this week and my first shift next week,” You inform. 

And then Eddie’s shouting, “Speech, speech, speech!” with his hands cupped over his mouth as if you’re much further away from him. 

“Alright, alright!” You acquiesce as the others join his chant, putting your noodles down on the coffee table and getting up to stand in front of the television.

“Um, I guess I just want to thank all of you,” You begin, feeling suddenly sincere, but still maintaining a note of jest. “I couldn’t have done it without all of you. Steve, you helped me transport and unpack most of my shit. And I have a lot of shit.”

He nods in agreement. “And I couldn’t have focused on prepping for the interview if I was worried about my stuff sitting in my car in that garage, so thank you…Robin, you helped me set up the interview with Cordelia-”

“Medusa,” Robin and Eddie correct simultaneously. 

“Medusa,” You correct yourself. “And you also recommended me for the position. So, thank you…And last, but certainly not least, Eddie,” You say, smiling softly when you catch his eye. He smiles right back at you, that charming dimple appearing on his face as he does. 

“Without your pointers I probably would not have made it through the interview without being turned to stone.”–Eddie snorts–“And I also probably would have gotten completely lost and wandered into the East River if you hadn’t been there when I left. So, thank you…” You tell him sincerely, the partially joking tone you had maintained throughout your cheesy speech erased completely now since your gaze had fallen on him. 

“Good night, New York!” You finish, trying to play up the cheesiness now to divert from the seriousness that had snuck into your tone, and you bow dramatically as Robin and Eddie clap and woop. But Steve, you notice, is glancing oddly as Eddie.

You laugh as you take your seat, plucking your cardboard box of noodles off the table as you go. 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

“Robin!” You hear Steve call from out in the living room, his voice muffled slightly through your closed bedroom door. “The door!” 

Robin’s door creaks open before you hear her exit her bedroom. 

“You couldn’t have gotten it?” She complains as she walks through the apartment to answer the door. 

“No. Baywatch is on,” Steve replies like his answer needs no further explanation. You snicker to yourself as you button up your pressed, white uniform shirt. You swear you can hear Robin’s eyes rolling. 

Baywatch was Steve’s favourite TV show; he never missed an episode—except for last week when a meeting at his school ran longer than expected and he’d called Robin to get her to tape it for him. He decided that now–while you were both getting ready to leave for work–was the perfect time to come over and watch it (instead of taking the tape back to his place since your TV is better anyway). 

The apartment's front door–which remains perpetually unlocked when you and Robin are home–opens and you listen closely to hear who it might be while you work on tucking your shirt into your formal black dress pants. 

“Oh. Hey, Eddie,” You hear Robin greet, though it sounds more like a question with the confusion lacing her tone. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, his footsteps tapping against the faux hardwood as Robin shuts the door with a loud slam. 

With a quick glance over at your alarm clock, you find that it’s almost time to leave. The realization sends nervous butterflies to flight in your belly. Tonight is your very first shift at Hannigan’s. 

Last week you had your training, which was nerve-wracking, but tonight was the real thing. Tonight you would be earning your first dollar, receiving your first tip, suggesting wine pairings, and probably dealing with rude customers. And all of it makes you nervous. 

It’s scary for so many reasons, for more reasons than just the fact that new jobs (no matter what they are) are always scary. It’s scary because it’s the next step in the process of making a new–hopefully better–life for yourself here. For that reason, you want it to go well. But you aren’t sure what ‘well’ really means in this situation. 

“Y/N!” Robin calls, shaking you from your thoughts. “Cab’s here!” 

Blowing out a quick breath, and trying your best to shake out your nerves, you grab your jacket and bag and exit your bedroom, still feeling those butterflies, but determined not to let them shake you. At least not too much. 

Leaning against the now open apartment door is Eddie who’s dressed in the same black dress pants and white button-up as you and Robin. He shoots you an easy smile as you emerge from your room, and you smile back. 

His long hair, which he usually lets flow over his shoulders in soft waves, is now tied in a low bun. He’s missing his usual chunky silver rings and all his tattoos are hidden beneath his sleeves and a highly buttoned collar. 

Though it’s strange to see him stripped of his unique accessories, you find yourself scrolling your eyes over his body. With his hair away from his face, his features are highlighted, revealing the strong line of his jaw and making his eyes appear somehow larger. 

As your eyes move down his body, you note the way his arms look in the button up, how his thighs fill out the dress pants. You find yourself missing his rings though. Something twists in your belly, though this time it’s not nerves. 

“Ready?” Robin’s voice asks, once again shaking you from your thoughts. She must notice that you weren’t entirely there, that you were lost in your thoughts because she stops shoving things into her bag to ask: “You okay?” 

Ripping your gaze away from Eddie and turning to Robin, you reply, “Yeah!” in a voice much higher than your own. You cough quickly as a cover and repeat your words, sounding much less caught out the second time. 

“Okay,” Robin drawls suspiciously. “Well, we should really get down to the cab now cause we probably have about 60 seconds before they decide to leave and force us to brave the windchill ourselves,” She informs, pulling her jacket on and shoving her tote bag over her shoulder. “Alright, you’ll lock up and we’ll see you at the coffee house afterwards?” Robin asks Steve. 

“Yeah, sure,” He replies absentmindedly from where he’s glued to the sofa. 

“Shit, I should probably get my keys then,” You mutter. If they’re going to the coffee house after your shift, then you can’t rely on Robin unlocking the door for you if you’re not together when you get home. 

Before you can walk back to your room to retrieve your keys though, Steve pipes up. You’re pretty sure it’s the first time he’s taken his eyes off the television since he got here. 

“Wait, you’re not coming?” He asks, his body twisted to look at you with his arm draped over the back of the couch. 

“Oh,” You reply dumbly because ‘we’ apparently included you. You were a part of the ‘we’ Robin meant. ‘We’, as in Robin, Eddie, Steve, and you.

It’s not like they haven’t been welcoming since you got here, but it’s only been a few weeks and they’ve been friends and neighbours for years; you thought it might take them longer to accept you into the group since they’re so solid. A part of you felt like they might still see you as an outsider; someone who doesn’t get invited to their after-work coffee shop hangouts just yet. But they’d expected you to come. Sometime within the last couple weeks you became a part of their definition of ‘we’.

“No, I’ll come,” You confirm with a nod in an attempt to appear casual about the invite. 

“Awesome,” Steve says, turning back to the television. 

“Guys!” Robin shouts and you realize then that she’s no longer in the apartment. Eddie pokes his head out into the hall as Robin says, “Come on, the cab is waiting!” 

“Yep, coming,” Eddie says and you follow right behind him, feeling so many things all at once. Nervous about your shift, excited about being invited to the coffee house, and another thing for Eddie that you can’t quite name just yet. 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

The fast-paced environment of Hannigan’s is overwhelming, and while normally it might frazzle you, you find that you don’t mind it nearly as much as you thought you might. It’s definitely a different environment than your last job–a desk job that only promoted boredom within you–, but the new challenge of this place is stimulating.

As the night goes on, the din of the restaurant only intensifies; nearly every table and booth is filled with patrons talking and enjoying their 5-star meals, the sounds of cutlery clashing against fine china, hosts and hostesses greeting people at the entrance and making reservations for customers over the phone for months from now, the sizzling, clinking sounds roaring from the kitchen when the swinging traffic doors open, then shushing when the doors close again. 

With just over an hour left of your shift and the clearing of what feels like the thousandth table you’ve waited on tonight, you watch as yet another diner is seated in your section. He’s a tall man, his dark hair styled precisely atop his head, and has a short goatee beard, trimmed to perfection. It reminds you of Kurt Cobain’s facial hair, though nothing else about him resembles the rock icon. The man looks rich–though you suppose most people who dine here are. From what you can tell with the distance between you, he might be about ten years your senior.

Not wanting to keep him waiting, you begin to stride over to his table, though you are just as soon intercepted, a large hand gently engulfing your wrist. You turn and find that the hand is attached to Eddie, his deep brown eyes staring back at you, and suddenly the contact brings heat to your face and a zip of something unnamable down your arm. Both of you retract your hands swiftly before Eddie explains his interception: “Why don’t you let me take this table, yeah?”

Confusion muddles your features for a moment. Why on earth would Eddie want to take on another table? It’s busy enough in here as it is. Plus, taking a table that is not in your section is strictly against the rules and as it’s your very first shift here, you’re not quite comfortable enough just yet to bend any rules. Especially not when they were fiercely outlined to you by Cordelia, who you were sure that if she possessed the powers of Medusa like Eddie and Robin say, she would surely turn you to stone if she caught you breaking any of them. 

Since you’re not willing to risk getting yourself or Eddie into any sort of trouble, you tell him: “You have your own section to worry about, Eddie. Don’t worry about mine, I got this.” With an easy smile in hopes of further reassuring him, though you’re not sure of what. 

You barely make it a few steps in the direction of your table before he’s stopping you again, this time with a gentle hand at your elbow. 

“It’s just that…I’ve had that guy in my section before and he’s…difficult,” Eddie explains, struggling to come up with a word to describe him and seemingly being displeased with the one he chose as his brows furrowed together. 

Oh. 

His explanation causes heat to rise to your face, warming your entire chest with a strange fuzzy feeling. Was Eddie trying to protect you? If he was, that was very sweet of him, but still, you can’t allow him to take this table for you–even though you feel like you could melt to mush in his grasp right now. 

“I’ve dealt with difficult people all evening,” You say. “I’ve got this.” 

Before he can protest anymore or continue to convince you not to take the table, you’re walking away from him, your soft skin slipping from his gentle grip. 

Eddie watches you walk away, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as you greet Paul and hand him the menu. The second Eddie sees that trademark salacious smirk creep across Paul’s face, Eddie’s jaw clenches involuntarily, but it’s not like he can do anything about it now.

Had he had any right to try to do anything about it before? To try to take your table? He hasn’t known you very long, so who is he to step in and attempt to protect you from that creep? He shouldn’t even feel this protective of you, this jealous. What the fuck is going on with him lately? 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Collapsing onto the big fluffy couch at The Ugly Mug, you feel yourself instantly sink into the soft cushions. Have they always felt like literal clouds molding perfectly to your body or does it just seem that way after being on your feet for hours? 

Now that your first shift is over you can appreciate how truly tiring it was. Adrenaline must have helped you stay on your feet all night, helped you acclimate to the job, but now that you’re seated in the calm, quiet atmosphere of the coffee shop, all that energy has left you entirely. 

“Ugh, is it always this exhausting?” You sigh, slumped between Robin and Eddie. Steve sits on a plush chair next to the couch. 

“I-” Robin begins, but Eddie interrupts before she can finish. 

“Don’t lie to her, Rob,” Eddie says, sensing that Robin was likely about to lie in order to comfort you. 

“Fine,” She replies, sighing, exhaustion weighing heavy in her bones as well. “It is. It’s always this exhausting…” 

“But,” Robin drawls teasingly, pushing herself up so she’s no longer slumped down on the couch. “It’s not every shift you get hit on,” She says, wiggling her brows suggestively at you. 

“What? Who got hit on?” Steve pipes up curiously, placing his pastry down on the round table beside him. 

“Y/N,” Robin confirms teasingly, and you cover your face with your hands. 

Eddie huffs from beside you as Steve says, “What? No way! By who?” 

“One of the rich guys. I think he’s a new regular–Paul,” Robin answers, a childish tone to her voice when she says his name that makes you think she might start singing Sitting In A Tree with yours and Paul’s names any second now. 

Steve’s eyes widen comically and Eddie grumbles something incoherent from your side, but you don’t get the chance to ask him what he said before Steve is hurriedly asking: “So? What happened?”

“Well, he asked me out,” You reply, a little embarrassed from their excitement as you adjust so your legs are crossed under you. Paul was charming from the moment you handed him his menu, all smiles and classic handsomeness. 

“And you said?” 

“I said yes,” You reply quietly at the same time as Robin exclaims, She said yes! She’d cackled when you’d told her about it at your lockers after your shift ended, joking that you could quit Hannigan’s and Paul could become your sugar daddy instead. 

Normally, you might have declined such an offer from someone you’d just met–especially if that someone was 10 years older than you–, but the whole point of this move was change. Change required doing things you might not normally do, it required some spontaneity and courage. Both of which were not necessarily your strong suits, but you were trying. The first step was simply saying yes to things. 

Steve smiles, impressed. “Alright, Y/L/N!” 

And then, realization dawns over his features and he quickly turns his attention to Robin. 

“Speaking of dates…” Steve begins, using the same salacious tone Robin had used earlier. “Robin, how are things going with Alicia?” 

Looking at Robin, her eyes widen as she replies, “Oh my God, I totally spaced and forgot to tell you!” 

Leaning in closer to Eddie on your other side, you whisper, “Who’s Alicia?” 

“This girl Robin’s been seeing for a bit,” He answers easily. 

You tune back into the conversation just in time to hear Robin inform, “I asked her to be my girlfriend.” Even if you weren’t looking at her right now you’d be able to hear the smile in her voice. 

“That’s great, what’d she say?” Steve asks, jumping in even as Robin opens her mouth to continue, clearly not finished speaking.

“She said yes!” Robin exclaims, not even pausing to tease him about his over-eagerness to hear the rest of the story or give him a playful roll of her eyes like she usually might. This Alicia woman must mean a lot to Robin if she’s obliged to censor her usual sarcastic quips. 

“Fuck yeah!” Says Steve as he high fives Robin and you chuckle at their odd celebration. 

“Robin, that’s great. I’m so happy for you,” You congratulate, hand on her shoulder, remembering when you were teens and she never thought she’d get to have a girlfriend. Robin smiles sheepishly now. 

What a satisfying end to the day. You’re exhausted, but at the same time exhilarated. It feels like things are finally falling into place, like you’d been putting together a puzzle and some of the pieces had gone missing. But you’ve found some of them, and now you’re sliding them into their places. And they fit. For the first time, you feel like you fit, and that makes you believe that everything is going to be okay–that you’re going to be okay. 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

“So,” Robin drawls as she places two juices on the kitchen table in front of you, one for her and one for you. “Where’s he taking you?” 

“I don’t know yet, actually. All I know is that it’s ‘somewhere nice’ and he’s going to be picking me up at 7:30-ish,” You reply as you twist the cap off your drink. 

“Mysterious,” Robin comments after taking a sip of her juice.

“Your date’s tonight?” Steve asks as he wanders into the kitchen and sticks his head into the fridge, likely scouring the shelves for a snack. 

“Yeah, why?”

Steve stands from his bent position inside the fridge and turns to you and Robin, a slice of cold pizza in hand. “Mine too! Gonna bring her her favourite flowers, take her to her favourite restaurant, go see the tree at Rockefeller–the whole shebang.” 

Steve takes a giant bite out of his pizza slice, then slides over to the table and steals Robin’s drink. She makes a disgusted face at him in protest and pushes the drink away from her when he places it back on the table after taking a healthy swig.

“That’s really sweet, Steve. I’m sure she’ll have a great time,” You tell him genuinely. 

“Ugh!” Robin groans, drawing your attention away from Steve as her head falls back on her shoulders dramatically. “Stop talking about dates! I haven’t seen Alicia in three days and I have a shift tonight,” She complains, pouting. 

“You’re the one who brought it up,” Steve mutters, taking his slice with him into the living room where he joins Eddie and Nancy–who sit on the armchair and couch, reading and writing, respectively. 

“Whatever,” Robin replies, slumping down in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest. 

“Aren’t you seeing her tomorrow?” You ask though you know the answer because it’s all that she’s talked about since she last saw Alicia. You’re sure you could pick the girl out of a crowd without ever having seen her just from everything Robin has spewed to you about her. It’s nice to see her happy. 

“Yeah,” Robin says, tone solemn. 

“Why do you sound disappointed?” You wonder with a chuckle.

“Because tomorrow is not right now,” Robin explains and you snort at her impatience to see her girlfriend again. 

God, you don’t remember the last time you felt that way about someone; wanting to be around them all the time, missing them the second they left your side. Maybe it was college the last time you’d felt that way? You haven’t really dated since then. That one disastrous blind date your previous co-workers set you up on does not count. You’d actually prefer to block it out of your memory. 

Robin sighs. “Anyway, I should hop in the shower before my shift,” She says as she stands and heads to the bathroom. She’s genuinely bummed that she won’t get to see Alicia until tomorrow 

“Have fun,” You joke, head falling back on your shoulders as you watch her walk into the bathroom upside-down. You think you hear a sarcastic ha-ha from her before the door shuts. 

Also upside-down from your current perspective is Eddie who you see sliding the window to the balcony open before ducking under it and going out onto the balcony.

He’s been off all night. While usually he would be cracking jokes and being his usual over-dramatic, loud self, tonight he was uncharacteristically quiet, keeping to himself. You’ve spent enough time around him by now to tell when something might be up with him. 

Standing and grabbing the large throw blanket tossed over one end of the couch, you wrap it around yourself before going to the window, sliding it open again and carefully ducking under it as you step out into the chilly night. 

The remnants of winter's early sunset remains on the horizon, lining the city in a dark blue hue while the sky above and beyond that is blanketed by blackness and a dull smattering of stars. That’s the one thing you miss about living in a small town; the lack of light pollution allowed for the stars in the sky to burn bright. Here, it’s impossible to make out a constellation from the street. You suppose the city lights are as close to stars as you’ll get out here.

Eddie leans against the brick and concrete balcony wall, his forearms perched on the cold surface, watching the city as plumes of cigarette smoke swirl around his head. He turns to look at you when he hears you approaching, tucking his chin to his shoulder. 

“You smoke?” You ask, pointing at the cigarette held delicately between his index and middle fingers. You’re feeling a little awkward for some reason. Maybe because you’re not used to Eddie being silent. 

Eddie sniffs, says, “Yeah. Trying to quit.” Then snuffs out the half-smoked stick by crushing it against the concrete. He knows the habit might bother you. It bothers the others as well; Nancy has called it a ‘cancer stick’, Steve has often taken to flushing his cigs in protest, and Robin simply informs him that it stinks. He also knows that you have your date with Paul tonight, and as much as he dislikes the guy, he doesn’t want you smelling of smoke for your date. 

“Hm,” You hum, coming up beside him and leaning over the wall, a blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders. You shiver and he has the urge to remove his leather jacket and wrap it around you. 

There’s a lull then, in which Eddie wonders why you might have come out here. From the sounds of your prior conversation with Robin, you need to start getting ready for your date soon. Why come out here just to stand around with him in the cold? 

“Um,” Eddie begins, unsure of how to phrase this so it doesn’t sound like he’s shooing you off. Just because he doesn’t understand why you’re out here with him doesn’t mean he wants you to leave. He enjoys your company, wants to be around you more. As much as possible, actually. “Did-did you need something?” 

You hesitate for a moment, before saying, “No. No, I just wanted to come check on you.” Though it sounds more like a question. Like you’re prompting him gently. 

“Oh. Okay,” Eddie replies, surprised and not sure what else to say to that. You’re so thoughtful and observant it makes his chest hurt. 

Eddie can feel you examining his face closely and he lets you, continuing to stare out at the city below. 

“I can leave if you-” 

“No,” Eddie replies suddenly before you can even finish your sentence, his eyes finding yours as he says it. Your eyes are wide, expectant. “I mean-no. You’re good.” 

“Okay,” You say, settling in beside him.  

The conversation tapers off again and you’re left with the sounds of honking cars, the muffled racket of people talking in the street below, the robust sound of a public bus stopping down at the corner. A harsh wind kisses your cheeks, likely staining Eddie’s pink. 

He feels awkward. He’s never felt awkward around you before. Not even when you almost strangled him that one morning and he smashed his head against the coffee table. Maybe it’s because of everything going on in his head right now. 

An odd tension sizzles between you. He can feel its strength, more fierce than the wind. But it’s elusive, an enigma he can’t quite grasp. He wants not to think about it and tries not to since he can’t do anything about it anyway. 

“How are you adjusting?” 

“Are you okay?” 

You both break the silence at the same time. A smile breaks across your face and Eddie blows a harsh breath out through his nose. 

“Sorry, you go first,” Eddie offers. 

“I just-are you alright?” You rush out after a brief pause, seemingly self-conscious of the question, though Eddie could never imagine why. “I just thought you maybe seemed a bit off in there…And, like, usually when people separate from the pack, it might mean something’s up,” You explain slowly, that almost inquisitive tone appearing in your voice again. 

Eddie side eyes you, your perceptiveness surprising.

You must take the glance to mean that he’s annoyed because you say, wanting to lighten the mood, “...Or they just want to be left the hell alone.”

Eddie snorts, turning his body to face yours now, his right hip pressed into the cold concrete wall with his elbow resting atop it. You mirror his stance, adjusting the fluffy blanket around you as you go. 

“But I find it usually means the first thing….And-and a lot of the time I don’t think that people really want to be left alone, even if they say they do.”

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie teases lightly, wanting to shift the focus away from himself. He can’t tell you what’s wrong.

“Mhm,” You nod, playing along with his teasing by holding your head high as if you have all the wisdom in the world to offer. But then your expression changes. Just slightly, but Eddie sees it. What you say next isn’t teasing, what you say next is from your soul. 

“I think what they really want—more than anything—is to not have to be alone ever again,” You say, and it’s like a shadow passes over your face. He notes the change in your eyes; like you’re living a past feeling. 

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees after a beat, tone the furthest from teasing it’s ever been. Both because he knows the feeling, but also because he doesn’t want you to feel alone in it. Because he can tell you’ve been really lonely before. And he hates that his evasion of your question made you recall that loneliness. 

That look in your eyes disappears, and you seem to shake out of it easily as you look him in the face and ask, “What are you thinking?” 

It’s a pretty innocuous question. But right now, at this moment, it holds more weight. 

“I’m thinking that…you’re right. I guess I’ve just been in my head.” 

He wasn’t planning on revealing that. He doesn’t even know why he said anything. It’s like you pulled it out of him. It’s like he can’t resist. 

“Yeah? About what?” You ask, eyes searching his. 

He can’t tell you. He wishes he could, but he can’t. It would be such a jerk move to tell you before your date. And it’s not like he could have told you earlier either. Not after the promise he’d made. He already feels like he’s said too much. 

“We don’t have to talk about it. I get it,” You say after he doesn’t reply. 

But you don’t sound hurt. Instead, you sound sincere in your acceptance of the fact that he doesn’t want to say anything. It makes him want to tell you even more. Your sincere kindness, your thoughtfulness, it makes him ache. How can he not be honest with you? Especially when you’ve been so honest with him. 

In order to honour his previous promise, Eddie layers the truth in a sheer veil of lies, concealing parts of the truth, while revealing others. 

“There’s-there’s this girl,” Eddie begins, working out how he’s going to weave lies in with the truth. “But one of the guys from my band–Jeff–asked her out recently…And I-” 

“You like her too?” You guess. You’d known from the secret smile that crept onto his face; fond but sad. 

Eddie nods slowly, relieved that he didn’t have to say the words aloud himself. Like saying them would make it more real, would confirm what he already knows. 

“But Jeff asked her out first. So I don’t have a right to…to feel the way I do about it,” Eddie explains, navigating his way around the truth. He’s lying to you almost as much as he’s lying to himself. “And it would be wrong to tell her now. I’d be betraying Jeff’s trust.” It’s not Jeff’s trust he’d be betraying. 

You sigh, stumped. “I’m sorry, that’s hard…tell me about her?” You ask, though your voice sounds strained. 

God, you’re so nice. It’s killing him. He feels so guilty. How can he lie to you about you? He can’t. Not when you’re looking at him like you are. Like every word out of his mouth is the most important thing that has ever been said. 

“Um…Well. She’s-she’s open-minded and accepting, a little weird,” Eddie describes with a chuckle, remembering the morning you greeted him with your bathrobe tie. 

When your eyes connect, he can’t help but soften, impassioned as he looks into them. Wanting so badly to let you know he’s talking about you, he toes the line. 

“She’s genuine. Honest. What you see is what you get with her,” Eddie says. The city noise fades away and your breaths become the wind, your eyes the city lights. 

“She cares about her friends. It feels like she always knows the right thing to say, even if she feels like she doesn’t…And she’s the kindest person I’ve ever met.” 

Something changes in your expression. Your eyes burn, searching his intently, looking back and forth between the left and the right. His eyes can’t lie, he can’t force them to. They reveal everything. They can’t conceal or contain his feelings. 

Eddie yearns to hold your face gently in his hands, to feel your lips against his, to feel your smile as he kisses you. 

Your chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as if sudden emotion overwhelms you, your eyes aflame. You wait in anticipation for his next words as wind whistles around you, ruffling your blanket.  

“Anyway,” Eddie coughs, dispelling the tension, and glances down at his wristwatch. “It’s getting late, you should probably start getting ready for your date.” 

Recognition flashes in your eyes, like you’d forgotten entirely about your upcoming commitment. 

The spell is broken. He hadn’t even realized there’d been a spell until it was broken. 

You take a step back and it’s then Eddie realizes you were so close your toes were nearly touching. Shit. Why had he done that? That was almost worse than telling you everything he’d said was actually about you. 

“Yeah. Right,” You agree, walking back towards the window.

Eddie turns and leans against the balcony wall, looks back over the city. The wind is the wind, and the lights are just lights. 

“Oh, and Eddie?” You call. Eddie swivels his head to look back at you, one foot inside the apartment and one out on the balcony with him, straddling the window sill. “I hope it works out with her.” 

Eddie gives you a good-natured smile. “Yeah. Me too,” He replies as you duck under the window and return to the apartment. You close it shut softly, leaving him with the wind and the lights. 

Eventually, Eddie goes back inside too, locking every intense emotion that had built up inside of him out in the cold. 

As he wanders back into the apartment, he finds your bedroom door is now closed and Nancy’s spot on the couch is vacant. Robin is rushing out of her room in her work uniform while she roots through her bag, mumbling about her keys. And Steve, who’s snacking on some grapes from the fruit bowl on the counter, has Robin’s keys casually swinging from his index finger. Though Robin doesn’t notice until Steve ahem’s, and she snatches them from his hand before reaching the door. 

“Oh!” She says as her hand twists the handle, and spins around on her heel to face Eddie and Steve. “If either one of you is still here before Y/N leaves, tell her to have a good night with Paul. She deserves it.” 

And the door slams shut behind her as Eddie takes his seat on the couch. 

He has every intention of picking his book back up where he left off. Though it remains open in his hands as he stares at your door. He can’t stop staring at your door. Which should be infinitely less captivating than the words between the pages in his hands. And yet it is not. It is far more captivating than any book he has ever or will ever read. The thought strikes him like a bolt of lightning zapping a tree and setting it on fire.

“Hey, man, are you okay?” Steve asks, noticing Eddie’s prolonged staring at your door. 

Pulling his eyes very slowly away from your door, Eddie replies, “Yeah, I…Yeah.” 

When his gaze finds Steve’s, he’s looking at Eddie like he’s trying to do long division in his head. 

“...Okay,” Steve drawls, retrieving his jacket from the counter in the kitchen. “We’re definitely gonna talk about that later. But for now, I gotta pick up Joselyn. Later, man!” He calls as he exits the apartment, leaving just Eddie and your door, alone. 

He’s not necessarily looking forward to whatever conversation Steve wants to have with him later, but he’s hoping this Joselyn woman will keep Steve busy long enough for Eddie to avoid the conversation entirely–at least for the night. 

It’s been 23 minutes and your bedroom door still has not opened. Eddie knows the exact amount of time it remains closed because although he had tried to focus on the words in his book after Steve left, he simply could not stop looking at your door. And wondering when it would open. Hoping it would open. Estimating when it would open by calculating how long it might take you to get ready. For a solid three seconds, Eddie debates knocking on it, before deciding that’s crazy because-

The door opens. 

“How do I-” 

Eddie stares. Suddenly your door becomes the least captivating thing in the room–in the entire universe–and he can’t believe he ever thought it was captivating to begin with. 

Your black dress—which reaches your ankles—is simple, though it hugs your body wonderfully. The straps are thin and the neck is square-shaped. 

Eddie could equate your beauty to a thousand other beautiful things. He could equate it to paintings and sunsets and flowers. He could equate it to the most beautiful poetry and the most profound stories. But the truth is that none of his comparisons would ever be enough. None of them could express how he feels when he looks at you; like his heart stops and speeds up in his chest at the same time. Like he’s never seen anything beautiful in his life until this moment or even knew what the word beauty meant until he saw you. 

“Oh-Everyone left already?” You question when you realize Eddie is alone. You and Eddie are alone. 

“Y-yeah,” Eddie stutters, mouth suddenly dry. 

“Oh…alright.”

Eddie swallows hard, trying his very best not to watch you like he’d watched your door. But that task proves impossible. And now it’s quiet. And it’s been quiet for far too long as you stand there fidgeting with your shawl looking like that with no one to tell you that you look like that. No one except Eddie. 

“Um,” Eddie begins. Great start. He can’t say what he wants to, so instead he explains his presence: “I didn’t wanna leave without letting you know, since everyone else left...But, uh, what-what were you gonna say…before?” God, he was the worst! If he can’t say the word to himself, how is he supposed to repeat it out loud to you? 

“Oh,” You say, looking down at yourself bashfully. “I was just gonna ask how I looked,” You explain, waving your hand in dismissal.

Eddie wants to not be the worst. Eddie wants you to think that he’s not the worst. Eddie wants you to know that you look like that. 

“You look great,” He says, slightly breathless. ‘Great’ is a safe word, it’s a friendly word. It’s not the word he wanted to use. 

You smile softly, averting your eyes from him and to the floor as you say a meek, but sincere, “Thank you.” 

Eddie really shouldn’t say anymore. But he loves the way it feels when you get all shy from his compliments. He loves the way you thank him. Like you know his compliment is true, but to hear him say it means something different, something special.

So he can’t keep it in. But he wills himself to reign in his emotions; to freeze the butterflies in his belly before they take flight. 

“You-” look really pretty. “Your dress is really pretty.” 

“Thank you, Eddie,” You say, swaying nervously on the spot. 

Fuck. Shit. Jesus Christ! There wasn’t a net big enough in the world to contain the swarm of butterflies fluttering in his belly right now. It’s downright embarrassing. 

You seek out his eyes. And Eddie knows. And you part your lips, about to speak. 

“I-”

Knock, knock, knock. 

All too soon, your gaze shifts to the front door. But Eddie’s eyes remain on you. 

“Oh, that’s Paul,” You inform, pulling your shawl more tightly around your body before you begin walking towards the door. You make it about three paces before you realize, “Shoot, I forgot my purse in my room, would you mind getting the door?” 

“Sure,” Eddie says, minding a whole awful lot. But he stands from the couch anyway and makes his way to the door as you head back into your bedroom. 

The door swings open, revealing a sharply dressed Paul leaning against the doorframe. His suit is pressed to perfection, not a wrinkle in sight. It’s too pristine, like he’s not moved in it, not sat down. 

When Paul lifts his head from where it’s bent on his neck, his salacious smirk disappears the moment he sees Eddie. He’s far less handsome with that ugly frown on his face. He looks like a petulant child. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Eddie bites his tongue. Then forces a fake smile as he greets politely, “Good to see you too, Paul.” 

He expected nothing less from the guy, but that didn’t make it any easier to hold back. Sure, he wasn’t serving him in the restaurant–so there weren’t any clearly defined rules here–but you were about to go out on a date with the guy. So he held back. 

“Y/N will be right out, she’s-” 

The click of your heels against the wood floors sound behind him. Paul’s smirk spreads across his face like molasses as he eyes you. Though Eddie’s sure they don’t roam further than your chest. 

A surge of unrightful possessiveness swells within him at Paul’s obvious ogling. 

“Hey!” You greet him cheerily and Eddie steps aside, fading into the background. 

“Hey, babe,” Paul says as you reach him and Eddie cringes at the territorial nickname. It takes everything in him not to shudder like he’s just seen a child pick their nose and wipe it on a pole in the subway. 

You hug and Eddie watches as one of Paul's long arms stretches around your waist, though his hand hovers dangerously low before you pull away and Paul remarks, “Ready to go?”

“Yup,” You confirm, with a sweet smile. With that, Paul guides you out of the apartment with a hand on your middle back and just before you exit the apartment, you request: “Lock up on your way out?” 

It shouldn’t feel this good to have your attention on him again. Shouldn’t make his heart skip in his chest. 

Eddie just nods, sure that if he tried to speak, he would emit some embarrassing sound instead of a casual sure thing.

You smile at him widely, “Bye, Eddie.” Has his name always sounded that lovely? 

“Bye, Y/N.” Has your name ever felt that lovely rolling off his tongue? 

The door slams shut behind you. 

“Shit.” 

Eddie’s belly bubbles with a feeling. Jealousy burns in his gut. He has no right to feel this way. The moment he names it, he wants to un-name it. The moment he names it, he wants to ban the word from his mind, shove it inside one of those dark spots up there, and hope it never sees the light of day again. 

He made a promise to Robin. He doesn’t get to feel this way. 

So he tries his best not to call it what it is and tells himself that it has to be a simple combination of his hatred for Paul and his knowledge that you are a ridiculously wonderful person who deserves so much better than Paul Becker. But this is all he can allow himself to acknowledge. 

What he will not acknowledge is the third part to this equation that adds up to this feeling. What he will not acknowledge is the way he feels when you look at him, when you say his name, when you stand in front of him in a black dress and he can’t tell you how pretty you look. 

So he focuses on the one thing that is the most natural to him: the fact that Eddie hates Paul. 

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Next Chapter [coming soon]

A/N: And that is chapter one, folks! I've been working on this for months now, so I really, really hope you enjoyed it. Please consider reblogging and leaving a nice comment or sending me an ask telling me what you thought!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson series #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson hurt/comfort #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you #stranger things one shot #stranger things series #steve harrington #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #wtrstp⌂

[fandsart]

To Be Friends

I’ve exaggerated some of Nancy’s negative character traits slightly in this story, but it’s also for the sake of her developing past them.

Robin usually sits alone, as sad as that is. It’s whatever; she’s comfortable with it. She can usually get some reading done without any interruptions. But it’s the first day back at school since they took down Vecna, and she’s pleasantly surprised when Nancy sits across from her. They smile at each other, a little stiff without a common goal they’re trying to work for.

“You packed a lunch today,” Nancy states awkwardly.

“Actually Steve made this for me. He always dotes more after, uh… notable events. Sometimes it’s just a particularly bad nightmare. One time Dustin popped a bike tire and Steve bought him a helmet after it was fixed. He gets spikes in paranoia when he’s reminded how easily things can go wrong.”

“That does sound like him. You should try dating him.”

Robin’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Is that a real suggestion?”

“Oh! No, I just mean that he doted on me all the time when he was dating me.”

“Yeah, he’s a real sap.”

There’s a lull in the conversation before Nancy speaks up again. “It is surprising you aren’t a couple. You’re both very attractive.”

“Uh… so? I mean, thank you? I mean… I’m not interested. He’s not my type.”

Nancy hums. “Don’t worry. I understand.”

“You… do?”

“I actually have dated Steve. It probably would have been smarter to be friends first. You’re smart that way.”

“... Thank you?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’m sure you’re well aware of the bullet you dodged.”

Robin chuckles uncomfortably. “Maybe? I guess that depends on what exactly you’re referring to.”

“You said yourself he tends to dote. It’s so much more extreme when he’s dating you. I don’t need to use his jacket for the one minute walk from the school to the car. I don’t need him opening doors for me. I can do that myself.”

“Uh-huh…” Robin says, trying to keep her eyes from squinting.

“And he gets so clingy. And emotional. I swear sometimes it was more like he wanted me to be his mom than his girlfriend, which is honestly so privileged. He cut off his friends for me, so it became my job to comfort him about it?”

“He was friends with them for a long time, and he didn’t have anyone else to talk to about it. He’d kind of just cut off all his other friends,” she tries to joke.

“They were assholes,” Nancy says, maintaining seriousness. “He shouldn’t have been so caught up on them.”

“If he didn’t realize just how shitty they were until you, then he must have had a lot of good experiences with them too. A lot to be conflicted about.” She knows this is the case, because Steve’s talked to her about it too.

“He shouldn’t have been friends with them in the first place.”

“So why did you date Steve for so long? Like a year, right? If he was such a shitty boyfriend? You shouldn’t have been dating in the first place?”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“Because Steve was popular. Everyone loves him, but the only other person I thought might want me was too preoccupied to look at me. I waited a month with nothing. Can you really blame me for wanting to feel wanted and liked after my best friend died?”

“No, but I can blame you for using that as your excuse while apparently hating anything he did because he wanted and liked you. You literally started your complaints about how doting he can be.”

“What, like you don’t think it’s annoying?” And Robin knows what she means by that, but ‘annoying’ would never be the word she would use to describe it. Just… overwhelming sometimes. But understandable. “Besides, that was more of a pet peeve. You were the one who brought that up. There’s a reason I moved my complaints to him crying over his positive choices.”

And that startles Robin a bit. “He actually cried over it?”

Nancy rolls her eyes. “It was a hyperbolic idiom. But my point remains. Everyone loves him, but he was just upset that those two assholes didn’t anymore.”

“If everyone loves him why did no one turn up?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You say everyone loves him like he could have anyone, but you were all he had after Tommy and Carol immediately turned on him for pushing back one time.”

“You know what, that’s another thing. Why even be upset that someone who was willing to turn on you that quickly, did?”

“Well under that logic Steve should hate you then, shouldn’t he?”

“Oh, is that what this is about? Fine, go shoot your shot. I’m sure he’d love to have you. But don’t come crawling to me when he becomes too much for you.” With that she gets up from the table and sits at a newly vacant table.

Robin’s never ditched school before, but now she wants nothing more than to bike over to family video and hug her favorite person.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

She manages to talk herself out of skipping. She only had 2 and a half hours of school left after lunch, and none of the classes left were her best. Steve would take his break to pick her up anyway, so why put in the effort to bike all of the way there? Still, she has such a hard time concentrating on the last classes.

When she finally gets out, Steve is already parked in his usual spot, and she plops down into the seat.

“Bad day?” Steve asks.

“You know how you were hoping we could have some kind of outing with Nancy and Jonathan before the latter has to go back to California?”

“Yeah?”

“Scratch that. We’re not doing it.”

“What happened?”

She hesitates. She doesn’t want to be the one to tell him, but she also isn’t going to keep this from him. “Nancy told me that she didn’t like dating you, basically.”

“Oh, yeah, I know that.”

“And what, you're just ok with hanging out with her now?”

“I mean, it’s not her fault. She tried to like it. It’s not her fault she didn’t.”

“But it is her fault for not telling you how she felt about it. Let you think everything was fine. That’s leading you on.”

Steve shrugs. “It’s not like she was trying to do that. And it’s not like hanging out with her now would involve any kind of hope that we’d get back together. She didn’t like me as a boyfriend, but we can still be friends.”

“How do you know she likes you as a friend? If she lied to you about liking you as a boyfriend.”

“We should get to work before my break is up,” he says, putting the car into gear.

They don’t talk about it after that. They don’t talk much at all for the rest of the day.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Robin doesn’t eat lunch in the cafeteria after that, not wanting to deal with Nancy again. She doesn’t necessarily know that Nancy would try to start up that conversation again, but even just seeing her in the hall sours her mood a bit, so she doesn’t need to be dealing with that.

So she’s sitting in an empty classroom eating lunch when Nancy finds her.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Robin glares. “Is this not mutually beneficial?”

Nancy sighs. “Look,” she starts as she sits in the seat beside Robin, “I’m not great at taking criticism. I’m a very defensive person. I’m not good at admitting when I’m wrong, but… I was, so…”

“So…” Robin prompts.

“So you were right. I just… needed to sit on all the points for a while before I could calm down enough to actually consider them.”

“Ok. But what are you going to do about it?”

“I’m… apologizing?”

“For what?”

Nancy rolls her eyes, but answers anyway. “For snapping at you, and not listening to what you were trying to tell me.”

“Ok. So what about Steve?”

“What about him?”

“Are you going to apologize to him too?”

“For fighting with you?” She lets out a confused breathy laugh. “I know you guys are close but is that necessary?”

“Are you serious right now?”

Nancy blinks a few times before jolting a little. “Oh! I was too focused on- yeah, I should. It’s just been so long I wasn’t even thinking about it.”

“Do you want to be friends with Steve?”

“What do you mean?”

“He still respects you, and wants to reconnect after… everything. I don’t want you to let him drag you to hang outs because it’s easier than denying a simple request, then blowing up at him about it later. Again. I don’t know if he’d come back from it a second time.”

“I honestly don’t know,” Nancy sighs. “If I want to be friends with him. I feel like… he carries an association… The whole year I was with him I was in mourning, and we only reconnected recently because of, as you worded it, ‘recent events.’ I just… every time I’ve been with him in one way or another… something bad was going on. I feel like being friends with him would just leave me on edge all the time.”

“Make sure he knows that then.” She picks up her now empty lunch tray and moves to leave the room.

“Wait, Robin!”

“Yeah?” she stops by the doorway.

“Can we still be friends?”

“I don’t know… But we can be more than not friends.”

“Yeah… I’d want to be more than ‘not friends’ with Steve too.”

“Make sure he knows.”

“Yeah…”

We never really see how Nancy responds to being wrong, because she’s never written to be. My headcanon for how she responds to it is that she gets really pissed, but after sitting on it for a long time she has a hard time denying when there’s an imbalance. She’s logical enough to know what’s right, but she’s stubborn, and bias towards her own perspective, so things like this do need to get pointed out to her and it takes her a while to come around.

#platonic stobin #stobin #platonic with a capital p #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #anti ronance #fanfic #ficlet #stranger things #fandsart

[satrs]

Can’t feel my face - bllk x fem!Reader N°9

Oli is so babygirl urghhh

THE NEXT MORNING,

you woke up to the ring of your alarm, groaning while stretching yourself to get ready for the day.

As you were done with your usual morning routine, you noticed the smell of food coming from the kitchen, drawing you right to it.

And there stood Oliver, with your Girish pink apron wrapped around his hips, preparing food for the morning.

Your giggle at his appearance made him look over to you, leaning against the door while watching him with a sly smirk.

He returned it, putting the last preparations onto the plate, motioning you to sit at the dinning table.

„Here. Thought you would like it.“ you looked at the plate with a skeptic look, earning an offended look from the raven haired.

„C‘mon, I’m a great cook! Just try!“ you carefully lifted the food up into your mouth, chewing down on it.

Oliver looked at you with excitement, waiting for your reaction. You hummed, delighted at the taste, signaling him that it tasted good. “Damn, it’s bomb.”

“Told you.” he chuckled, making his way back into the kitchen to clean up.

“Oli‘?” his neck turned towards you at the mention of his name, „you didn’t have to. Really. You can stay as long as needed, you’re no burden for me in any way.“

He returned a wholehearted smile, „It’s the least I could do. I’m so thankful for your kindness, Y/N.“

You flashed him a loving smile back yourself, before eating up and making your way to work.

Oliver was quick to take your finished plate from you, saying his goodbye to you.

He decided to clean up the kitchen and then look for other things he could assist you with while you were already out for work, he just felt obligated to do so.

The living room was already tidy. He has also done the kitchen just now. Bathroom? Also done. The only room left would be- your bedroom.

He entered your bedroom, heart pounding in his heart as if he would face a frightening sight, clearly exaggerating.

He came to view with a fairly clean room, only noticing a full laundry basket at the corner of your lonely room.

He decided to do you a favor and clean your dirty clothes, even when the panties he saw made him act like a virgin boy, he still managed to tear his gaze off of them and throw them into the washing machine.

【☆】★【☆】

Meanwhile, you, some hours later were just getting off from your shift, deciding to take a quick break in a nearby café.

You took a seat near the window, muscles visibly relaxing as you sat down, a small sigh escaping your mouth as your tensed face relaxed.

You ordered a small drink to calm yourself and get ready with whatever you would have to face when you come home. As you sat around, glazing around the café.

Once you enjoyed your drink, you were about to get out cash to pay for your order, but you noticed a fancy looking business card.

"You still got my card, right? Call me up whenever."

Right, Reo gave you that card. His number was on the back of it. Should you give him a call? Maybe the job offer wasn't that bad if you think about it twice. You would probably earn much more than with whatever you're working for right now.

You would have to give it your all, doing those small 'operations' was no joke after all.

Reo's previous words linger and overflow your mind, growing more positive to the idea of accepting the job.

It is a bit late, but he said call up whenever, right?

You dialed the number in your phone, hesitating before pushing the call button. After only a few rings, someone picked up at the other line.

"Hello?", it was Reo's voice, clearly, exhaustion of the day lingering in his voice.

He sounds so hot. What the hell.

"Helloooo?" His dragged out answer made you snap out of it, stumbling over your answer.

"H-hey, it's me. Uhm, Y/N?", you questioned your own response as if you didn't know your name yourself.

A surprised but satisfied hum rang from the other line at the sound of your name. "Oh, Y/N! Hope you're doing well. What's up?"

Reo questioned from the other side of the phone, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, trying to hide that fact how excited he is to hear your voice.

Yes, it was only one day ago when he last saw you but, he wasn't very pleased with the outcome of your conversation. He wanted to talk to you more, maybe even invite you home to his expensive mansion.

He figured now would be the perfect chance. After he knew why you called, of course. One step at a time, Reo.

"So I kind of thought about your offer and," you thought about it? You want to do it? You need to meet up, like, now. Discuss the details and shit. Pure business, nothing else. Alright, maybe something else. Fuck, he was about to jump up out of pure joy.

"And I'm thinking about accepting it."

Holy shit, yes.

He let out a low cough to cover up his excitement, eyes flickering around the room nervously, careful to what to respond. "What's stopping you? The money? I told you, you wouldn't have to worry about that."

"Well, I kinda do, I got a job after all." You got a job? Of course, you do, you're a grown woman. A beautiful at that, no, gorgeous even you were-

"You still there?", he quickly averted his attention back to your voice. "Yes. Yes! Uhm, I think we should discuss something so important like this in person. Are you free right now? I know it's kinda late, but it won't take long. Not if you want it to."

Your chuckle ringed in Reo's ear, "Fine. Is this a job interview, then?" It was his turn to let out a low laugh, amused by your answer.

"Yes, you could say that."

【☆】★【☆】

You stood before a mansion as you would imagine it in a movie. It was truly breathtaking.

After you hung up on the call and stated Reo your current location, a fancy looking car came to pick you up, driving around parts of the city you never even knew existed.

As you saw big and fancy houses in the distance, you felt poorer the more you came near them, the big buildings overwhelming you completely.

You knew Reo had a lot of money, but wow, this was far behind your imagination. You stood in front of the gates of his home, the Name Mikage written on the Gates in big bold letters.

As the gates opened, the owner stood before you in the flesh, a cocky smile on his face as he noticed your expression.

"Nice, huh?", your eyes flickered between his and the mansion he stood before,"Nice? This is- crazy."

He laughed at your answer, motioning you to follow him into his home. Inside, you were met with an even more shocking view: Floor length windows, ridiculously expensive furniture, and the huge pool you could see through the windows adding the cherry on top.

【☆】★【☆】

Meanwhile, Oliver was getting a bit worried. He didn't know why you would take so long to get home and also, he didn't even have your number to call you. What a pain in the ass.

"Shit."

Maybe you went out? But during a weekday, to this hour? Anyway, he couldn't do anything but wait and hope you're doing alright.

【☆】★【☆】

"So, how much do you want?", you looked at the purple haired man dumbfounded, confused by his question. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, pretty. Say how much you want for the job, you'll get it. Anything." Anything?

Your mind was floating with ideas, one million? No, no, that's too much- but it wouldn't hurt him, right? You should think about this really well. What is something that-

"But if I were to lose, I would have to stop boxing. Forever. Well, you can tell what happened from then."

This is it. "I want you to let Oliver in the ring again." You felt obligated to do so. You pitied him, figuring this would help him in his current situation. A little help to step back into life again.

Who? Oh- that old hag. But what do you have to do with him? You fuck buddy? Fucking hell.

Reo's mood was quick to change, tone of his voice turning more bitter. "What?"

"You heard me. And a good wage too, of course." you leaned back in your seat, taking a sip of the drink he poured you. You had realized that Reo was growing bitter, clearly not in the mood to talk about him when he has you right here to accompany him.

He looked at you in disbelieve, letting out a heavy sigh at your determination. "Under one circumstance."

Your ears peaked up at the sound of his voice, attention now firmly on him, wanting him to continue.

"You'll have to work every time blue lock is open." That was manageable. Yes, it was working late but, you could finally quit your low budget job and get some good cash, maybe even rent a bigger apartment. Oh, and all the dresses you could buy. What about shoes? Bags? You couldn't stop drooling at the thought.

"And, I'll take you out on a date. When I want too." Huh? He's acting like this would be a punishment for you, why? Going on a date with a rich ass man is not ordinary, so why not?

You were quick to agree, causing Reo to swiftly jump in excitement. His action made you giggle, and you soon noticed that it was late. Really late.

You told him that you should go, and he offered to drive you home, to which you agreed.

You were left dumbfounded again, as he escorted you to his garage, various expensive cars parked there. You were really close to asking him if he could maybe give you one of them.

"Please." He held open the passenger seat for you, hand extended to assist you in getting into the seat. As you got comfortable in the seat, he placed a soft kiss on your hand, eyes borring right through your soul, leaving you flustered.

"I let your place get build, you know." Reo broke through the silent but comfortable ride, one hand on the wheel as he tapped it with his index finger.

"What really?" You were surprised, because when you told him where to drop you off, he told you this. This man really owns everything in town, huh?

"Mhm. Thought it would be necessary, since there's a shortage of apartments around here. Everyone should be able to have a place they could call home."

So he was not only rich, charming, but also caring of others? You were surprised, since it's not usual for the higher people of society to care for the lower or middle class.

"That's really nice of you, Mr. Mikage." He chuckled at your words, quick to correct you. "Please, stop with the formalities. It's simply Reo for you, princess."

You were not yourself at the moment because why the hell were you getting so flustered over a simple nickname? You were called many by various men, but it sounded so different coming off of Reo's tongue. Why was that?

You turned your head to the window to hide your flustered state, causing the man to quickly glance at you, face twitching up into a charming smirk.

Your apartment complex soon came to view, his car sloppily parking in front of it. You were about to step out as his hand stopped your antics, making you glance back at him in question.

His eyes were filled with pure devotion and honesty. "Thank you, Y/N. I could talk to you for hours."

Your eyes widened in surprise at the compliment, causing you to return him a loving smile. You leaned forward towards him, and before he could question your action, you placed a quick kiss on his cheek, leaving him dumbfounded.

"I'm the one who needs to thank you, really. Good night Reo."

As he watched your figure disappear into the night, he touched his cheek where once your lips were for a brief second, recalling the moment in his head like a love struck teenager.

How could a simple kiss on the cheek leave him in such condition? Who really are you? He would have to find that out the next time the both of you meet.

He will make sure to make this date the best one of your life, and Reo will win you over. He had too. Because at this point, he was already yours without you even knowing.

ᵃˡˡ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵉˡᵒ��ᵍˢ ᵗᵒ k-azus.°

#my work 𓆩⟡𓆪 #kazu-s CFMF series*+:｡.｡ #blue lock smut #blue lock fanfiction #blue lock ryusei #blue lock manga #blue lock x female reader #shidou ryuusei smut #shidou smut #reo blue lock #reo smut #reo mikage #bllk nagi #nagi seishiro #oliver aiku #barou smut #oliver aiku smut

[iamsherlocked1479]

Kinktober: Day Three hate fuck

A little longer today: 1.6K words. i like this one alot and hope you do too.

Kinktober masterlist

“Seriously?! Him?” you over exaggerate

“Calm down, it's just for three days.” Natasha sighed

“Are you joking, three days with a condescending sarcastic dick.” you could almost hear the sound of Stephens eye roll from your words

“You’re not the most pleasant cup of tea sweetheart.” he said sitting down at the table

“Look, all you have to do is hide out in a cottage for three nights to get a good idea of the patrol route and we’ll pick you up in three days so we can get Bucky back. 

“Fine, but only because i owe Bucky,” you sigh “ but i don’t see why i can’t just do this on my own

“Because this is too high risk and last time you had a solo mission it all-

“Went to shit.” Stephen finished Steve's sentence.

“That's not how i was going to say it but, yeah” you groaned and pushed your head into your arms “listen your new at this, you’ll get used to it, going from being a solo act to a team player can be hard.”

“I’m not in the mood for a team building speech right now cap.” you get up and purposely knock stephens shoulder as you walk past him causing his coffee to spill slightly.

Packing was easy picking comfortable yet appropriate clothing for the event of having to make a quick escape. You then pondered at the thought of bringing the useful tool that was tucked away in your drawer. You argued with yourself before throwing it in just in case it was needed. You jumped as there was a knock at the door

“Are you ready to go?” Stephen walked in “what's wrong packing your dildo?” He smirked

“What? No. Yeah, ready whenever you are.” You walked him and into the hall surprised that he didn’t follow. “Are you coming? It's a five hour drive, we gotta get moving.”

“You’re forgetting that i have a sling ring.” He popped his head around the corner and you went back into your room to see the opened portal. You huffed and stepped through the portal and carried your stuff to the room.

The rest of the evening was fine, you set up the equipment listening for any communications happening between the cabin and the base in the woods ahead of you. And as you figured, nothing, you were no closer to finding your friend.

“You know, if you keep staring at the speaker like that it might float.” Stephen said, pouring himself a glass of bourbon. “Why do you care so much anyway?”

“Because he got me out of the lab. He set me free.” You twiddling your thumbs around

“You mean from the mutant home?” He chuckled to himself 

“Prison, prison is probably a better word to use.” An awkward silence spread through the room. He put his glass down on the table letting a loud bang cut through the silence 

“I’m going for a walk, don’t get into any trouble.” He sighed and shut the door as he left. God you hated him, the sudden realisation that you were alone brought an excitement to your core. You remembered your toy that you had pushed into your bag, you headed to the room not realising the old wooden door hadn’t fully latched when you closed it behind you.

When Stephen got back you were gone, the room was quiet and the desk you had been sitting at was lifeless. He figured you had gone to bed and began to do the same until he heard that noise. The muffled moan coming from your room with a low buzzing sound. He smiled to himself as he peered through the door, he couldn’t help it, something else he could tease you with. But the noises you were making where not of pleasure, but frustration. He didn’t know what drove him into the room but he opened the door with the same cocky attitude he always treated you with.

“What's wrong can’t get off?” 

“What the fuck, the door was closed!” You threw you covers over your lower half

“That door was not closed, what were you doing? trying to entice me?” He leant against the frame

“No i uh, why are you here?” You say frustratedly sitting up in your bed.

“Well from what it looked, and sounded like, is that you couldn’t get off.” He shuffled slightly “so what if i propose an offer?”

“What are you talking about?” You ask as he crosses his arms

“What if, just this once, I help you get off.” His brow raises 

“What? Why, why would you do that.” 

“Because it's better than you not being able to and me having to deal with the sulking. But hey it's just an offer.” He shrugs and walks away 

“Wait” you call out “no strings attached?”

“None” he replies “just this once”

“Just this once?” You think for a moment “fine, okay”

“Okay?” He enters your room, closing the door behind you and sits on the bed “so uh” 

You sigh and lean forward, pressing your lips to his, he quickly kisses back, and you lay down with him on top of you. You couldn’t lie he was a damn good kisser, he trailed them down your neck and his hand went up your tank top where he could play with your nipple. You flinch slightly,

“Easy, it’s okay, I won’t bite. Unless you want me to?” He joked and you rolled your eyes, you were going to say something but then his hand found itself under your shorts and sliding through your folds. 

“Shit.” You called out as he circled your clit. He chuckled and pulled down your shorts

“No panties you dirty girl.” He watched as your eyes rolled back at the feeling of his tongue beginning to fuck you. He was good, so good you were trying not to enjoy it too much, you hated how good it was.

“Fuck don’t stop.” You were close, you were so pitifully close already. You needed this so bad and he was delivering, he spread your legs as far apart as he could giving him full access. You came so hard, over his face and he made sure to clean up every drop, your body was sweating, it was becoming hooked on him like he was a drug. And he laughed at you, he laughed at how quickly you had come.

“If you needed it so bad you could’ve told me.” He began to get up and you stopped him, grabbing his arms. “What?” His brow raised, waiting for your answer, god you hated that stupid face, you hated it so bad you kissed it, you could taste yourself on his tongue and you like it. You pushed him onto the bed, massaging the bulge growing in his crotch. He moaned at the sensation and didn’t fuss when you pulled down his trousers and boxers allowing him to be free. He didn’t complain when you took him into his mouth and began sucking like you need it. “Shit- what are you… god that's good.” He leaned back on the bed and took your hair and wrapped it around your head. You gagged as he shallowly thrusted into your mouth only causing you to swallow him down even more. You pulled him from your mouth with a pop and climbed on top of him. His hand flew to your waist as you sat just above his cock.

“Just this once?” You asked, he nodded and you aligned yourself with his cock and slowly sank down. It was good, it was so fucking good, you bounced like a needy teen and his hands pawed at you tits as he rejoyced at the way the bounced infront of him.

“God you’re so tight.” His hands shook your body up and down him picking the pace. 

“God i need this” you cried out

“You like this honey? Don’t enjoy it too much'' he panted “just this once remember?” He did that stupid smirk again.

“Shut up” you pressed your lips to his again and he kissed you as you rode him so desperately. You could feel the way he scraped your insides away, his curve hitting that spot so perfectly over and over again. You hated how good it felt, you hated how you gripped his shoulders as you screamed his name. Your pace slowed and he flipped you over so that he pinned you between his arms.

“My turn” he whispered into your ears

“Oh god” you cried out as he pounded into you, he flung one of your legs over his shoulder and rattled the bed. 

“God bet you’ve been thinking about this for so long huh, was that why you're so rude? Jealous that you don’t get to fuck me ever-shit, every night?” He gripped your leg and closed his eyes, his head dropping backwards, “go on tell em you wanted.” He panted

“Fuck stephen i- want it bad. Afraid i’ll get addicted, wanna see you cum, fill me up, i'm on the pill do it. Make me a mess.” You cried out gripping the bed sheets so tight they came off the corners.

“Gonna fill you up, you want that, bet you do” he dropped your leg and picked you up hitting you back against the bed frame pinning you between him and the wall. He fucked up into you, his pace becoming inconsistant and then he came, he came hard shooting his loads of thick white ropes into you and then he collapsed. You both laid there falling asleep, maybe even hating each other slightly less.

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

Taglist: @rmoonstoner @mary-johnlocked

Lmk if you want to be tagged! <3

#benedict cumberbatch #benedict cumberbatch x female!reader #doctor strange x female reader #doctor strange sorcerer supreme #doctor strange #dr stephen strange #doctor stephen strange #dr strange x fem!reader #dr strange smut #dr strange x reader #dr strange x you #marvel smut #marvel #october #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

[webbyghost]

Rewatching that yt video of all of Doug’s scenes and I feel so bad for him

uh really long rambling under the cut lmao dont mind me

In the first scene he’s in, you can tell he just wants to be included, part of the conversation. He’s not sure how to join in, but he’s trying so hard, laughing at Clint’s ‘joke’, reacting to what others are saying, but from afar.

And all Wade has to do is say his name in that warning tone and Doug backs away so quickly without protest. They’ve done this before, multiple times. Doug knows he’s not fitting in, not quite getting it right. He’s trying so hard. Reading books to try to figure out what’s missing, putting himself out there. He says things he thinks other will agree with (I blame rap music), whether or not he actually believes them isn’t clear.

He tells his students about his (probably very stressful) weekend, but not his coworkers, because out of the two groups, only one of them will listen. They may not really get it, but they listen, and he can understand that feeling.

When the shit hits the fan, he’s still so unsure what to do. He puts a hand on Lucy’s side (going for assurance, maybe?) but removes it just as quickly, looking like he regrets it. He yells what he probably thinks is some kind of encouragement at Clint, wrestling with Patriot on the floor. He’s looking to everyone else for some sort of indication on what to do, but everyone’s panicking, so he’s panicking.

This is an unfounded headcanon but I think Doug usually does the whole exaggerated be quiet thing for his students and they think it’s funny, so he’s used to doing it that way and now it’s his default. (That or he has possible auditory hallucinations? Also an excuse to dunk on Rebekkah which is a good enough reason in my book lmao)

He risks his life to study Clint’s infection, and not only does nobody else react, but Wade outright says he doesn’t care. Not a single one of these people care that he puts himself at risk trying to help. And when he finally does return with his hypothesis, their main concern is that he did it all with his bare hands. As if that’s what’s important in the moment.

He’s used to it. That’s the worst part. He’s used to their indifference or dismissal. When he asks them to follow him so he can explain what he’s discovering, and nobody does, he just shrugs like he expected it and continues on with his observations.

I’m kind of surprised they didn’t just leave him there when he gets tackled by the kid, use him as a distraction while they escaped. Maybe they knew they’d need his knowledge, maybe they figured they needed all the hands they could get. Maybe they just acted without thinking, who knows.

And he’s so smart, and able to compartmentalize in a way that none of the others seem to be able to do. Yes, this is a child, a former student, that he’s dissecting (brain surgery with his bare hands???) but it’s necessary to understand what’s happening. He’s not trying to be a creep when he asks Tamra about hitting puberty, he’s gathering relevant data, and I’m willing to bet the more sinister implications of asking a child about her body never even crossed his mind in this situation. He’s a scientist.

And he’s still trying so hard. Trying to prove that he has things worth sharing with the group, trying to help them understand like he does, going into detail so they can get where he’s at. He sounds impatient when his knowledge gets questioned, so he gives context, but the spike incident isn’t relevant here, Rebekkah (dunking x2 combo)

When Lucy attempts to correct him, his response is ‘oh ok this is how i’ve seen people respond to this, anyway moving on’ (So he obviously doesn’t notice when the word switches happen, or at least not all the time)

Just about every time he tries to add onto a conversation he gets something wrong, and you can tell he knows it, but he keeps trying. (I’m not deep-diving into his bucket list comment lmao)  During Wade’s hype speech, he doesn’t mean to take away from the momentum, he just knows Wade was factually incorrect.

Then he makes a fucking CATTLE PROD???? Fuck Tracy’s fork-studded safety cone, clever as it is, my mans made a CATTLE PROD. IN A CAVE. OUT OF SCRAPS. (ok, in a basement, out of batteries. close enough.)

And again with the compartmentalization- they’re not human, they’re no longer his students. They’re in the way between the group and survival. He does what he has to do, with less fear than he had when trying to make small talk. He’s even able to joke during the chaos. (I saved your life, nbd, just get me a sandwich and we’re even)

The next time he says ‘come here’, though, they do. And again, he’s trying, he’s confident that if he can just get his hands on some infected nuggets, he can keep being useful, he can help fix things. He’s still worth keeping around. He tries to lighten the mood, too- the mask, the pun. It’s just the wrong timing, and he knows he messed it up again.

But he’s trying.

#doug davis #cooties 2014 #leigh whannell #if nobody will talk about it with me then by god i'll talk to myself about it

[larakb117]

LONDON ADVENTURE

Joseph Quinn & female y/n

Summary: You and Joe meet Jamie in New York…

Content Warning: rpf, drinking (don’t worry, Jamie is okay with it!)

Part 13

When you came out of the bathroom, Joe sat in the middle of the bed, still completely naked and obviously waiting for you to come back and lay between his legs, your back to his tummy. His happy trail tickled your lower back. “I think I will text Jen, just to let her know I’m good.” You tapped on your phone revealing the lock screen, which showed the time and date. “Oh love, we met a week ago!”, Joe gasped. “Yeah, we did.” “Best week of my life.”, Joe laid his arms around you even more tight than before. “Joe, don’t exaggerate.”, you looked at him with a straight face. “I don´t.”, he had a sudden serious facial expression. “Joe.”, a wave of self-doubt caught you right by your feet and threw you face forward on the ground. He could not be serious, he just could not be serious. Why would a person like him be attracted to a person like you. You moved away from him and grabbed the blanket to cover you up a bit. These moments came all of a sudden, self-doubt was a big part of your life. The fact that no men had shown the slightest interest in you did not make it better. You always asked yourself what was wrong with you, if you didn’t deserve love. And now it happened again. “What is going on love?”, Joe looked kind of scared. You tried to avoid his gaze. “I´m… I… I´m just….” Y/n! Stop!”, Joe grabbed your wrists and looked you deep in the eyes, he focused so much, that you could not escape his stare. Now Joe could see the tears in your eyes. “I know what is going on. Love, trust me. I´m not joking, you are the best thing that happened to me in a very long time. I love you. I told you yesterday and I´m going to tell you tomorrow, in a week, and in five years. I can´t describe how much you mean to me, how you make me feel. I never felt like this before. I understand that you are sceptical. The things you told me about you, it makes sense to me, but you have to believe me: You are an amazing human, you are beautiful, you are sexy and hot. You are a great story teller, I love how passionate you are about things you love. And that’s just what I can say about you after 7 days of knowing!” You were shocked. “I´m sorry.” That’s everything you were able to say. “Why are you sorry now?”, Joe chuckled. “I don’t know.” “Y/n.” “Thank you.” “For what?” “For blowing my doubts away instantly.” “I love you.” “I love you too.”

You woke up the next morning, Joe wasn’t there with you. On your nightstand you found a little message written on a piece of paper: “Doing press all day, I let you know when I´m done. Enjoy NYC, my love!” It was 9:30 am, the sunlight streamed into the room. You jumped into the shower, washed your hair and got ready to explore some more of New York City. Most of the day you spend in Brooklyn. You started your day trip at Coney Island, took the subway back to the Northern part of Brooklyn and visited the Green Wood Cemetery, the largest one in NYC and ended up in the heart of Dumbo. The last thing you did before returning to the hotel was crossing the Brooklyn Bridge back to Manhattan which was breath-taking, probably one of the best things you had done during that trip. It was already 7 pm when Joe called you, you were on your way from the subway station to the hotel. “Love, I cant believe it!”, he giggled into the phone uncontrollably. “What is going on?”, you loved his laughs and giggles, you just had to join him. “One of my best friends is in New York right now! Can we meet him later?” His question sounded a little bit like begging. “Joe, of course we can! Remember what I said about Gaten?” “Okay, love! Can you come to the Brandy Library, like right now? He´s there!” Joe sounded so excited, which made you excited as well, because damn, this person must mean a lot to him. “Yeah, I get there right now, I´ll text you when I´ll be there.” “Love you!”, cartwheels in your stomach. You googled the way and texted Joe that the way would take about 30 minutes with the subway. You turned around to go back to station and arrived at the bar at around 7:35 pm.

Joe stood in front of the building and greeted you with a tight hug and a loving kiss. “I missed you, y/n.” “You hugged him back trying to pull him closer, but it was simply impossible. Joe was so nervous, he made mini jumps when he loosened your hug and took your hand rapidly to pull you into the bar. He took a look around and when he saw who he was searching for he squeezed your hand even more than he had did before and walked up to the table in a fast speed. On the table there sat a thin man, with shoulder long and ash blonde hair, dressed all in black. He stood up and threw himself at Joe with a big smile, they tightly hugged, like you had did with Joe just a few seconds prior. They clapped each other on their backs, kissed their cheeks and couldn’t stop the chuckles. What was going on? Out of a sudden, Joe interrupted the cuddles and turned to you. “Jamie, that’s y/n.” Jamie gave you his hand and smiled politely, as if you hadn’t experienced that moment which had gone on with Joe. “I´m Jamie, hi. Heard a lot about you.” He was British. You knew him. “Hi, pleasure to meet you.”, you smiled too. Jamie waved his hand to show you both to sit down with him. Joe took your hand right away when you placed it on the table. Jamie looked at you and created a face expression which probably should tell Joe and you that he was happy for you. “Joe, finally!”, he said. “Yes, Jamie, finally!!!” They burst into laughter.

“Let me get us something to drink, I invite you! What do you want?” “Oh, I don’t know. What do you get?” “Probably just some water, I don’t know why I chose this place, they basically don’t have anything else.” You looked through the menu: “Well, Brandy must be good at a Brandy Library Bar.” “Jamie doesn’t drink, love.” “Oh, I´m sorry. Is it okay if I get something alcoholic?” You made a side eye to Joe, who thought back to your date at Sky Garden just like you did. Joe smiled. “Yes, I´m sober for 9 years now, I can deal with alcohol near me.”

You ordered your drinks which came really fast to your table. Joe and Jamie started to chat a bit, why they were in New York right now, how Jamies girlfriend Jess was and some more stuff. “So what do you think about Joe, y/n.” That was a surprising and direct question. “Eeehm.”, you could feel the heat rising in your head, your cheeks blushing. “He´s the best.” Joe pressed your hand a little tighter. “I had the best week of my life with him, not because he took me to New York. Just…” You looked at Joe, he looked at you. “A week? When you told me about her earlier on the phone I could have sworn you know her for at least half a year.”, Jamie chuckled. You still looked at each other, with pure love in your eyes, both of you.

“Oh, damn, Joe, you´re in love.” That teared you out of that little moment between you and Joe. “Yes, I am, pretty madly.”, Joe said to Jamie. “That’s great, I´m happy for you.”, he truly meant that. “So, y/n. You love him too?” “Yes, I really do.” “Did you know him before?” “Yes, to be honest. Heard of him before, but couldn’t figure out from where. It was more his name, than his face.” “Stranger Things?” “Yes.” “So you know me too.” “I think so. You were in Stranger Things too?” Joe interrupted your chat: “He´s Vecna. You should definitely recognize him, they basically have the same face.” Jamie laughed, it was a loud and heart warming laugh like Joe had. “Oh yeah. I did not have to sit in make up for 7 hours to get that face, it was all natural!” Joe burst into laughter.

You loved him even more like this, he seemed really happy. “Oh, Jamie, I missed you so fucking much. How long have we not met now, like at least half a year.” “Well, Mr. Quinn, Man of the year 2022, you´re kind of busy!” “But I don’t understand why we don’t get booked for the same conventions anymore.” “I don’t know, sucks, really, sucks. Give the people what they want I’d say!” “Where are you from, Jamie?” “London, like Joe, that bonds.” “But why can´t you meet some time in London?” Joe explained: “So Jamie´s working in the states a lot, the only times he was in London in the past few months, I was in the states at that time.

“Oh.” , realising that you probably had to go through this at one point in your relationship as well. “But it’s the same every time we meet. It´s like we see each other every day.”, Joe says. “Yeah, we keep in touch over our phones too. But it’s not the same.” Yes, its not the same. How would being intimate look like in a long-distance relationship. Not just the sex, but the cuddles, the kisses, the hugs… Joes love language was physical touch. Would he miss it and fall out of love with you? Again, anxiety creeped up in your stomach, creating a knot in your throat. Joe noticed your nervous face expression and squeezed your knee under the table.

You weren’t able to follow most of the conversation, Joe and Jamie wallowed in memories: the stranger things promo in Brazil, spending time in Tokyo together, and some conventions they did together, but also, some more private stuff, Jamie talked a lot about his relationship. After some drinks and finger food, you three left the bar and said goodbye in front of it on the sidewalk. “It was lovely to meet you, y/n.”, he smiled at you with a wide grin and hugged Joseph. Jamie whispered into his ear, Joe had to chuckle loudly. “Oh, shut the fuck up.”, Joe said while laughing. Jamie left with a taxi and waved out of the car window. “Should we go for a walk, love?” “Yes.”, you replied. He grabbed your hand and started walking. “What did he just say to you, Joe?” Joe grinned again: “I´m sorry, I can´t tell you.”

To be continued…

taglist: @eviethetheatrefreak @keirasreplies

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn imagine #eddie munson #joe quinn #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x y/n #fluffy #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn rpf #rpf fic #joe quinn rpf #stranger things #jamie campbell bower #Jamie Campbell bower rpf

[quinnslogan]

Not people actually thinking Logan proposed 50 times, it was an exaggeration 😂😭😭 he probably just kept hinting at it, suggesting it, wanting to know when she’d be ready. I highly doubt he kept getting on one knee, doing the whole thing just for Quinn to keep saying no. That’s lowkey kinda toxic and sad lmao. He prob felt the timing was finally right, Quinn maybe hinting this as well and bam a real actual proposal happened. The way she’s so giddy about how he surprised her and about showing the ring and all to me sounds it was the first time it was the real deal. Idk I can be completely wrong but I like to think Logan has feelings too and getting rejected consistently not phasing him is strange haha.

Lol the way Zoey said it she was definitely joking. I’m sure she’s counting the dumb comments on Quinn’s posts like the one under her forbes 30 under 30 where he’s like “marry me” and just other times he’s joked marry me. I do think he probably seriously asked once or twice before maybe not in as extravagant of a way but she told him it wasn’t the right time!!

Also, I love Logan kinda my favorite character but he’s not super mature (personality wise at least) and I think Quinn was very much aware of that when considering if they as a couple are ready for marriage. Also, she was in her girlboss tech inventor era and according to Matt’s recent interview Logan was too as a production businessman (basically working for his dad’s company) or something idk I need to rewatch to hear what he said.

I will say though a lot of the writing for Logan in this movie was kinda dumb. Like the fact he didn’t think to talk to Quinn until Zoey mentioned it??? Like what😭😭 So it’s probably just a joke the writers threw in there also to exemplify the fact that Quinn isn’t some girl waiting around for her boyfriend of 15 years to ask her to marry him.

#quogan #zoey 101 #zoey 102 #quinn and logan #logan reese #quinn pensky

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hiii!! Can i request a fic where student!reader is taller than marilyn (she’s only like 5’1 haha) and she just teases marilyn for being short despite her being older than the reader. I don’t really have a plot but itd just be cute and fluffy. Thank you!!

Yesss, here it is!!! I hope you like it, even it's a bit short!! Sorry about the language mistakes!!!

The shorter, the better

Pairing: Marilyn Thornhill x Fem, Student! Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Word count: 1,761

Summary: You love being taller than her, and you fin it so funny sometimes…

 N/A: Requests are open!!! Sorry about the delays, I’m working hard on your requests. I love you all!!!

You were sitting at the library, preparing for your literature test. You hadn't slept well for several nights and all you did was yawn. Probably if you didn't spend your nights making out with your botany teacher, you wouldn't have any trouble sleeping.

It was something improvised, that no one could see it coming. Little by little, that trust you had with Marilyn Thornhill turned into something more than a friendship. You never asked why, or if she felt comfortable kissing a student. Certainly you didn't care much if it seemed good or bad to her, the point is that those shy encounters in the corridors, in the conservatory or in her room didn't stop.

You didn't even know if you were girlfriends, lovers or friends. You didn't know and you didn't want to know. As long as Marilyn didn't say anything about it, you could imagine whatever you wanted, and that was really, really funny.

You were almost the only person in the library. There was no people around you and that made you even more bored.

The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs distracted you from your "funny poetry study" and you looked up the stairs curiously. Your salvation slowly descended. Marilyn.

She looked around her and smiled as she spotted you, approaching you.

“Good afternoon,” she said, sitting next to you. You looked at her with a frown.

“Good afternoon?” You asked, joking. She sighed and nodded.

“You never know who might be listening behind the shelves,” she whispered to you, with a mysterious tone, as she took a stack of papers out of her bag.

“ You paranoid, ahem,” you said between coughs, dissimulating. She raised her eyebrows and shook her head.

Of course she was paranoid. She felt like a delinquent, loving a student, kissing her, biting her neck at night and whenever possible. You didn't understand that shy and reserved attitude she had with you during the day, but it was worth having a little patience. The nights were wild and full of passion.

“What are you doing?” She asked, pulling out a pen as well. You snorted and pointed to the huge literature book you had on the table.

“To die terribly of boredom,” you whispered in a very low voice, seeing that the librarian was walking near you.

“You are very exaggerated,” she whispered in your ear. Your hair stood on end when you noticed her breath. She always got those reactions.

“Exaggerated? Try to study all of this stuff without falling asleep, it's a challenge, I assure you,” you said, yawning again.

Silence returned to the library. She seemed to be marking tests, including yours. Your height allowed you to see well over her shoulders. Naturally when she realized it she put her arms on top of the paper.

“Don't look, that's cheating,” she told you, giving you a nudge. You smiled and shrugged.

“I deserve an A, you know that,” you joked, following the old librarian with your eyes, who imposed the particular dictatorship of silence without any mercy.

“You are very sure of yourself,” she whispered, winking at you.

You started playing with the pen, making funny faces at the redhead, bewildering her. She shook her head constantly, but she couldn't help but smile. There was a moment when Marilyn's hand reached under the table, grabbing yours and caressing it. You enjoyed those little clandestine gestures of affection. They made your heart beat too fast.

“Oh, my God,” She sighed, letting go of your hand and getting up.

“What's wrong?” You asked.

“Wednesday Addams. She always goes beyond what I ask of her,” she grumbled. You laughed, you knew your classmate well and you knew that if she wasn't the best at everything, she wouldn't be able to breathe comfortably.

Marilyn went to a nearby bookshelf, looking for a book. You looked at her funny, wishing that what she was looking for was out of her reach. You smiled victoriously as she reached for her hand to reach for the top shelf, naturally to no avail.

You couldn't help a little laugh, which obviously caught the attention of the redhead, who looked at you with eyes of fire. You dodged that poisonous glare and pretended to read the boring book you were studying.

When you thought the danger had passed, you looked sideways once again at a desperate Marilyn, who was beginning to take small jumps to reach that desired book. You laughed again, now more shamelessly.

“Do you mind stopping…?” She said aloud, earning the librarian's menacing look.

“Shh!” The old woman said, then returning to the newspaper she was reading. Marilyn rolled her eyes and surely she was struggling not to say an expletive. She looked at you again.

“Would you mind to stop laughing and come to help me?” She said, now in an almost inaudible whisper. You blinked rapidly, smirking, and moved closer, looking at her curiously.

“What's the problem?” You asked in a mocking tone, with your hands behind your back.

She grunted and pointed to the top of the shelf.

“I need that book,” she told you, hissing. You frowned and shook your head.

“Which one?”

“The dark green one,” she told you, beginning to lose her patience.

“Oh, that one…, okay…” You said slowly, reaching out a little to grab it. The redhead sighed in relief and she extended her hand towards you.

“Great, give it to me.”

You went to do it, but at the last moment you pushed the book out of her reach, raising it above your head.

“What are you doing? Stop fooling around and give it to me now.”

“I'm giving it to you, just take it,” you continued to tease her, causing her to press her lips together and move her arm awkwardly, to no avail, of course. She gave up, understanding what your game was about.

“Okay, (Y/N), what do you want?” She whispered to you, hiding it as best she could. The old witch was watching you.

“I want to kiss you,” you whispered, keeping the book out of her reach all the time. She opened her eyes and looked everywhere. Always so cowardly, you loved her.

“It's not the time, nor the place,” she told you, dragging her words. You shrugged, smiling wickedly.

Marilyn snorted and looked around again.

“Come,” she told you, grabbing your free hand and taking you to a more secluded place. Once behind a dark hallway, she put her hands on her hips and leaned into you, standing on her toes. You closed your eyes and accidentally lowered your guard.

Before her lips brushed against yours, she reached out her hand, managing to snatch that book from you.

You looked at her annoyed and crossed your arms.

“That's not fair,” you said, indignant. She smiled victoriously.

“Says the same one who takes advantage of the fact that I'm short,” she told you, leafing through that manuscript on carnivorous plants.

“Oh, I'm not taking advantage… I was just having fun,” you said, sighing, leaning against the wall.

“Does my height amuse you?” She asked, pretending to have been offended.

“Well, a little,” you said, playing along. “You have to admit that it's funny that you're so short being… Well, being older than me.”

Marilyn's jaw dropped and she shook her head.

“Oh, now you say that I’m old, fantastic,” she said, almost growling.

You shook your head, afraid that she might have misinterpreted your words.

“Oh, no, no. I didn't mean that,” you said a little nervous, gesturing with your hands. “It is just that…”

Marilyn rose back onto her toes, her hand gently stroking your cheek. She kissed you before you could react, and that kiss melted you so much that you let yourself go, grabbing her waist and pulling her body against yours. When she pulled away from the kiss, she came off her tiptoes and hugged you, her head resting a little higher on your chest.

It seemed like you were making fun of her, but you weren't. You loved having her in your arms, like something fragile, like something that had to be protected. That's what you wanted, you wanted her to feel safe by your side. You were completely crazy about her, you couldn't hide it.

“Hey, Marilyn,” you whispered, stroking her hair. She looked up, smiling and resting her hand on your chest.

“I wasn't laughing at you, I promise,” you said, staring at her and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

“I know, honey,” she told you, with a reassuring voice. “I like being short, I like that you protect me with your hugs.”

“You're adorable,” you said, smiling warmly. She smiled and leaned up again to kiss you.

If you continued like this, you would lose control soon. A slightly uncomfortable tension was building and you didn't want to lose your mind and put it on a table to unleash your deepest desires. You came up with the best way to put out the fire that had been fanned inside you, the only way you could.

“Hey, what do you think if we stop doing these boring things and go to your room to…? Well, for you to show me that pretty book…” You whispered, bending down to her ear.

Obviously she hesitated at first, but it didn't take her two seconds to bite her lip and nod, going to the table to collect her stuff.

Making sure no one was looking at you, you walked down the corridor where the teachers lived until you reached her room. You really didn't expect her to accept your lewd proposal, it was a very unusual time. You didn't want to think about it anymore either.

Marilyn opened the door and rushed in next to you, closing it immediately after.

Her eyes sparkled with desire, just like yours. But you needed to do something first, something you always wanted to do.

“Wait, wait,” you said, stopping the passionate kisses that she was giving to you. She looked at you strangely, looking at the old clock that it was hung on the wall. Without giving her time to think, you took her in your arms, feeling powerful, a chivalrous lover.

“(Y/N)…” She said between laughs, while you took her to bed without any difficulty.

“I promise you it's not a joke. I always wanted to do this,” you said, leaving her lying on the bed and leaning on one of your arms.

“Great, you've made it, now I want you to always do it...”

#marilyn thornhill #marilyn thornhill x reader #wednesday #ms thornhill #oneshot

[fullfledgedghost]

happy holiday star season and happy hatoful fandom secret santa exchange day everybirdie =) no other holidays today (lying)

my recipient was @iwritenarrativesandstuff ! i wrote a short fic about mirror hiyoko roping ryouta and nageki into some shenanigans, its mostly character interactions and one bit where i paraphrase instructions on how to set up a classic prank. i hope u enjoy! happy holidays ^_^

synopsis: hiyoko tries to play a practical joke on her teacher and gets nageki and ryouta to help. it... doesn’t go exactly as planned, but they still have fun!

“Hey Ryouta? Have you ever heard of April Fool’s Day?”

Ryouta and Hiyoko are hanging out after school at Torimi Café, doing their homework together. When Hiyoko asks him this question, Ryouta looks up from his work.

“Huh? April Fools Day?” He repeats, for clarification’s sake.

“Yeah! It’s an old human holiday,” Hiyoko excitedly tells him. “I don’t think it was ever that popular in Japan, but they celebrated it in other places. You play pranks on all your friends, but not mean pranks, just the funny ones.”

Ryouta hums. “I’ve never heard of that. It sounds kind of fun, but I don’t know how to pull pranks..”

Hiyoko nods. “Me neither! But learning about it inspired me to try playing pranks on people anyway.”

Ryouta suddenly looks nervous. “Are you gonna pull a prank on me?” He asks Hiyoko.

She laughs. “Of course not! I want you to help me pull a prank...” Hiyoko pauses for dramatic effect. “On our teacher!”

Ryouta seems relieved. “Oh, good. Wait, no, Hiyoko, what do you mean? Play a prank on our teacher??”

She grins. “Mhm! We both have class with Nanaki-Sensei, right? It would be the perfect setting for an ambush!”

Ryouta seems unconvinced. “I don’t know.. that seems like it could be dangerous. What if we get in trouble?”

“How could it be dangerous? It’s not like I’m suggesting we play a prank on, say, Doctor Iwamine.” Hiyoko replies.

Ryouta shivers. “Now that would be really dangerous. Just imagining what would happen to us is making me nervous!”

Hiyoko pats Ryouta on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, we won’t play any pranks on him this time. Maybe in a future story, though.”

“A what?” Ryouta looks confused.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hiyoko tells him. “So, are you in?”

Ryouta hums, thinking it over. “...sure, why not.”

“Yaay!!” Hiyoko claps. “Thank you, Ryouta!” She gives him a quick hug.

He smiles and returns the gesture. “No problem, Hiyoko.”

She pulls away and starts piling her homework up to put away in her bag. She then pulls out a blank piece of paper, and writes PRANK PLANS at the top. She shows it to Ryouta with an evil smile.

“So..” Hiyoko gestures to the page. “Any ideas?”

Nageki is sitting in his room reading when his phone rings. He sighs, putting in his bookmark before picking up the phone. It’s probably Hiyoko and Ryouta asking for help with their homework again.

When he picks up the phone, his suspicions are confirmed by the ‘Tosaka, Hiyoko’ caller ID that pops up. He takes the call.

“Hello?”

Hiyoko’s cheery voice answers from the other end. “Hey Nageki!”

Nageki smiles despite himself. “Did you need help with a homework problem, Tosaka?”

“What? No! Gosh, do you think so low of me, Nageki?” Hiyoko responds with exaggerated offense.

“...” Nageki stays quiet.

“Don’t just say nothing!! You’re so mean!” Hiyoko laughs. “Anyway, I actually wanted your help with something else!”

Ah, so he wasn’t entirely wrong. “Alright. What do you want help with?”

“Me and Ryouta are planning to play a prank on Nanaki-Sensei! Wanna join? We could really use your help.” Hiyoko asks.

That isn’t at all what Nageki was expecting. “You’re... planing a prank? Why?”

Hiyoko laughs nervously. “Well, there’s this whole story about an old human holiday, but I don’t wanna tell it again. Just for fun, I guess!”

Nageki shakes his head in disbelief. Those two can be so ridiculous. Still.. it did sound kind of fun. As long as Hitori doesn’t ground him or something because of it.

“Pleaaaase?” Hiyoko pleads with Nageki. “It’ll be fun, I promise! At least I hope it will!”

Nageki sighs. “..sure.”

“Great! Thank you, Nageki!” He could practically hear Hiyoko’s smile through the phone. “We can discuss plans tomorrow at school. Should we meet in the library?”

“That sounds good to me.” Nageki replies.

“Alright! See you later, Nageki!”

“Bye, Tosaka.”

After a day of planning, and a few days getting materials together, Hiyoko and her birdie backup are ready to go!

They sneak into school early, climbing through a broken window that the custodial staff hadn’t gotten around to fixing yet. Thank you, Anghel!

Trying to be quiet, even though they assumed the building would be empty, the trio makes their way over to Hiyoko and Ryouta’s homeroom classroom, class 2-3.

Nageki almost drops the plastic bucket they had brought, and refuses to accept Ryouta’s help when he offers to help carry it. Ryouta just sighs.

Once they reach the classroom, Hiyoko starts assigning jobs.

“Okay, Ryouta!” She whispers assertively while pointing at him.

“Yes?” He jumps as she turns and points at him so quickly.

“You’ll be filling the bucket with water!” She waits as Nageki hands Ryouta the bucket. “There’s a water fountain in the next hallway over, it should be the quickest way to fill it.”

“Aye aye, Hiyoko!” Ryouta salutes her before rushing off to fill the bucket.

“And you, Nageki,” she whirls around to point at him now, “will be holding the door steady while I balance the bucket on top of it!”

Nageki nods, seeming to take his job seriously. He likes getting to feel helpful, even if its for something silly like this.

Ryouta comes back with the bucket, trying to keep water from splashing out as he runs. Hiyoko laughs evilly.

“Perfect! Now, Nageki, the stepstool?” She turns to Nageki, who rushes over to the nearest janitor’s closet and grabs a stepstool from inside. He drags it back over to the door and gives Hiyoko a nod. She nods back, then mounts the stool and accepts the bucket from Ryouta.

With Nageki holding the door steady and Ryouta keeping lookout, Hiyoko takes a few moments to balance the bucket. She fumbles it a few times, but luckily doesn’t drop it, and in a minute or so the bucket is successfully balanced! Ryouta claps softly as Hiyoko gets off the stepstool and Nageki returns it to Mr. One’s closet.

Hiyoko high fives both of her friends. She giggles.

“Okay, now let’s get out of here! We can wait in the library until class is about to start, so we don’t seem suspicious.” Hiyoko tells the others. Both birdie boys give her a nod, and the trio dissolves into laughter as they race each other to the library.

After a little while of waiting and chatting in the library, the bell rings to signify that class is about to start. The trio leaves the library and make their way over to class 2-3, hoping they’ll be able to see their prank come to fruition before Nageki’s class started, since his homeroom was in a completely different classroom.

And it seems like it will! Right as they turn the corner of the hallway, all three teens can see a bird about to open the door to class 2-3! But...

“Sakuya, look out!” Ryouta shouts, trying to get the fantail’s attention. They were about to prank the wrong bird! Their classmate Sakuya was entering the classroom early, even before Nanaki-Sensei!

Sakuya turns around to look at Ryouta as he pushes the door open.

“Kawara? What are you-“ he is cut off by a wave of water, as the plastic bucket falls on him and soaks him!

Ryouta cringes. Nageki tries not to laugh. Hiyoko does laugh, but covers her mouth.

“Ashslkj!” Sakuya sputters, fuming with anger. “What mockery was that??? Do classrooms in Japan typically dump water on their students?? This is nonsense!”

“Sakuya, I’m sorry, this was a mistake. The bucket was for Nanaki-Sensei.” Ryouta tells him sheepishly.

“What are you talking about? Explain yourself, Kawara!” Sakuya points a soggy feather at the other bird.

Hiyoko steps over to them. “Sakuya, don’t get mad at Ryouta! This was my idea, I just asked for his help. Plus, he tried to warn you!”

Sakuya doesn’t look appropriately chastised. “Then I should be mad at both of you! Explain yourselves, now! I won’t be asking again!”

As Hiyoko and Ryouta try to explain the situation to a grumbling Sakuya, Nageki is approached by a rather worried Nanaki-Sensei.

“Wh-what’s going on here? Did somebody pour water on Shirogane??” Nanaki asks, concerned.

Nageki shrugged, trying not to get his friends or himself in trouble.

“There was a bucket on the door. I think Shirogane was going to find you, so it was probably supposed to fall on you.” Nageki tells him.

“Eep!” Nanaki seems scared just at the thought of such a thing. “M-maybe it’s a good thing I was late today, then...”

Sakuya notices Nanaki-Sensei’s arrival and storms over to him. Nanaki looks like he wants to hide.

“Nanaki-Sensei!” Sakuya barks. “Why weren’t you in your classroom! Class was about to start, and Doctor Iwamine sent me to fetch you for him!”

Nanaki laughs nervously. “Ehe, I may have.. forgotten to set my alarm for this morning. B-but at least I got here before class actually started!” He cowers under Sakuya’s angry gaze.

Nageki walks over to his friends as Sakuya begins lecturing Nanaki-Sensei about respecting himself and his responsibilities. Ryouta and Hiyoko both seem exhausted from trying to subdue Sakuya.

“Well... it seems like our plan failed.” Hiyoko sighs. “Sorry for roping you two into this. I thought it would be fun.”

“...I had fun.” Nageki admits. “Even though we hit the wrong bird.”

Ryouta chuckles. “Yeah, me too. We probably shouldn’t do this again, though. And we should hope and pray that Sakuya doesn’t sell us out to Nanaki-Sensei...”

“Or Hitori..” Nageki murmurs.

Hiyoko laughs. “As long as we don’t get suspended or killed, maybe it worked out okay!”

“Someone is getting killed? When and where? I may be interested in attending.” A deeper voice from behind makes all three teens flinch and spin around, where they find Doctor Iwamine standing menacingly in the hallway.

“Doctor Iwamine?!” Ryouta sputters. “What are you doing here?”

“And nobody is getting killed!!” Hiyoko adds.

The doctor shrugs, looking slightly disappointed by Hiyoko’s addition. “I was wondering why it was taking Shirogane so long to fetch his teacher for me. Now I see why. What manner of mischief has been conducted here?”

As Ryouta is about to start explaining everything again, the bell to begin class rings. Nageki looks towards his friends, waves, and then runs down the hallway towards his classroom. Doctor Iwamine seems annoyed by the interruption, while Nanaki-Sensei seems relieved.

“A-alright, everybirdie inside! Class has started!” Nanaki declares, nudging the bucket into a corner and holding the door for his students, who had gathered in the hallway as the chaos continued.

Doctor Iwamine sighs. “Oh well. I suppose I’ll have to get the story later. Farewell.”

Ryouta and Hiyoko sigh in relief as he leaves.

“We really dodged a bullet there,” Ryouta breathes.

“Kawara! Tosaka!” Both teens jump as their teacher singles them out. “Please go and get your classmate Shirogane a towel from Mr. One!”

Hiyoko elbows Ryouta lightly. “You jinxed us.” She tells him. He pretends to be offended.

“Quickly, if possible!” Nanaki-Sensei encourages.

Ryouta and Hiyoko both bow to him, flustered, before walking together to Mr. One’s room. They may not have escaped trouble for now, but they figured it was better not to test their luck.

Maybe next time they’d stick to a smaller scale prank. Or one with less water.

#this was really fun to write i hope its as fun to read #i tried to stick to canon as much as possible and also put in at least one subtle reference #i hope everyone’s in character #hbfss2023 #hatoful boyfriend #hatoful kareshi #writing #not tagging individual characters cause there are a few in this

[ronearoundblindly]

Do You Two...Fondue? (11)

Summary: Reader has a suspicion confirmed and a fantasy lived out. (Warning: smut. MINORS DNI.)

Man With A Plan, Part One (see previous or series)

You may be injured, but that’s not the only reason you stay holed up in Steve’s rooms for a few more days. Based on the messages you exchange with Gracie (once you finally rummage for your phone in the hurriedly repacked bag from the river), the bear-knuckle fight is still all the buzz of the rest of the compound.

A portion of the Team get sent out on a minor mission, and in Steve’s absence, there’s a knock on his door.

“Glad I caught you awake,” Tony Stark chirps, letting himself in once the door is open enough to slide through. “There’s, uh, something to discuss.”

“Would you like anything to drink?” It’s only polite to ask since you’re pretty sure what’s coming.

Tony thinks about that before refusing. Yeah, this is definitely about what you think it’s about. 

“No, thanks, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for what happened…and, this is probably not gonna make sense but—“

“You gave the footage to them, didn’t you?”

Stark blinks, words cut short by you skipping too far ahead in his script.

“Or should I say, your drones saw the whole thing, and I’m pretty sure Steve gave you permission to leak it?”

On the sat-phone in the hospital, Ro said “Steve had my blessing in all of this.” Your sibling would never presume to offer a blessing for you to simply date someone. They could only have meant Steve made a difficult decision he wasn’t entirely comfortable with and wanted Ro’s take.

“Spangler,” Tony starts weakly, “we thought it was an opportunity to turn the tide of…media. If it shut down stories and questions about whether or not you belong here—“ he opens his hands in the air, innocent and remorseful “—worth it. It was my idea, but Rogers agreed.”

Unfortunately, you’d also figured that much as well, panicked about the implications while locked in the bathroom shortly after leaving the hospital, but your anger wasn’t really directed at Steve. They hadn’t been wrong, and as awful as it was to see yourself on those glossy pages that way, you know Steve was attempting to make life easier for you to stay with him. He actually intends to keep you around. He wants to, and he’s willing to brave some wrath to do it.

“And the pony?”

Tony’s head snaps up. “Oh yeah, well, spur of the moment thing for Morgan.”

“Nope,” you call out his lie and purse your lips. “Which means…?”

“I designed it as a joke for the superlative party,” he admits, shoulders slumping. “It was gonna be your trophy till Pep talked me out of it.”

“Right, well, thank god for Pepper.”

“But wouldn’t it have been so great if you turned out to have stars tattooed on your ass?”

One look shuts him down. Tony holds up his hand as if you’ve preached gospel and shifts his gaze around the living room, clucking his tongue. “Not exactly big enough for two people, is it?”

“Get out.” You point to the door with an over-exaggerated look.

He does walk over and he does put his hand on the doorknob, but Tony stops short of opening it. “Seriously,” he mutters, “we are glad you’re here. You are doing okay, yeah? ‘Cause it’s not the same when us mere mortals get knocked down.” His brown eyes shine with sincerity. It’s the same knowing look that Steve wears so often.

“I have no fucking idea, Tony.” You flair out your arms to emphasize one is broken and you’re standing in a hundred-plus-year-old dude’s apartment in a compound for galactic superheroes. “Makes it weirder if I am ok, doesn’t it?”

He snorts. “Don’t tell Romanov, but you’re my favorite.” Tony opens the door before something else occurs to him. “Oh and if they aren’t back, you want to come for dinner up top with the fam?”

Your smile is genuine but fatigued. “Sounds nice.”

“Yeah, I can cut up all your food and help feed it to you—“

“Goodbye, Tony,” you boom, pushing to help close the door a little faster. You can’t hear his giggle but know it happened. Suddenly, you are left alone in the same room as before, but it feels different with confirmation.

Steve sees more than you thought. He must have recognized how much the press affected you. You don’t eat differently, but the fact that you hesitate about eating normally every time is probably noticeable. For you, it’s mentally punishing. Everyday, three to five times a day: should I eat this? Will they get a picture? Make it a story? Make a joke? No. That shit isn’t a good enough reason to care, but…you have to convince yourself of that every single time. You haven’t given in to the pressure; that doesn’t mean they haven’t reframed your whole thought process.

Of course, you’re angry and feel a little betrayed, maybe scared, too, but it’s not as if the story is made up. The photo isn’t doctored. Everyone really was ok, and you really did bitch-slap a bear with Cap’s shield. In no way are you denying pride in that feat, but did it have to be announced with your ass in a bikini?

The answer is yeah, it did have to be your ass in a bikini, because no one in their right mind would stage looking like that for fake news. Good god, at very least you would have untucked the one side from riding up your asscheek. No one can think you’d show that on purpose.

It takes you a long time to see what Steve meant; it’s not the worst picture. Your hair, wet from the river, is whipping around with the force of slamming the shield at the bear’s head. Your stance is firm and grounded, so it looks almost like you know what the hell you’re doing. The bikini is at least covering everything important, and if Steve likes how your hips look in this shot, then you’ll take that. The sideboob isn’t terrible either. All-in-all, it could have been much worse. You can practically feel Tony say “told ya so.”

It’s with that mindset that you continue your ‘recovery’ (boredom) and wait for Steve to return. You do go up to dine with the Starks, playing ponies with Morgan for a while before heading back to rest. Steve comes back to find you asleep on the couch, and he kisses your forehead as you make to sit up.

“Stay relaxed. I need to shower anyway.”

“No,” you pout, groggy but stubborn. You plant yourself upright and spread your legs wide, patting the seat between. “Come ‘ere.”

Steve looks exhausted, the distant, I’m-barely-here kind. He sighs, landing on the bouncy cushion as close to the edge as possible, his back to you. Your tsks and arms circling his waist—well, one circles and one pokes at an angle—pull him closer on the deep couch.

“Honey, I’m gonna crush you,” he mumbles.

“No, you won’t,” you shush in his ear. It’s only sudden, large movements that tweak at your ribs still, nothing that will hinder what you’re planning. “You weigh much less than a bear, and anyway, you owe me, Rogers.”

Steve seems to be settling, adjusting into the comfort of your hold, leaning his head into your neck. He must be really, really tired to fight so little. “I’m sorry I was gone so long.”

You snake your feet and shins over his thighs, pinning his legs open, but he doesn’t seem to care. “No worries, but that’s not what I mean. How long did you think it would take me to find out that you okayed the leak?”

Steve stiffens but makes no quick moves to get away. “I—“

“It’s fine. I’m not mad. Truly. Little taken aback. Little embarrassed, but I’m not…blind as to why you did it. Tony is nothing if not opportunistic.”

“He said,” Steve breaks the silence after, “he had to turn off the movement alert while the boys played so it didn’t regis—“

“Seriously,” you coo with a kiss to his cheek and one to his lips when he turns, “it’s done now, but you owe me.”

His bright blue eyes glitter in the low lamplight as he leans more of his weight into you. Dramatically sighing, Steve says, “what’s my punishment?”

You almost want to know what he thinks his punishment should be. What all would he do to make it up to you? It’s a tantalizing idea, but if you’re going to lull him into submission for even a moment, he needs to remain unsuspecting. Ease him into it, you see.

“You have to tell me what you would do if I weren’t here.”

He’s confused, laughs lightly, and pats your knee. “Sure. Ok. Well, like I said, I would shower.”

You scratch gently at his stomach where your hand rests. “Uh-huh.”

He shifts his head to look at the clock. “It’s a little late to call you, so I’d text to see if you’re awake. Ask how you’re day was.”

“And if I’m not awake?” You swish a larger circle over the abs of the tact suit. When Steve looks back over, you add, “you seem so tired. Can you fall asleep right after a shower on a long day? How do you wind down from a mission?”

Steve lets out a little laugh. “I talk to you,” he says cheekily, rubbing his thumb over your casted arm. You can tilt your eyes to see him pressing his lips into a teasing smile. He knows what you’re asking, but he can’t say the words. “Or I think of you.”

Bingo. Now you’re getting somewhere. “And what do you do when thinking?”

He doesn’t say anything, but you can hear his deliberate breaths and feel his little twitches to adjust on the couch. Your hand slides lower. Since the whole tact suit is a thin skin of armor around him, Steve likely cannot feel your fingers reach for the seam of his pants, but he knows. He has to by the way his eyes roll back and flutter closed. The low burr of the zipper drawing down cuts through a breathy silence.

“How long has it been, Cap? When was the last time you—” you peel back the sides of stiff, leathery material to reveal the pouch of his boxers, timing your words with your actions “—touched yourself?” 

Steve grips at your knee a little harder, his legs briefly struggling against yours. He’s hardening in your hand as you pull him free of the cotton. The more weight he leans into you, the more heat pools between your own legs, but he still hasn’t said anything.

Very softly, you whisper in his ear. “Is this ok?”

Steve breathes deep and licks his lips, eyes flickering open. “Yes. It’s…” The groan he lets rip from the back of his throat is soft as a whisper, too, but oh so dangerous. “Before…before the river.”

He stretches himself longer overtop you, his breath hitching. “Want…to touch you.”

You smile, but before you can speak, you release him and lift your hand. You’ve been letting saliva pool in your mouth while he stutters beneath you. He parts his lips when you slip your wet fingers down his length. Damn those lips. You can’t reach them without disturbing his—well, the good news is it looks like bliss—and settle for a few kisses along his jaw. His stubble from the last few days scratches.

“Let’s focus on you, Sketch.”

Steve squeezes his eyes shut harder and bends his neck back over the curve of your shoulder. His suit groans slightly in unison with his movements. You’ve slicked his cock completely and pump him with steady pressure before slowing.

“When before the river?” You nip his earlobe.

“Uh,” he moans, brows furrowing in thought, “morning. Before I picked you up. Knew you’d be—“ you’ve increased the rhythm to encourage his answers “—in, uh gah, a swimsuit.”

Your own breath comes heavier, and you bite your lip. Steve might not be able to talk dirty, but his honesty is pretty sexy on its own. He just needs the right motivation.

“And that’s what you thought about? Me in a bikini?”

His eyes slowly open but are so glazed over you doubt he sees anything. His long lashes shade what little light hits his face, a tiny sliver of blue visible around wide, black pupils. Steve’s hand drags up your thigh, jutting his elbow out to give you better range of motion.

One breathless word. “Stockings.”

It makes your heart flutter, his fantasy, his bruising grip on your hip, his little thrusts up into your hand. His highly-controlled breathing takes on an intense edge, and Steve reaches his arm that was draped over your cast up to grab your hair. It’s not a painful hold, but the way his fingers dig deeper and deeper into your locks warns you he’s close.

“That sounds fun,” you kiss each word into the tender skin of his neck, rewarded with a grunt that’s nothing short of unhinged excitement. Heat radiates up his skin. Low as you can pitch your voice, you tease, “do you need to come, Captain?”

Steve sucks air through his teeth so fast he nearly whistles. With a swift maneuver he’s locking his lips to yours while his one hand leaves your hip to cover yours as it strokes him. He grips you and himself harder than you would think comfortable. All noise has stopped from him, not even breathing. His mouth sits open against yours while he fiercely chases release. By the last few pulls, he’s too gone to guide you or his own hips.

He finally breathes when cum spills over both of your hands. Steve’s composure is shattered, but he stays silent. 

It occurs to you that time in the military and long stretches away on missions have trained Steve to handle his business as privately (and quietly) at possible. On top of all of his inhibitions, he needs to unlearn loneliness and seclusion as a default.

He lays warm and malleable in your arms, unlatching his fingers from your hair. The hand falls to pet as much of your leg as he can reach. His mouth swallows your effort to ask if he feels better.

You pull away to rest your foreheads together. “I love you.” They are the ghost of words, keeping you two enveloped in quiet that much longer.

Steve’s eyelashes tickle your nose as he takes in the sight of himself. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

You think he’s apologizing for the mess across your hand, but you’re elated that he let you touch him. It’s a huge step forward and has given you an infinitely better idea of what turns Steve on. He does think about you, and your body, and he gets excited by it. You’re not sure why it’s taking him so long to reveal these things, but at least you’re learning. Steve isn’t so much a puzzle as he is a Rubik’s cube: you can align certain parts but then mess up the row trying to match more. He’s gonna take a while to solve, but you’ve seen such glorious hints of how it can be between you.

“I suppose,” you whisper into his ear, “you may go shower now.”

(Next part)

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