#the whole fucking joint getting tattooed? no fucking thank you

[secondimpact]

me every time a tattoo is placed near my elbow or the knobby wrist joint: i can deal with it it’s fine…

me when the spots in question are actively being tattooed: i regret my whole life… phew okay got through it… oh no, not again…

#small parts of the design on joints sure we’ll get through it #the whole fucking joint getting tattooed? no fucking thank you #barring me suddenly wanting to cover anything up (which is unlikely for anything i got after 25) #i’ll only ever have to experience the pain of a certain area being tattooed once (given it’s not a multiple session piece)

[vaspider]

Any wisdom, as a tattoo-haver, for someone who is considering their first ink? Especially advice on how to make sure you know you're ready to make the commitment? Thanks as always, I hope you're having a real nice day.

Put lidocaine on the area about half an hour before you go in. It helps.

Drink lots of water. Lots. Yeah, you'll need pee breaks but... it just helps.

If you have weird joints, don't be shy about bringing a neck pillow or knee pillow or anything. When you're comfortable, you can stay still better, and that's less annoying for your artist.

Tip your artist. :)

It will itch like crazy as it heals. Don't. Fucking. Scratch. I ended up smacking my leg to distract myself from the itching.

Sunscreen on your tattoo once it heals, forever. I wasn't as good about this for my arm tattoo as I wish I'd been and the orange on my day lilies has all fallen out.

Black and grey tattoos on the whole tend to age better than color, especially color with no outline, which is very popular rn.

I'm hardly an expert, but that helped me. @apocalycious is paying for my next tattoo as a combo V-Day/anniversary present. I might just drag her out this weekend and see if we can get it done as a walk-in at one of the places near us bc what I want is pretty simple.

[pixiemunsons]

la petite mort (em)

you have two deep, dark secrets; you've never had an orgasm, and you're in love with your best friend. eddie thinks he can rectify them both.

la petite mort; the sensation of post orgasm as likened to death

(3.7 k words) soft sex, f!receiving oral, reader has nipple piercings and a praise kink, first orgasm, best friends to lovers, protected sex, reader really likes eddie’s rings and tattoos (same girl), no use of y/n or reader descriptions, weed and alcohol use, eddie and reader are in love w each other but also share a single braincell, reader is eighteen eddie is nineteen, no spoilers

this is a combo of two requests which i loved so thank u anons!!

there was absolutely nothing to do in hawkins, indiana.

as you got older, you might reflect on your childhood and teen years and everything you overlooked while you were too busy hating your hometown. the woods that offered endless hours of exploring, the lake in which you swam most summers. the video shop. the arcade. even the shitty roller rink that played nothing but cheesy 70s love songs.

before then, though, right now, your free time was best spent doing exactly what you were doing right at that moment; smoking weed with your best friend.

and listening to him bitch about a girl who didn’t wanna fuck him.

‘i just don’t get what she doesn’t see in me! like, she said i was weird looking.’ his head was laying in your lap as you buried your fingers in his hair, playing with the surprisingly soft strands and weaving tiny braids. 

‘i mean, i think i’m pretty hot!’ you looked down to his chocolate brown eyes, and shivered slightly at the way he was already looking up at you. your crush on eddie had been building for years, nurtured by the loving nature of your relationship, and by the time you realised you thought he was cute at sixteen you were already halfway in love with him. and yet, for some reason, here you were. eighteen years old, still pining after the one guy you wanted but couldn’t have whilst he complained that other girls didn’t like him. great.

‘i don’t think you’re the problem, eddie, i think she’s a stuck up bitch.’ you explained, reaching over to grasp the joint from his fingers. you’d both smoked two each already and were pretty high, but he’d insisted on finishing off what he’d skimmed from his supply and well, who were you to say no to some of rick’s primo shit?

’i think she needs to have a orgasm.’ your eyes widened as you choked on the smoke in your lungs, drawing half-breaths. eddie seemed totally nonplussed, as if he’d mentioned the weather or asked about a class of yours. bringing his left hand up to play with the sleeve of your t-shirt, the cold silver of his rings brushed against your arm, and you shivered once more. when eddie had started wearing rings the year before, it had pushed your crush into a whole new realm. they featured in every single fantasy you had; cold rings brushing your lips as he stuck his fingers into your mouth, imprints left behind after he smacked your ass, pushing up against you as he thrust his fingers deep into your-

‘you’re probably right. ‘m sure she’d benefit greatly from one.’ you laughed it off, stubbing the joint out in the ashtray by his bed and trying to play off just how horny you felt. talking about sex was something you had always avoided; the few boys you’d slept with had gotten you nowhere but disappointed, and admitting that you were eighteen and had yet to make yourself cum, let alone anyone else make you, was not a fact you were all too willing to give up. you looked down and let out a shaky breath as your mind ran away; eddie’s shirt had ridden down as he’d turned his face in your lap, and you could see the very edges of ink inside his collar. it made you feel hot under yours. eddie suited this new look so well, and you indulged in staring at him for a little while. you wondered what he looked like without his shirt, when all of his tattoos were exposed. you could feel your mind going hazy, the weed finally taking effect, and you couldn’t help but giggle softly at your own thoughts.

‘what’s s’ funny, peaches?’ he was peering up at you with an eyebrow arched, playing with the skin at the edge of your shirt sleeve, fingertips dangerously close to the curve of your chest.

‘nothin’, just thinking about what you said about her needing an orgasm.’

‘we could all benefit from one every now and again,’ he shrugged, and when you muttered an almost indecipherable ‘i bet,’ against your better judgement, you hoped he wouldn’t hear. but years of listening to shitty cassettes and teaching himself to play guitar from scratched records had given eddie an irritating superpower; he had fucking fantastic hearing.

‘what’d’you mean, “i bet?”,’ he sat up, making quote marks with his fingers around the last two words. 

your skin erupted in goosebumps, and you suddenly became very interested in the hangnail on your left thumb, pulling the skin between your teeth. eddie was transfixed on the way your teeth pulled, how your tongue darted out to swipe against the skin there, and he almost forgot that you’d been talking about until you spoke up again.

‘’s not a big deal,’ you whispered. ‘just never happened for me, ya know?’ you were looking hopefully up at him, and then it clicked.

‘you’re fuckin' kidding? no one’s ever made you cum?!’ he almost shouted the last words, and you buried your face in your hands. you could feel your skin getting hot and you knew you couldn’t look him in the eye as you spoke.

‘i-i’ve never done it with someone. or on my own, really, either. i just can’t let go enough to get there, it’s not a big deal.’

eddie wanted to reach out and take you in his hands, smooth your hair back and soothe your embarrassment.

‘it’s nothing to be ashamed of babe, but wow. i thought everyone had had an orgasm.’ you scowled up at his words.

‘way to make me feel better, eds.’ his eyes widened, apologising instantly.

‘i’m sorry babe, i didn’t mean it like that. look, i’m sorry, i’m just surprised is all. you’ve like… been with people, right?’

you frowned again. ‘yeah, a couple, but they’ve never got me there. they think they have, course, but i dunno… never seemed that important. i enjoy sex without it.’

eddie could feel himself going bright red, and he didn’t know what it was; the weed? talking about how much you enjoy sex? the knowledge you’d never had an orgasm? or the fact that you’d had enough sex with other people to know what you liked? he shook his head. of course you’d had sex, you were fucking gorgeous. anyone who you wanted to fuck was lucky. so lucky. so how had they had the audacity to not make you cum? that should be, like, a fucking crime. the more he thought about it, the more irritated he got, until finally, he snapped.

‘how about i make you cum?’

you had reached to take a sip of eddie’s beer, and at his words had spat it out all over yourself. your black shirt was soaked through and he really wished he hadn’t noticed how clingy it was, because it was making this a lot harder.

‘what- what the fuck did you just say?’ you sputtered, and eddie steeled himself, wiping his sweaty hands on his ripped jeans.

‘i mean, we don’t have to fuck. you don’t gotta do anything to me, you don’t even gotta do this. i just think we all deserve to have a really fucking good orgasm, and you said you can’t let loose enough to do it, and i thought maybe because we’re so close you’d trust me to-‘

you flung your arms around him, chests pressed together, and nuzzled your face into his chest. looking up at him with those doe eyes eddie couldn’t resist (he always said yes to you very quickly when you flashed them, mostly because they gave him a hard-on every time without fail) you fluttered your eyelashes, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth (it made him even harder whenever you did that) and sighing.

‘you’d really do that for me, eds?’ you spoke quietly, nervously. really, it was very sweet of him to offer. he wasn’t going to get much out of this - at least, he didn’t expect anything from it - and he’d asked so kindly, so sweetly…

‘of course i’d do that for you, baby,’ he brushed a piece of hair out of your eyes, cupping your face. a new tension had swept the room; you were both so excited the air was crackling. ‘are you gonna let me? need you to tell me you want this. also, i’ve caught you staring at the rings, i know you wanna know what they feel like.’

you hit his arm as he laughed, then leant forward to press your forehead to him. you heard him gulp, and you were glad for the weed you’d smoked, or you knew the two of you would’ve been too nervous to move on each other like this.

‘i’d like that very much, eds,’ you breathed, and that was enough for him.

he pushed you down gently by the shoulders, laying on top of you propped up on his elbows with his legs between yours.

‘you’re so goddamn beautiful,’ he whispered, and then his lips were on yours.

his lips were chapped but he tasted vaguely of the strawberry chapstick he had stolen borrowed from you months back. one of his hands was resting on your lower back, the other on your face as he guided you in the kiss. it was unlike any other kiss you’d had before; they’d always been rushed, tongue down your throat, sloppy. but eddie was taking his time with you, his lips moving languidly over yours, being careful to relax you into it. you almost wished he’d go faster, harder, but your mind was already cloudy from the weed and the feeling of his mouth on yours, and you wondered if it was always meant to feel like this with boys. his tongue probed at your lips carefully, not pushing, and when you finally let it in you felt the hand on your back slip to your hip, squeezing gently. you nipped gently at his bottom lip, and the moan that he pushed into your mouth in response sent you dizzy. suddenly, there was more; he was hitching your left thigh over his hip, creating delicious friction between you and he was tugging at your lip, tongue flicking over the back of your teeth. you couldn’t help the way your hips were moving of their own accord against him, it felt like you were floating above your own body.

eddie’s lips left yours to press against your neck, nipping and teasing down your throat, and you were sure you’d have marks tomorrow.

‘y’can leave marks, eds,’ you whimpered, tugging on his hair in response to a particularly hard bite, ‘can wear a turtleneck to school tomorrow, s’okay.’ he chuckled against your neck, moving his mouth up to a spot just below your ear.

‘don’t want you to hide ‘em, babe.’ before you could ask what he meant, he was sinking his teeth into the spot where his lips sat, a place you knew no jumper or jacket would hide, and you felt almost delirious at the idea of people seeing it tomorrow.

‘can i take your shirt off, baby?’ he asked, bringing you back to earth.

‘god, yeah,’ you sat up slightly to wriggle out of it, ‘take the bra too, shit,’ you moaned, and eddie started to laugh before he got your bra off and the laugh turned to a choke, then a cough, and he felt like he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs.

because you, his beautiful, kind, goody-two-shoes to everyone else, grade-a student best friend had your nipples pierced. and he was looking right at them.

‘fuckin’ hell babe, where’ve you been hiding these?’ he was practically drooling imagining how the silver bars would feel in his mouth, and if he hadn’t been fully hard before he was rock solid now.

‘got ‘em done a year ago, thought they’d look pretty.’ you were whimpering, squirming in the firm grasp he now held on your waist, and you cried out when he reached up to pinch one. ‘they’re real sensitive, fuck, feels like so much.’ eddie flicked out his tongue, bathing your left nipple in his spit before blowing cold air over it, making you tremble and moan out his name.

‘they’re very pretty, baby. i mean, i knew your tits were like, wow, but jesus christ i could spend every day the rest of my life playing with these.’ you laughed shakily, head thrown back for him to scatter kisses down your neck and chest.

‘anyone seen them before?’ he muttered, and you almost thought he didn’t want you to hear him.

‘no, just - shit eddie, i can’t concentrate when you’re playin’ with ‘em like that - just you, no one else.’ you swore you could see his eyes darken as he looked up at you, then latched onto your left nipple with a renewed vigour that had you arching your back, desperate for some friction. one big hand pushed your hips back down, sending a spark of electricity down your back as he manhandled you.

‘stop it, babe, gonna need you to wait there a minute, be a good girl f’me.’

what the fuck

what the fuck

what the FUCK

you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips, and your eyes widened instantly, clapping a hand over your mouth. eddie stilled his movements, raising his head so he was eye level with you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. he pulled your hand from your mouth, observing the way your eyes had widened and how your cheek felt hot under his hand.

‘did you like it when i called you a good girl?’ he cocked his head to the side, and from the way you looked up at him, with such desperation in your eyes, he knew he had his answer.

‘no one’s ever told you what a good job you do for them, have they?’ he cooed, smiling down at you as you shook your head.

‘tsk. well that just won’t do, will it baby? i think you deserve to be shown what a fantastic job you’re doing for me, how good you feel in my hands. want me to show you what a good girl you’re being, give you a present?’

you had died and gone to heaven. that’s the only answer to this. eddie was on top of you, feeding into your most desperate of fantasies, telling you he was about to reward you for being a good girl for him. either that or you were dreaming. because he was pulling your jeans down, kissing down your thighs and telling you how cute your panties were, how wet you were for him and oh-

oh

well, you definitely weren’t imagining that. because you hadn’t known what it felt like when someone put their tongue on you, when they licked a stripe from your hole up to your clit and lapped at you so messily you could hear it, but you did now, so surely you couldn’t be imagining that-

‘baby, you okay? you with me?’ eddie’s voice snapped you back to reality, and you looked down to see your best friend, cheeks pink and led between your legs with his shirt off and a slick on his face; you on his face, and you couldn’t help but reach down, wind your fingers into his hair and tug him back to where he had been.

‘eager, are we?’ you could almost hear the smile on his face, and you knew he was trying so hard to keep up the cocky act, but you could see the way his hips were making minuscule movements against the bed and his fingers were going to leave bruises on your thighs with how hard he was gripping them.

‘shut up, you’re loving it too,’ you gasped, and in retaliation he seemed to ramp it up. suddenly, he was two fingers deep in your sopping wet pussy, head thrown back once more as he pressed them into the plush of your inner walls, right against a spot that made your mouth dry and your thoughts spin.

‘eddie, fuck,’ you cried out, and his other hand rubbed your thigh reassuringly. you imagined he would’ve spoken to you in reassurance had his teeth not been wrapped around your clit, tugging just the right way.

‘eddie, think it’s comin’, you were slurring now, and to eddie’s delight, when he looked up at you, you were toying with one of your puffy nipples, bucking yourself up towards him. his fingers were cramping up and his jaw hurt but he wouldn’t, couldn’t stop now, not when you were half riding his face. he lifted up, using his left hand to rub circles on your clit as his other hand fucked into you.

‘relax, sweetheart, you’re doing so good for me, y’can do it baby, just need to let go for me, eddie’s got you, such a beautiful good girl f’me…’ eddie was talking away, bringing you closer and closer to the precipice until you fell over the edge of it, body turning to jelly. you couldn’t believe you’d been so happy to miss out on this all this time, so willing to do this to boys and not have them do it back. eddie was working you through it, kissing your cheeks and your nose and your eyelids and your mouth, letting you ride the aftershocks on his hand. 

if you’d been more with it you’d have noticed how he was looking at you; like you were the only woman on earth, like he could never get enough of this, like he’d never leave this bed if it meant he could make you do that over and over and over until you were crying, begging, putty in his hands. you felt like it was lasting forever, riding wave after wave, until finally your whole body relaxed, flopping down against eddie’s bed.

‘so, sweetheart, how was it?’ eddie asked, almost nervous now that the energy in the room had dissipated a little. you were still naked and panting, making no effort to cover yourself up, which he supposed was a good thing; you still felt comfortable around him, didn’t regret what you’d let him do to you. he had half-expected you to leave after, too much for you to do that with him, so when you rolled over and kissed him like your life depended on it? a welcome surprise. even more so when you reached for his painfully hard cock.

‘whoa, baby, you don’t gotta just because i did,’ he sputtered, and you brushed him off, leaning up so you were on all fours above him. you were pouting. fucking pouting.

‘but i wanna. don’t wanna suck you off, not this time at least, ‘m too tired,’ he almost asked what you meant by this time before you interrupted him once more.

‘want you to fuck me, though, eds. please.’ 

he really hadn’t been expecting to get anything out of tonight other than spank bank material. he was more than happy to get you off then never speak about it again, if that was what you wanted. of course, what he really wanted was to marry you and fuck at least two kids into you, buy a house and live in the suburbs. but for now he’d settle for making you cum on his tongue and maybe, when you weren’t looking, steal your panties. but eddie munson was never one to say no to you, especially not when you were naked and begging, so he pulled his pants and boxers down in one movement before rolling himself on top of you.

your hand went to his cock instantly, rubbing a thumb over the leaking tip.

‘christ, eds, were you just gonna deal with this later?’ you asked, eyebrows pulling together in a concerned expression. ‘you’d have exploded.’

he let out a laugh, kissing your neck as he fumbled about in his bedside drawer. he was naked except for the guitar pick necklace resting on his chest, and you leant up to kiss it, hand still sliding up and down his cock.

‘fuck babe, i was just gonna beat it when you’d gone home,’ he gasped, batting your hand away so that he could roll the condom he’d fished up on himself. he looked down into your eyes, kissing you gently. ‘i’m not gonna last long.’

‘don’t care, just need you.’ you mumbled back, pulling him down into another kiss as he slid into you.

it felt like he was made for you. no painful stretch, no disappointment. he fit in you so perfectly you could’ve sworn this was exactly how it was always supposed to be; you and eddie, eddie and you. every other time with every other boy felt so totally redundant you had no idea why you’d even bothered when you could’ve been doing this the whole time. and when eddie moved, it was more like lovemaking than fucking. his left hand was intertwined with your right on the pillow, his other holding your face as he looked into your eyes. yours was pressed against his hip, guiding him into you gently as you writhed under him.

‘i’ve wanted this a really long time, sweetheart,’ he spoke quietly, honestly, and it was a far cry from the cocky eddie you’d come to know over the years. he seemed genuine. vulnerable. you kissed him again then, trying to pour everything you wanted to say into it as his hips rocked faster against yours.

‘shh, i know eddie, i know,’ you kissed his chest again, his necklace dangling in your face, and you used it as leverage to pull his face back to yours.

‘come for me, baby, c’mon,’ you were whispering against his lips, pressing your hips up against him for the new angle, and he came with a gasp of your name, gripping the back of your neck and kissing you.

when he pulled out, snapping off the condom, he pulled you onto his chest without a word. he was red and sweaty, hair frizzy and lips swollen, and you had never been so in love in your whole life. you traced the tattoo on his chest, new to your eyes, and you hoped you’d get to see it every day.

‘you didn’t get to come again.’

‘that’s okay, sweetheart. you’ll get as many chances as you want.’

‘you mean it?’

‘always, when it comes to you.’

#eddie stranger things #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson #Eddie munson smut #Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson fanfiction #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson x you #Eddie munson fanfic #eddiemunson #stranger things s4 #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut #stranger things imagine #stranger things season 4

[amatchinwater]

Push it till it Breaks | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: Once you realize you have feelings for your best friend, Eddie, you can't make yourself say the words out loud. Not even when you notice he has feelings for you too. So you tease the hell out of him in hopes it will make him snap. Probably shouldn't have done in in the middle of a Hellfire meeting. Well, you're certainly not complaining if it gets you Eddie.

Warnings: 18+, there's fluff if you squint, angst, explicit sexual content, spanking, hair pulling, fingering, multiple orgasms, p in v sex, unprotected sex (reader on pill), squirting, come as lube, Master kink (Eddie is the Dungeon Master, it makes sense), dom!Eddie, use of pet names, aftercare is offered but reader wants round 2 first, degradation (whore/slut), flashbacks, drug use,

Words: 6199

a/n: thank you @yourdollydreams for the request! I had a lot of fun with it! I tweaked it a tiny bit to rather teasing Eddie in a turning him on sense, she also tries to push his buttons to make him lose control. I hope that's okay! There is a scene with that, but it's not the whole premise because this ran away with me.

Requests are open, I'll take Steve and Steddie too! Send some, if you'd like! Masterlist

Not my gif!! Credit to creator!!

You’re not really sure when it happened, to be honest. There doesn’t seem like a set time that you really started to have feelings for your best friend. You can absolutely pinpoint when you realized you’d had feelings. But the realization came with a minor epiphany that they were far from a new development. Simply that your brain had caught up with your heart. Among other things. 

Eddie has been your best friend for as long as you can remember. You’ve lived in Forest Hills Trailer park, three lots down from him, ever since you were born. Wayne had gone to school with your dad and they both work at the plant together. So, most of your days were spent with wide brown eyes and heavy music. Over the years and the confusing puberty time period, you’d assumed he’d want to not be best friends with a girl anymore. 

Some archaic belief nagging at the back of your brain that you’d grow apart, that guys and girls can’t be friends. But that couldn’t have been farther off base if you’d tried. Nothing can trump the connection from years worth of playing on the same playground. Sharing lame jokes that make you both wheeze with laughter. Parental figures working nights, leaving the slightly older boy in charge of looking after you both. It’s a bond that you just can’t break. 

So yeah, somewhere along the lines, you fell for Eddie “the freak” Munson. It’s a little annoying. Not in the sense that you’re pissed it’s Eddie you want. You just wouldn’t have wasted your time kissing so many frogs in hopes of a prince if you knew that you could have Eddie. What’s annoying is you want to know when it happened. The idea of things creeping up on you doesn’t sit right. God, the day you realized, you acted like such an idiot too. 

---

“What are we watching tonight, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, sparking up a joint where he sits on the couch, shirtless, sweatpant clad legs spread. The light glow from the lamp in the living room paints Eddie in a soft, golden hue, enhancing his relaxed features. All you can do is watch as he lets the smoke spill out of his mouth before inhaling it through his nose. Your eyes fixate on the trail from his plump lips, licking your own. 

What the fuck is going on with you? 

Why are you staring at him like a creep?

Shaking yourself out of whatever the hell that was, your gaze snaps to the two boxes in your hands. “Um,” you swallow thickly, trying very hard to get your brain to read the words printed in front of you. “Stuck between The Shining and Carrie,” you fumble out. You’re about two seconds away from actually slapping yourself. 

You’ve never acted like this around Eddie before. You’ve seen him without his shirt on more times than you can count. Hell, you went with him to get both chest tattoos and the headless bat he has on his ribcage. The two of you have been friends long enough that you’ve both accidentally walked in on the other while changing, so the fact that his thin sweats do nothing in hiding what’s underneath shouldn’t be a surprise either. 

Laying an arm over the armrest, Eddie narrows his eyes to protect them as the smoke coils up from another drag. “So you just want to mentally fuck me tonight, got it.”

Warmth burns your cheeks at his words, freezing your frame still. The instinct to fire back that you wouldn’t fuck him singes your tongue. “I-” That’s not something all that weird to come out of Eddie’s mouth, nor your attempted rebuttal. So why in the hell did it send a shock down your spine like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on you? You’re not even high yet, so there goes that excuse. 

“I’m just kidding, babe,” he says, ashing the joint before leaning forward to hand it to you. “You know you can pick whatever you want,” Eddie says, your shaky hand taking the rolled paper from him. 

Inhaling deeply into your lungs, you hold your breath, hoping this will knock some sense into you. Or rather, knock enough out that you don’t have to think about what’s happening and why you’re being so fucking weird. “The Shining it is, then,” you say on the exhale. Putting the tape in, you go back over to the couch, handing the weed back before plopping down on the couch beside him. Without a second thought, you throw your legs into his lap like you’ve done countless times before, settling into the corner of the couch as the movie starts. 

Not missing a beat, Eddie’s free hand comes to your legs, running along the bare skin from your pajama shorts. Your breath catches in your chest feeling the warmth of his hand on you. Cold, chunky rings doing nothing to hide the searing heat blazing your flesh. His hand never goes more than a few inches above your knee as you hand the joint back and forth. But the way his fingers glide across the small portion of thigh he does touch lights a fire inside of you. 

You’re not even paying attention to the movie. The images flashing on the screen, but the only thing you can focus on is his fucking hand. You didn’t even realize that he was trying to talk to you until his hand grips your thigh, shaking it a bit to get your attention. “Huh?” You whip your head to face him.

“I asked if you wanted the last hit,” Eddie repeats himself, holding the roach your way. 

The question might as well have been a slap in the face the way your heart tightens in your chest. Suddenly every single thing makes sense to you. The way his hand has you so bent out of shape. The way he inhaled shooting straight to your core. How he always lets you pick the movie, or the music, and always offers you the last hit. Everything that your best friend does for you wrapped up in a tiny little bow. Why every little thing about Eddie is so noticeable and intense tonight. 

You fucking like him. 

You were so startled by his mind fuck comment and couldn’t say that you wouldn’t because it’d be a fucking lie. Subconsciously, you knew that you wanted to be with Eddie before your brain had even had a moment to process the information. 

Son of a bitch.

“I- uh,” you clear your throat, his eyebrows raising at you in waiting. 

“You alright?” Eddie asks when you still haven’t answered. 

“Great!” You say a little too chipper. “Um, I’m good,” you shake your head, waving at the burnt paper, “you can have it.” 

Eddie’s eyebrows pinch, like he knows something’s off. But he doesn’t say anything, which you’re grateful for. He only nods, taking the last hit and snubbing the remnants. After doing so, he curls his arm around your shoulders to bring you closer to him, allowing your head to rest on his shoulder. Meanwhile your heart is having a field day in your chest. 

---

So, yeah, it became pretty obvious to you that you felt some type of way about Eddie. With noticing everything about him, you started to realize that everything you liked about Eddie, he did for you. Playing your favorite songs softly on his acoustic when you had trouble sleeping. Coming over in the middle of the night when your bathroom sink broke and fixing it for you. Giving you rides everywhere because the thought of his best friend walking somewhere was ridiculous to him. Letting you decide what you were doing on days he didn’t have Hellfire or practice. 

Each and every time you’d offered to do whatever he wanted to do, Eddie would hit you with a ‘I wanna do whatever you want, princess,’ or something of that nature. And the pet names. They’d never stopped. Princess, babe, love, sweetheart. You name it, Eddie’s more than likely called you that. It wasn’t until the day that after a weak attempt to fill the Eddie sized hole in your heart with someone else only resulting in heartbreak did you realize why he always called you sweet names. When he told you that you were too good for the asshole that cheated on you all of a month into the relationship.

‘Babe, you’re perfect and if he can’t see that, he’s a fucking idiot that doesn’t deserve you,’ were his exact words. But it was in the way he held you close to his chest, peppering kisses in your hair while he rubbed your back that it hit you. 

Eddie liked you too. 

Your best friend wanted in your pants but he was just too much of a gentleman to say it outright. You’re not blind and you’re far from stupid. And to be frank, it’s not like Eddie doesn’t have warmth pooling in your gut with the smallest of actions. Maybe, in some backwards sort of way, you hope that over exaggerating your own feelings for him will let Eddie do what you can’t seem to do. Have the courage to make the first move. 

So rather than put your big girl pants on and talk about it, you teased him. The way he stuttered his words when you’d asked if he was an idiot then too was well worth it. 

But once you’d started to tease him about it, you didn’t really know how to stop. It’s become this kind of rapport you share. Him subtly hitting on you while you push it too far to get him to crack. It’s just that he hasn’t cracked. Eddie is like a stone fucking wall when it comes to his resolve. You’d thought for sure the day you’d gotten him to pop a boner class that he finally would’ve said something. 

Except that he didn’t.

You two were talking about some potential date with Jason Carver. One you’d never say yes to, mind you. But still. Word had spread that after the jock’s friend hurt you, that he wanted to swoop in and save the day. You’d rather make out with a viper.

---

“A shoulder to cry on is a dick to ride on, sweetheart,” Eddie scoffed under his breath. 

You roll your eyes, while he’s not necessarily wrong, that's probably exactly Jason’s hopes and intentions, it only lets his jealousy show. “What’s the matter, Eds?” You drop your tone, honey sweet, “would you rather it be your shoulder?” You ask, knowing good and well he’ll get the insinuation. 

“Pfft, anyone is better than Jason, babe,” he says, fiddling with his pencil. “Besides, last I’d heard,” Eddie leans over, “Carver doesn’t know shit about pleasing a woman in bed.” But the sneer on his slips does nothing to hide the meaning of his words. 

“That so?” You meet him the rest of the way, placing your hand above his knee, “tell me something, Eds.” You slide your hand up his thigh, squeezing as you go, and Eddie stills, tension locking his shoulders while he holds his breath. Just as you’re about to reach the inseam, you whisper, “do you know how to please a woman better than Jason?” You make sure to add an extra layer of sugar to the jock’s name, really lay it on thick with Eddie. “You think you could please me?” You tease, reaching your destination and feeling the hardened bulge in his jeans. 

Eddie jolts out of his stool so quickly, he nearly knocks it over, mumbling “bathroom,” to the teacher scolding him for his outburst. 

---

All Eddie did was excuse himself to the bathroom and acted like nothing ever happened come lunchtime. Like he didn’t rub one out in the middle of school because of something you’d said. It was kind of infuriating. Sure, you weren’t exactly thinking he’d jump your bones in the middle of a crowded classroom. You don’t even know what you were expecting. Some other kind of a reaction than that.

An acceptance. Some kind of affirmation. 

An agreement that he in fact could take care of you. That he wanted to. Just like you so desperately wanted him to. You’re running out of ways to tease him that aren’t just throwing yourself at him or walking into his room stark naked.

“I need your help,” Eddie’s voice startles your head out of your locker as he leans on the one beside it. 

“Fuck’s sake, Munson,” you clutch your chest, heart hammering from how hard you were yanked from your thoughts. “Are you trying to send me to an early grave?”

He only laughs at your anxiousness, “never! I like having you around too much, princess,” Eddie grins while you shove the last textbook into your locker. 

Closing your locker, you wink at him, “always knew you had the hots for me, Eds.” 

“Fuck off,” Eddie playfully swats at your arm, making you giggle. 

You’re confident in his feelings for you. But when it comes to the actual act of opening your mouth and telling Eddie how you feel, you clam up. And you’re honestly a little worried that with how long you’ve been teasing him about it, Eddie might not believe you if you said it in earnest. That you were playing some trick. If only he knew that you mean every word. So all you can do now is hope he breaks since you’ve dug yourself into a hole you have no idea how to get out of. 

“What did you need help with?” You lean against the lockers, facing him.

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest, “Mike thought it’d be a good idea to get the flu.” With a huff, he presses on, “and I’m not about to get sick for one and cancel the last meeting for Hellfire before break. So, I was hoping” he reaches over and taps your nose, “you would come by as a stand in?”

“Yeah, why not,” you say. It’s been a bit since you’ve played. He taught you how when you were kids, but never got as into it as he did. Helping him plan his campaigns however, that was pretty fun. “Are you still on the Cult of Vecna? I’d hate to be accused of cheating,” you remark. 

“No, we finished that a few weeks ago,” Eddie smiles, “if the dice treats them kindly, the party will be taking down a succubus tonight.” 

“Do I have enough time to shower and change first? Gym kicked my ass today,” you tell him. 

Eddie wraps his arm around your shoulder like you didn’t literally just tell him you think you smell. “Of course,” he says, leading you towards the exit. “Gotta grab you an official shirt first anyway,” Eddie weaves through the mass of students making their way to the bus or their cars. Reaching his van, he opens the passenger door for you. As always, waving his arm out with a bow, “M’lady, your chariot.” 

“Thank you, Eddie,” you kiss his cheek, “always such a gentleman.” Even hopping in your seat, you don’t miss the way he tries to hide his blush behind his curls. 

Getting in the driver’s seat, Eddie blasts the mixtape he made for you all the way to the trailer park, not saying a word until he pulls up outside your place. Opening your door, he jabs a thumb over his shoulder, “I’m gonna go grab the shirt, be back in a few, okay?” 

“Sure thing, handsome,” you pat his chest, boots hitting the grass. Batting your eyelashes at him, you saunter towards your front door. 

Biting away your giggle at pushing his buttons once again, you narrowly miss his grumbled speech under his breath. “...be the fucking death of me.” 

Passing through the kitchen once inside, you see a note with a twenty on the counter from your dad. Telling you he had to leave early today, but to get yourself something to eat for dinner. Shoving the money in your bag, you make a beeline for the bathroom. You all but tear your clothes off in your haste to get clean, scrubbing yourself harder than necessary. But you really fucking hate gym class and were forced to participate today. 

Satisfied that you only smell like your shampoo and favorite soap, you wrap your towel around yourself and head to your room to get dressed. You have half a mind to just stand there and wait for Eddie to come back. Wondering if you being in nothing but a towel would finally let his instincts take over, throw the gentlemanly attitude in the trash and just take you. But, he’d asked you for your help and knew he would be angry with himself if he missed Hellfire. 

You want Eddie, that’s a fact. But you don’t want to prevent him from doing the things he loves. So you quickly get dressed. Grabbing a pair of wide fishnets and a short, black and red skirt and your boots. Choosing a dark red, lacey bra and panty set to match. It’s only when you start digging through your drawers for a shirt that you remember you’re supposed to be wearing a Hellfire shirt tonight. 

A wicked grin splits your face, an idea forming that you simply can’t turn down. Not bothering to put a shirt on, you sit on your bed with your bra covered tits on display, leaning back on your palms to wait for Eddie. Your front door opens and nerves settle in your chest. What if he freaks out in a bad way?

“You ready, princess?” Eddie’s voice floats through the trailer, his footsteps making their way to your room, “sorry it took so- fuck.” Eddie’s words slow to a halt when he sees you displayed on your bed. “I- um, sorry,” he covers his eyes with his free hand, burning red cheeks beneath his palm. 

“It’s okay to look, Eds,” your voice saccharine even to yourself, “promise I won’t bite. Unless you’re into that, of course.” 

“Put this on,” Eddie unceremoniously tosses the fabric in your general direction, successfully covering your chest, “we’re gonna be late.” 

“What’s the matter, Eds?” You tease further, standing up and putting on the Hellfire shirt, tying it behind your back so it doesn’t cover your skirt and exposes some of your midriff. Hearing the rustling of fabric, his hand falls from his face, expression stern. It warms your core in the most delicious way possible. You can’t help but push him harder, getting in his space, “can’t handle seeing a girl wearing a bra? Or is it me that’s doin’ it for ya?” 

“Keep acting like a brat, babe,” Eddie warns, an inch from your face, pointing at you, “and I’ll put you over my fucking knee. ‘Kay?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, smirking at the red tinge of your cheeks before walking out of your room. 

That shuts you up real quick and you follow him outside to his van.

---

As much as you wanted to poke and prod at Eddie on the way back to school, you didn’t. It wasn’t in fear of him putting you over his knee. That sounds amazing. It was the hard lines on his face as he kept checking his watch. The way he would groan and his fingers would fidget on the steering wheel at every red light you hit on the way there. You kept quiet, bobbing your head to the music, being good so that Eddie could get to his friends on time. 

Did that stop you from uncrossing your legs when his hand found the gear shift in hopes he would reach over to place his hand on your thigh? No, no it did not. Did you get what you wanted? Also no. Annoyed with yourself for not pressing him further, you didn’t even notice you’d gotten to school until your door was yanked open. Eddie’s palm up in offering to help you out of the van. 

You sat at the Hellfire table where everyone had their sheets, notes, and dice set up to play, dutifully listening to the recap of their last session. It wasn’t hard to keep up with, and you really think that if you all work together properly that you’d be able to kill the succubus. Gareth joked that he could just seduce it, win her over so that no one had to fight or die. 

The way Eddie rolled his eyes at the suggestion sealed the deal. 

This is how you’re going to get what you want. If you couldn’t tease Eddie to the point of snapping, you’ll poke the metaphorical bear and piss him off enough to.

“I think you should do it,” you say, placing your hand on Gareth’s shoulder leaning into him, “I’m sure you’ve got what it takes, big guy.” 

You miss Dustin’s muttered, “oh, shit,” and Jeff’s wince. 

Eddie’s hand falls to your thigh under the table, squeezing just enough to equally hurt and feel amazing. “Forget what I said already?” His eyes have darkened and have a glint to them that makes you crave. You know exactly what he’s talking about, but shake your head anyway. He juts his lips, giving you a curt nod and his hand vanishes. “You cannot seduce a succubus,” Eddie explains, playing off his question like it was meant for the group and not you. “She will see right through your bullshit attempt and kill you twice as fast.” 

“Come on,” your voice drips honey, rolling your eyes, ignoring Eddie to face Gareth and stroke his cheek with your finger, “Gareth’s more than attractive enough to pull it off. Aren’t you?” You coo, pinching his reddened cheek. 

You feel a little bad, using Gareth to get Eddie pissed off enough to do something. But at least you’re not lying. Gareth, objectively, is attractive. So what’s a little boost to his ego to get you what you want going to hurt? Nothing. 

“Is that really your course of action, Gareth the Great?” Eddie grits, pointing to the set of dice in front of the other boy. Brown eyes wild and his tone not even trying to hide his annoyance.

Furrowing his brows, Gareth contemplates his options, before holding up a finger and turning his attention to the rest of the group. Wanting their opinion as to whether he can actually do this or not. A conversation you’re not allowed to be a part of when Eddie’s hand grabs your thigh again, jerking your legs open and you closer to him. 

Your wide eyes meet him where he’s leaning in his throne to whisper, “you really want to be put over my knee that badly, babe?” 

“Oh, Eddie,” you purr, guiding his hand farther up your thigh, “don’t threaten me with a good time. Because all it sounds like to me is weightless threats. Why don’t you do something, Eds?” 

“Watch it,” his free hand comes up, ring clad finger pointing at you again, “keep it up and I won’t care that we’re mid session. Understand?” Eddie’s getting close and your nerves are buzzing in delight. That some part of him is accepting your advances. But the fact that he’s still trying to contain himself only eggs you on more. “Careful, princess.”

Is that so? 

Settling in your seat, you smile sweetly, “I understand, Master,” teasing his role of Dungeon Master. You smirk at the way his hand tightens around your thigh. You know what the bandana in his pocket means and you were hoping that he did too. The way his mouth pinches into a thin line only confirms your hopes. “I promise I’ll be good,” you say, lying through your teeth. 

“I’m gonna do it,” Gareth declares, happily oblivious to the conversation that just occurred, startling you two away from one another, leaving your thigh cold. “I’m gonna roll a charisma check, gonna try and woo her with my drum skills.”

“For fuck’s-” Eddie scrubs the irritation from his face, “go ahead. Don’t expect this to be easy,” he growls, “perfect twenty or you fail and I get to watch her eat you.” 

No matter what happens after Gareth lets the die fly out of his hands, you’re certain of one thing; you’ve got Eddie now. Time to make him crack. The die hits the table, bouncing a few times before rolling to a stop. Lifting from your seat, you peer over to the other side, giving Eddie a perfect view of your ass. Hearing him groan, you lean further, seeing a golden twenty on the sleek black die. 

“See, Gareth,” you plop back down in your chair. Reaching over, you run your hands through his curls, “I knew you had what it takes to please a woman.” You really hope throwing that line out that had gotten Eddie so worked up last time would be what it takes to make him lose control now. 

“Well aren’t you-” Gareth’s words are cut short from Eddie’s throne skidding across the floor from his force to stand. Silence falls after the screech. 

“Get up,” he states. When you don’t move, he drags your chair out from under the table. “I warned you,” he seethes in your ear, bending to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder. Your squeal is ignored by everyone at the table when Eddie’s palm smacks your ass. “Have fun fucking a succubus, Gareth. We’ll be back,” Eddie doesn’t bother looking over his shoulder, heading for the exit. 

You look up at the group, hoping one of them will help you or get Eddie to calm down, but they don’t. Jeff is only hiding his smile behind his hand as he shakes his head. Mike looks uncomfortable, not surprising. Dustin winces, awkwardly waving at your retreating form. Lucas mutters something under his breath that you don’t catch. Not even Gareth saves you, too strung out on the fact that he’d rolled perfectly. Because unbeknownst to you, everyone in that room knows of Eddie’s feelings for you. Your blatant teasing hasn’t gone unnoticed by any of them, they’re honestly surprised Eddie didn’t yank you out of the room the first time you touched Gareth. 

Throwing the door open, Eddie doesn’t say a word as he carries you down the hall, trying door handles until he finds one that’s unlocked. Halfway down the hall, he’s successful, pushing that door open just as hard as the club’s. “You know,” he huffs, yanking the teacher’s rolling chair out, “I tried to be nice.” 

He sets you on your feet for the two seconds it takes him to sit down before pulling you over his lap. “Eddie,” you try to scramble up, only to be slapped on the ass again.

“Quiet,” Eddie orders, situating you until you're positioned properly, one arm holding your lower back to keep you in place, the other hiking your skirt. “D’you think I’m stupid? Fucking with Gareth to get a rise out of me. Thought I wouldn’t notice?” He asks, spanking you again when you don’t answer. 

“Not stupid, Eds,” you pant, the sting warming your exposed skin, the thin lace doing nothing to hide the discoloration from his palm. “Just very fucking stubborn,” you correct him, with a breathless laugh. “Can’t take what’s blatantly offered to you.”

“That so?” Eddie rubs your ass, gripping the plump flesh before slapping it again. He dips his hand, running his fingers over your clothed folds, chuckling at the wet patch. “Aww, so wet already? Only a slut’s pussy gets wet from just spanking her. That what you are? My little slut?” 

You moan, “yes,” arching your back to try and get more contact to your aching pussy. 

“And she’s desperate too,” Eddie coos, speaking about you as if you’re not even there. Yanking your panties down, he ghosts his fingers against your slit, “I bet it hurts, hmm?” Eddie slaps both sides of your ass, hard, making you cry out and grip the chair and his legs. “I bet it does,” he kneads the flesh, “being so needy over so little. Don’t worry,” his shoves two fingers inside of you, you don’t know if you screamed or moaned, “Master will take care of you, sweetheart.” 

His voice oozes faux sympathy and your eyes roll back as he brushes that sweet spot inside of you instantly. “E-Eddie,” you moan, trying to meet the thrust of his fingers. 

Yanking you up by your hair, Eddie removes his fingers, slapping your ass. The wet digits make it sting even more. “Call me that again, and you’ll be biting down on your soaked panties for the rest of the night. Got it?” 

“Yes,” you grunt from the angle. Eddie only pulls your hair harder, making you wince, “yes, Master.” Your hair is released and you gasp, falling back to his leg. 

“Good girl,” he praises, sinking his fingers back inside, building your orgasm at twice the rate. You’re a moaning mess in his lap, writhing and ready to snap. “I shouldn’t let you cum for being such a brat before,” Eddie considers. “But fuck, babe, I wanna hear the way you scream when you cum.” 

He doubles his efforts and your eyes roll back, moaning wantonly. “Fuck,” you gasp, warmth spreading through your core like lava. Hot and thick. “Please, please- fuck,” you cry out, a harsh slap to your ass, hightening the sensations in your cunt. 

“Might put those panties in your mouth anyway, princess,” Eddie curls his fingers again and you’re sure you’re going to black out. “Wouldn’t want the rest of the group to hear how much of a whore you are. Ready to fall apart before I’ve even got my dick in you. Come on,” Eddie groans, his hard cock pressing against your stomach, thumb dipping to circle your clit, “show them what a good, little slut you are for me, baby.” 

Static washes over your limbs, a loud, broken moan falling from your lips and you gush. Squirting all over Eddie’s fingers, thighs shaking through your orgasm. Your eyes screw shut, Eddie not stopping the thrusts of his fingers, the coil winding inside of you faster than you knew it could. And before you can even say it’s sensitive, or too much, your walls flutter around him as you come again. Your head grows fuzzy from the intensity of two in such quick succession. 

“That’s my fucking girl,” Eddie growls, pulling his fingers out. You can hear him sucking them clean, “fuck, you taste good.” Helping you up, he bends you over the desk, hearing his belt unbuckle, his pants sliding down after. “Ready?” Eddie asks, rubbing the tip of his dick along your cunt. 

“Please,” you gasp against the cold wood, hands splayed as you turn your head, “please, Master. Need you.”

“All you’ve ever, ever had to do,” Eddie accentuates his words with harder rubs to your folds, “was ask.” Proving to you that had you properly opened your mouth from the beginning that you could’ve been doing this much sooner. “If it’s too much, I want you to say red, understand?” You nod, trying to push back onto his dick. But he pulls farther away, rubbing your hip softly, “I need words, baby.”

“I understand, Master.”

“Good girl,” he praises, lifting the back of your shirt to place a kiss on your spine. Finally, his cock pushes inside of you, the stretch eliciting a lewd moan from your mouth. 

“Oh my g-god,” you gasp out a throaty moan, the fullness of your walls stretching you so perfectly. All you can think about is where you’re connected. His cock full hilt, the hand bruisingly holding your hip and the other rubbing the swell of your ass. 

“Not god, baby, just me,” Eddie chuckles darkly, slowly pulling back to just the tip. Dragging himself inside your pussy in teasing strokes, going only halfway back in to pull back again. “So tight, baby, fucking perfect.” He lifts your leg up until your knee is resting on the desk and then he slams into you deep, provoking another scream. “That’s right, let it out, pretty girl. Scream for your Master.” 

You grit your teeth, the constant ramming of that spongy spot inside of you leaves stars behind your eyelids. “Fuck, fuck,” you gasp, moaning as you try to push back to meet his thrusts. 

Eddie wraps his hand around your throat, pulling you up until you’re flush with his chest, free hand groping your breasts. “Sound so pretty,” he groans in your ear, thrusting faster and your eyes roll back. “Gonna come again?” Eddie asks, leaving your breasts to circle his fingers around your clit. “Soak my cock, baby.” Throwing your head back, you scream incomprehensible sounds, your orgasm rushing through you and splashing all over his dick pumping into you at a startling pace. “This what you wanted? Hmm? Wanted me?”

“Yes,” you croak, vocal chords going through it with the way you keep screaming from his efforts. 

“Prove it,” Eddie says, swiftly pulling out to sit back down in the rolling chair. Grabbing your hips, he helps you straddle his lap. “Show me how badly you’ve wanted me, princess. It’s your turn to make Master feel good,” Eddie guides his dick back inside and you sigh, feeling him back where he belongs. 

“Wanted you for so long, Eds,” you whine, out of breath and very fuzzy. You hold his shoulders for balance, bouncing on his cock. 

His brown eyes soften only just, the hands holding your waist tenderly rubbing the skin. “Me too, princess,” Eddie says, grabbing the back of your head to pull you in for a kiss. You melt into it, grinding against his cock, putting pressure on your clit in a way that has another orgasm bubbling under the surface. You can barely think, let alone breathe when Eddie mutters, “gettin’ close, babe,” helping you grind against him faster. “Can I come inside? Mark this perfect pussy as mine?”

Resting your forehead against his, you nod, not trusting your voice. You’re on the pill, something you can absolutely tell him later once you have the proper functions to do so. For now, “p-pill,” is all you can manage. At least, you think you said it. Your throat certainly made a noise. Whether it was an actual word is up for debate. He’s doing a wonderful job making you cock drunk and you never want to look back. 

Eddie chuckles, wrapping both arms around your back to hold your shoulders, thrusting up into you with sloppy, hard movements. “That’s my girl,” he moans, pounding into you and just when you think you can’t take it anymore, that the burn of your orgasm won’t be more than a tease, your walls clench and you come again. Eddie following you soon after, “fuck, baby,” moaned from him lips, his cock burying deep inside of you as the warmth of his cum spreads inside your pussy. 

Panting and struggling to catch your breath, Eddie carefully pulls out of you. One hand rubs softly on your reddened ass, the other tracing shapeless designs on your back. “You okay, sweetheart?” He asks, all the tenderness in his voice returned, wrapping you in the best kind of warmth. “What do you need?” Eddie asks when you don’t answer, leaning his head back to try and get you to look at him. 

Barely opening your eyes, you half nod your head, mumbling, “just you. Always needed you,” you smile sleepily. 

“You have me, babe,” Eddie places soft kisses on your lips, coaxing your head down from the clouds. “I think you have for a while now,” he laughs under his breath. 

“Took you long enough,” you huff, opening your eyes enough to properly see him. 

“Maybe, if you realize you like me,” Eddie chuckles, out of breath from both of your efforts. “Don’t tease me so much that I think you’re just joking, just say something.” 

Sitting up, you give him a mock salute, “yes, sir,” with a dopey smile. 

His fingers dig into your hips, “what was that?” It takes you a moment to sift through the haze in your brain to notice he’s not angry, his hard cock digging into your ass. But you bite your lip once you understand what he means. “Say it again,” he grinds you against him, your eyes fluttering shut with a sigh. Lifting you enough to prod at your pussy, Eddie repeats, “call me sir again, sweetheart.” 

The tease gets to your head as much as it does your pussy, “please, sir,” you whine, trying to get him inside of you again. 

“For you, princess?” Eddie sinks you down on his cock, the sinful sounds of both of your cum making you moan, “always. Now be a good girl and come so that I can get you home and take care of you, yeah?” 

You probably won’t be making it back to Hellfire as your hips start to roll again. 

But at least you’ve finally got Eddie.

---

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[uramilf]

Mutual Attraction - Part One

University chemistry professor!Matty x reader

A/N: As a triple science student I feel partially qualified to write this lol

Warnings: No smut in this part but mentions of sex, there will be smut in later parts, age gap relationship, teacher/student relationship, making out, mentions of weed and alcohol, smoking

       Y/N Y/L/N stepped into the lecture hall with shaking hands. Usually on first days at school, there was at least the comforting thought that it was everyone else’s first day too, but this wasn’t the case. A burst water pipe in her student housing meant that Y/N was late to move in, therefore late to start university. She considered herself to be late already, after having four years of work and travel after leaving secondary school. Now, at 22 years old, she felt ready to start her new chapter.  Her eyes fell upon him immediately as he sat at his desk typing an email. His dark curls were streaked with grey, a thin layer of stubble growing on his sculpted jawline. He was wearing clear-rimmed glasses that gave him a knowing and mature charm, which was lessened slightly by the boyish smile he gave Y/N as she approached his desk. “Excuse me, sir. Are you professor Matthew Healy?” she asked. “Yes, but please, all my students call me Matty. Professor makes me sound old,” he grimaced. Y/N laughed politely and introduced herself. Matty noticed that she was a pretty girl, with kind eyes and a beautiful smile. He tried not to think too much about it, mind returning to the matter at hand. “Ah, yes! I got an email this morning to say you’d be joining us slightly late. I hope the problem with your housing was fixed?” “Yep, I’m all moved in now. Sorry to bother you, I just wanted to check I was in the right room.” “No worries, Y/N. Take a seat anywhere you like, I hope you enjoy your first class with us.”

       As Y/N neared the back of the lecture hall, she met the gazes of a few of other students who had arrived even earlier than her. A group of them waved her over. There were three of them sitting together: Rhys, who was a tall athletic boy with wavy blonde hair and deep green eyes who was studying chemistry to one day develop his own brand of protein powder. His friends back home in Wales called him ridiculous, but agreed he was going rather far to achieve his goals, so supported him in his business venture. Orla, who had moved from Cork to London and was studying to be a medicinal chemist. Her parents were extremely proud of her choice of career, but hadn’t seen her in person in a few months. She wasn’t worried about this as it had given her plenty of time to dye her hair blue, get a collection of tattoos littered around her hips and lower back, and venture into her favourite form of medicine (marijuana, which she liked to pretend was to help with her joint pain). And Jasmine, an African American girl from New York City whose real future plans involved becoming a music producer, but didn’t have the heart to tell her parents, after her outstanding performance in chemistry throughout high school won her a scholarship to the very course she was currently sitting in.

      It was Jasmine who noticed Y/N first and, ever the social butterfly, called her to sit with them. “Hey! You’ve not been here the whole time, have you?” “No, I’m just starting today.” “Ok thank God, I’d never forgive myself if I hadn’t noticed you.” Y/N laughed. Rhys stood up to allow Y/N into their row of seats, shaking her hand as she passed.  “Sorry for Jasmine,” he grinned. “She feels the need to know everything about everyone.” “Do not!” “You absolutely do!” Orla started to introduce herself as her friends bickered. “Yes, Jasmine is nosy as fuck, but Rhys and I are glad to have her. She’s the reason we’ve all made friends so quickly, her being the biggest extrovert ever and all that.” Y/N chatted to the trio as she fired up her laptop and others filtered into the class. She felt more comfortable seeing that the lecture hall was full of people of all ages, some older than her. Rhys was in his early twenties too, and she agreed with being thankful for Jasmine that she was making some friends who knew what it was like to start uni a bit later.

     Matty stood up and started to speak, going through his powerpoint about redox reactions and reducing agents. Y/N was mesmerised by him; the way he paced as he taught, the way he scattered silly jokes throughout his lecture, the way he pointed to the screen as he made a point. The lecture flew by and before she knew it, Y/N’s new friends were begging her to join them for a coffee in the students hub across the road. “Maybe I’ll pop in later, but right now I have to speak to Matty.” Rhys, Orla and Jasmine left the hall, and Y/N overheard Orla say, “Fuck but he’s gorgeous, isn’t he?” Y/N couldn’t help but agree, and took a deep breath to steady herself before approaching Matty’s desk once again.  “Miss Y/L/N! I hope you enjoyed your first lecture with me?” “Oh, absolutely! I’ve been looking forward to getting started.” “I’m so glad to hear it, sweetheart. Is there anything I can help you with?” “Actually, yes. I haven’t had a chance to pick up a textbook yet, and I was wondering if you know of anywhere I could look for a second hand one.” Matty thought for a moment, before shrugging. “You know what, darling, I’ll only be teaching out of this one for a month or so. It’s sort of the beginner book to recap A-Level topics. I have a spare one at home. If you’ll come in a little early next lesson I’ll give it to you.” “Really? That’s so kind of you.” “Absolutely, love. Let’s say you come in about half an hour early next time and we’ll go over what you’ve missed, yeah?” Y/N was ecstatic that Matty had asked her to come early to talk to him. Sure, it was a catch-up session, but still. She left feeling like a giggly schoolgirl with a crush on her teacher, trying to justify her thoughts by telling herself they were both adults, and there was nothing wrong with how she felt. Matty himself hadn’t missed the glimmer in her eyes while they spoke. He had been trying not to let himself get distracted by the soft curve of her breasts, or the way her hips moved as she walked away. She was gorgeous up close, and the more he thought on it after she had left the more he had to try to keep himself grounded.  “She’s a student, for fuck’s sake,” he muttered to himself. “Don’t be a dick.”

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

        Y/N was back in her flat staring at Matthew Healy’s facebook profile like an obsessive teenager, heat rushing to her face when she saw the word ‘single’ in his info. She scrolled through his posts for a minute or two, smiling at videos of him dancing with his mates on nights out and holiday photos where he was grinning with a drink in his hand. That smile. Ugh. 

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

       Unaware of Y/N’s light social media stalking, Matty was sipping on a pint with his best mate George in a quiet beer garden near his house, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. The September breeze moved his curls gently against his forehead as George spoke, but Matty wasn’t really listening, “All I’m saying is that you should try and get yourself back out there. You haven’t even been on a single date in forever.” “Actually, I met a girl today and I think we really hit it off,” Matty blurted out without thinking, just to get his friend off his back. Fuck.  “Weren’t you at work all day? Better not be a student, Matthew,” George teased. “What?” Matty snapped his head up to look at George. “Calm down mate, it was just a joke.” “Oh. Right. Um, no, I met her in a coffee shop this afternoon. I don’t know, it probably won’t come to anything, but I’m gonna see her again soon.”

      The minute his front door closed, Matty groaned into his hands. Why couldn’t he ever keep his mouth shut? Now George thought he had a girlfriend, and would no doubt want to meet her. There was no way he could tell George that this mystery girl didn’t exist, and the one he had met was really a new student in his chemistry lectures. This was a fucking disaster. 

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

       Three days later, on Thursday morning, Y/N made her way into Matty’s usual lecture hall 30 minutes early. He was waiting for her, sitting at his desk. He had moved another chair to a space right beside his, gesturing for Y/N to take a seat. His cheeks went slightly pink when he handed her a cup of coffee, saying “I thought you might want this, what with it being so early and all.” “That’s so thoughtful, Matty. How much do I owe you?” “Oh, nothing, please. My treat.” Y/N’s heart was pounding in her chest, but what she didn’t know was that Matty’s was doing the same. He started to talk her through what she had missed in the first week, stammering slightly when their hands brushed as he turned a page in the textbook. Y/N tried, but she couldn’t look at the book as he spoke. She looked in his eyes instead. She could see the whole world in them. She had noticed as she had been getting to know him that they were some of the most beautiful eyes she had seen in a long time.

        Before long their time was up and other students were filtering into the classroom, including Jasmine, Rhys and Orla. Matty started to wrap up his summary, not before exclaiming, “Oh for God’s sake, I’ve left that spare textbook in the car. I’ll get it after class, ok?” He tried to convince himself he hadn’t done it on purpose to talk to her again, but he just couldn’t. 

      Jasmine was enjoying a brief interrogation regarding Y/N and Matty’s conversation. “You’re telling me he just asked you to come in here and talk to him for a whole half hour? Fuck, why didn’t I start a week late?” “Stop that Jas, you’re nineteen! You’re much too young for him. And so is Y/N,” Rhys scolded. “Are you serious? Y/N is the perfect age to have a scandalous little romance with him.” “She is not, that would be irresponsible and ridiculous. She doesn’t like him anyway, do you Y/N?” “Go suck off your personal trainer, Rhys,” Orla jumped in, feeling as though Rhys was being a little protective over Y/N, although they barely knew each other. “Actually Y/N, Rhys poses a valid question. What’s your opinion on the absolute sexiest lecturer I’ve ever laid eyes on?” Jasmine prompted. “Oh, y’know, just that I might be in love with him.” Jasmine cackled at the look on Rhys’s face and replied “That’s my girl.”

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

      When the hour-long class was over, Y/N once again allowed the rest of the students to leave before meeting Matty at the front of the room.  “Let’s go get you that book, sweetheart. Couldn’t have such an excellent student failing now, could we?” The pair walked out of the building together, Matty digging in his coat pocket for a packet of cigarettes and a lighter.  “Do you mind if I smoke?” “Not if you give me one.” “I couldn’t possibly condone that, darling,” he smirked. “I’ll give you a drag of this one if you promise not to tell.” He lit the cigarette and took a few deep drags before handing it off to Y/N. He watched her pouty lips as she exhaled the thick smoke, trying not to imagine what it would be like the kiss them right then and there. He took the cig back and inhaled again, throwing it on the ground and extinguishing it with his heel as they reached his car. He unlocked it and grabbed the book from the back, handing it to Y/N. The second their fingers brushed against each other, the light spits of rain that had been building all morning turned into a torrential downpour. Matty and Y/N looked at each other and laughed for a moment, at the awfully cliche ‘caught in the rain’ scenario, until Matty realised they were both soaked to the skin and ushered Y/N into the car. “Shit, where did that rain even come from?” Matty laughed. “Where’s your flat? I’ll take you home.” Y/N froze. Matty was offering her a lift home? Fuck, she was never getting over her stupid crush on her teacher now. “Y/N? Do you not want a lift home? I can drop you at the tube station or something, I understand if you’re not comfortable with me taking you home.” “No! It’s totally fine! I really appreciate it. I live on Elmwood Avenue.”

          When Matty arrived outside Y/N’s building, he parked the car and they sat there for a moment or two, trying to think of something to say. She could feel him looking at her, and she thought he was probably just waiting for her to get out of the car. “Well, thanks again, I should probably g-” Matty cut her off by crashing his lips against hers. She just sat there, not quite knowing what to do. She wanted to kiss him back, she knew she did, but she was frozen. He pulled away, embarrassed.  “Jesus, Y/N, I’m so sorry, I never should have-” It was her turn to cut him off now by placing a hand over his mouth and giggling.  “Don’t you dare be sorry,” she whispered, before pulling him closer by his black tie and pressing her mouth to his again. Y/N could feel Matty smile into the kiss as she tangled her fingers through his dark brown curls with one hand. The other hand cupped his stubble-covered jaw as their lips moved together. One of his hands was clutching at her waist and rubbing circles into her hip with his thumb, the other brushing her hair out of her face. He slipped his tongue into her mouth and she let out a quiet moan, making him laugh. Their tongues fought for dominance for a few minutes until Matty broke the kiss briefly to grab Y/N’s waist and tug her over the centre console to straddle him. He kissed her again as he gripped onto her hips, both her hands gripping his face now. After a few more minutes of kissing him, Y/N pulled back and looked him in the eyes.  “I really do have to go now,” she laughed, stroking the side of his face lightly. Matty melted into her touch and dropped his head down to place a trail of kisses to her jawline and neck. Y/N groaned quietly. “Stop, Matty, you’re making it so hard for me to leave right now.” “Don’t leave, stay with me.” Y/N rolled her eyes and climbed off his lap, opening the car door and stepping out.  “I’ll see you in class, then,” Matty sighed.

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

        Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about what he had said. “I’ll see you in class, then.” It made her feel dirty, and sneaky, but in the best way. She wondered how long she could keep her own scandal quiet. Sure, she would’ve loved to tell Jasmine, but Jas would never keep her mouth shut and she wasn’t sure if Matty would get in trouble if people found out. Y/N knew there were no laws against university professors and students having relationships, as long as the student was of age, of course. Which she was. But a part of her couldn’t help but feel that she was putting Matty in danger. Maybe she would’ve been better off staying away from him. 

           Back in his own house, Matty was drunkenly pacing the floor, freaking out. One part of him was thrilled that Y/N seemed to share his feelings, and the other knew that if he didn’t tell his boss about their interaction, he could lose his job. And although it was allowed, she was twelve years younger than him, and he knew their relationship would be frowned upon by many of his co-workers and other students. Well, maybe not so many students. Matty wasn’t stupid, he knew he was quite a hit with many people in his chemistry lectures, girls and boys alike. But either way, it would be hard for him and Y/N to be together. She would have to switch classes, and he wouldn’t be able to see her pretty face staring up at him during lectures, mesmerised by his voice. Matty’s heart sank. He had gotten what he wanted, but was it worth it?

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

       A week later, Y/N’s chemistry class had gathered in Matty’s lecture hall once again. As they were split up into groups to work on a project, she had to fight the urge to not tell her friends about what had happened in Matty’s car. He was much the same, trying his best not to let it slip to George, although he so wanted his friends to know about the amazing, beautiful girl he had met. Y/N told her friends once again that she needed to stay behind and talk to Matty. Rhys raised an eyebrow and Orla and Jasmine nudged each other. “What now?” Y/N snapped.  “You’re spending an awful lot of time in here ‘catching up’. Aren’t you all caught up by now?” “Oh, em, yeah, of course. It’s not about that. It’s just about the project.” “Well, is it anything we could help with?” Rhys asked, clearly trying to prevent further interactions with Matty.  “Oh, leave her alone Rhys! If the poor girl fancies Matty, just let her speak to him. We all have our little teacher crushes, right Jas?” Orla shot back.  “Whatever,” Rhys muttered and stood up, grabbing his bag and storming out the door.  “Jesus Christ, someone’s got a mard on,” Orla said, rolling her eyes. “Ignore him, he’s just being a dick because he doesn’t understand the Lana Del Rey-esque attraction we have to older men.” We laughed until we reached the front of the room, and the two girls left me to chat to Matty alone.

        “Hey, darling, you ok?” Matty smiled softly. “Yeah. I just thought we should talk.” “You’re right, we should. The truth is, love, I don’t think we should take this any further.” He watched Y/N’s eyes widen, giving her a pained expression. It hurt him too to turn down a girl so perfect, but he knew what he had to do. “Look, Y/N. I like you. I really do. From the moment you walked in here, I knew it. You are beautiful. You’re kind and smart and you make me laugh. You’re perfect, love.” “So why don’t you want me?” Y/N asked in a small voice. “I do darling, I promise. But you shouldn’t want me. Having a relationship with someone older than you, especially one of your lecturers, will not make university an easy experience for you. Other teachers might start to treat you differently. You would have to move classes, and everyone would know why. Your peers might look down on you. I don’t want any of those things for you, my beautiful girl. You deserve more than me.” Y/N’s heart was sinking. He had to be wrong. She needed him. She needed him to forget the consequences and just love her like she wanted him to. A tear slipped down her cheek and Matty wiped it away. “Don’t cry, love. I’m sorry. But if we start a relationship with each other, the only law is that I have to tell my boss. And that will only create problems for both of us.” Y/N lifted her head to look at the man in front of her, his glasses slightly askew, hair a mess from how many times he had run his hands through it during his little speech to her. God, she needed him.

“So don’t tell him then.”

         Matty looked at Y/N and saw the lust and the neediness in her eyes. He grabbed her by the hand, convinced that he could feel her blood pulsing through her body when they touched. He pulled her into his small store at the back of the hall and pushed her up against the wall. Much like the week before, his hands roughly grabbed at her hips as he connected their lips.  His tongue was immediately brushing against hers, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip every so often. This kiss was more passionate, more desperate than the one in the car. Matty broke the kiss to bend down slightly and pick Y/N up, her legs tightening around his waist as they kissed again. One hand stayed on her ass, supporting her weight, while the other roamed up and down her back. Both of hers were caught in his hair again. She tugged gently on his hair, forcing a soft moan to leave his lips, which she eagerly swallowed the sound of. Their kissing grew messy, both desperate for each other. But they knew they couldn’t have each other- not there. Matty pulled away and lowered Y/N to her feet. Their lips were swollen and glistening with wetness, and Matty’s eyes appeared to have darkened so much that his irises were nearly black. He devoured the sight of Y/N in front of him, wishing he had the guts to take her right then and there. But he couldn’t. It was irresponsible, basically asking to be caught. Plus, he would make their first time special. 

          Y/N checked the time on her phone and groaned. “Shit, I’ve missed the tube! I’m gonna have to run if I want to catch another one.” “Don’t be silly, I’ll take you home.” “But you did that yesterday. It’s a twenty-five minute drive with the lunch hour traffic.” “Shh darling, anything for my girl.”

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

A/N: Yay part one done! That was fun to write, let me know what you think!

#the 1975 #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy smut #matty #adam hann #george daniel #ross macdonald #the 1975 smut

[gallawitchxx]

✂️ COMPLETED ✂️ [read the whole shebang on ao3]

hi pals! i wrote this au 100 words at a time per the weekly prompts from @galladrabbles. prompted words are in RED & there's a ✂️ or 💈 or 🖤 to note where each installment ends. thanks for reading! xx

the final installment was #52: RAIN for the week of march 27, 2023

- - - -

“Hey man, one sec, I’ll be right up,” says the dark-haired, tattooed man holding a broom in the belly of the shop.

Ian runs a hand through his overgrown curls and thinks he’s far too hot to be sweeping up hair clippings.

What? He’s depressed, not dead.

“‘Aight, here for a cut, Red?”

“Is Tami here? She said to come by.”

“Just missed her. Somethin’ about a babysitter.”

“Shit.”

The man grins. “I got time though, if you want…”

Ian inhales, embarrassed to be looking so unkempt in front of this total stranger, but says:

“Sure, why not.”

✂️

The man beckons Ian to a station in the back, spinning a black and chrome chair around for him to take a seat in.

Ian’s joints ache as he sits, stiff from lack of use, but he’s quickly distracted by the sight of thick, leather straps crossing broad shoulders.

An apron never looked so good.

“I’m Mickey,” the man says, pointing to a certificate on the wall.

It reads: Mickey Milkovich, Master Barber.

Their eyes meet in the mirror.

“Ian.”

“What’re we doing here today, Ian?”

Inked fingers card through red locks and Ian’s eyes flutter closed at the contact.

✂️

Tendrils of something sweet, and a little electric, shoot down his arms and into his fingertips, his every nerve ending singing from the haptic sensation.

It feels—Ian feels.

His eyes prickle, welling with memory, relief, and a hint of melancholy, the latter enough to bring him back to himself. 

To the gentle tugs of Mickey’s deft digits working through his tangles. 

Catch and release. Resolve and repeat.

Mickey clears his throat, softly, and Ian opens his eyes. 

A blush creeps up his neck as he watches the pink of Mickey’s tongue pass over the place where his lips meet.

✂️

“Uh, sorry, I—” Ian stutters, certain that Mickey’s regretting his decision to offer his services. He takes a breath, recovers. “Just a shape up, I guess. Tami never does anything fancy.”

Tami. 

Fuck. 

This was Tami’s coworker he was losing it in front of. Tami, his sister-in-law, the mother of Lip’s son.

“That’s a shame,” Mickey says, not missing a beat. “You’ve got great hair, man.”

If Ian’s flush had dissipated, it was back now with a vengeance.

Sorry Tami.

“Have at it.”

Dark eyebrows lift. “Tami won’t mind?”

“Nah.”

A million things dance across Mickey’s gorgeous face.

✂️

“Gotta at least take some off the sides,” Mickey muses. His hands frame Ian’s face and push rotund curls flat. The pressure is dizzying. “Lookin’ like a fuckin’ tomato, Red.”

Ian winces, his cheeks completing the unfortunate picture.

He likes tomatoes as much as the next guy—more if he’s honest—but despite the levity in Mickey’s voice, he doesn’t think being compared to one is exactly a come-on.

Still, he can’t deny the hunger in how Mickey’s scouring his face. Like he’s memorizing this version of Ian, while envisioning a future one.

“You like it long on top?”

✂️

“Top? Yeah.”

It’s innocent in intent, but Ian’s in his body in a way he hasn’t been in weeks. Everything’s excitable. His voice a bit raw.

Through the looking glass, blue lands on green. 

Mickey pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Let’s get you washed up.”

To survive the shampoo, Ian recounts the serial numbers of his ROTC guns.

Back in the chair, he’s desperate for distraction.

He spots a photo on the wall—clearly from someone’s birthday. Mickey’s holding a beer, his face cracked open in a wide smile. 

Beautiful. 

A charming juxtaposition from his current focused frown.

✂️

Below the picture is a framed page from a magazine. Glossy, with an image of Mickey cutting the hair of a little boy, maybe 7 or 8.

And a headline—Free Cuts for Foster Kids by Homegrown Hero.

Ian’s eyes widen.

“Hate that fuckin’ thing,” Mickey gripes quickly, thumbing at his nose, silver scissors hanging loosely from his fingers. “The stupid article or whatever, not the kids. Sister made me hang it up.”

Ian opens his mouth to speak, but then blades are blurring with tattooed threats, as Mickey cards a comb through wet, red locks and gets to work.

✂️

Ian sits mesmerized—no, hypnotized—by Mickey's swift, precise movements. Skills sharpened with time and practice.

Everything about him is alluring, from the satisfied glint in his eyes as he wields a straight razor with ease, to the way he snarls at a stray hair that has escaped its enclosure—a baby pink clip that reminds Ian of afternoons playing dress up with Franny and Fred.

Suddenly, a flash:

Mickey, bouncing a baby on his knee, grinning in spite of himself.

Ian, handing him a beer before scooping up their kid and raising them into the air, giggles escaping them all.

Their kid.

✂️

Christ, he needs to get a fucking grip. 

Still, audacious as it was, it was a future. 

It's been a while since Ian's thought about a future. 

"'Ey, I'm gonna spin you around, ok?" Mickey says, landing a timid hand on Ian's shoulder.

It’s electric.

Then, Mickey’s crouching in front of him, smelling like smoke and mint and something a little sweet.

He reaches for two pieces of hair, measuring them against each other, but also looking at Ian with such intensity that he can’t help but wonder if this is the moment people talk about—when the stars align.

✂️

“Look down for me,” Mickey instructs, and Ian drops his head down towards the floor.

Towards Mickey’s thighs—thick and straining below ink-black denim.

He hears Mickey chuckle softly, and then there’s a facile finger underneath his chin, lifting until their gaze reconnects.

“Eyes only.”

Mickey’s eyes flick to his mouth and Ian thinks he might die right here in the barber shop.

Cause of death: Overwhelming desire to drop to his knees and peel those jeans clean off.

Mickey drags his finger through red stubble.

“I can clean up this scruff, too. If you want.”

Ian nods, “Please.”

✂️

The corner of Mickey’s mouth lifts, pleased, but smug, like Ian’s making a huge mistake. 

For despite his willingness, nothing could have prepared him for the sensory experience that is being shaved by Mickey Milkovich, Master Barber.

Beyond the glint of the razor, captured in blue like a fly in amber, or the warm puffs of breath that land on his lips, nose and cheeks, Ian knows he’ll be able to conjure the spellbinding symphony of metal scraping skin for the rest of his natural born days.

And the gentleness, precision, and care Mickey offers?

Fuck, like shears through silk.

✂️

A warm towel presses against Ian’s freshly shorn jaw, meticulously wiping away what remains of the shaving cream.

Deeming him clean, Mickey tosses the towel aside, wiping his hands on his apron—white streaks across black fabric—and before Ian can wrench his mind from the fucking gutter, Mickey's bending down in front of him again.

Crystalline eyes sear straight through to his soul.

“Better,” he says. “Now that that sorry excuse for a beard is gone.”

Ian laughs, a pithy little thing. “What? I can’t pull one off?”

Mickey’s tongue swipes at his bottom lip. “Not what I said.” 

✂️

The last few moments replay in Ian’s rebounding brain, and then he’s twirling back towards the mirror. 

“Alright, man. All set.” 

And there he is. 

His cheeks are a bit sallow, with a touch of irritation from thorough attention after weeks of neglect. 

But it’s him. 

Ian. 

His eyes drift up. 

Tight, clean undercut. Red locks textured, but tamed. 

Looks good. 

Hot. 

Tears sting as he takes himself in—the whole picture. 

“Left that gray hair in the back. For character,” Mickey says behind him. 

Ian stares. 

“Kidding, just thought you could use…” His weight shifts. “You like it ok?”

✂️

Ian realizes he was trying to lighten the mood—Ian’s mood. 

Like somehow after only a haircut’s length of time together, Mickey can read him like a fucking book.

He’s quiet a beat too long, not fully processing the question asked, and then Mickey’s moving again, grabbing the corner of the cape with a yank, the snaps separating with sharp pops that zing down Ian’s spine.

His t-shirt is somehow less grungy thanks to the crisp cut.

He’s like the winter sun. Not as strong, but still shining.

“Looks fucking great, Mick,” Ian breathes almost compulsively.

Mickey’s lips twitch.

✂️

They make their way to the front of the shop.

Full circle, and yet completely different than before.

Ian feels buzzed. Tipsy. Not too far gone, but on his way to impaired. Which wouldn’t be a problem save for the incredibly attractive barber currently running his credit card.

He pulls a couple of crumpled bills from his wallet and hands them to Mickey.

“S’ok, man. Keep your cash.”

Ian frowns. “Pretty sure it’s standard to tip for a job well done.”

Mickey looks like he wants to say something—flip the script—but ultimately takes the money.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

✂️

“Thank you,” Ian presses, aware of their dwindling time together. “Feels like me. So, thanks.”

Mickey glances down, and Ian wants to climb inside his head and lay in the steady stream of his every thought.

Finally, “Guess Tami can’t be too mad, then.”

Ian winces. “Right. Tami.”

“Just figured—“

“I’ll call. Let her know.”

“Alright.”

The silence is deafening.

“Well. Thanks again, Mickey.”

A flash of terror, but all he says is, “Sure thing, Red.”

Ian tries to not feel too disappointed as he plucks Mickey’s business card from the counter, and with a small wave, leaves the shop.

✂️

END OF SCENE ONE

✂️

God fucking dammit. 

Mickey watches Ian walk away from the shop, the click of the closing door leaving him pained and breathless.

That settles it, he guesses—he’s a real pussy.

If he weren’t, he would’ve parlayed things into at least a beer.

Because yeah, Mickey’s hands trembled with every snip of his scissors, and sure, his face flushed as he lathered up red curls and watched the effects of his touch spread lazily across Ian’s freckled face.

But Ian was Tami’s client. And clearly recovering from some shit.

What, Mickey didn’t know, but fuck, he wants to find out.

💈

He stalks back to the computer.

How do you know that a moment’s more important than the rest? 

Clicks the CLIENTS tab.

How do you tell that that’s the time you’re supposed to take charge, make a move, fucking run after him?

Types in Ian—Shit, did he really not even get the guy’s last name?

How come there ain’t some kinda dumbass prophecy to help him out that says: On this day, at this time, some smoking redhead’s gonna come into the shop. He’s not there to see you, but he is there for you. Don’t fuck it up.

💈

Mickey hits ENTER.

The progress bar flashes for an eternity, a far cry from the promise of Salon Software at Lightning Speed!

When it loads, Mickey’s jaw drops.

Zero results. 

“You gotta be shitting me.”

He hits refresh. Still nothing.

“What kinda piece of shit system is this?” He barks, adding “Tami” under STYLIST.

No Ians.

He punches the desk.

Knuckles swelling, Mickey sweeps up red locks. Tiny reminders that there is, in fact, an Ian out there in the world. Just has to swallow his pride and ask.

God, that blonde bitch is gonna be so annoying about this.

💈

She’s also not on the schedule again for two fucking days.

So Mickey waits. Closes things down and heads out. Has a beer with Mandy and her new boyfriend. Dreams of dizzying green eyes. Works some more. Jumps every time someone opens the damn door.

When Tami finally drags her ass in, he’s waiting at her station.

“Kid’s an artist,” he quips, motioning to a displayed drawing of a rainbow, a shitty pot of gold and some wonky four-leaf clovers.

She rolls her eyes, smiling. “What do you want, Mickey?”

“Met one’a your clients,” he shrugs. Hopes it’s casual.

💈

“I heard!” She exclaims, throwing down her bag. “Don’t worry about it, you can have him.”

“What?” Mickey splutters.

“You’ve already made more money off of him than I ever have,” she barrels on, leaving his head spinning. “Plus, it’s terrifying—the fear of fucking up a gay man’s hair.”

Oh.

Bingo.

The revelation swoops through his system. Heat and relief. The dissolution of tension around that particular unknown. 

Pleasure, too. Hard-won thrill. 

For Mickey’s been able to wrestle years of violence, inflicted inside and out, into a somewhat solid stance on self as shelter, and ain’t that something?

💈

Once the fucking lust clears, he hears her in full.

“Wait, he don’t pay you?” he asks, flushing red with wrath.

He takes this shit seriously, their business. Maybe it’s a pride thing, but they work hard for their bread. To build a craft and a client list one could envy.

“I know!” Tami complains. “Greedy ass Gallaghers, just take take take. Gluttonous. They’ll knock you up—” 

Mickey knows that Tami’s throwing him clues, but his comprehension’s moving at a sloth-like pace, derailed by the latest drop in the bucket:

Gallagher.

Ian Gallagher.

Has a nice ring to it.

💈

“—like staying poor with your fucked up family is some sort of Southside tradition!”

Tami takes a breath, her eyes wild, and Mickey realizes he’s got no idea what she’s saying anymore. 

Honestly, they’re both a bit confused as to how they got here.

“You good?”

She runs her hands through her long, blonde hair. “Fucking peachy.”

Someone turns on a blow-dryer and Mickey remembers himself.

“Sorry, what’s this got to do with Ian?”

“Huh?”

“Gallagher? Your gay client I swiped?”

A devious grin grows across her face and she swats his shoulder, “Oh my god, you like him!”

💈

“Fuck off. I gave the guy a hair cut!”

“That all you give him?” Tami smirks.

“Jesus Christ, lady, I’m a fucking professional!” Mickey balks, running a hand over his face, more to hide his blush than anything else.

“Speaking of, I got a client in ten and a bladder ruined by child-rearing, so what do you want? His number? His address? The time he gets off work?”

Well, shit. 

In all of his practice runs, Mickey had prepared for Tami to take him for a ride. Never expected her to hand the guy over on a fucking platter.

💈

Maybe that’s why he rears back and, eyebrows dancing, asks, “How ‘bout if he gives it good and hard?”

“Ugh,” Tami gags, “That’s TMI, even for me.” 

Mickey shrugs, gets a little lost imagining freckled hips giving way to a long, thick cock.

“Lip’s gonna have a field day with this one,” she says, scribbling something on the back of a receipt pulled from her purse.

Mickey shudders at the thought—something about Tami’s baby daddy always grinds his gears.

“The fuck’s that asshole care?”

“Oh, you really don’t know?” she asks. Off Mickey’s blank stare, adds, “Ian’s his brother.”

💈

His stomach drops like a judge just threw the fucking book at him.

“You gotta be shitting me!”

Maybe it’s not too late to bail. Forget the whole thing. There are plenty of fish in the sea.

But then he remembers his finger lifting Ian’s chin; the wide open look in his eyes and his breathy little please, and Mickey knows there’s no turning back now.

No other fish worth catching.

Tami just laughs. Flips her hair like the snotty, but helpful bitch she is, and presses the slip of paper to Mickey’s chest.

“See ya at the family function!”

💈

Worse than the idea of sitting across from Lip at dinner is the reality that Mickey’s got four back-to-back clients, so calling Ian will have to wait.

It’s cool, he’s cool. Stolen time to figure out what he wants to say.

Hours later, his aching fingers carefully type each precious digit into his phone.

The door opens and Mickey curses under his breath.

Yells, “Take a seat! Be right there,” without looking up.

He takes a deep breath.

Presses send.

Scratches his brow. 

A phone rings in the waiting area.

No fucking way.

He looks up.

“Hey Mickey.”

💈

“You calling me right now?” Ian asks, grinning and gorgeous.

Mickey’s too gobsmacked to speak.

“Should I pick up?”

Get it together, Milkovich.

“Yeah, just take a walk around the fucking block, why don’t ya?”

Ian taps at the screen and the line clicks open—in case there was still any doubt as to who was on the other end.

“Wait, I—”

“Not going anywhere,” Ian promises. “Just, uh, saving your number.”

Shit, who the fuck was this smooth cat? Mickey could absolutely get used to this.

But he also liked him before, all flushed and flustered in Mickey’s chair.

💈

“Hair looks good,” Mickey says, attempting to act like a normal fucking person.

Ian pockets his phone, tugging his t-shirt down over the top of his jeans—vintage, some rock band Mickey also likes—and runs his hand through it.

Mickey’s fingers twitch with the sense memory of submerging shampoo suds in those same silky strands.

“Thanks,” Ian smiles. “Got it cut by this guy—he’s kind of a big deal around here. Maybe you’ve seen his write up in the paper?”

Mickey bites his lip. “Sounds like a douchebag. Bet he’s even got it hangin’ on the wall.”

💈

Ian shrugs. Says, “I liked him.”

It’s simple and a little shy and Mickey thinks his heart might just shatter into a million fucking pieces.

Then, as if sensing a moment that needs ruining, Mickey’s stomach growls. Loudly, like a goddamn traitor.

“You hungry?”

“You buying?”

“I could be. I gotta know something first though.”

“What’s that?”

“How’d you get my number?”

Well, fuck. Mickey can’t lie—Ian’s not even in the system—and this is clearly a second chance, hand-delivered on a platter. What choice does he have?

He takes a deep breath. 

“I asked Tami for it.”

💈

Ian looks at Mickey like he’s some handsome ass prince from a kid’s book, and not a creep with a crush who nosed around in his business with the help of his sister-in-law.

“Brave,” he says.

Mickey smirks. “What’s brave is going to the same hair spot a couple days after your last cut… You got complaints, Red?”

“Not exactly,” Ian admits, his eyes flicking towards the floor.

“Whatchya doing here then?”

Their eyes meet, but this time there’s no mirror. No barrier, no buffer.

The air between them fizzes, like a freshly cracked soda pop.

“Came to see you.”

💈

Mickey thrums with something akin to satisfaction. Excitement. Butterflies in his stomach, a hopeful burning in his chest, and for once, none of his usual skepticism—that feeling of, something this good couldn’t possibly be happening to a chump like me.

It’s different. Settled, like it’s been decided already.

He’s been waiting at the starting block his entire fucking life, and now finally here it is: the sound of the pistol.

“You wanna go out with me, Gallagher?”

Ian’s face splits open, smiling, yet serene. Says, “Lead the way, Milkovich.”

This time, when Ian leaves the shop, he’s not alone.

💈

END OF SCENE TWO

💈

As he walks alongside a silent Mickey Milkovich, Master Barber, Ian rolls his shoulders back, pulling damp fabric away from his sweat-soaked back.

Is it 100 fucking degrees out here?

Fuck, he’d been so slick before—nothing like he’d been during that first haircut, thank god—but apparently that persona, like everything else in his life, is unsustainable. Destined to continue cycling until he’s old and decrepit.

He looks over at Mickey, who’s worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, and he wants to reach over and pull it out. Replace it with his thumb, his lips, his tongue.

🖤

He has no idea about the similar war that’s raging inside of Mickey right now, or the endless barrage of should haves currently sloshing around his skull.

When they left the shop: Shit, do I hold the door for him? I should have held the fucking door for him.

While they make their way to the taco truck that Mickey suggested, before finding a place to sit in the park across the way: Fuck, was all that talk about paying just banter? I should have made sure before we left.

Mickey sneaks a glance at Ian, who’s already looking back.

🖤

They both give a shy smile; a nervous laugh. Eyes snapping back towards the never-ending sidewalk they’re walking. When it inevitably happens again, Ian gets caught.

“I’m a little nervous,” he admits, the moment before he collides with a nearby trash can, hip-checking it as he passes. “Ow!”

“Oh shit, man, you ok?”

“Yeah—hah, fuck—It didn’t really—“

“Got ya real good there.”

Mickey’s stopped in front of him, his brows furrowed, hands reaching towards Ian’s waist, and Ian lowers his hand, defensively.

Their fingers brush against one another.

Sparks fucking fly.

“I’m nervous, too,” Mickey mumbles.

🖤

Ian finds the sentiment shocking. From the moment he walked into the shop, Mickey has been nothing but put-together. Professional, precise, and placid. 

A little hard to read too, but Ian thinks the fact that he didn’t laugh in his face at the idea of a date is a good sign.

But nervous? There isn't a single universe in which Ian Gallagher thinks Mickey Milkovich might be nervous.

The implications churn in his gut like ocean waves under the fierce force of heavy storm winds. Turbulent and blue-gray—a perfect match for the eyes currently dodging his gaze.

🖤

“So, you, uh, like tacos?” Ian asks and immediately regrets.

Mickey’s head snaps up, his expression still largely unreadable. “Sure,” he says, licking his lips. “Wouldn’t trust a guy who doesn’t.”

He smirks, and the sea foaming within Ian catches fire.

They’re no longer touching, just standing awkwardly in the middle of the sidewalk, so Ian takes a tentative step forward, watching as Mickey mirrors his movements.

“What’s your go-to?”

“Steak. You?”

Ian thinks about it. “Al Pastor.”

Mickey makes a face like he’s smelled spoiled milk. “That shit with the pineapple? The fuck is wrong with you, Gallagher?”

🖤

Ian laughs, the resonance of which is warm in Mickey’s body, rippling out through his chest and into his extremities. Mickey knows he’s giving the guy a bit of whiplash—his unique brand of crass and caring tumbling out in an awkward and impromptu fashion—but Ian seems to be rolling with the proverbial punches just fine.

“A whole lot more than just my taste in tacos, Mick,” he says.

For as much comfort lies in the nickname, Mickey realizes that it’s a warning. A flare gun bursting through a pitch-dark sky; red numbers counting down to something unimaginable.

🖤

But Mickey’s not easily deterred; stoic in the face of diabolical dads, fitful fresh starts, and glistening green eyes. A bull-headed confidence that spurs him on, even now. He shifts his weight, cocks his head, and commands that Ian, “c’mere.”

Ian obeys, awestruck, his mouth perfectly round as four eyes close and four lips meet; four arms wrapping possessively around two trembling torsos. 

The ground shifts, the air magically sweetening around them, and it’s bliss.

Mickey pulls back, patting a flushed and freckled cheek. “Had to kiss you before you ruined your pretty mouth with all that fuckin’ fruit.”

🖤

The heat of Mickey’s breath ghosts over where his lips have just been, and his dexterous digits dance down Ian’s jaw, leaving a trail of tingles in their wake.

Ian feels like he’s on fire, but he manages to toss back, “You’re a fucking fruit.”

It’s far more fond than he intended.

“Oh’s that right?” Mickey smirks, his fingers twitching against the pale column of Ian’s neck.

“Mhmm,” he hums, his own hand twisting in the hem of Mickey’s shirt. His knuckles brush against the smooth, soft planes of abdominals, his mind racing, and then they’re kissing again.

Softly. Slowly.

🖤

Mickey’s tongue traces the seam of Ian’s lips, which part, granting him access to a whole lot more than just his mouth. A whine catches between them, neither knowing—or caring—where it originated.

Ian’s hand lifts to Mickey’s neck. He feels the pulse of life beneath his touch, and is immediately thrown back in time— 

To the calloused connection of an inked index finger in his bristled beard.  

To Mickey’s eyes scouring the very lips his teeth now tease.

To thick thighs and leather aprons and a breathy please.

Heat pools within as he snaps back to the present.

🖤

Mickey’s mouth tastes like sugar and smoke. Nutty, too. Like a peanut butter cup or something similar.

It’s different than what Ian had expected—not that he spent a great deal of time imagining the tang of that particular tongue, of course... But the knowledge sends another rush through him; stark clarity replacing shadow and shade.

In fact, Mickey keeps surprising him at every turn.

Where Ian expected hard edges, he’s found only tenderness and tact. Even within his moody blues, there are vast expanses of clear, cloudless skies. Not to mention the commitment he’d shown to ensure they’d reconnect.

🖤

Much to Mickey’s chagrin, it’s Ian who breaks their embrace. His emerald eyes are wide and full of something he can’t quite put a tattooed finger on, but that boils his blood.

They share a set of secret smiles, despite the previous, and incredibly public, displays of their affections.

Mickey scans the man in front of him—this familiar stranger—his eyes flicking from his cherry-red lips to the button of his nose, and up to that flaming red hair, which smells of the wind, and is full of constellations. 

The cosmos made tangible, and apparently his to touch?

🖤

Ian leans in again, pressing his lips to Mickey’s in a peck that lingers too long on the pull back.

Suddenly, a woman pushing a stroller passes on their right, her tiny tot giggling at a volume that pulls both of their attention; their limbs a flurry as they step back—the Southside having shaped them both.

This is part where Mickey’d clam up, take space, push away, but those demons are suspiciously silent, replaced with foolish notions of love and grandeur. Like he’d lose, just to watch Ian win.

He blushes, straightening his spine. “Alright, alright, I’m fucking starving.”

🖤

“Right,” Ian agrees, his own cheeks aflame as he turns somewhat obviously to adjust himself.

Mickey throbs, thirst twisting his insides. When’s the last time he had the hots for someone?

Ian motions to the truck up ahead, the awning a kaleidoscope of bright colors. “My treat, remember?”

“Naw, lunch is on me,” Mickey says, shaking his head. “Some asshole came in the other day. Paid full price, when he prob’ly coulda gotten his sister-in-law to do it for free, and tipped in cash.”

“Sounds like a real sucker.”

“Yeah, I’m kinda countin’ on that bein’ the case.”

🖤

Mickey’s tongue flicks against the seam of his lips, and Ian flashes to the first time he witnessed that absolutely earth-shattering move: early on, when he’d been floating adrift, anchored only by the fiddling of Mickey’s fingers through his curls. 

It had really been over from the start, huh? Done and dusted, at least for Ian. 

It was an ambush. He didn’t think to bring a weapon; didn’t even know it was a fight! The battle a choreographed dance, his role already cast. 

May have been the losing side, but he’s still not convinced it was the wrong one.

🖤

“It is,” Ian grins.

Fuck, it’s hot and tempting to just ditch the whole date to bang, but Mickey wants to do it right this time.

Whatever that fucking means.

“Well, Red, seems like we’ve got three things going for us, then: we both know Tami, we both like tacos, and we both like having a dick in our mouth.”

Ian nearly chokes, and Mickey wants to see it happen again under different circumstances.

He swallows, and good lord, Mickey wants him.

“In that case, you should love my taste in tacos. You know what they say about pineapple, Mick…”

🖤

Mickey rolls his eyes, smiling, and steps up to the open truck window.

Inside, a woman is yelling in Spanish at a guy in an apron, who appears to be manning the grill. Ian’s not sure what she’s saying, but it sounds rough.

Mickey rings the little bell on the counter, ding!, and she whips around, her face tightly wound and scowling.

Mean and scary.

But one look at Mickey has her melting, “Ah, Mikhailo! Como está mi empanadita?”

Ian’s brain pings between Mikhailo and empanadita, but goes fully offline as Mickey answers, “Ando bien Lucía, ¿cómo va el negocio?”

🖤

His ears are wide open, yet unable to grasp much meaning, so Ian lets his eyes try.

They wander towards the warm, yet curious glint of Lucia’s smile, to her worn and weathered hands pushing away crumpled cash, and the soft and secret stare they share as she relents, taking what was once Ian’s, then Mickey’s, now hers: like an endless knot of karma, weaving seemingly disparate actions into the whirling wheel of will.

His thoughts grow dangerous and hopeful as Mickey turns, then stops dead, like he knew Ian would be there, but is still surprised to see him.

🖤

Ian’s radiant, the sun’s halo encircling him like an angel.

Time bends again, this time for Mickey.

A kitchen of granite and stainless steel. 

Ian stands at the counter, a paring knife in hand, humming a familiar tune. The melody is just out of reach, but Mickey knows it’s theirs.

He smiles, coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around his waist. “That one again?” 

Ian nods. “Course. It’s the song that makes me think of you…” He twists slightly, pressing a kiss to Mickey’s temple.

“Fucking softie…”

They’ve got everything ahead of them. 

“La comida está lista, Mikhailo!”

🖤

They eat, unable to take their eyes off of each other for more than a moment. They throw jokes back and forth, barbs that nip, but don’t sting. Eyebrows dance. Lips quirk. Grins match. All wordlessly confessing, I want to be so close to you. I want to kiss you more.

“These are the best fucking tacos,” Ian praises, sauce dripping from his chin.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Mickey says, tossing him a napkin. “Can’t be waitin’ in line all day.”

“C’mon, you’ve clearly got an in.”

He shrugs. “What can I say? I’m lovable.”

It’s enough to drive Ian crazy.

🖤

Then again, the whole thing between them is batshit. Ludicrous, how a haircut by happenstance could help two tough guys from the shit side of the street find… well, that remains to be seen… 

But as Ian watches Mickey smile around steak and sour cream, he thinks that maybe he’s found someone to want all of him, all the fucked up versions that he is. 

Hopes that Mickey Milkovich, Master Barber could be someone who’ll stay for the shine, but also the rain. 

Sickness, health, all that shit.

Ian wipes the corner of Mickey’s mouth with his thumb and exhales.

THE END! ✂️🖤✂️

#yep yep yep this has this week's in it! #which i'll also be posting separately for the weekly galladrabbles reblog! #i'll be pinning this & updating as we go! #🖤 ✂️ 🖤 #barber!mickey my sweet #shaggy!ian my pet #shameless #shameless fanfiction #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #galladrabbles #bee writes 🐝 ✍🏼

[sublimecatgalaxy]

Something soft w Eddie but like he survives the upside down! Like just almost comforting reader that he’s not going anywhere.

He’s a soft boy doing soft boy things 😂❤️

Thank u in advance 💜💜💜

UGH. Like I know I'm writing a fix it fic but I needed to write this ASAP. This might be the only thing I write tonight but we'll see. I've had a really hard day.

Eddie is not someone who typically looks peaceful. Even when high in the clouds, a joint between his nimble fingers, he always looks like he's stewing over something and trying to solve one of the many worlds problems

But right now, sort of sedated, sort of awake, he's completely and utterly calm and quiet, the lines on his forehead relaxed as I brush a washcloth over his collarbones and chest. My eyes stick on the tattoos that litter his damaged skin, my heart aching painfully as I think back to the deep wounds on his sides from just a day ago.

He's lucky he lived.

The bats were unrelenting and by the time Dustin managed to find Steve and have him help him get Eddie back up through the gate, I was a mess. Sobbing, breaking down into hysterics in Robin's arms- completely set on the fact that Eddie was going to bleed out and be ripped from the safety of my arms.

But the son of a bitch pulled through and helped save the world- as much as we actually could.

Somehow, the group managed to convince the police, with the help of Hopper and the good side of the US government, that there was something biggest at play with the suspicious murders- that Eddie, let along another human, could never have possibly been responsible for something like this.

He's extremely lucky that he managed to escape with his life and his freedom- completely able to heal and move on with his life after witnessing such terrible things. There's still work to be done with Vecna and the wrath he's unleashed on Hawkins but for now, we can breathe and come together as a whole to figure it out, no longer spread across the globe.

But Eddie still has no clue that he's safe and that he's no longer on the run from the law. He's too busy sleeping away his pain, allowing the deep gashes on his sides and legs to heal.

"I'm gonna be honest," a voice startles me and my hand drops the washcloth, my eyes looking up to find Eddie staring down at me, "I'm kind of bummed you don't have a sexy nurse outfit on while cleaning me up, doll." A grin fans across my lips as I sit down on the side of the bed, watching him look around the room with a cough. He looks perplexed, his hands lifting at his sides as he bites at his lip. "No cuffs, a good sign I presume?" His hair sprawls out across the sterile pillow beneath him, his eyes hooded and swollen but he's genuinely a sight for my sore eyes, still so handsome though so close to death.

"We cleared your name." I shrug nonchalantly, resuming my duties with the washcloth as I drag it across his neck, hearing him hum contently. "It's a long story but you're safe." His eyes flutter shut at my reassurance, his hand reaching out to rest on my thigh.

Silence takes over the room as I listen to the beeping from his heart monitor, anxiety chewing away at my brain as his eyes search desperately through mine. I know that I said he's fine, he's here, alive and well, but apart of me just doesn't feel that this is actually real.

"You say I'm safe but you don't actually believe it, do you-"

"I watched them pull you through the portal, skin literally hanging on my a thread. Dustin said you were choking and when I asked on what, Steve just looked at me and muttered 'blood'." His eyes widen as I cut him off, his swollen lips parting in quiet shock but he listens to me nonetheless. "Dustin was a blubbering wreck- I was a wreck." I whisper, setting the washcloth aside with a sigh, burying my face in my hands briefly before looking back up at him.

"I'm here- I lived, fuck- I don't know how I survived but I'm here." He whispers, tugging me by my shirt to scoot closer to him, his IV'd hand coming up to cup my cheek. His eyes are shining with fearful tears but there's a bittersweet smile on his lips. "I told you I'm not leaving this earth without you. I promise I wasn't being romantic." I giggle tearily with a sarcastic laugh, reaching out to twirl a strand of his bangs around my fingers.

"You just scared the shit out of me, man." I huff, rubbing at my eyes as I listen to him quietly breathe; a reminder that he's still here, pulling me into his arms regardless of his pain level or discomfort.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi

@crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the-heart @vampviolets@haylee-e@popehaywardssecretgf @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife @smoke-and-fire @officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @smoke-and-fire386 @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @minjix @luvrosee @storytellingwitht

#eddie #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic

[writing-desk-rae]

🌸 could I get a sneak peak at what made Songbird start going by sir instead of ma’am? Pretty please with a maverick on top?

It's in very early draft mode but YES

Spoilers below for Flight Path, Burning In

***

Songbird strut into the officers club, a secret smile on her lips and her eyes sharp.

Slider had set down the challenge and she'd met it, dolled up in a long sleeved jumpsuit the same shade of blue as the uniform and heals that she could kill a man with. She could "cleaned up nice" after all, so there Admiral.

She settled in at the bar, waiting for Slider to join her and ordered a small glass of wine to tide her over.

A young junior lieutenant with a smug grin slid into her space.

"Why don't you go ahead and put that drink on my tab, baby."

Wow.

"I'm good, thanks."

"Don't be like that. I'm Tony. Tony Jenks. Folks round here call me Mustang."

Songbird rolled her eyes and rooted around in her clutch for the "emergency" cigar Mav had slipped her before her flight and Carol's lighter.

"Not interested, Sailor. Thanks for the offer."

"Come on, only one reason a girl like you comes to a navy bar, and we all know it."

"Excuse me?" She shot him a look of disgust, and started to turn away.

His had grabbed her wrist that was in the bag, and her eyes snapped up to him with a dead, viperous stare. He paid it no mind and squeezed a little tighter, "so how about that drink."

"Fucks sake Mustang, she said no. Knock it the fuck off," another southern drawl in a navy uniform popped up behind him. Mustang turned to the newcomer with a snarl but the newcomers eyes caught on Songbirds other wrist, where her sleeve had started to roll up. He examined the half covered SEAL tattoo before looking Songbird directly in the eye.

You got this? He seamed to be asking.

She dismissed him with a tick of her head and he bowed out, leaving the oblivious Mustang to give her a smarmy smile.

"So, drink or bathroom?"

Wow.

"Son, if you want to keep that hand, you're gunna want to take it off me."

"Listen here Bitch-"

Times up.

She dropped her clutch and slammed one hand hard into his breast bone ones, followed by a second hit up into his diaphragm. With her other hand, she reversed the grip he had on her wrist and twisted until his arm was up behind his back to the point of almost dislocation, thumb already out of its socket.

She held him in that position for a moment as the bar went quiet.

"I wouldn't struggle. If you do, your shoulder joint's going to pop. So. Here's what's going to happen. You're going to give your card to the long suffering barman, and he's going to put my drinks for the night on your tab. And your going to go back to your friends and consider a few things. Firstly, no means no. Secondly, women in navy bars don't owe you shit just because you're in uniform. And third. Just because they're a lady and in civies doesn't mean they're not navy. So be careful because they might just out rank you."

Mustang froze, and closed his eyes. He slowly reached into his pocket and handed his whole wallet to the frowning barman.

"I see you've got things well in hand, lieutenant commander."

"Admiral," she drawled and Slider came up beside her, also in his civies, "I'd salute, but."

"Don't let me interrupt. Been introducing yourself to your new squad leader, have you, Jenks."

"Sir," Mustang murmered weakly, wishing he was anywhere else right now.

Songbird let out a harsh laugh, before throwing Mustang away. He stumbled before righting himself, and she cast a sneering look over him. "This is what I'm working with?"

"I'm sure you'll whip them into shape."

Mustang flushed in humiliation, and started to back away.

"Lieutenant," she stopped him, "I think, going forward, it would be best if, for the purpose of this and all future interaction between us, you consider my dick bigger than yours, yes?"

Slider snorted and turned away, and behind Mustang, at the table holding what must be the rest of her new squad, the other aviator from earlier was grinning wide, toothpick balanced on his tongue.

"Yes, Ma'am," Mustang ground out, flushing even deeper.

"I'm sorry? Yes, what?"

He swallowed hard, before snapping to attention, holding a salute, "yes, sir."

See looked at him for a moment, then dismissed him with a flick of her fingers, "dismissed."

He slunk back to his table and she didn't watch him go, turning instead to the grinning Admiral. They shared a low high five out of everyones sight, before turning back to the bar and ordering fresh drinks.

"I think your the best gift Ice has ever given me."

"I'm keeping the "sir", just so you know."

#rae writes #911 fox #top gun #top gun maverick #fanfics #fanfic #fanfiction #ask game #ask meme #fanfic spoilers #crossover #911/topgun #evan buck buckely #ron slider kerner #jake hangman seresin

[squidsniaki]

Stuck like a tattoo.

synopsis: Nicholas D. Wolfwood considers his life as mundane as possible, and at this point doesn't expect any surprises. Naturally, all of that gets thrown out the window the moment he meets a small but feisty distressed damsel with a truck problem right in front of the coffee joint where he works.

WARNINGS: the series will be rated as Explicit later on, as the plot develops! NO WARNINGS for this chapter, first meetings and dork galore ahead!

Pairing: Meryl Stryfe x Nicholas D. Wolfwood

No. 1

The only other thing accompanying the unusually annoying sound of a traditional alarm clock are the groans of a clearly disinterested in waking up man and the rustles of the bed sheets. The mattress dips underneath the weight that is now firmly pressed to the edge of the bed. Nicholas hits the clock, yet it rings still. Don't test me, motherfucker. He hits it again, more forceful, and this time the alarm dies out. God, that is the shittiest way to wake up. He knows it. Just as much as he knows how badly it affects his mornings. But, it can't be helped. The first day he was supposed to get to work, Nicholas set an alarm on his phone. Thing is... considering the damn thing is touch sensitive, and considering this dumbass usually falls asleep with his phone in his hand after using it, I believe it is needless to say that Nick simply slid the turn off button as soon as the alarm began to blare while turning around in his bed.

So that option had to go, obviously.

While the traditional clock is a kick in the nuts, it definitely does its job. Nick reaches out for it, and squints while trying to make out if he even set the thing correctly. '5:02'. Alright. So he DID set it right. His free hand swipes across his tanned face, a rather exasperated exhale rolling off his tongue. C'mon Nico, nothing else to do but move your ass. And he does just that. The clock is nonchalantly tossed onto the sheets behind him, and the grumpy 'adult' slowly rises to his feet. Like a senior with scoliosis, if you can picture that. He stretches, his voice cutting off as his bones creak in every frequency a bone can make. The fact he even listened to Milly last night and thought 'yeah let's drink the clean 20%, what's the worst that can happen!?' makes him think there's something to it when Livio calls him a dumbass.

Because that DEFINITELY wasn't a smart decision, he'll admit that free of charge. Ugh, whatever. It's not like he can call in work and say 'sorry, can't make it today. I've got a bitch of a hangover because I can't say no to my bestie'. If that's not getting him thrown out right onto his ass, then he's gotta be Harry fucking Houdini.

That in mind, Nick simply fixes the crotch of his boxers and lazily waddles out of his bedroom.

The squishy corridor is blessedly dark and filled with happy snores coming from within the room opposite of Nick's. Still a whole while before the big guy has to get up, Nick simply tip toes past the room and into the living room/kitchen/entrance. Yup, the apartment definitely wasn't the biggest out there. But at least paying the rent didn't hurt as much as it usually would. And most importantly...

As soon as his foot presses to the fake wooden flooring of the kitchen, a warm press of a furry fat rubs against Nick's ankle. The adorable black feline looks up at her owner, pupils dilated at maximum, making her charm even more irresistible than ever. She meows, like she even needed to work extra to ensnare Nick in her cute spell. He knew exactly what she wanted, actually thankful she waited patiently for him to get up without the encouragement this time. The encouragement being Kuroneko laying her belly on his face until he starts suffocating, which does startle him awake. Shocker, I know.

Better to give this little criminal what she wants before she switches her tactics to arson.

The rest of his morning is extremely bland to be honest. Kuroneko gets fed, leaving towards Nick's bedroom afterwards. Planning on nesting in his unmade bed, if he had to guess. He eats his own breakfast: warm toast bread with jam and cheese, gets dressed, grabs his wallet and phone and with a heavy heart leaves. Almost 6 around the clock, and despite his shift starting at 7, well... the bus ride IS a long one. But at least he makes it to the stop on time today. If he missed the damn bus, again, his manager would definitely get his ass again and he'd spend the rest of the shift being coddled by Milly. AGAIN. Don't get him wrong, he absolutely adores that woman. But she really has to ease up with her motherly instincts. She worries, he gets it. But Nick's a big boy. And the last thing he wants is for someone as sweet and kind as his best friend to waste her mental health on him. She's been an angel for both him and Livio ever since they've met, and so far? He didn't do squat to repay that kindness. The fact she still sticks around is just another proof there's not an ounce of malice in that girl's heart. Too good for this world, one might say.

So dizzy from sleep, Nick almost misses his stop. This time of year, it was still fairly dark outside, even at this hour. Still a hefty walk away from the café, Nick checks his phone for time: 6:24. Alright, that's actually not bad. He should be there about 10 minutes early. Should give him enough room to prep the machines and slip into the apron. He's also gonna have to check the produce for-

"God damn it!"

If that doesn't cause his entire body to straight up jolt. Nick absolutely freezes in place, frantically looking around for the source of the noise. And surely, he finds it, as soon as there's a slam of a head against a truck that parked right in front of an empty loft. "I wanna die..." Yeah darling, you're not the first, you won't be the last. No reason to scream about it though, giving some poor pedestrian a near-death experience.

And just as he was about to pray to whatever god was going to listen to please, PLEASE let him pass unnoticed... "Oh! Hey, wait! You there! Th-The black dressed... person!" She was waving. Waving, for him. With so much vigor Nick was almost certain that another flap of that wrist will cause it to fly away for the winter season. He hated this. He just wanted to get to his shitty work, make shitty coffee, and then get back to his shitty apartment. Where, oddly, life was a bit less shitty. Yet when he turned towards the clearly distressed damsel, and saw those pathetically sad puppy eyes, which he SWORE were sparkling, well...

He sucked in a breath, scrunched up his nose, and walked over. Whoever she was, the lady was practically hanging off the truck's hood while her distress slowly changed to relief the closer he got. So not only was he expected to help, but it was already set in that girly's tiny mind that he was the solution to all her problems. Not that he minds turning out to be a disappointment. The guy had plenty of practice for that.

...might as well.

-

Half an hour, a piss poor excuse to his boss and one fixed tire later and finally there's some semblance of peace and quiet. Despite the café being open, 7:30 is usually the most unproductive time around these parts. And thank the Lord in Heaven for that, because if Nico was to deal with people somehow knowing how to do his job better than he does this early in the morning, then he wouldn't have even gone to jail. People with the kinda thoughts that sometimes go through his head are just stuffed in a straitjacket and tossed in a safe room.

"Oh, I needed that." Comes in the voice of the only other living being in the shop, currently occupying one of the green leather stools by the main counter. Between her hands is grasped a single white mug with a leaf print at the bottom, a faded brown for a color. Like an afterthought, his boss says. Like a shitty coffee stain, Nick corrects in his head. The drink currently residing within isn't the grandest of his creations, but it seems a lukewarm cappuccino on coconut milk with caramel syrup and cinnamon powder is good enough for the missy. "Well, glad ya like it." He honestly didn't have much else to say. When Meryl was done introducing herself and thanking for the help with a flat tire, somehow the conversation turned to her mentioning she didn't have her coffee yet, not an actual breakfast. Whatever the latter meant, Nick had no clue, but since the cafe was literally across, well... he offered. And that's how they got here. With Meryl attending to her long time coming drink, and to a white cheese and pastrami sandwich waiting on the side.

"Mm!" Nick's attention turns, from the glass he's been setting with the rest on display, back on the woman with a mouthful of that sandwich she looks desperate to swallow before saying anything. She sure looks like a strange one, at least strange for someone dressed like her to be so well-mannered. Don't get him wrong, her neatly cut hair and a pair of minimalistic golden earrings definitely sold the 'I'm a woman on top' kinda feel. It's everything else that didn't really add up, from the half-cut grey top more displaying than exposing the hibiscus-patterned tattoos down the length of her entire right arm, to the shorts that were so short they would be enough to cause a crime rate to rise on an instant. Well, if it weren't for the solid black stockings at least, but even those were torn in places, and these tears? Yeah, definitely self-made.

"...done?"

It's her voice that gets his head outta his ass, the man blinking twice before his tongue turns from lead to an actual functioning muscle once more. "What?" The way this single word comes out makes him sound like he just woke up from a daze, a mental cringe in his part for that one.

"I said: 'Are you done?' because you've been kinda ogling me for the past 2 minutes." And at that moment, Nick thought to himself 'yeah, that's fair'. Because as much as he wants to pretend like he's having none of that, well... he's pretty damn sure his sights were set directly on her god damn thighs by the time she caught him, which, by the way, have no shitting right to be so ample on somebody this, uh... small. "2 minutes?" He asks, head turning towards the clock on the wall behind him, though he shifts his attention back to Meryl way too quickly to make it look genuine. "Pretty sure it's been at least 4."

He doesn't miss how that makes her smile.

"Ha. Ha. Look at me, laughing so hard my side's cramping." This girl can go ahead and serve her monotonne, sarcastic answer left and right, Nick encourages it in fact. Hell, he'll contribute to the attitude, so long as he sees the dimples in the corners of her mouth to make their appearance every damn time. "Shit, that's a dangerous thing, doll. Let me know when you start losing balance on that stool." Taking another sip of her coffee, Meryl's brows crease and her eyes narrow: suspicion painted all over that expression. "Why? So you can come to the rescue and be a knight in shining armor?" Her lips trail her upper lip as she's done talking, cleaning up the mustache of sweet coconut milk foam that formed there.

Cute, he notes. Actually, scratch that, very cute. Ridiculously so, in fact.

He scoffs, a mock expression akin to both a sarcastic insult and something along the lines of 'are you dumb' message. "So I can get the phone on time and record it?" And call him a brat with an inflated ego, he does not give a shit. And would you want to know why? Because the way Meryl snorts into her mug, trying to conceal that ridiculous smile with it as she practically dives half her face inside, is absolutely worth it. He might even admit - and he knows just how crazy that makes him sound - that perhaps this morning isn't as miserable as he expected it to be.

-

"Wait." Meryl's fingers move across the screen of Nick's phone, pinching at the center and spreading out after. "Your cat's name is 'Kuroneko'?" The way she raises her perfectly picked out eyebrow at him with that sly smile tells him everything. He is, most definitely and without a doubt, about to get shit on. "I... Look, before you start, yeah: the name's Japanese. But I didn't pick it, my little brother did. He watches anime, said it suits her." If this thing actually costs him a chance with the cute tattooed girl he met like an hour ago, he's never letting Liv forget the betrayal he felt at that moment. Meryl actually chuckles, it's a small thing and short at that, but it does make her shoulders hiccup. "I mean... yeah! Yeah, the name DEFINITELY suits her!"

Okay. At this point, Nick's curiosity definitely overtakes the awkward shame. He has to know. And so, he pulls out his phone. Types into the translator, sets the translation from Japanese to English and... "You... are shitting me." The way Meryl tried ever so diligently to choke down her own laughter was all the answer he needed: this was real. This was real, and his brother was a stain on the society for this. "So, um..." She talked with the barely contained laughter just oozing out of her tone, smiling like a complete dork while leaning forth onto the counter propped by her folded forearms. "Did you realize-"

"Did I realize that my fucking black cat's name is 'black cat'!? YES I'D SAY I DID!" That was the last encouragement Meryl seemed to need in order to absolutely let loose. The wheeze that followed was nothing short of amazing. Like an old vacuum cleaner from the 90s. Once it's swallowed so much dust all it does is choke- you see the picture, right? She nearly falls off the stool, she does! So keen on enjoying the miserable shame that Nicholas has to endure because of Livio. Though, let's be real... if he really did mind, he wouldn't be laughing alongside her.

"Fucking Christ, calm down wheezy G." And well, it does seem to only break the woman further. "WHEEZY-!" She repeats, before bursting into an even more maniacal laughter. Nick will say this: first time he saw her? This is definitely NOT the kinda attitude he expected her to have. Meryl seems so... free with how she acts. If she's happy, then she's happy. No matter how ridiculous it makes her look, it feels right for her so she just does it. Ah, well... Nick at least would never consider a trait like that ridiculous.

If he'd have to use a word, it would be... admirable.

-

The rest of the day fades to the fog, really. Meryl has to leave to get some stuff for her studio, and afterwards Nick stops smiling as genuinely as he did with her. He just works through his shift, makes some overpriced brews, and after 4 p.m. his late night shift comes to dismiss him and he goes home. That's pretty much every day, Monday to Saturday for this guy. Wake up, work and go home. Except tonight, he does smack Livio across the back of his head, saying 'you know what you did' before leaving the dumbfounded bear of a man to his lonesome.

The ball of fur spitting nightmare makes herself comfortable the second Nick's ass lands on his bed. Her belly is already up and on display, and the man doesn't even hesitate to start rubbing at the hairs that definitely need a good grooming at this point. The day wasn't horrible. In fact, it wasn't even bad. Because seriously, how can he pretend it's been bad? When in his free hand he's already holding the stick up note with Meryl's number on it? Honestly, Nick was always less than optimistic when it came to meeting strangers. He knew how to leave things without the relations going sour, but if he were to choose then he'd rather the meeting never happened in the first place.

But not with Meryl. He'd say for he wished wouldn't realize he was walking by this morning, she definitely made it worthwhile.

He'll call her. He has to, right? He should, at least. Kuroneko purrs, enjoying how Nick's doubling his efforts while spoiling that one particular spot underneath her right arm. She gave him that number, so it wouldn't be weird to call her. He thinks. He... hopes?

He overthinks. But that's a sure sign this whole thing really is worth the anxiety he knows it'll bring about.

He will call her. That's the one promise he's not breaking.

Thank you all for reading! This is the first chapter to come for the MerylWood series that I'm working on currently! I wanted to do something based on the coffee shop/tattoo artist AU for the longest time! Hope y'all liked the first installment! Sharing and liking helps the algorithm, so I'd appreciate it ✨

#trigun au #trigun meryl #trigun wolfwood #trigun stampede #meryl x wolfwood #meryl stryfe #nicholas d. wolfwood #merylwood #squidsniaki

[drawing-way-outside-the-lines]

➖ Mature content, 18+ ➖ check the trigger tags each time ➖      

Chapter 41 - Danny. Episode 4.

--------Sparkles point of view---------- Sparkle: So what have you done the past year, I mean wooh!! I gave him the elevator look and sipped my coffee

Danny: Chuckled softly Well, I figured out you had left about a week after you were gone.

Sparkle: Sorry I smiled apologizing at him

Danny: Nah, it's okay, I get it now that you explained why. You had to. and it wasn't like you owed me anything. I tried to get in contact with you for about a month, with no luck, obviously. And one night I got a call from a friend, working on one of those big hangar ships. He told me they needed crew, a paid job for 10 months… so yeah, I just jumped the opportunity, figured I needed to get away too. So 10 months and 25 kilo later, here I am. He smiled warmly

Sparkle: I giggled softly Ahh so that's why you have this whole hipster sailor look now.

Danny: Chuckled softly A life at sea will do that to you.

Sparkle: I chuckled softly I'll try to remember that. So what's with the uh? I pointed at his throat as I could see a tattoo crawl over the neckline of his knitted pullover

Danny: If it wasn't so cold I would show you. I don't know. A few artists were on the ship, and when we got bored enough, they started tattooing people. One night I guess I got bored enough as well. Well, it was more nights really. He pointed at his throat That one is not the only one I have. But as mentioned, it's too cold right now to start showing tattoos. Some other time perhaps? He smiled softly

Sparkle: I nodded softly Yeah, I would like that, you have me curious now.

Danny: He nodded towards Daniel and Ruby So what's up with you and the military guy?

Sparkle: I chuckled softly First off, he's not a military man, he was never in the military. That's just his style.

Danny: Alright… he nodded with a small chuckle and sipped his coffee

Sparkle: And to answer your question, there isn't really anything with us. He's my friend… sometimes we fuck I blushed a bit as I said the words sorry, I don't mean to sound like a whore or something.

Danny: You could never sound like that to me, so don't worry.

Sparkle: I smiled softly at him and blushed further Thank you.

---------Daniel's point of view------------

Ruby: He's stealing your girl now…

Daniel: She's not my girl. I grunted and sipped the rest of my chocolate, throwing the paper mug in a trashcan few meters from us, lighting a joint, sighing deep as I blew out the smoke

Ruby: She quickly followed me Am I annoying you?

Daniel: I smiled softly No…. it takes much more to annoy me I reached the joint to her and smiled softly as she grabbed it and puffed it

Ruby: So don't tell me you have absolutely no problem with them sitting as close as they do right now? I actually think he's holding her hand? I mean, I have seen pics of the old Danny before, but that thing over there…. he's definitely her type.

Daniel: Yeah, I know.

Ruby: She smiled at me softly, almost like she pitied me

Daniel: I let my eyes fall back to Sparkle and Danny. Yup, he was holding her hand, and she was laughing at whatever he had just said. A lot. About an hour later I found myself, tipsy, at Sparkles place. We had agreed going to her place, as the cold had only gotten worse. And the now drunk Sparkle, had been running around taking pics of us all. I was no longer mildly annoyed by this evening, but full on irritated. I just needed my bed and a good night joint. Or to stick my dick in someone. I grabbed my phone from my pocket and quickly typed a message to Congo, smiling cheekily as he answered back a few seconds later

Congo: 'Yeah, I'm awake… are you okay?'

Daniel: 'Yeah. Stuck at Sparkles place, watching her and her new boy toy dancing. I'm bored with this night.'

Congo: 'Wanna come over?'

Daniel: 'Mmmh yeah, I could really need a place to stick my dick right now'.

Congo: 'I'm sure we can figure something out'.

Daniel: 'Sweet! I'll be there in 15!'

Congo: 'Daniel, please don't drive.'

Daniel: 'Nah, my bike is back at the university, don't worry, I'll call a cab.'

Congo: 'Thank you. I'll see you soon.'

Daniel: 'Yep. See you! Stay warm!'

Congo: 'Daniel, just lock yourself in, I'll be in the master bedroom.'

--------Congo's point of view----------

Congo: I was very tired, and had actually been asleep, but I could feel through the sms that he was frustrated. He had grown quite fond of her, so watching her with someone else was probably bound to bring his mood down. I turned around in bed slowly, I was very gentle not to wake Evan, as I lifted his hand from my hip. He was sleeping deep, I could hear that on his breath, but still wanted to be careful, just to be sure. He needed sleep on top of that night. It had ended well after the good news about the mate bond. But it had still drained him both mentally and physically. So he needed all the rest he could get. I silently got up, not bothering to put clothes on, as I knew it would come off soon anyway, and so I walked silently around the bed, bending down, planting a soft kiss on Andy's forehead.

Andy: He moaned softly Whaaat?

Congo: I smiled warmly and stroke his hair Sleep sweetheart. I'll go upstairs. Daniel sms'd, he will come by soon. So I'll go upstairs with him.

Andy: He nodded sleepy Okay… have fun he smiled warmly and turned to his other side, snuggling his face in Evan's armpit with a soft smile. I knew how the smell of both of us made him feel safe.

Congo: As I passed the fireplace on my way to the 3rd floor, I quickly threw a few more logs on, to keep the house warm till the morning. Then I grabbed a couple of water bottles, a sandwich and a can of whipped cream, quickly making my way to the master bedroom at the 3rd floor. Lighting a few candles around the room, to bring a cozy atmosphere. I laid down on the middle of the bed, opening a drawer in the small night stand, grabbing a lube, slowly preparing my hole. Stroking my dick to get hard, gently circling my entry before slowly gliding a finger inside, moaning softly. With the other hand I grabbed the can of whipped cream. I absolutely hated the taste of most can foods, but both Daniel and Andy seamed to love the stuff, as long as they could use it as a foreplay. So I chuckled softly as I made a thick ring of it around my dick, and a small dot on each of my nipples. It was a total kliche, but these things always seemed to send both of them right off. So here I were, reminding myself of a stuffed turkey. I smiled softly as I heard the front door, this was gonna be good. I added another finger, slowly stretching myself as I heard footsteps in the hallway, moaning softly at the thought of Daniel coming home.

Daniel: He opened the door rather quick, chuckling loudly as his conversation went on, and as he turned his face towards me, he froze. Oh!

Robert: Bumped into Daniel as Daniel stopped, chuckling warmly Oh sorry I didn't see you ther… he froze as well as he saw me on the bed.

Congo: I think it's safe to say this was one of the more embarrassing moments of my life, and I quickly got out of bed, grabbing a shirt from the floor, I used to desperately cover most parts of my naked body with. Not easy when you're caught of guard with shaky hands

Daniel: I'm so sorry, I ran into Robert in the drive way, and as I woke you up I assumed you were just snoozing here in bed until I would join you.

Robert: He chuckled warmly, clearly amused as he judging by his rather insecure wobbly legs had had more than plenty to drink

Congo: I sighed softly No harm done I guess, but I'm gonna go take a shower and get this stuff off me.

Daniel: He nodded with a small apologizing smile We will be downstairs for a drink

Congo: I nodded without looking at them, as I made my way to the bathroom, quickly turning on the tap in the shower cabin, sighing deeply as I got under the hot water, leaning my forehead against the wall. As much as I liked seeing Robert being more open minded towards gay love, I really wished I hadn't answered my phone when Daniel messaged. I sighed softly and started washing my body, all of the whipped cream was gone already, but it left as sticky feeling on my skin. As I was done washing my body I leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes, just letting the hot water caress my body. I quickly got stuck in thoughts of the mate bond, and the things Akin had said about Andy. So many things suddenly fell into place. I was happy with this new turn. Specially since Evan seemed to already open up. We had shared amazing sex, and even if we hadn't penetrated each other, a stronger bond had definitely grown between us. I smiled softly and thought of how he had leaned against me during sex, how I had observed him swim away in us, fully enjoying the satisfaction. My thoughts started drifting and for the next minutes I cannot remember what I was even thinking of, my thoughts were just moving around without me paying much attention. I was just, relaxing. Drifting away. But then I felt someone locking their lips around my dick. I moaned softly. Daniel. He had come back just as I had started getting hard. He always had a great timing like that, like he knew when I was hard. I sighed soft and relieved, digging my fingers into his hair. Hair? I quickly opened my eyes, but as water splashed into them I didn't see who it was at first, but as the door to the bathroom suddenly opened I clearly saw everything play out in front of my eyes. And I wish I hadn't.

Andy: Congo… can we join you… HOLY SHIT!!!! WHAT THE HELL?!?! Something definitely got knocked over and broke as it hit the floor RO-ROBERT?!?! SHIT FUCK!!! EVAN!!! DON'T COME OUT HERE!!!!

Evan: What happe…. DAD?!?!?!

Congo: I looked at Robert kneeling in front of me, hardly believing my eyes, as his hand was still locked around my dick. Then my eyes found Andy and his horrified face, as he tried holding on to Evan, who mostly looked like he wanted to run to the moon.

Robert: I uh… he somehow managed to drag his drunken ass up from the ground, letting go of my dick, stumbling few steps towards Evan and Andy

Evan: Just looked at him with disbelief written all over his face

Andy: What the fuck is going on in here?!

Congo: I groaned and shook my head

Daniel: WOAH WOAH WOAH He laughed out loud as he joined the way too crowded bathroom I did NOT see that one coming! He pointed at Roberts wet clothes, then me, then Robert, me, Robert, me and started wiggling his eyebrows. Then a loud moan escaped his lips as Evan punched him straight in the face, making Daniel take few steps backwards, tripping over the tub, and landing on his ass inside it with a loud bump and a whimper

Andy: Looked at Robert and me with a glare as I watched Evan turn to leave the room, but he slipped, probably in the sea of water that was slowly gathering on the floor from Robert's wet clothes

Evan: He slammed face forwards down on the tile floor, yelping out loud as he turned to his side and grabbed his left hand with his right hand, yammering from pain. And then I noticed it, a piece of glass had cut into the pillow under his thumb

Andy: Evan! Oh fuck!!! He quickly grabbed Evan's wrist and looked at Evan with worried eyes Hold still please!! What the fuck do I do here?!?! He looked desperately at me, Robert, Daniel, then Evan's hand A bit of fucking help could be useful here!!!!

Lenny: He suddenly came bursting through the open door What's going on? Is everyone alright? I heard Evan screaming?! He quickly noticed the glass in Evan's hand Oh… I guess that would explain it. May I? He nodded at Andy and the hand

Andy: Yeah… I… he hesitated few seconds then let go of Evan's wrist

Lenny: Hmm… okay he turned Evan's hand a bit it looks bigger than it is, I doubt you will need stitches, and I know you aren't much for hospitals… I can get it out for you and clean it if you want? He looked questioning at Evan

Evan: Grunted and hissed from pain

Andy: Do it dad… please!!

Lenny: Alright… he smiled soft at Andy do you have a tweezer here somewhere?

Andy: He nodded and quickly found the first aid kit in the closet under the sink, handing it to Lenny with shaky hands Is he gonna be alright dad? He looked at Lenny with anxious eyes and pulled his mohawk nervously. It had been a long time since I last saw him do that, which explained well just how much this was messing him up. And it was partially my fault.

Lenny: He's gonna be as good as new sweetheart, relax. I have pulled all sorts of things out of your body when you were kid. Always climbing trees, getting splinters in your hands and feet. He chuckled softly and grabbed a disinfection spray, spraying it lightly on Evan's hand.

Evan: Moaned out in pain

Lenny: Sorry darling, I'll try to be more gentle. He smiled softly at Evan, and stroke his cheek a single time Alright, I'll remove the glass now. Luckily it's mostly out of your skin, it didn't cut deep, so it shouldn't hurt much. Just take a deep breath, please.

Evan: He nodded softly and did as Lenny told him, and I watched him cringe as Lenny pulled out the glass carefully

Lenny: Alright, it's over. I'll just spray it a couple more times to clean it, and put a small bandage on. As he was done about a minute later, he smiled softly at Evan You're all good again now, smile darling.

Evan: He grunted and glared at Lenny

Lenny: What's wrong? He slowly got up, and as he did he seemed to notice me, Daniel and Robert… quickly connecting the dots between me and Robert. Ahh… he frowned softly Andy… will you please get Evan to bed? I'll clean up here.

Andy: But dad…

Lenny: Andy… leave. I had never seen this face on him before, it was very firm, and I feared what was to come next. Daniel, help them downstairs and then go home.

---------Andy's point of view------------

Daniel: He didn't say anything, he just quickly got up, and helped me support Evan as we walked downstairs, in the kitchen, George was drinking some water

George: Oh, what happened? Are you guys

Andy: Don't ask! I shook my head and nodded towards the third floor, and then the roar met my ears

Lenny: WHAT ON EARTH WERE YOU TWO THINKING?!?! WE USE SO MUCH TIME AND ENERGY TRYING TO FIX EVERYTHING FOR THE BOYS LAST NIGHT, AND THEN TODAY YOU DECIDE TO TEAM UP IN THE SHOWER?!?! TWO GROWN MEN, ACTING LIKE TEENAGERS!!! I couldn't hear what the answer back was, but the second time my dad yelled, it was even louder I DON'T REALLY CARE ROBERT! THERE'S JUST THINGS YOU DON'T DO UNLESS THERE HAS BEEN GIVEN SOME SORT OF GREEN LIGHT!!! YOU SHOULD FEEL ASHAMED OF YOURSELF!!! SO MUCH TIME WASTED ON PATCHING THINGS UP WITH YOUR KID, AND THEN YOU DO THIS?! WHAT EXACTLY ARE YOU DOING HERE??!!

Daniel: Andy… let's go! He started dragging Evan towards the stairs

Andy: I quickly nodded agreeing and we all three fled downstairs, Evan and I quickly crawling up in bed, both of us only wearing boxers, so we were getting chilly

Daniel: I'm sorry if I in any way caused all of that. I'll leave before I mess more up tonight.

Evan: Please stay!

Andy: I looked at him concerned Are you sure?

Evan: He sighed deeply Yeah… I'm fine. I mean he sighed deep I could just really need a joint, and Daniel is the joint holder.

Daniel: He quickly grabbed his joint tin and threw it to Evan Take what you need, I'm sure you don't wanna look at my face right now. I really fucked up royally this time, so I'll just be next door if anyone needs me.

Evan: He frowned and sighed softly I would like you to stay. Please. He padded the bed next to him and sighed softly

Andy: Are you sure? I smiled at him softly

Evan: Yeah… I just need peace around me, please. I just can't deal with any drama. I just wanna lay down, with my mate, and relax he smiled at me softly and lit the joint

Andy: My stomach tickled as he called me his mate and I smiled bright, planting a soft kiss on his forehead

Daniel: Looked at us hesitating, then took off his hoodie, letting it dump to the floor, kicked off his boots, and then he crawled into bed, next to Evan, grabbing a joint and lighting it. Then quickly handing it to Evan.

Andy: We were just done smoking as Congo came down the stairs a bit hesitating, walking up to the bed rather shameful Evan… I eh… I had nothing to do with it. He was just suddenly there. But… your dad was very drunk, and very lonely I think… I don't think he really thought it through…. it just, happened.

Evan: He sighed softly and got up on his knees, reaching towards Congo, grabbing one of his hands gently Hey… can we just pretend it didn't happen, please? My brain is way too tired to deal with this… and that was before the joint he chuckled softly Besides we're good.

Congo: He smiled softly Are you sure?

Evan: He crawled a bit closer, planting both his hands on Congo's cheeks, caressing them softly This is how sure I am. He leaned in slowly, and planted a tender kiss on Congo's lips

Daniel: Eeeey he smiled cheekily and bit his lips

Andy: I chuckled hoarse and shook my head

Daniel: What? Not allowed to say eey any longer?

Evan: He smiled softly at Congo as he let go of him I didn't assume you had anything to do with it, and I kinda expected my dad to be very drunk to end up like that… so everyone is forgiven. I just…. can we just not talk about it, please? I don't want it replaying in my head… and I don't wanna see him right now either. I'm afraid I might just throw up. Sorry, not that there's anything yucky about you. But it really grossed me out! I mean… you and I… and then you and him… it's kinda like sharing…. he frowned deep

Daniel: Woah woah woah!! Does this mean you two fucked??!?! HA! I knew it!!!

Andy: I slapped his forehead No they didn't, not that it's any of your business. And this was your only warning. Next time you let your mouth run, I'll kick you out in the dog house to sleep! Is that understood? I glared at him and chuckled hoarse

Daniel: Yes master! He grinned wide and I could feel his boner against my butt cheek as he turned to his side. This was going to be a long night!

#unicornmanes #Sparkle Diamondsheart #Sparks #Daniel Chase Hartwig #Andycorn #Andy Shaw-Thompson #Danny Rook #Ruby Darling #Congo Shaw #Robert Thompson #Evan Thompson #Leonard Cullman #Lenny #George Cullman

[freneticfloetry]

Hi Courtney! I love your love for Hozier. My question for you is if you'd ever get your fave Hozier lyrics as a tattoo? Optional follow-up question - do you have any tattoos already?

Hi Beth! Oh man, okay, this… is a fantastic question, for a few reasons.

I have five tattoos, not counting the one that’s now covered up by another. It was my first tattoo, the one I got at 18 — I picked a butterfly off a wall of flash, as one does, had it inked on my chest, as one does, and came to hate it later in life, after getting tattoos I loved and had thought about and meant something to me. As one does. But it became a very particular nickname of sorts for my brother — it was his favorite way to let me know that my shirt was riding low, and I was flirting with a wardrobe malfunction. He’d whistle or tap or something to get my attention and just say “butterfly” — always laughing — and I knew to hike my shirt up higher, until finally that’s just how he’d greet me. “Hey, Butterfly.” After he died I covered it with something that represents me as a writer, and the idea that the butterfly is just hiding under there for him alone makes me smile.

Anyway, none of my current tattoos have any text. I have two planned that will, both joint pieces with people I love, but one is a very short three syllable phrase and the other is a single word. Once upon a time I thought I might get my favorite line from RENT tattooed somewhere — “the opposite of ‘war’ isn’t ‘peace,’ its ‘creation’” — but I couldn’t come up with imagery to match (and I wasn’t crazy about the idea of tattooing the word “war” on my body, even in that context).

Until your ask, I had never considered getting Hozier lyrics. And now, of course, it’s not going to leave me alone.

It’s easier said than done, since it would require picking a definitive favorite. There are lines he’s written that haunt me. There are passages that I will never forget as long as I live. But I think it will probably be either the Summer Triangle with a passage from “Better Love” (staring in the blackness at some distant star / the thrill of knowing how alone we are, unknown we are) or a clef with sheet music lines and at least the first line of the bridge from “To Noise Making” (who could ask to be unbroken or be brave again / or honey hope even on this side of the grave again / and who could ask you to be sound or to feel saved again / but stick around until you hear that music play again) if not the whole fucking thing.

So yeah. I think this is a thing that’s happening.

Thank you for that. 🤗

#nice ask day #asked and answered

[katnisscarter]

It’s truly amazing how one year has changed me. I really do just love waking up and doing whatever I want or feel. I feel so pretty and it has nothing to do with how a man perceives me. I’ve even been thinking about getting my own place once I pass my boards. I thought apartment but honestly the money I’ll be making I could look for a house. I can grow flowers and get plants. Of course there’s things I miss, and times I just wish he was here but im living with it yknow. Like I’ve just come to the conclusion that I’ll always have this deep love for him, but if he doesn’t want it I can’t force it. I have the love but I can give it to myself too. I love giving love but I spent 23 years giving it to everyone else and never myself. I guess the fall from grace gave me the opportunity to look at myself and tell her im sorry. God am I sorry. Im over a year sober. Im half a year self harm clean. I even got one of my first self harm cover up tattoos. Im dying my hair like I want. I got my nose pierced finally. Im spending time studying but it’s not my whole life. I painted for the first time in over a year yesterday. I taught myself a new art form this year. I picked up a journal and started scrapbooking. I actually make food for myself and don’t get nauseated while eating anymore. I’m learning about how to connect with the universe. I’m learning to let things go. I’m learning it’s okay to not wish someone well, but don’t wish them ill. Just don’t wish them anything.

I grieve for myself, who I was a year ago. I grieve for 14 yr old me trying to kill herself. I grieve for 15 yr old me who spent her lunches throwing up in the bathroom. I grieve for 16yr old me who thought a boy calling me nice things was enough. I grieve for 17yr old me who was not asked for consent. I grieve for 19 yr old me who failed at something for the first time. I grieve for 20yr old me who laid on the floor and cried until there was no sound. I grieve for 21yr old me who picked up that joint. I grieve for 22yr old me who lost everything; who lost her purpose, her greatest love, her friends, her sanity. I grieve for her, but I look down at the hands who killed her and I am thankful. I look in the mirror and I am thankful for her. I am thankful because all those fragments of time where I couldn’t fucking breathe led me to right now. The woman I am now. Who wakes up in the morning and feels neutral. Who dances in the kitchen while cooking. Who sings in the shower again. Who smiles and it’s in her eyes again. Who scrapbooks for hours. Who makes art for herself for once. Who sits with her feelings and listens to them. Who has concerts alone in her car. Who laughs so hard she cries. Who still chooses love after so much loss. Who still chooses love after sobbing with inhuman noises for weeks not moving from bed. Who chooses to put one foot in front of the other. Who graduated nursing school at 23. Im thankful for her, for finally choosing to give all that love to herself.

& although I frequently find a thin veil of grief over everything good that comes to me because I do not get to share it with you, I still choose love. In fact through all of this last year I never once had anything but. There was never an ounce of hate seething from my lips, there was only the sweet drip of honey when I said your name. And I am at peace. If you return one day I’ll take you in my arms and welcome you home. If you do not, I will wrap my arms around myself and find my own home. See, a year ago I thought I could not live without you. It’s not true, I very much can and have. I do not need you. The difference now is although I do not need you, I want you. I want to choose you. I want to call you when I hear good news. I want to pick up gummy sharks when I go to the gas station. I want to share my life with you. I want to build my life with you. But I’ve come to this realization; I do not need to. I am enough on my own. And the distinction of wanting to choose you over feeling the need to, well, that makes all the difference.

#personal rambles

[arrowflier]

I wish you would write a fic where the gallaghers + kev & vee find out about ian's 87% comment and they all give their opinions and ask why mickey, ian's husband who's been a part of ian's life for nearly eleven years only gets 87% of his heart, if the other 13% goes towards his toxic exes and why since they're not in his life anymore, ian explaining himself and ends with ian taking the comment back so mickey has 100% of his heart

I decided this was perfect for Gallavich Week Day 5: Fix-It! Thanks as always to @gallavichthings for hosting💖. Also on AO3.

Eighty-Seven Percent (Anatomy of a Heart)

It was a normal morning in the Gallagher kitchen.

That is to say, it was chaotic.

Carl and Liam sat across from each other at the narrow table, tossing dry loops of off-brand cereal at each other over Franny’s backpack, which lay open between them. The girl herself was running circles around them both in her pajamas, Debbie chasing after her with a stern face and a frilly dress held in outstretched hands.

“Come on, Franny,” she muttered impatiently as her daughter evaded her again by diving under the table, “just put on the dress!”

Mickey laughed when Franny ran to him instead, trying to hide behind his legs where he stood by the brewing coffeemaker. Ian ruined her attempt by swinging her up into his arms and twirling her around until Debbie snatched her from him, resulting in an angry shriek as Franny writhed in her hold.

“For fuck’s sake, keep it down in here!” Lip hissed, coming in from the living room where Tami had just gotten Fred settled in his play pen. “If you get Fred crying again, I swear I’ll fucking end you all.”

If anything, the kitchen got louder as everyone there chimed in in their own defense.

Mickey just snorted as he grabbed two mugs and got to pouring the fresh coffee. “Good luck with that,” he offered to Lip, amused. “You get one Gallagher going, you get the whole fucking pack.”

Lip glared at him, opened his mouth the say something undoubtedly scathing and most likely regarding Mickey’s place in the family, when Carl laughed and chimed in from the table.

“Funny, man, that’s what Trevor said to me and Ian at the station yesterday.”

The room went quiet.

Or maybe it just seemed that way to Ian, who could see the way his husband’s back immediately tensed at the familiar name, the way he gripped the handle of his mug a little too tight and poured the coffee a little too high before setting down the pot with a hard clack.

“Trevor, huh?” Mickey asked, voice deceptively mild, and Ian winced behind him.

Carl didn’t get the memo.

“Yeah, you remember him, right?” he checked. “He still works at that youth place, came in to post bail for some kid when Ian was bringing by lunch.” He shrugged, tossed a handful of cereal into his mouth. “We chatted a bit,” he mumbled as he chewed.

Mickey gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles going white under his tattoos. “Funny,” he said quietly, “Ian didn’t think to mention that.”

Ian sighed, ignoring the eyes of his family on their quickly unfolding drama. They’d been fighting a lot lately, a lot more than they used to, and today had been shaping up to be better, damn it. Now he had to do damage control again instead of enjoying a quiet day in with his husband.

“We’ve talked about this, Mickey,” he started, a tad bit exasperated. It must have come through in his voice, because Mickey’s shoulders went up. “Trevor’s not a bad guy, and I’m not gonna avoid him if I see him around.”

Mickey released the counter to grab his coffee again, taking a long, scalding swallow. “Right,” he said finally, not looking at Ian. “Not a bad guy at all. Just wanted to leave your ass rotting in jail when you couldn’t be his poster boy anymore, that’s all.”

“Mickey…” Ian warned, but it didn’t stop him.

“Tell me, Ian,” Mickey mused, turning to face him with hard eyes. “How much of that thirteen percent belongs to him?”

Fuck. Not that again.

“Wait, what’s he talking about?” Debbie was the one to ask first, voice cutting through their palpable tension. She’d even stopped trying to force the dress over Franny’s head in the interim, allowing the girl to escape up the stairs unscathed. “What thirteen percent?”

“Oh yeah, he told me about that,” Lip butted in. “Said Mickey got all bent out of shape cause Ian still thinks about his exes, or something, right?”

Ian closed his eyes against the hurt in Mickey’s as his brother revealed that he knew about their squabble. Fuck his family right now, seriously.

“Not quite,” he gritted out, but when he opened his eyes again, Mickey had schooled his face back into disinterest.

“No, that’s just about it,” Mickey confirmed. “Got my nose out of joint because Ian, here,” he gestured at Ian with his mug, ignoring the hot coffee that splashed over the side, “said I only got eighty-seven percent of his heart.”

Someone whistled, low and long. Ian couldn’t tell who.

“It’s not that big a deal,” he insisted yet again. “My whole life is a fucking shrine to you, Mick. If my heart was a room, there’s be posters of you on every fucking wall.” He took a step closer, until Mickey’s mug pressed into his own chest, leaving a wet spot on his shirt.

“You really can’t let the others have a little space in that room? Not even in the bottom drawer of a dresser that nobody uses anyway?”

Mickey was still, and silent. Then he spun around and slammed his mug back down on the counter, shoved past Ian, and stormed off up the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Ian called after him.

“To clean out the goddamn drawers!”

It was quiet in Mickey’s wake, and then—

“Dude, that’s fucked up,” Carl said frankly, and Liam nodded in agreement, eyes wide.

“Did you really say that?” Debbie asked, sounding horrified, and before Ian could answer the back door slammed open.

“Morning neighbors!” Vee greeted as she came through, Kev on her heels. She was holding something, a dish covered in foil, and a carton of juice hung from Kev’s hand.

“We brought you guys some…” Vee trailed off when no one even looked at her, noticing the tension in the room.

“Uh,” she voiced, confused, “what did we miss?”

Carl answered, still looking at Ian in disbelief. “Ian told Mickey he keeps stuff from his exes in a drawer, so Mickey’s up there looking for it.”

“Oh, that’s cold man,” Kev breathed, and Ian exhaled.

“It was a metaphor,” he muttered, and Vee heard him.

“A metaphor for what?” she asked, curious.

“For the thirteen percent of Ian’s heart that belongs to other people,” Debbie revealed, and Vee set down her dish with a clatter.

“You said that to him?” she clarified, and at Ian’s reluctant nod, shook her head and turned to Kev.

“You ever say shit like that to me,” she said firmly, “I’ll cut off thirteen percent of your dick.”

—

A few long minutes later, after he had finally escaped his family’s inquisition about the state of his relationship, Ian made his way upstairs, alone.

When he got to their bedroom, Mickey wasn’t actually going through their things. He was just sitting on their bed, back to the wall, spinning his wedding ring round and round on his finger. Next to him, balanced on their folded blanket, sat the little box with the fancy ones they used in the ceremony just so they wouldn’t have to take theirs off.

Ian’s heart beat harder. That box had been sitting safe in the bottom drawer of their shared dresser.

The one that nobody used.

“Hey,” he said softly from the doorway. Mickey didn’t look up.

“You okay?” Ian asked, and that at least got a response.

“Do I look fucking okay to you?” Mickey returned, eyes on his knees.

He didn’t. Not really. He looked haggard, and upset, his hair spiky where restless fingers had combed through it. Ian couldn’t see his eyes, but he had a feeling they were rimmed in red.

Ian let himself into the room, sat opposite Mickey on the bed with his feet still firmly on the floor. He reached out to trace a finger over the rings in the box, and then the ring on Mickey’s finger.

Mickey let his own hand fall away when he did.

“You know that’s not how I meant it, right?” Ian asked, suddenly desperate to hear Mickey agree. He needed to know that Mickey understood, that just because he remembered his past, it didn’t mean he wasn’t dedicated to his future.

But Mickey just shrugged.

“Not a lot of ways you can mean it,” he said, and shit. Ian had really fucked up this time. “Either I have your whole heart or I don’t,” Mickey continued, “and I don’t. So,” he shrugged again, “whatever.”

Ian took a moment. A long one. He thought of Mickey’s reaction the first time he had said it, when he was mostly just teasing. The way he had been shocked to think that Ian still had fond thoughts for other men. And he thought of his family downstairs, each one more fucked up than the last, all in agreement over the severity of his error.

And to be honest, he still didn’t quite get the uproar. But maybe that was because none of them got his side, either.

“You’re right,” he began, “you don’t.”

Mickey tensed further, pulling away from him on the bed, but Ian wasn’t done.

“You have all the good bits, you know,” he continued. He went to rest a hand on Mickey’s chest, saw his stiffness, and pointed at his own instead.

“You have all four chambers,” he told him. “Atrium and ventricle. You keep my blood moving, keep it useful, keep me alive. And you have my valves,” he added, trailing a finger side to side to point to the right spots as he spoke. “Mitral and aorta, pulmonary and tricuspid.” He smiled. “You keep me going in the right direction.”

Mickey was softening, he could tell, the tension seeping from his limbs as Ian droned on. He kept going anyway.

“You have all my arteries, Mick,” he whispered. “You’re in all my veins. You said I was under your skin, once?” Ian laughed. “Well you’re under my skin, too. And in my muscles, and in my blood.”

“And the others, they’re like…” he hesitated, searched for the right words. Better words than he had used before. “They’re like cholesterol,” he settled on, “plaque. Or…like the scar tissue from a triple bypass, the parts that don’t work anymore.”

Mickey’s lips quirked, despite himself, and Ian counted it as a victory.

“You have a lot a heart surgeries, Gallagher?” he questioned softly, catching on.

Ian smile widened, and he reached out to take Mickey’s hand. This time, Mickey didn’t pull away.

“Maybe a few,” he admitted. “And maybe I’m better for it.”

He lifted Mickey’s hand to his lips, held it there.

“I don’t mind the broken bits,” he told his husband. “The pieces they left behind. Because you pushed through them every time, and made me healthy again.”

Mickey fidgeted, and nudged himself off the wall to settle closer to Ian’s side.

“Alright,” he allowed, “I get it.”

“Do you?” Ian asked earnestly. “Because I want you to, you know.” He dropped Mickey’s hand to hold his face instead, gently stroking a thumb over his cheek. “I want you to know that that thirteen percent, it doesn’t really matter. All that matters are the parts that are you.”

"I chose you, Mickey," he murmured. He reached out blindly for the spare rings in their box on the bed, worked one free. Slipped it onto Mickey's finger without looking away from his eyes. Mickey's hand clenched around it, around Ian's hand, and held tight.

"I married you," Ian added. "Because I love you with every real part of my heart, every little bit that works."

“All eighty-seven percent?” Mickey prods with a soft expression, leaning forward until his nose brushes Ian’s.

“All eighty-seven percent,” Ian confirmed, and kissed him.

#daily speedwrite #gw2021 #fanfic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #gallavich #fix-it #gallagher family #albeit briefly

[nahoyagf]

heyy i love ur writings😭 <33, can i request a hanma x reader doing this pls thank youu😭 (https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSJxoGmRP/)

heart shaped kisses 

characters: hanma x reader

format: fic 

warnings: slight sexual content, drug use , aged up characters, idk if i like the ending so i might change it lol 

other notes:  tysm bae!! and yes ofc, scene was hot asf. this is so long i’m sorry 😭 

hanma often didn’t come home until the late hours of night. he spent most of his time doing god knows what, but always came home covered in the scent of perfume and booze.

it upset you. not just the idea that he was slowly drowning himself in these things, but also the idea that he was out with other women. you weren’t his girlfriend, hell, you two had never even had any romantic interactions. to him, you were just his housemate that worried too much. worried about his whereabouts and worried about his self care.

you made him food, it was often left on the table, cold. but it always made your heart warmer when you would wake up in the morning and see that hanma ate it. occasionally, he would leave a note saying thank you or that it was good.

tonight you did your usual routine. made food, being sure to make an extra plate for him and then watched tv until you got tired. you were extra sleepless tonight. the job you held was stressful and overwhelming and was made 10x worse when your boss decided he wanted to be an asshole today. you just wanted company and yet, your housemate was out. probably getting drunk and having the time of his life with some girls at the bar.

the doorknob twisted and the sound of clattering keys being dropped then slowly picked up at met your ears. there were a few muffled curse words and the noise of someone struggling to open the door but eventually it opened. hanma looked tired, eyes widening slightly at seeing you still awake. he smelt the same as usual, dressed in a white, silk dress shirt. about five buttons undone to expose his large chest full of intricate tattoos. he also had on loose black slacks and nice black dress shoes that had actually been a gift from you.

he smelt strongly of sake and you realized that he must’ve gone down to the karaoke bar which had the “best sake you’ll ever taste”. so he was out with girls.

“wait in’ for me?” he chuckled, smiling at the table that had a once hot bowl of ramen on it.

“i’m surprised you’re home so early.”

“and i’m surprised you’re up so late.”

you tossed him a half hearted glare. hanma always treated you like a mom, some middle aged lady who goes to bed at 9 and works on her feet all day.

“thank you for the food, sweetheart. looks good,”

the compliments he left on notes always made your stomach flutter but hearing them in person nearly caused you to have a stroke.

“it’s probably cold again.”

you tried to brush off your flustered behavior with the comment but it didn’t come out as annoyed or strict as you wanted it to. he heated the food up, and you let him eat in silence. assuming he was too tired to want to talk and would just go to bed straight after. of course, you were wrong.

he finished his food and put the bowl in the sink before sitting down on the couch next to you.

“it was delicious, thank you.” he sent a grin your way, throwing his arm over the back of couch and watching the cheesy slasher film you had playing.

“it would’ve tasted better if you had it hot and fresh” it came out angrier than you wanted. deep down, you just wanted him to spend a couple days a week actually coming home on time and hanging out with you. by the way his head turned towards you, you knew you had fucked up.

“y’know being a fuckin’ yakuza member is no fuckin’ fun, you’re mad at me for going out and getting a lil’ drunk after spending my whole day fuckin’ killin’ people.” his glare hurt, but his tone hurt worse. you felt your eyes water slightly and turned away, both embarrassed and upset.

hanma noticed this. it sent a pang in his chest to see you look so hurt. he swallowed hard and looked around to find something to make you feel better.

“look... i’m sorry. it’s just been a long fuckin’ day,” he watched your expression. your eyes bore holes into the tv trying to avoid his gaze, face still upset.

“do you smoke?” he asked, reaching the drawer on the side table. his hands grabbed a bag of pre-grinded weed and rolling paper. you just shook your head.

his hands fumbled through his pockets for his lighter, finding it then beginning to roll a joint. his fingers worked quickly and expertly before lifting it to his face and licking the paper. sealing it with a slight smirk. his eyes lit up slightly as an idea popped into his brain.

“here,” he lit it, the smell filling the room.

“i said i don’t smoke.” you said, not bothering to look his way.

“you look tired, this’ll relax you, baby.”

the nickname gave you those annoying butterflies but you swallowed them away and kept a poker face.

“i have work tomorrow.”

“i thought you hated that shitty job,” he was right. you hated it and you hated this feeling that lingered after his lecture. you turned to face him, eyes still watery and a doe look coursed through them. his body filled with desire. stomach fluttering in a way that he hadn’t felt in years, the boyish feeling being something he left in his youth.

“i don’t know how.”

“it’s easy.” his words did nothing to ease your embarrassment and he caught onto that.

“c’mere, i’ll help you out.” he had this stupid smirk, so stupid that brought heat to your face.

you shifted closer. knee touching his, but it wasn’t enough. not what he wanted.

“closer, i can’t help you from there,” you stuttered out as he pulled you onto his lap. making you straddle his thighs. his yellow eyes met yours.

he put the joint in his mouth, breathing in the smoke, and let it sit on his tongue for a little before his hand grabbed your jaw. thumb pushing between your lips to open your mouth and then he exhaled. the smoke entered your mouth, the thick taste and smell clouded your brain for a second. you inhaled and stared at him.

“see? not too hard.” you laughed at that slightly.

“i didn’t do anything.”

he hand dropped down to your hips, rubbing circles as he took another puff. eyes wandering over your figure. he pulled you closer, letting the smoke drift between you two.

“i’m sorry for missing dinner. you forgive me now, hm?” handing you joint to take a hit before letting it sit on the table. hands moving to caress your thighs as his mouth met your neck. pressing sloppy kisses.

you placed your hand on his chest and pushed away slightly.

“i don’t wanna be one of those girls to you.” you said, shaky voice with how intimate he’s being. he chuckled at this. he laughed at this, hand grabbing your face as he rubbed your cheek.

“you think i would do that to you? are you fuckin’ dumb?” despite the seemingly harsh words, his tone was humorous and light. he wasn’t angry, just shocked. “you want me to stop seeing them, then i will, baby. you coulda’ just said that.”

hanma was fully serious. though a part of you worried that he would change his mind once he’s sober, his assuring voice and steady grip on you lifted those thoughts away. his hand guided your mouth towards his, kissing you gently but with a deep passion. other hand sliding up and down your body.

“let’s smoke some more, hm?”

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #hanma x reader #shuji hanma #📁:general #📁:hanma

[joyfulhopelox]

"I've never cried over a broken dryer before"-"And you better not start now"

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (College!AU/ University!AU)

Genre: smut with a saltbae of fluff

Warnings: alcohol use, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, swearing, bit of dom! JK, biting

Summary: Upon entering the club you come across a familiar face. Turns out your laundry adventures were not over. Who knew that clean laundry could lead to dirty talk?

Word count: 6.5k

rating : 18+

A/N: Massive thank you to @bangtanhome for not only being my beta but also my support and making this whole thing a polished princess. Thank you Moon so much for taking the time to edit and thank you for listening to me whilst I complained about this. And most importantly massive thank you for giving me pointers. This is my first piece of nsfw writing and I was extremely unsure about putting it out there but you’ve literally been an angel and were patient with my unsure self whilst also making sure you made this readable <3 -I also would like to thank my soulmate and best friend for putting up with me and dying in the process of reading a fic about her bias. I will warn that i massively sleep deprived at this point but i wanted to get this out with the occasion of the Muster 2021 so here she is!

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox for both the work and the banner

As always please leave feedback and/or talk to me as i love to hear from you! Enjoy <3

Fuck. You’d overslept. You weren’t panicking because you were going to be late; you were normally late anyway. But as soon as your eyes opened, you felt the grogginess that comes with sleeping a bit too much. Your body felt sluggish, joints throbbing and your mouth feeling like you've stuffed cotton balls in it. Feeling like you've been through a survival show, you know it'll take at least an hour for your body to wake up properly. However, you didn’t have time to let yourself slowly come to. You were already late. Any later than this and you may just as well stay home for the night- and go back to sleep. You reveled in the thought for a second, but no. Your friends were impatiently waiting for you to go out clubbing with them. And most importantly to lend them your car. You knew that only because they have called and messaged you incessantly for the past hour reminding you of it. You were thankful at least that you were not the designated driver for the night. Normally you’d draw straws and this time you had got lucky, you could drink as much as you wanted.

‘Good lord Y/N get your ass out of bed,’ you hyped yourself up and just like a bandaid, you ripped yourself from your covers and rolled out of bed. Landing with a thud you groaned upon impact. That was going to leave a bruise.

After a quick shower to get the cobwebs cleared off your mind, you put on a dress. You didn’t wear dresses normally, your wardrobe consisted mostly of pants and various tops. To be tightly encased in a dress that was a bit too short for comfort made you feel uncomfortable, but you knew that as soon as you had some alcohol into you, things would change. A loud knock at your door told you that your friends had finally arrived so you hurriedly grabbed your purse and keys and were out the door. You hesitated for a moment, the feeling of having forgotten something weighing on your mind. When you couldn’t figure out what it was, you decided that it must not be important. Plus, your friends were waiting; time to get the show on the road.

As soon as you entered the club, the heavy smell of smoke, sweat and alcohol hit your sensitive nose. The atmosphere was too loud and obnoxious for your sober brain. To remedy that, your friends decided to stop by the bar first and buy a round of shots to get the night started. With the burn of the alcohol running down your throat, your confidence levels increased. The dress didn’t make you feel uncomfortable anymore, instead you prowled around, your hips moving to the beat. You were aware of the lustful stares that you were receiving and you thrived off of it. Tonight you were on the hunt, ready to let loose after the stressful week full of exams.

“Hey, Y/N. Muscle at 12 o’clock has been giving you the look more than a couple of times,” your friend leaned in to make themselves heard over the loud music. “Try not to be obvious, but I'd say he’s a 10.” You nodded in acknowledgment running a finger over the rim of your glass.

“He’s looking away now, look look,” they nudged you, forcing you to turn around. In all honesty, you weren’t interested in going home with anyone. You were simply enjoying the admirative stares and the smouldering gazes that were thrown your way, but you had no intention to take any of them home with you. However, when you turned around, you were faced with the impossible task of reconsidering. The back of the man your friends' pointed out was indeed muscular, broad and strong, you could see the muscles popping underneath the black shirt he wore. The sleeves of the shirt were pushed up to his elbows, allowing a full display of tattoos on his right arm.

Normally you would have second thoughts about a person like that, but there was something about his demeanour that drew you in even without seeing his face.

The handsome man motioned to one of his friends and his whole body shook with laughter. Observing the way the shirt strained against his muscles you licked your lips involuntarily. For a second you thought he looked strangely familiar, and before you could convince yourself you were being paranoid, he turned his head to the side to entertain the person to his right.

The messy mop of hair, defined jawline and that bridge of the nose they all belonged to the laundry boy - Jungkook. You smirked, “I’d give it a 15 actually”. As soon as you said that, he threw you a glance, his smile wavered as he made eye contact. You felt satisfied at the recognition in his eyes.

You slowly turned back to your friends, certain he would come to you. It took him the entirety of the time you took to finish your drink to make his way towards you.

“Don’t look, he’s coming.”

“Oh, he will be,” you smirked, eyes twinkled with excitement as your friends laughed at your slurring words.

Jungkook had noticed your enticing figure entering the club from the very beginning. It was as if a magnet pulled him towards you. He recognised you as soon as he laid eyes on you. How could he not? The cute girl from the laundry room in the daylight turned into an alluring vixen during nighttime. His eyes were drawn to your hips, the curve of your back and the tempting strip of skin he could spy; they were enticing to him. He tried his best to focus on the way your eyes sparkled in delight when one of your friends would make a joke, but when you ran a finger over the rim of your glass tracing delicate patterns, he felt your siren pull.

You smelt him before you felt him, the subtle vanilla enveloping your senses overpowering the scent of sweat from around you. He stopped right behind you, with one hand on the stool next to you; not completely encasing your form, but close enough that you could see his jawline in your periphery. Leaning in under the guise of ordering a drink from the bartender he pulled the stool and sat down. He didn’t address you at first, patiently waiting for his drink, his long fingers tapping the counter in rhythm with the beat. You tried your hardest not to stare at his hands, the art on them fascinating to you: the doodle style art accentuating his knuckles and the veins running tracing all the way up to where his skin hid beneath his shirt. You tried to keep a poised front, talking to your friends as if he was not there, but you could feel the heat of his stares from time to time, goosebumps forming on your skin.

You knew your friends were getting drunker and drunker as time passed, but you’d underestimated them. Soon enough they each scattered around the surface of the club looking for a dance partner. Your friend left you in charge of the drinks they ordered, winking at you suggestively as they left. That meant you were alone. And judging by the way your skin prickled, Jungkook was still seated next to you.

“A gin and tonic, please,” he ordered another drink. You realised now would be the perfect time to not only talk to him, but also repay him for earlier. As the bartender presented him with the bill you turned around and smoothly presented your card to him. “Make it two on the same tab.” you smirk, winking at Jungkook when your eyes met his.

You heard Jungkook laugh at your brazen attitude and you had to admit to yourself, if not for the alcohol you’d had earlier, you would’ve probably walked away. You made direct eye contact with him and smiled.

“Nice to see you again, laundry boy,” you smirked. Jungkook looked taken aback for a second. The image of you in the laundry room is completely erased. What he saw in front of him now was an alluring woman, sure of herself and what she wanted. And she made it clear that she wanted him. Hiding a smirk behind his hand he leans closer to you, his breath fanning the hair stuck at the nape of your neck.

“It’s Jungkook, not 'laundry boy',” he yells over the music. Your shoulders shake with laughter.

“I know, but it is fun to tease you - Jungkook.” He smiled at you, his eyes crinkling in delight. He's caught onto what you were doing and he was ready for it, two could play at this game.

“What’s your name?” You were half expecting him to pull a bad pick up line, the earlier impression that you had of him still engraved into your mind. When he didn't, you smiled, hiding your satisfaction. Maybe he really was worth a 15 and not a 10.

“What, no ‘I didn’t catch it’? No ‘I bet it hurt’? I’m offended, do I not deserve a bad pick up line?” you grinned at him and he burst out laughing, the sound reverberating through you making a shiver run down your spine.

“You got the drinks, pretty girl, there’s no way I can use a pick up line now,” you started laughing earnestly. He was definitely not what you had expected. The muscly tattooed facade was clearly done just for the purpose of aesthetics, and not because he slotted right in with the rest of the douches.

“Fair play, but I did say I was going to pay you back earlier,” you gesture with your head as if to point out which earlier moment you meant.

“I see. This is how you intended to keep your word then” Jungkook said just as the bartender places the drinks in front of you both handing him something. “But as it happens, I am a step ahead of you” he waved a card in front of you. His satisfied smirk made you pause flustered. Realising he’s already given his card to the bartender earlier you blushed.

“That’s not fair, laundry boy” you pout. “Now I have to find another way to repay you” you fumbled with the card the bartender handed over to you struggling to place it back in your clutch.

“I am sure we can find other ways” you paused looking at him. Under normal circumstances you would have found that to be incredibly off putting, but noticing the way he scrutinised you so intensely, no hidden message behind his smoldering gaze you squeezed your thighs together a wave of heat enveloping you.

You took a sip of your drink to mask the deepening blush and cleared your throat. You knew that if you gave him your name you were in for the ride. “It’s Y/N” you took another sip, savouring the taste of the alcohol.

“What?” Jungkook wasn’t expecting you to hand him your name so freely.

“It’s Y/N” you yelled louder and leaned into him thinking he hadn’t heard you because of the music. The waft of your perfume clouds his senses, the smell of cotton and lilac enveloping him. Needing to be closer to you he chanced it and asked you for a dance.

You finished your drink with a gulp and nodded your head. You grabbed his wrist and started making your way through the mob of people. Jungkook couldn’t help but stare at the way your hips swayed to the beat and when you threw him an alluring look over your shoulder he couldn’t help but be lost. He felt like a puppy following your sultry form through the crowd.

You finally stopped in the middle of the dancefloor, your moves more accentuated following the beat of the music. Jungkook stopped a few inches away from you, unsure whether or not he should place his arms around you yet.

You stepped closer to his body, your movement predatory. “Come on laundry boy, you can do better than that. Think of this as part of the payment” you winked at him. You could see the shift in his eyes, a flash of something heavy across his face, his demeanour changing in an instant from uncertain to commanding in a second. He gripped your waist tightly and pulled you flush against him moving along with the beat.

For a second all you could feel and smell was him. His domineering attitude instantly turned you on with the silent promise behind it. “Oh, this is just the beginning” he moved his hands so that his arms encased your waist intending to savour the feeling of you against him. Fully intending to see where this night ended you hooked your fingers into his belt, your bodies so close together they melded into one.

“Bring it on lover boy.”

The oppressive atmosphere of the club was enough to cloud all your senses. The alcohol running through your veins made you braver than you would have ever been. The smirk Jungkook threw at you was almost tantalising. Inviting you to commit sin. And the thought of tasting his lips and running your hands through his hair whilst his breath fanned over your throat was mouth watering. You’d been skirting around each other for the whole night, laughing, drinking, talking, but most importantly eyeing each other up. The last straw for you was when a rogue drink came flying out of nowhere and drenched the two of you. The liquid mixed with his sweat and snaked its way from his temple down to his jaw. You watched as the drops ran lower and lower as if directing your gaze towards his chest. Swallowing thickly you knew that you were a goner. If he’s ask to fuck you right there on the dance floor, you would surrender instantly.

Smirking at your lust filled expression, Jungkook knew he had you where he wanted. He had been staring at your lips for the whole night, entranced at the way the plumpness was enhanced by the sheen from when you’d run the tip of your tongue over them. He was mesmerised. He could also imagine that tongue running over his- he tried to stop himself there, aware that he’d get hard if he kept going in that direction. He could already feel the strain against his pants.

“Another drink?” he offered, and you shook your head at him. Another drink was definitely not what you wanted. What you wanted was him, to kiss you until your lips were raw and to pound into you senselessly until you could hardly remember your name. Were you drunk enough for this? Probably not, but you did not care for once. You wanted to remember this.

Leaning closer to you with the excuse of the loud music, his breath fanned the nape of your neck and the sensitive shell of your ear, making you shiver. “Then what would you like, love?”

There it was, the thousand dollar question. It was now or never. Taking a deep breath in you looked him straight in the eyes with determination. It made Jungkook shiver. You looked fierce and incredibly alluring. It took all the strength he had in him to not shove you on top of the bar and kiss your brains out. “Tell me?” he coaxed you.

He knew what you wanted. You had been obvious for the whole night. But so had he. Throughout your conversation you were undressing each other with your eyes. You noticed the way he couldn’t keep his eyes away from your ass when you would lean over the bar to ask for one more round of drinks.

Under normal circumstances, that thought would have made you nervous. This time it gave you the courage you needed to let yourself go. To switch from being the player to the one played. And if he was the one doing that, you didn’t mind one bit. “I want you” you bit your lip and looked at him from under your eyelashes. His eyes darkened with lust. Mind clouded with desire, he grabbed your wrist tightly and without a word started making his way through the crowd. The roar of the drunken crowd, the smell of sweat and alcohol, and the feel of sticky bodies bumping into you didn’t matter anymore. All your focus was on the way his back muscles moved with every turn of his body. Suddenly a flash of the same back muscles, naked, moving as he towered over you and thrust his hips into yours made your stomach clench and you could feel your panties getting damp. God you wanted him so badly.

Jungkook could see your wistful lust-filled eyes becoming hazier and he sped up the pace. He finally stopped when he reached an empty corridor near the back exit. He would have liked to have more privacy than that, but something about making you beg for him in a public place made his cock twitch in anticipation. He really needed to get a hold of himself otherwise he’d be done before you’d even started.

He tugged at your wrist and lightly pushed you into the wall, he would have taken things a lot slower but your gaze told him to hurry up and take you then and there. And who was he to deny you?

His eyes raked over your body, and a sigh escaped his lips. “Beautiful”. Even though he craved to taste you, he took a moment to appreciate the way your eyes glistened with passion, your chest heaving along with your breaths and your perfume clouding his senses. He wondered if you tasted as sweet as you smelt.

A fistful of your hair in his hands, he pulled you flush against him, until all you could feel were the hard planes of his chest and his hardened member poking at your abdomen causing you to moan, your panties getting wetter.

You whimpered at the sensation as his fingers gripped the sensitive hairs at the back of your skull, goosebumps forming on your skin in anticipation. Expecting him to attack your mouth with the same hunger that was displayed in his eyes you leaned more into him.

You silently begged him to release the coil that had formed in your stomach but he wanted you to beg. His breath fanned the pieces of hair that fell onto your face. The last rebellious piece of you that refused to fall into his clutches. In a desperate attempt to get him to kiss you, touch you - do something, you grabbed tightly onto his biceps relishing in the feel of the muscle tensing underneath your fingers.

“You’re not playing fair laundry boy,” you huff, feeling frustrated over the lack of contact. His laugh, dark, deep and lascivious sent a shiver down your spine.

“Baby girl, that’s not my name” his free hand clasped onto your waist squeezing hard enough to send a jolt through the pit of your stomach all the way down to your heated core. “Jungkook” you whimper and in a last attempt you hook your leg around his thin waist.

“That’s it baby” he lowered the hand on your waist towards your thigh, his fingers leaving an indentation in the skin. Seizing the opening you started grinding your core onto his thigh trying to relieve the ache. His lips ghost over your neck in a tantalizing way, his tongue sweeping over the nape briefly tasting your saltiness. The sensation of his warm tongue on the exposed area of your neck followed by the coldness from the air makes you moan. You could smell his perfume, combined with the musky scent of his sweat and alcohol made your head swim in delight.

“Jungkook, please” , you exposed your neck to him needing more. Rolling your hips into his thigh you could feel the blood pumping underneath your skin, the pleasure overshadowing any rational thought. The friction between your clit and his pants left you breathless, the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter ready to unfurl. All of a sudden Jungkook stepped a few inches away, and you lost contact with his leg. Robbed of your release, you instantly whine.

“Mmmm, I can't have you cum on my leg, as much as I would like to see you ride it out on your own. I need to taste you.” he demanded. The hand still supporting your leg inched closer and closer to your dripping cunt. Slipping a cold hand under the hem of your dress his fingers made contact with your heated core causing you to jerk. You yelped, your hips bucking into his hand. Your hands latched tightly onto his shoulders, your fingers digging into them in an attempt to steady yourself. He cupped you through your panties, the heel of his palm pressing into you. Muffling a moan into his shoulder you begged him to touch you more, but he retracted it away from your tender flesh.

“Nuh-uh not yet.” The hand pinched your thigh and you tried not to cry at the feelings bubbling up inside you. You were frustrated and horny, and his taunts were enough to make you crave for more.

“Laundry boy” you warn, staring him dead in the eye.

“Y/N, what did I say about my name” he pulled at the hair he still gripped tightly in his hand. Cradling you close to him he bucks his knee into your core, this time freely offering the friction that you had been yearning for. You whined, the lewd sound echoing in his ear. Your clit on fire, you pressed yourself more into his knee.

“That’s it, moan for me with those pretty lips” gaining a bit of self control you decided it was time for you to step up your game.

“Do you not want to see what else these pretty lips can do?” you licked your lips, your heart racing. Your hooded eyes suggested more than Jungkook would have expected from you.

“Dirty girl” biting his lip before he crashed them onto yours, the contact making your lips smack and your teeth clash. Neither of you care as your tongues intertwine, carrying the battle that your hips are craving. The friction between you caused your whole body to heat up, your senses heightened. You could feel every bit of him against you. The way one hand gripped your thigh and the other pulled at the sensitive hairs at the nape of your neck, the way his tongue roughly caressed yours. He was intoxicating. In the heat of the moment he roughly pushed you into the wall behind you, the force causing you to moan into his mouth.

Jungkook was at the end of his wits, he had to have you now. He needed to taste you, see you unfurl in front of him as he eats you out. Breaking the kiss, your mouth sore, he observed the way your pants made your chest rise up and down, pushing your breasts into him.

Without a word, he attacked your mouth once again for a brief second before he trailed down your jaw to your neck, nipping the sensitive skin in the process. The hand on your thigh reached once more underneath the hem of your dress, this time making its way fully and cupping your dripping core. At the touch of his hand on your sensitive clit your knees buckled and you let your weight onto him, your forehead dropping onto his shoulder for support. You tried to suppress a moan.

“Let it all out baby” his mouth at the shell of your ear, the tip of his tongue trailing the delicate flesh there. “You’re so wet” he moans, “I can't wait to taste you.” His finger dipped under the band of your panties trailing over your center. “So soft” - he sucked your earlobe into his mouth and gave it a small bite - "so wet for me”

This time you couldn’t hold back your moan. The feel of his finger pressed into your folds, parting them and exposing your clit to his ministrations had you squirming. The tip of his finger started drumming in a rhythmic steady fashion on your engorged button. The feel of his lips caressing the sore earlobe relieving the sting from the bite is too much for you. “Jungkook please, I need..” your moans getting louder and louder as the pad of his finger presses harder in an unrelenting tempo.

The hand holding your neck slowly inched towards the swell of your breasts, picking the flesh there until it turned sore. His fingers still attached to your sensitive bud he suddenly drops on his knees in front of you. With his support now gone you try to grip uselessly at the wall behind you. He slots himself between your legs, forcing them to spread open. As he raised the hem of your dress and pushed your panties to the side you couldn’t help but look down. The sight of him between your legs glancing up at you made your knees buckle. With one hand tracing your folds and the other gripping your hip tightly to hold you in place he gives you an uncertain look. “Is this ok Y/N?” his concern for your approval makes your heart melt, but you were too high strung to think about that. You wanted him, and you wanted him now.

“Please” you moan in approval.

With your approval he dived right in, too hungry for your taste. Parting your folds with his fingers he starts by giving you a tentative lick. Being sensitive from his fingers you writhe, your hands desperately clutching at the wall behind you. Savouring the first taste of you he thrums with his finger at your clit. You arched your back, your hands giving up on trying to hold onto the wall. Instead they found their way into his hair, fingers gripping tightly.

Diving back in Jungkook starts lapping earnestly at your folds, his finger still applying pressure onto your sensitive nub. Bucking into his face you suppress a moan. The sensation of his wet tongue prodding at your entrance is too much to take and your knees buckle. Jungkook sensed the shift in your weight and quickly grabbed a hold of your leg, hoisting it over his shoulder. The hand attached to your clit now tightly gripped your calf. The change in position offered the extra support you needed to not fall over.

With your entrance now completely opened to him his tongue started rapidly tracing your folds, only stopping to suck on your clit.

“Jungkook” the overstimulation from his tongue lapping up your wetness and his teeth nipping at the sensitive cluster of nerves is too much to handle, you can feel yourself take over, and Jungkook is more than happy to let you go at your own pace. Grinding over his face, your hands still gripping at his hair, you ride his tongue at your own pace desperate to reach your climax.

You can feel it, you are so close to release you could almost taste it.

Suddenly he entered a finger, knuckle deep into you pumping in and out quickly. Letting your calf go but making sure he is still supporting your weight with his body he leaves you sensitive nub alone and traces kisses along your inner thigh, up to your navel. The dress now obscuring other parts of you he gets up, his finger still deep in you, drawing pleasurable mewls out of your mouth.

“That’s it baby girl, tell me what you need” he is panting in your ear now. With the taste of you still lingering on his tongue and the sight of you coming undone from his ministrations makes him harder than he’s ever been. He felt uncomfortable under the constraints of his pants, the zip digging painfully.

“I need you to fuck me” you finally moan, your hips grinding against him chasing for that sweet release.

“I need you to come for me first baby, I need to see your pretty face when you cum all over my fingers” swiftly he changes fingers, his thumb now drumming at your sensitive clit. You gasp as a finger teases your entrance for a brief second before it penetrates your pussy.

The loud sounds coming from the club were not enough to drown out the lewd sounds that your wet pussy was making whilst Jungkook’s finger pistoned into you. The shot fire along with the shameless sounds you were making were enough to make the tight coil in your belly unfurl. With a deep loud moan you bit Jungkook’s shoulder in an attempt to muffle the yell that was threatening to spill out of your lips. Your muscles clenching in tandem with your core. Jungkook felt your cunt clamping his fingers tightly and a low grunt escaped past his lips. He could almost imagine how wet and tight you would be around him.

“That’s it beautiful, let go”

Your hips carried on buckling, chasing the high and wishing it would not stop. Jungkook took his time observing how your head fell down and your mouth opened slightly in a silent satisfied scream, how your eyes scrunched up as if you were trying to cut off all your senses apart from the feeling of his fingers in you. You were beautiful. When at last your muscles relaxed and your high subsided a low sigh fell out of your lips. It has been a long time since someone has made you cum like that with just their fingers. Jungkook’s finger still lazily traced your clit, the overstimulation too much for you to handle.

“Jungkook '' you whined trying to back away from him but the tight grip on your waist wasn’t allowing you to move more than a few inches away. Without a word Jungkook pulled his hand out of your panties and let go of you. Your knees still weak from your climax you struggle to stand up right and you end up having to lean into him slightly for support. The sight of him licking his fingers coated in your juices sets you on fire once more.

“You’re beautiful when you cum Y/N.” Somehow, his words made you blush. The lewd act that you both partook in had failed to make you blush, instead what made you self conscious was the way he gazed at you. It was softer and more intense and it made your stomach clench once more. If not for the obscene act in the deserted corridor of a club, you might’ve actually entertained the idea that he cared.

You smiled shyly at him and in that moment he was swept away by the warmth expanding from his chest. You were indeed beautiful. And witty, and smart, and you liked to do your laundry. What more could he want? Cupping your face, he kissed you once more, slowly and with purpose. You gasped, you were not used to this gentle Jungkook. Taking the opportunity to pull you closer once more, his tongue mapped every inch of your mouth.

“Fuck me now please” you whisper against his lips. Your hand on his belt moved slowly over the bulge in his pants. He bucked into your touch at the feel of your fingers wrapping around him as much as you could with his pants still on.

“Y/N” he warns. If you carried on that way he would definitely come in his pants. Rubbing him slowly, you could feel his member harden even more under your touch.

“Is it uncomfortable babe?” you whisper in his ear. “How about I return the favour?” you unzip his pants prepared to lower yourself to the floor but he grabs your shoulders keeping you in place.

As much as he would have liked to feel those soft lips around him, he knew that if anyone were to bump into you two, it would not be good. The club was full of students going to the same university as you. If they were to find you on your knees blowing him it would instantly kill your reputation. He did not want that to happen.

“Not here” he zips his pants back up and grabs your hand gently. After all that had transpired between you this soft almost domestic treatment is not what you were expecting. Once again the warm feeling in your heart returned, and this time you were a bit more sober. He was cute, and somehow you found his duality endearing. He returned to being laundry boy Jungkook instead of the dominant Jungkook you’ve just witnessed.

You walked through the club, his hand still gripping you tightly as if he was afraid he’ll lose you in the crowd. Once you reached the outside you took a deep breath in relishing in the way the fresh air soothed your heated skin. Glancing up at Jungkook you noticed he was on his phone texting someone.

“I am texting my friends to let them know I have left,” he explained, putting his phone back in his pocket, smiling at you. The contrast of his lust-filled gaze from before and his gleeful smile almost gave you a whiplash. He was such a contradiction that you couldn’t help but be intrigued by him.

“And I ordered an Uber” as soon as he’d said that a car pulled over right in front of you. The ride back to the campus was a quiet one. It wasn’t an uncomfortable quietness though, having chatted about anything and everything in the club you were content to just put your thoughts in order. You noticed that he had not let go of your hand once during that time but with his gaze out the window, his face thoughtful you could not bear to say anything. Plus, you were enjoying the feel of his smooth hands holding yours.

As the car pulled up in front of the dorm you both shared a glance, an understanding passing in between the two of you.

Once inside the fire inside you sparked up again. Grabbing at each other, your mouths hungrily clashing, you stumbled all the way to the elevator. It was late enough that no one would see you two messily making your way to your room. As soon as you entered the lift and separated to press the correct button you finally remembered what you’d forgotten. If you were a bit more sober you would have laughed at the hilarity of the situation.

Your face fell. “The laundry” you whined in distress. Jungkook’s mouth fell. He threw you a panicked look thinking that you’d changed your mind. One glance at you was enough to tell him that you were panicking in earnest.

“What happened to the laundry?” his hand hovering over the lift buttons unsure of what to do.

“I forgot to put the laundry in the dryer!” you looked at him with such drunken despair he had to hold his laughter in. He did not want to offend you by laughing in your face. You were sober enough to not slur your words, but clearly not sober enough to process your own feelings.

“Let's get that done then.” He decided that as much as he liked your witty self, as well as you in the throes of passion, he adored this side of you too; your guard down, emotions on display. It made his heart swell thinking that you were entrusting him with your vulnerabilities.

You rushed ahead of him entering the laundry room, not paying attention to anything but the lone machine still loaded with your clothes. You quickly opened it, the smell of clean cotton wafting around you.

“Let me help.” Jungkook grabbed the pile of clothes you were holding and moved them into the dryer next to him. As soon as everything was loaded in you turned to smile at him. The panic in your eyes now replaced by the same hunger that governed your mind earlier, you grab him forcefully, clashing your mouth against his. Your hips slammed together in an attempt to ride the pleasure from before. Jungkook, not having expected you to be so forceful, moaned into your mouth and instantly hardened against your hip bone. The quiet of the laundry room was filled with the sounds of your pants as you continued to kiss. In the heat of the moment, Jungkook places his hands on your ass, hoisting you up on the laundry machine behind you. The position allowed your hips to align perfectly, the pressure of his dick now directly onto your clit. Before you could go further Jungkook stopped and looked at you.

“You need to start the dryer,” with the last of his restraints he motioned to the still machine. You glare at him, this being the second time he cockblocks you and himself. But his gaze was unwavering. You sighed and leaned away from him, reaching for the top of the dryer as well as you could still atop of the laundry machine. “Whatever you say laundry boy.”

After pressing down on the start button, you’re quick to return to kissing him. But the quietness of the room seemed odd to you. The dryer had not started. Confused, you look at it again, certain that you pressed the right button. Pressing it once more you wait this time. The dryer stayed still.

The chaotic emotions from before enveloped you again and this time you could feel tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” Jungkook is throwing you a worried look, not having expected the sight of your tears.

“It’s not started! It’s broken!” you exclaim tears pooling barely hanging onto your bottom lashes. You pushed him gently aside and hopped off the laundry machine. “Why has it not started?”

The desperate look you gave him paired with the knowledge that the machine was not doing what you wanted because you had not paid makes him crack and start laughing. You gape at his bunny smile and crinkly eyes offended until the silliness of the situation catches up to you and you can’t help but join.

“I have never cried over a broken dryer before. Or been cockblocked by one” you glance at him, mirth in both your eyes.

“And you better not start now” he warns you jokingly. You stare at each other for a second before you burst out laughing again.

He can’t help but be enamoured by you and your silliness. Even though the night had not gone as you’d both planned. You both crying in laughter over a dryer makes him think that maybe there was something more there than a one night stand. And he was more than ready to give it a try.

Main Masterlist

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[cupidsintern]

shot thru the heart, pt 3

pt 1 //pt 2

-

Steve staves off actually caving and asking Billy for the notes for as long as he possibly can. Which is like, four days.

He actually needs those notes, for real, because he hasn’t been able to write a single fucking thing except the day’s date on his paper since…. Since Billy started sitting behind him at the beginning of the semester. It’s just been distracting, okay? That’s all.

That’s all.

And if Steve thinks about this anymore his head is going to literally explode so-

“Hey, Hargrove.” Steve catches up to Billy just as they are both leaving class. And he spaces out for a millisecond thinking how every time he thinks about blonde-curls-blue-eyes he thinks Billy, but what he says is ‘Hargrove.’

Billy slows, looks over his shoulder a little like he’s letting Steve know he’s allowed to continue, but he doesn't stop walking. He’s a faster walker than Steve, even though Steve’s legs are longer. Too long- he feels like a fucking. One of those. Desert-deer things. Antelope? No, a gazelle- it’s a gazelle.

“I, uh,” Steve realizes he’s never actually walked anywhere with Billy before, and has never entertained the possibility, but he started talking, so he may as well keep going. “If you’re still cool with it, borrowing your notes would be like, really helpful.” Why does he sound so stilted?

“Sure.” Billy seems so impartial to the whole thing, but Steve grins, a little relieved.

“Great! Uh, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Billy nudges past him.

Now Steve’s standing alone on the sidelines of the main hall. And he feels warm all over again.

Steve is sitting at his desk the next day when a small stack of notes gets dropped in front of him- the paper snaps a little against the desk’s wood top.

Steve turns around in time to catch Billy sliding into the seat behind him.

“Hey,” Steve smiles, tries to think of something else to say like ‘thanks again’ when Billy goes,

“That's everything I have from this unit. Don’t write on them cause I want them back.”

“Okay,” Steve thinks Billy seems like he's trying to compensate for something. “Thanks again.”

Billy shrugs. But he does smile a bit. One of his nothing-matters-I'm-cool smiles.

“Maybe we could study together sometime-” Steve says before thinking about it at all, so it comes out way lower than he means it to so he has to clear his throat and go “If you want.”

Steve panics for a split second, something trying to flip over in his chest and he worries Billy’s gonna think he was asking something else, is gonna get him all wrong- but-

“If I didn't know better I’d say you were asking me to hangout, Harrington.” Billy laughs just a little. A little huff, sharp off his tongue.

Steve looks away, then looks back to Billy. “I mean, sure, yeah.”

Steve can swear Billy lights up for a second, smiles a little brighter, sits up more- but then, no. Billy only looks nonchalant again. “Hm. Maybe.” Then he looks back at his own notebook. And Steve takes that as a signal that the conversation is Now Over.

He turns back to his desk. Billy’s notes are still there.

It's days before the test, and Steve is sure that Billy's notes would be super helpful if he was actually reading them for clarity and understanding or whatever, but instead he’s discovered something entirely different, scribbled in the margins of almost every page; commentary. Billy writes literal commentary, more scrawly and casual than the rest of his legible nites.

Shit like; “Incorrect date in lecture but who’s gonna notice that certainly not the guy whos supposed to be fucking teaching us this no sir” and “just saw a bird out the window” and “Five minutes in and you have no idea what’s going on huh?”

That last one seems a little sweeter than the two before it, though. Like Billy’s talking to someone, other than himself.

Steve loves looking at those notes.

Loves the slopes and slants of the writing. Loves the commentary. Loves the little doodles Billy does in the margins. A knife with a spiraly handle. A skull that’s actually pretty good, could make a good tattoo maybe. Roses- lots of them. All different sizes. And a little heart with an arrow shot through it. Steve didn’t know Billy likes to draw. He’s not half bad. Steve smiles to himself a little. Runs his hand over one of the roses absently, wonders if they’re Billy's favorite because they’re Steves favorite, because they’re the classic-

Steve should probably be learning a lot more than he was though.

Steve actually studies for a few days. Like two, but still. He looks at Billy's notes multiple times. Actually invests time and energy into learning shit. So, you know, good for him. Good for him, managing to get good enough with Billy to actually reap the benefits of almost-friendship, because honestly maybe they could be friends, right? Maybe.

Hopefully.

Steve kind of likes sitting near Billy now, kind of likes the banter they have going, likes how Billy never makes him feel dumb, even if he calls him dumb…

But he still leaves class right as the bell rings, quick as a whip crack. Steve can barely even get in a ‘goodbye.’

He’s only a little disappointed, but it’s not like he has any reason to care-

He looks down.

Billy’s notebook. On the ground in the desk aisle.

It must have fallen out of Billy’s backpack on his brisk way out.

Steve scoops it up, shoves it in his backpack, and is out the door without so much as a second thought.

The second thoughts kick in when Steve gets home. When he tosses his backpack on his bed and paces around like that's gonna do anything before walking back over and pulling Billy’s notebook out and just, Holding it. Looking at it. Feeling overcome with.. Something.

He should open it. No, he shouldn’t, it’s not his.

But he wants to.

Billy ripped out pages to give him notes, clearly there’s stuff in here for Billy’s eyes only.

Steve can’t help himself.

He opens it.

And honestly, it’s pretty standard stuff. Old notes. More commentary that Steve relishes with every new word. A doodle of Bugs Bunny holding a joint that’s actually pretty good.

And a half-ripped page in the back that reads:

“Literally so beautiful it’s impossible not to-

But I don’t think you’re a dumbass-

I promise. Which is dumb, bec-

but I can’t help myself. I-

wish you knew how -

wonder if I’m i-

smells good-

Stupid-”

It’s a love letter. Steve’s dumb, but he’s not stupid. No doubt in his mind- this is a love letter.

Steve sits there. Reading the broken up sentences, over and over.

Billy wrote a love letter. Unmistakably his handwriting. Pieces of beautiful ideas about someone Billy is clearly crazy about-

And Steve’s heat sinks. Sinks all the way down from its high-falutin place in his throat, pushing at the back of his tongue down, down, into the darkest pit of his stomach. Immediately he knows-

That warm feeling from before? The all consuming too-hot cinnamon and grease feeling from before was not jealousy.

This is jealousy.

The idea that Billy cares about someone enough to write them a letter in his perfect pretty collected handwriting makes Steve sick with envy. He just sort of figured he was the only person relevant enough to take up Billy's brainspace. Not like anyone else thinks about Steve in any way anymore…

Steve drops the notebook back on his bed like it burned him. He sits on the edge of his bed, tilts his head up to the ceiling, closes his eyes.

Fuck. Fuck please dear god why now.

Steve wished this was the first time this had happened. The first time he'd stumbled his way into thinking about a guy like that.

But it wasn't. God he didn't want to have to think about this. He tries never to think about this shit. It wasn't like it happened all the time, wasn't like he couldn't just wait for it to go away like he had before.

But it did mean he had to stop talking to Billy right the fuck now.

No more copying his notes. No more maybe-hanging out. No more fucking banter in class. Steve needed to crush this… fluke. Before it became anything worse.

But if he was so resolved to not think about Billy like that, then why couldn’t he just get rid of the torn letter?

-

part 4 coming sooon! the thrilling conclusion !!!

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve x billy #billy x steve #harringrove fanfic #harringrove fic #my fic