#thing in my life has fallen apart... i had dreams... i had things i wanted to do and stuff id planned out for which i already had less time

[mrchiipchrome]

The Museum

W.C. - 5.2 k

this is so the 'pookie looks absolutely fire' tiktok couple coded

thank you to the anon that requested this, much love to you:)

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The skittles made a crunching sound as your molars bit down on them, it was an every day snack for you, tasting the rainbow more often than not. It was a relatively new habit, but when your ex had broken up with you, you promised yourself to become a better person.

It obviously had to be you who had something wrong with them, otherwise she wouldn’t have fallen in love with someone else and out of love with you. Quitting smoking was the first thing on your agenda, hence the skittles.

The next thing was to get away from the small southern town in Texas, move so far away that you left the country entirely. The only thing you’d taken with you on the plane was a carryon with 2 changes of clothes, your cowboy hat and a dream of bettering your life.

The third thing you bettered was your health, going out for a run every morning through the streets of London, going to the gym after work, doing push-ups before bed. It worked wonders, the tips you got from the ladies at the bar where you worked were simply incredible.

The fourth thing you wanted to improve was your cultural knowledge, the exact reason why you were standing in the middle of a museum, old renaissance paintings in every corner of the large room. It was something you appreciated, none of that modern bullshit where people just taped a banana to a canvas and called it art, it was back from when people actually painted.

Your hand slipped down your body into your jacket pocket, fetching another piece of candy, although a voice speaking up from your right startled you nearly enough for you to drop it back into the bag.

“You’re not supposed to eat in museums, you know?” The woman had a foreign dialect, just like you. You guessed it was from somewhere in the middle of Europe, maybe Germany or any of the neighboring countries.

“It’s not a problem if you don’t tell on me, no one has to know.” She seems just as startled by your accent as you were by her speaking to you, her cheeks dusted with a light pink at the wink you sent her.

“What are you going to do if I tell them? Take me back to your ranch on your horse?” The mystery woman teases, obviously making fun of the accent and the cowboy hat sitting perched on your head. In response you laugh under your breath, shaking your head in amusement.

“I’m afraid that I left the ranch back in Texas, Miss. All I have here is a small one bedroom apartment.” She looks up at you through the side of her eye, her half smile distracting you more than you’d like to admit. Her brows knit together when she notices a security guard eying the two of you curiously and her elbow digs into your ribs when you once again reach for the skittles in your pocket.

“Nice hat, my friend would be jealous.” You nod in agreement, plucking the stetson off your head and turning it around in your hand. In a brief moment of stupidity, you place the cowboy hat on the pretty stranger’s head, it falling down the front of her face to cover her eyes. It’s frankly adorable, the way she brings her hand up to push it back to the crown of her head.

The reassuring smile on her face tells you that she approves of your action, a relief to your entire being. She takes her phone out of her back pocket, turning it on and snapping a picture of you both, the cowboy hat still perched on top of her head.

In response, you snap a picture of her alone, the woman posing like a cowboy would for you. She was going to be the wallpaper of your phone for a while, even though you didn’t even know her name.

“So, do you have a name or am I just going to have to call you mine?” The cheesy pickup line just slips out, not at all consciously, it was like instinct took over, a pretty girl was to be flirted with.

“I wouldn’t mind being called yours, but for now you can call me Lia.” The woman doesn’t seem uncomfortable by your advances, in fact she embraces them, teasing smile telling you that she found it amusing how worried you got over a simple pickup line.

“Lia, a beautiful name for an even more gorgeous girl.” She gains her pink tint back, the compliment likely the cause of her blush. It wasn’t like she never got complimented, it was just the attractive zing your accent put over the words that made them feel more sincere.

“And how about you? A name attached to that pretty face?” Now it was your turn to blush at the other woman’s words, her lips splitting into a full toothed smile.

“Y/n. Y/n Y/l/n.” You imitate Bond to introduce yourself, sticking your hand out for her to take, a firm handshake and the tip of an imaginary hat letting her know who exactly it is you are. 

“Good to know my future last name.” She winks at you and the blush that’s already covering your face deepens significantly. The insinuation that you were to marry the girl beside you too much for your poor little heart to take. 

She starts to walk away from you and towards another section of the room, looking back over her shoulder when she realizes that you weren’t right beside her, walking. Waving her hand in a “come here” motion, you quickly catch up with the older woman. 

“So, why skittles? Is there not any other sweet you’d rather have?” She asks as you match her slow rhythm of steps, your hands shoved in the pockets of your coat with your arms forming loops. Lia threads one of her arms through yours, leaning her head on your shoulder, standing still all of a sudden to look at a painting. It didn’t feel like you’d just met, like you’d just introduced yourselves to one another, it felt like you’d known each other for decades, easily slipping into being comfortable with each other.

You gaze at her as she looks at the painting, making sure to map out all her gorgeous features and commit them to memory. She was like a breath of fresh air in a world of polluted oxygen.

“First of all it’s called candy, not sweets, candy. Secondly, they’re amazing for when you want to stop smoking.” Her cheek smushes against your shoulder as she turns her head to look up at you, her eyebrows scrunched together adorably.

“You were a smoker?” You feel the strong urge to place a peck atop her lips, soft and warm against your own. But in the end you resist, you’d only just met the woman for god’s sake, you don’t want to make her uncomfortable. Her eyes hold so many emotions that you just can’t read.

“Yeah, only for about a year. My ex stressed me out so much that I felt it was the easiest way to deal with it. But when she broke up with me, I decided to get my life back together, moved here, got a job at a bar and that’s it. That’s why I’m here.” Lia listens intensively at the story you’re telling her, the way she looks at you suggests that she’s hanging off your every last syllable.

“So no more smoking at all for you?” You puff your chest up, proudly displaying the grin on your face and your now discolored tongue. Lia looks on in amusement at your actions, a grin that could light up an opera house on her face. 

“Nope, I’m never picking up a cigarette again.” The amusement turns into a sort of profound proud feeling, a feeling that she definitely shouldn’t be feeling for what is practically a stranger. A stranger that in the matter of a mere hour had worked their way into her heart and made themselves home.

“Good, I’m really happy for you.” The softened look on Lia’s face makes you blush, it was the way most people looked at their loved ones. You couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to be one of her loved ones, how it would feel to see her first thing in the morning, to gaze into her tentative eyes and try to read her like a book just because you know exactly how it is she acts, how she feels at that exact moment, what she thinks.

At your faraway look Lia nudges you in the ribs, giggling at the embarrassed expression that occupies your face. Her giggle could only be described as a ray of sunlight, lighting the glum room up in seconds, giving it a golden glow.

The older woman doesn’t miss the fondness in your gaze as you watch her laugh, your own lips splitting into a smile and soon after a loud belly laugh bubbles up in your chest, welling out of your mouth like water out a dam. 

Only moments later the both of you are doubled over in laughter, tears slipping down your cheeks and arms crossed over your stomachs. Some scattered guests give you two dirty looks, as if you were peasants in a house full of royals, but they are counter effective because it only makes you and Lia laugh harder.

The security guard from earlier approaches you both as you drop down to the floor with a loud thump, Lia bursting out into an entire new fit of laughter as you try to catch your breath.

“Y/n, I’ve already let you get away with a lot today but this is your last strike. Up you get, I’ll escort you and your lady companion to the exit.” He speaks through his thick mustache, his round beer gut bobbing up and down with every word like he needed every fat covered muscle of his stomach to get the words out.

Small giggles escape you both as Lia and you are led out of the building by a firm grip around both of your arms. You both watch in amusement as the fat man gets winded walking back up the stairs he just led you down, bending over for a brief second at the top before disappearing back behind the door.

“So, I take it you know the security guard then?” She sounds a little out of breath as she speaks to you, flyaways sticking out of her bun, your hand itches to reach up and smooth them out, undo her bun and run your fingers through her hair. But you don’t. 

“Yeah, he’s my regular. Comes in every day and buys a pint after work, a good friend of mine he is. He lets me get away with eatin’ in there every time I come.” You stand right in front of the brunette, hands again in your pockets as you smile at her tentatively. Her hand comes up to rub at your arm, and you feel as though you were going to pass out at any moment, the electric feeling of her ring covered fingers touching your arm overwhelming in a good way.

“Ah, a museum nepo baby then.” You can tell that she’s joking by the way her eyebrows raise all the way up to her hairline, and you imitate her by doing the same thing. Another fit of giggles ensues, Lia looking directly into your eyes, holding eye contact for a prolonged amount of time.

It makes you nervous, her somewhat challenging gaze locking on your face for a moment longer than necessary. When she grasps your hands in hers you finally look back at her, meeting her tender gaze with your own.

“I really enjoyed today, I was hoping we could do it again sometime.” The older woman looks at you sheepishly, nearly nervously. You’re mesmerized by her gorgeous simplicity, simple smile grazing her lips as you nod, a recognisable warmth behind the hug she gives you, the quick kiss she places on your cheek haphazardly before walking away, not looking back to see your rose tinted cheeks.

It’s only when Lia has disappeared far behind the horizon that you realize that you have no way to contact her AND that she essentially got away with your favorite cowboy hat. You aren’t as distraught about your hat as you are about not getting her number, it was a dumbass move from you.

You drag your feet all the way back to your apartment, not knowing that only moments after you left the museum, the girl of your dreams ran back all the way to get your number. And like you, she dragged her feet all the way back to her apartment, sulking and questioning her own intelligence.

Arriving at the bar that evening was strange, you felt almost empty without the girl you’d met earlier that day, no light brown cowboy hat perched atop your head nor a beaming smile. It was weird to everyone around you, you always had that damned hat on, but now it was a completely different one, black with a few white accents.

“What happened to you? It looks like someone ran over your dog.” Your co-worker and best friend Marla asks, placing her hand on your shoulder softly as if you were to break if she did it any harder. Shaking your head, your other friend and co-bartender Jason comes up to rub your back softly, the comfort from both of your best friends loosening you up significantly and soon after you spill everything that had happened up to that point.

They were both smirking at you when you finished up the story, knowing that despite only just meeting the woman in the museum you were already in love. 

“So do you have a picture of this goddess who’s making you drop to your knees?” Marla asks you, looking knowingly at your other best friend, who in return wiggles his eyebrows at her. You knew something would happen between them soon, and you’d rather be in hell than to watch it.

“Yeah, just give me a quick sec.” Pulling out your phone, you quickly unlock it and enter the photo app, not needing to scroll as the most recent photo was of her, Lia.

“Girl, are you fucking with me?” You look at the dark skinned girl in confusion, her eyes widening as she realizes that you had no fucking clue who it was you had met. She looks to her ‘boyfriend’ quickly in shock, who looks back at her equally appalled.

“Are you telling me you don’t recognise her?” The moment you shake your head is when the green eyed boy facepalms, not believing your stupidity. “Not at all? You haven’t seen her before.” When you once again shake your head the man sighs in disappointment, all faith in your intelligence practically gone.

“Girl. That is Lia Wälti, you know one of the best midfielders in the country? Arsenal Women’s player.” Now it’s your turn to look shocked, not at all knowing that she was a footballer. All the times you’d gone over to Marla’s house to watch footy, she’d probably been injured.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I didn’t even recognise her.” You lean against the door, sliding your body down until you’re sitting flush on the floor, head in your hands. Jason places his hand on your shoulder, smiling softly at you as he tries to reassure your overwhelmed mind.

“Hey, man, it was probably a good thing that you didn’t recognise her. She knows that you’re not some crazed fan trying to kill her, eh?” Marla’s hand plucks your cowboy hat from your head and runs her fingers through your hair, your shared shift started in mere minutes and yet they were there, comforting you.

“I’m okay, just a bit shell shocked.” They both laugh, pulling you up by your hands and bringing you into a group hug, patting your back before Marla gives you your hat back, smacking both you and Jason’s asses before disappearing out to her office.

“You know, we have an extra ticket to the Arsenal game on Sunday, so I mean if you want to see her again then you’re welcome to join.” You smile at the man’s kindness, telling him that you’ll definitely take him up on his offer. You didn’t have a shift at the bar either way that day so spending it looking for your … well you didn’t really know what it was she is to you. All you know is that you wanted to see her again.

Two days later you find yourself sitting as close to the pitch as you possibly can, waiting for the North London derby to start. 

Lia is in the starting lineup, looking determined as she waits for the whistle signaling the start of the game to sound. The shrill noise cuts through the air and the game starts.

It’s physical right from the start, loads of pushing and shoving coming from both sides, red and white. There are a few times where you nearly jump to your feet as Lia gets pushed but the fact that your friends sat there right beside you made you choose not to.

At half time the score is the same as the beginning, nil-nil. Despite not knowing much about football you join in on analyzing the first half of the game, mentioning all the times Lia went down. Marla makes some ‘innocent’ comments about how you’d much rather have her ‘go down’ somewhere else. The blush that overtakes your face is enough for you to blend in with your jersey, the red of the Arsenal shirt the same shade as your face.

When the second half starts, you’re basically on your feet all the way through, cheering loudly when Alessia scores, meaning that the gunners were up one-nil.

It’s particularly hilarious when Lia finally notices you, a pause in the game meaning that she had the time to look around at the fully packed Emirates Stadium. When those eyes you love to gaze into meet yours for the first time since Friday, her face split open in a smile, a smile reaching all the way up to her eyes.

It looks like she has to physically restrain herself so that she doesn’t run over to you, her body shaking slightly as she calmly inches her way towards you, the cheers of the fans around you becoming louder as the player comes closer. Lia tunes them all out though as she looks at you, the only thing cutting through her trance being the whistle signaling the freekick being awarded. 

Lia looks back towards you as she walks in the direction of the group of players and you wink at her, even though she’s far away it seems like she saw it, the deep tint of red dusting her face definitely more than exertion from the game. 

When the three loud whistles sound throughout the arena, it explodes in cheers as Arsenal manage to keep their one-nil lead and in doing so make London red again. But you don’t even acknowledge the win when there’s a speeding Lia Wälti heading straight in your direction.

She only starts to slow down as she reaches the barrier which separates the fans from the pitch and players, with you standing up behind it to watch her come closer and closer with every quick step she takes.

Lia throws her arms around your torso when she comes close enough, the way that she had been longing for your touch had been driving her crazy in the days since you first met. She also knew that it wasn’t smart to do it all out in the open, fans and professionals alike were probably going to know everything about you within a few days. You didn’t seem to mind though, content with having her in your arms again.

Pulling away from her, you quickly take her face in your hands, looking her over to see if her face was scratched up from all the times she’d met the ground in the game. 

“Shit, darling, I think you spent more time on the ground in this game than on your feet. You ought to be more careful.” Your southern drawl is especially thick when you speak to her, the worry you’d experienced the entire game bubbling to the surface.

“I’m perfectly fine, I think you’re forgetting that I do this for a living.” She smiles at you reassuringly and you calm down fully, her hand placed on your arm a sure factor of it. Lia’s head turns to your side, looking directly at your friends who both send her starstruck looks. 

“Hi, I’m Lia.” The footballer smiles in their direction and they both remain in their seats, completely unmoving. She looks back to you concerned and in response you just laugh, they were apparently not expecting her to actually greet them. “Are they okay?” 

“I think they’re just a bit starstruck.” Gesturing towards their gaping mouths, Marla quickly slaps your hand away from her face, biting at the air to show you that she wasn’t afraid to bite.

“Oh okay, well do you think they want anything signed? I can ask the team, or maybe if you want we can go meet them?” Lia sounds unsure of herself, apparently doubting that her first impression on your friends was good.

“I think that they’d love that sweetheart. But judging from all the looks we’re getting from that same team, I do think they want you back.” You glance towards the women gathered in a clung in the middle of the pitch, all of them staring at you and Lia interacting. She sighs at their slightly invasive culture, but alas there wasn’t anything that she could do about it. When you smile and wave at them, you’re thoroughly amused when every single one of them repeats your actions back to you, some in confusion and some in amusement.

“A guard is going to tell you to follow him, just do as he says and we’ll meet again soon.” By that point the stadium was almost empty, everyone wanting to go home and brag about their team’s win over the archrival. So as Lia walks away from you, you’re totally free to stare at her ass, only stopping when Marla slaps your arm harshly.

“Did that just happen?” Jason asks shakily, running his hand down his face in embarrassment.

“You’re damn right it did.” You laugh at their stupid expressions, their embarrassment clear on their faces. “Well look on the bright side, y’all are going to meet the team.” With that their embarrassment turned into excitement, meeting their favourite athletes quickly turning their mood around.

“Y/n Y/l/n? Come with me and take your friends with you.” Walking around the labyrinth of slinging hallways and narrow paths, you appear in front of the locker room in no time, the loud music escaping the door a clear indicator of the Gunners good match.

“Now just wait out here until they come out, they’ll probably be out in a few.” The guard tells you unbothered, not caring at all that he’s leaving people he doesn’t know outside of the locker room.

“Yes sir.” You speak up clearly, mock saluting him as he disappears down the hallway with a sigh.

“I can’t believe that you’re 28, you act like a 12 year old.” Marla tells you jokingly, leading to you pushing her away from you. In the span of a few seconds both you and Marla find yourselves on the floor, engaging in a wrestling match. It only gets broken up when the sound of the door opening echoes through the hallway, both you and your best friend quickly getting on your feet.

“Nah what’s going on here?” A very amused Irish accented voice escapes the player exiting the locker room, one Katie McCabe staring at you and Marla.

“It was her fault.” You point at Marla so as to gesture that it was her who started it, the woman vehemently denying it.

“So I’m guessing you’re Lia’s cowboy then?” Katie completely ignores the blame game currently going on in front of her as she talks to you. Blushing at being called Lia’s, you quickly start to stutter out an answer.

“I- uhm yeah, I think so?” Laughter coming from behind the Irish woman makes you glance in the direction of the sound. Seeing Leah Williamson of all people is not what you expect, a bit starstruck yourself.

“Of course it’s the cowboy you buffoon, who else would wear a cowboy hat in London? You have to tell me where you bought the one Lia brought home, I need a new one. Mylie-moo chewed mine to filth a couple days ago.” Leah throws her arm around your shoulder as if you’d known each other for years, the woman clearly having heard a thing or two about you.

“Oh well I’ll be sure to bring you one next time I go back to Texas, my buddy Carl, he’s 72 and he makes the most gorgeous hats you can imagine. Last time I visited him I made him an instagram page, I’ll send you the link if you want?” You speak enthusiastically with the England captain, her arm still resting around your shoulders casually. Both Marla and Jason are in a conversation with Katie and Lotte, who just got out of the locker room.

“Important question, so answer me truthfully now, do you like country music?” She looks at you skeptically, trying to deduce if you’re being truthful or not. The question itself makes you roll your eyes playfully, but alas it didn’t surprise you. It was widely known that Leah was quite the country fan.

“Ma’am I grew up in Texas, yeah I’m a country fan. I’d be disowned if I wasn’t.” Leah looks at you like you’re her hero, it was clear to you that she accepted you. The hinges of the door squeak as a few other players exit, namely Lia.

“Lia please let me steal her, she’s perfect.” Leah says jokingly, holding onto your arm softly like she was a little kid. Lia looks at her weirdly, but quickly catches on to the joke, walking over to the two of you.

“I know, that’s why I want to keep her.” Lia wraps her arms around your waist tightly, her newly washed hair curling up into adorable curls, head placed on your shoulder. 

“Sharing is caring.” Leah is on the verge of laughter as she talks, the statement a shocking one for sure. It was hilarious though so you also had to keep from laughing.

“I mean I wouldn’t mind-” Lia shoots you a mean glare at your half serious words, and even though it was like being glared at by an adorable kitten, Lia already had you wrapped around her finger. “Actually I’m taken so I don’t think that would work.” 

All it takes for you all to break character is a shouted ‘WHIPPED’ coming from one of the players watching the interaction like it was a soap opera, the three of you laughing like it was the last thing you’d do.

“Alright, anyone want a drink? Not to brag but I can make a mean cocktail.” The women all cheer as you ask them, everyone rushing out to get into their cars and get to the bar. Just as you’re about to follow them, someone takes hold of your collar, making it so that you can’t go. 

Lia looks back when you don’t follow her but you just wave her off, telling her to go on without you. Turning back, you’re met with all the ‘scariest’ Arsenal players, looking like they’re about to beat you up.

“Listen carefully now, because this will only be said once, if you hurt a hair on her head, do anything to hurt her emotionally, if you do anything wrong that makes her sad, we will not hesitate to take your knees.” It’s Katie that speaks, all the others just nodding intimidatingly, glaring at you. 

“I’m going to try my best to make her happy, I know that she deserves the world.” They let up the facade of intimidation at your words, patting your back and pushing you in the direction of the car park. The conversation as you all are walking out of the building is pleasant, when you arrive at the parking lot there are just a couple of cars left.

Both of your best friends had left you to carpool with one of the remaining players, Lia called dibs though the second she looked at you, so it was with her you went.

“They weren’t too scary with you right? I know how they can be.” Lia says over the soft music being played from the radio, some Tyler, the Creator song. You look at her face, she was in deep thought and absolutely adorable. 

“Nah, it’s like being threatened by a pair of teddy bears. Let’s just say that I’ve had worse shovel talks.” She giggles as you start to tell her about all the weird shovel talks you’d gotten back in Texas, everything from being threatened with Chinese water torture to being hung upside down from a tree for simply speaking to a girl that wasn’t her.

When the bar comes into sight you see that multiple people have parked their cars right in front of it, telling Lia to just park on the curb.

“Y’all are such dickheads.” You laugh, slapping both Marla and Jason’s heads hard, they left you stranded. 

“Well you’ve got a girlfriend now who can drive your broke ass.” Marla shoots back, rubbing her head in pain. You roll your eyes at her dramatic actions, the slap wasn’t that hard.

“One-nil to me then, at least I have someone.” The sibling like banter was normal between you two by now, she was your best friend after all.

“C’mon cowboy, let’s sit down for a little.” Lia’s hand rests on your stomach as you both sit down on the booth, the place to sit being suspiciously small, to the point in which Lia had to throw her legs over your lap to get enough space.

It was nice to sit and talk with the team, they were regular people just like anyone else and it made you glad to see them just relax after a match. The atmosphere was calm, so calm in fact that Lia managed to fall asleep on your shoulder, quiet snores escaping her mouth.

Only moments later you fall asleep too, after having fought sleep for as long as possible. Your head rests on top of Lia’s and the girls think it’s absolutely adorable, some of them taking pictures of you both to send to their group chat.

“I knew being friends with her would pay off.” Jason jokes, thinking naïvely that you were fully asleep, getting a few laughs from the girls in the room. They get startled though as you utter a quick;

“Hey!” In protest, everyone soon laughed at your dramatic reaction to his joke.

Who knew that going to the museum would result in you getting a date?

#woso #woso x reader #arsenal wfc #lia walti #lia walti x reader #woso imagines #woso fanfics

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Falling For You.

[REQUEST] spencer reid x BAU!reader but they're in a secret relationship, and basically she gets him to watch all these romcoms, so when he makes a reference to something like Notting Hill or You've Got Mail and then the whole secret is blown.

warnings: mentions of lila archer, spoilers for 90s/2000s rom-coms, co-workers to lovers, love confessions, implied smut, secret relationships.

word count: 2.4k

It was no secret that the newest team member had a thing for romantic comedies. From the little jokes she made with Penelope to the quote from Pretty Woman on her travel mug, she was a walking Rom-Com reference.

Hotch understood some of the references, JJ would talk her ear off about her favourites, and even Emily and Derek would jokingly re-enact that scene from When Harry Met Sally every time they had a team lunch. It was only Spencer who didn’t get the jokes, and after having to explain them all to him 1 too many times, she finally invited him over to watch some. 

The first one they watched together was Can’t Buy Me Love. Patrick Dempsey, a loveable nerd has been saving up all summer to buy the telescope of his dreams when the girl next door accidentally ruins her mom's favourite dress and needs to buy a replacement… he ends up buying it for her on the condition that she pretends to date him so his Senior Year can be his best year yet. Spencer likes the movie overall, he wishes someone in his high school took enough pity on him to make him popular. But his favourite scene is when they go to the abandoned airplane graveyard and watch the stars in his homemade telescope. 

“I can make one of those,” Spencer whispers to her. 

“Really?” 

He nods, “It would be pretty easy… maybe we could go star gazing someday too?” He asks, biting the bullet and making this movie date the first of many dates they’d go on. 

—

The next movie they watch is Never Been Kissed. Drew Barrymore is a nerdy reporter who goes undercover at a high school and gets to relive her teen years while falling in love for the first time. Spencer likes this one because he can relate, he never had his first kiss until well into his 20s… and she was an actress, too. When he explains that to Y/N she can’t believe it, but he has the magazine photos of them saying goodbye after the case to prove it. 

“Have you kissed many people since then?” She asks, wishing he’d move a little closer to her and steal one. 

He nods, “a few.” 

“anyone good?” 

He shakes his head, “no, I’m saving the best kiss for last.” 

She looks puzzled? “What?” 

“My best kiss will be from the girl I end up marrying,” he gives her a smile and moves his hand over to hold hers. 

“Oh,” she bites back a smile and looks down at their interlocked fingers. “Have you at least met her yet?” 

“I think so…” 

“Well, then shouldn’t you kiss her to find out if she’s the right one?” She teases, leaning into his space even more. 

“I suppose you’re right,” he teases, he cups her face with his free hand and rubs his thumb over her cheek, “are you sure you’re okay with this?” 

She nods and leans in all the way this time. Effectively pressing their lips together. And even for a first kiss, it sure does feel different. It feels like her last first kiss ever. 

—

Keeping it a secret at work is hard when all they want to do is stare at each other with googly-eyes, they’ve fallen head over heels for each other and not told a single soul. No one knows about their movie dates or their real dates either. No one knows they’ve spent a whole night kissing or that they really, really, don’t mind sharing the hotel room with the two queen beds. And they definitely don’t know that they only slept in the one. Together. The whole week they were away. 

After the case ends, they head back to her apartment for their mandated 48 hours off with the pan to watch as many movies as they can. 

The third movie they watch is You’ve Got Mail. 

“Rival bookstore owners hate each other in real life, yet on the internet manage to fall madly in love with one another. Based on an older movie called The Shop Around The Corner, it’s a beloved story brought to life once again by the one and only Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan.” 

She explains every movie like this before they put it on. He’s honestly only watching them because he loves listening to her talk about them. 

“You see, they both have partners in real life but they email each other every day, as friends… but you know what it's like in movies like these,” she smirks. “Best friends who have a lot in common find it easy to fall in love.” 

“That they do,” he agrees. 

He raises his arm over the back of the couch and she sits back, leaning into his side just as his hand lands on her shoulder. They snuggle up close, she hits play and he watches with glee, not knowing this was going to become his favourite movie by the time it’s over. 

His favourite line is when two cars honk at each other and their drivers get out to argue, followed by Meg Ryan saying “Don’t you love New York in the fall?” Which is something Tom Hanks says to her in an email earlier that morning.

He loves the way the old man recalls a woman of his past and called her “enchanting” because what a wonderful thing to say about a woman.

He giggles when Tom Hanks tosses aside Pride and Prejudice cause he just doesn’t get it the way Meg's character does. But ultimately, he picks it back up because he wants to get to know her through her reading history. 

“I sympathize with Frank,” Spencer whispers as he brings out a typewriter when they have a perfectly good computer at her house. 

“I know,” she laughs. “I love the tablets at work, I can’t believe you still have Penny paint the files out for you.” 

You are a lone reed standing tall, waving boldly in the curet sands of commerce. Frank compliments Kathleen, or at least he tries to. 

Spencer giggles again. “I remember what it was like being a lone Reid,” he whispers before pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

She gets all flustered, so madly in love with him that she wants to scream it from the rooftops but it feels way too soon. They’re only 3 movies into their relationship. Maybe at 10, she’ll tell him. Till then, she looks over at him and steals a real kiss. 

Kathleen is so passionate about her books in the same way that Y/N loves her movies. Spencer sees so many similarities between them that it’s really no wonder that Tom Hanks’ character falls in love with her. Passionate, kind, beautiful women will always have a place in Spencer's heart. 

Their 4th movie is another Meg Ryan classic; When Harry Met Sally, and now Spencer understands why Derek pretends to have an orgasm when he eats a good salad… 

Their 5th movie is Notting Hill and Y/N can tell he doesn’t like it very much because unlike William Tucker, the actress who kissed Spencer never talked to him again after that. 

Their 6th movie, however, is Pretty Woman. And while they shared a bed all through the last case, they’ve never really slept together. So watching a movie all about sex and falling in love really didn’t help the frustration they were both feelings. By the time the movie ended, it was almost midnight and they should’ve been getting ready for bed. 

She gets up and heads to her room, expecting him to follow but he just stands in her doorway, watching with a bit of anxiety in his gut. 

“So…” Spencer asks. “What happens after he climbs up and rescues her?” 

She stills, her heart fills with love and she quickly makes his way to him. She cups his face in her hands, staring up at him. “She rescues him right back.” 

“Indeed you have,” he leans in and presses a quick kiss to her lips. “You know what all these movies have in common?” 

“What?” She has no idea where he’s going with this.

“They all fell in love pretty quickly, I mean just look at Vivian and Edward, it took them less than a week,” he explains. “So I don’t feel too crazy when I say… I love you, Y/N. I love you so very much.” 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” she whispers between kisses. 

They kiss and kiss and he walks with her, leading her toward the bed where they fall in and make love for the first time. It's hot and close and emotional. It's slow and steady and perfect. It’s everything both of them have dreamed of when they finally met the one. 

— 

On their second day off they watch How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, 13 Going On 30, 50 First Dates, A Walk to Remember, 10 Things I Hate About You, and The Holiday. They would’ve gotten to more if they weren’t so wrapped up in one another. By the time they go back to work, they’ve gotten through half of her list of favourite movies. 

He’s not sure if it’s luck or coincidence or what… but their next case happens to be in New York. 

When they land, they get into their Bureau-issued SUVs and weave in and out of traffic on their way to the scene. They’re honked at multiple times and Spencer just smirks to himself. It’s not until they get out and they’re honked at once again, with some guy yelling at them to get out of his way, that Spencer turns to her and says. “Don’t you love New York in the fall?” 

She giggles and shoves him, “Shut up.” 

“It’s not the fall?” JJ remarks, not knowing why he’d say such a thing or why she’d react like that. 

“Hey, isn’t that…” Emily thinks it over for a second. “That’s a line from you’ve got mail!” 

“How would Spencer know that movie?” JJ laughs it off. 

Spencer turns to beat red with embarrassment. “I’ve seen it…” 

“You’ve seen you’ve got mail?” Derek even rides him for this slip-up. “And when do you have time to watch rom-coms?” 

“I’ve seen the original,” he lies. “It’s based on The Shop Around The Corner. My mom liked it before she got sick.” 

“Okay,” they drop it there. 

Thankfully. 

And by the time the case ends, 3 days have passed, the unsub has been booked into Jail at 9am and they’re free to go home. If they want to. Derek suggests they all go out for breakfast, and Hotch says he rather go home and sleep. JJ wants to go shopping and Emily’s right there with her. 

Spencer on the other hand, he opens his phone and sends Y/N a message. 

“There’s a place in Riverside Park at 91st street where the path curves and there’s a garden. I’ll be waiting there for you.” 

She digs her phone out of her pocket seconds later and smiles, a small sigh leaves her as her shoulders slump. She’s so in love with him it's unreal. 

“What about you, Y/N?” Emily asks her. “Do you want to come with us?” 

“No… no, I have a friend in town I want to meet up with.” 

“Looks like it’s just me and you for breakfast, pretty boy,” Derek teased, wrapping his arm around Spencer. 

He shakes his head, “Actually, I was thinking about going on a little sightseeing adventure, you know I only come to new york for work.” 

“Fine then,” Derek drops it and he, Emily and JJ watch as Spencer and Y/N head off, out of the precinct and in different directions. “I bet you ten bucks they’re meeting up.” 

“Hold on,” JJ says as she calls up Penelope. “Hey, yeah, can you tell me where Spencer and Y/N’s GPS pings in 20 minutes?” 

“I can… why?” Penny asks nervously. 

“No reason. Just a hunch.” 

When Penelope eventually calls her back all she has to say is Riverside Park at 91st Street and they know. 

—

Y/N gets there first, she’s never seen this place in person before. The flowers are even more vibrant than in the movie. There are bees dancing around every other flower, couples walking around hand in hand, people on dog walks and moms with their strollers. It’s just an average early morning in New York. 

And then she sees him. He comes rounding the corner, he’s carrying a bouquet of flowers wrapped in newspaper… at least she thinks they’re flowers. 

What they don’t notice is their friends on the other side of the garden, watching them get closer and closer until they’re chest to chest. He wraps his free hand around her waist, she cups his face in her own hands, and she stares up at him like he hung the stars just for her.  

“I wanted it to be you,” Spencer whispers what was originally Meg Ryan's line. “I wanted it to be you so badly.” 

“You sure did save the best for last,” she knows exactly what he means. 

Just as they lean in to kiss, as his lips meet hers, they hear it. Someone is playing “Somewhere Over The Rainbow” just for them. They smile into the kiss, shocked that their life is playing out like a perfectly written movie and then they see them.

It’s their own friends who played it. They’re clapping in the distance, “Woo!!” Emily cheers.

“We knew this would happen!” Derek throws in for good measure. 

They can’t help but laugh, Spencer pulls her in for another kiss, a longer, more hearty kiss. He loves her and he wants everyone to know. 

When she pulls back, she looks as though she could cry, so he extends the bouquet to her. It’s a bunch of yellow, newly sharpened number 2 pencils tied up with string. 

“Don’t you love New York in the fall?” 

“Not as much as I love you,” she says as she takes them, gladly. “Not even close.” 

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @babybisexual @marsmunson86

#Spencer reid #Spencer reid smut #Spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer reid fanfic #Spencer reid imagine #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid x y/n #Spencer reid x you #Spencer reid self insert #Spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine

[eupheme]

JOEL MILLER - 2023 FIC RECS

this year has been filled with so many beautiful fics, I wanted to make a rec list to share & support everything I read. please check these out and support these creators, they are all incredible! 💖✨

— A Lover's Pinch by @hier--soir

a one-night stand with a charming texan turns into something much more thrilling when you discover he is your new college professor. joel miller is entirely off limits. but now that you’ve had a taste, will you be able to keep your hands to yourselves?

— A Matter of Timing by @lavenderursa

Before the world went to shit you and your neighbor, Joel, were involved. It was complicated then and now at the end of the world, it's much the same.

— A Minute From Home by @agentmarcuspike

— A Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing by @jupiter-soups

joel miller is not quite as scary as the people of jackson believe him to be. at least, not around you.

— A Very Furby Christmas by @/proxima-writes

it’s christmas eve 1998 and joel miller thinks everything is perfect. / well, until his brother admits he didn’t get sarah the one present she wanted - the furby. now, joel has to go out on christmas eve to find the year’s hottest toy that’s been sold out for months / turns out, you’re on the same mission. and you’ve both found the last furby in town.

— Asking Nicely by @grippingbeskar

— Autumn Air by @swiftispunk

it’s been a month since you returned home from costa rica and you and joel have fallen into a blissful routine. when a rude awakening threatens to disrupt that peace, together you must make a decision…or two.

— Barbie Girl by @tightjeansjavi

Joel, Sarah and Tommy go to the Barbie movie opening weekend

— Be Good, Be Quiet by @/undercoverpena

bill tells you both you're sleeping in separate rooms when a thunderstorm doesn't allow you to leave. but joel isn't planning on getting any sleep.

— Blue Jeans N'Texas Dreams by @/tightjeansjavi

Joel Miller, single father; total soft dad has an astronomically enormous crush on you, his daughters horseback riding instructor.

— Boston Holiday. by @/amywritesthings

You’re decorating for the holidays in your Boston Quarantine Zone apartment. A begrudging Joel Miller gets involved.

— Bunny Tails by @sweetercalypso

When hunter!Joel finds reader picking flowers outside his cabin, he convinces her to come inside

— But He Does Have You by @undercoverpena

because he hasn’t got a lot of anything, but he does have you.

—Butterfly by @stargirlfics

Sometimes the path to healing starts with a reminder of what’s been lost

— Can’t Help Myself by @fettuccin-e

— Catching by @softlyspector

None of your partners had ever been able to make you come before. Joel changed that.

— Comfortably Close by @omgreally

You and Joel share a couch.

— Come Clean by @cupofjoel

joel comes home after a messy day on patrol, but you’re already in the shower

— Comfort Came Against My Will by @/undercoverpena

it’ll begin with a little beg, a whispered plea—fingers wrapping around his chin, mouth ghosting over his: Let me ride you, Miller.

— Creature Comforts by @galactic-basic

A gift. Joel didn’t call it that. Didn’t say as much. Didn’t say anything—actually. / But it’s yours. Your mattress. Your bed. There are so few things you can call yours these days.

— Crystal by @ezrasbirdie

Joel's live-in girlfriend is a little witchy. It takes some getting used to.

— Dinner & Diatribes by @tightjeansjavi

you’re the kind of love that Joel Miller has been dreaming of all his life

— Dinner Date by @juletheghoul

 neighbour!Joel au

— Distracted by @/psychedelic-ink

there are many advantages to enrolling in a woodshop class: drawing you away from not-so-happy thoughts, relearning something that you enjoyed doing when you were a kid, and, well, the sight of watching mr. miller do something he’s undeniably good at.

— Does Your Mother Know? by @/cupofjoel

— Flesh and Metal by @/swiftispunk

you meet joel at a bar. he really likes your nipple piercings. that’s about it.

— From Eden, Love Grows by @moonlight-prose

Days spent in flower fields and cooking in a sunbathed kitchen with him.

— Grays by @/softlyspector

Joel likes to be read to and held and have his hair stroked. He would never dare admit it, though.

— Go Slow by @/frannyzooey

In the quiet of your bedroom, Joel guides you through it. 

— Honeyed by @/softlyspector

You hate being touched, but you might be willing to put aside your discomfort for a tattoo from Joel.

— Honeymoon by @bits-and-babs

— Hurt by @/moonlight-prose

alone and trying to survive, you find your path crossing with a man who’s headed to boston of all places. he claims he’s looking for a new start, not realizing you might be it.

— I Crawl Home To Her by @/agentmarcuspike

after being stabbed, joel floats in and out of consciousness, between then and now, before and after, and his two daughters, both saving him in their own ways.

— I Know My Faults, But I Can't Hide Them… by @tarrenterror25

It’s all about surviving now. Joel knows it and so do you.

— I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus by @/thetriumphantpanda

Your daughter catches you kissing santa… or does she?

— Juniper by @/softlyspector

You're sleepy. Joel knows a good way to put you to sleep.

— Ktober 2023 Day 24- Lingerie by @flightlessangelwings

— Keep It On The Low by @/cupofjoel

just because you and joel broke up doesn’t mean you can’t still (secretly) enjoy each other’s company

— Let Me Take Care Of You by @spaceydragons

Joel had a rough day, you take care of him

— Living in a State of Dreaming by @/cupofjoel

it’s been a year since you, joel, and ellie returned to jackson, and you’re finally starting to feel a sense of security. but when the sun goes down and joel closes his eyes, the horrors beyond the walls still hunt him, out to take back the family he’s worked so hard to protect.

— Made By Hand by @tinycozycomfort

He has nothing to offer, after all; no love letter, no borrowed jacket, no wedding ring. This is all he has to show his devotion, to seal his promise—a fist full of glossy blue and the willingness to unfurl his body and scoop out his insides just to allow you a place to lay. All he can give you is himself.

— Met The Devil Last Night by @pedgito

made a joke about wanting to screw dirt-covered Joel even if he was deep in the trenches of hell and…well, yeah.

— Middle of the Night by @/frannyzooey

He comes to you for comfort.

— Midnights by @/omgreally

Joel pulls back, and the blown-pupil intensity in his eyes makes you clench. “That a challenge?” he wonders, fingering the waistband of your jeans. / “You got any better ideas on how to ring in the new year, Joel Miller?”

— Mine by @the-scandalorian

He wants it—has wanted it.  / He wants the claim. The utter possession.

— Misbehavior by @/stargirlfics

 It’s the first and last time you ever talk back to his face

— Moments by @charnelhouse

Joel and you in a hotel phone booth.

— More and More by @/moonlight-prose

“he wanted to know every part of you, everything you kept hidden for fear of it being rejected. and you let him.”

— Moss & Mushrooms by @/softlyspector

You are alone, always. Then, one day, a beast emerges from the forest you've never dared to go into.

— My Girl Now by @/psychedelic-ink

joel is used to asshole clients, and when one of them calls him an old man and basically demands him to finish his girlfriend’s kitchen in time, he expects you to be the same. But you’re the opposite. when he learns how you’ve been treated, he comes up with a plan to get back at your boyfriend.

— Old Partners, New Plans by @grippingbeskar

— One Bed by @frannyzooey

“there is only one bed” + joel miller

— Only Need Ten by @pascalpvnk

“Joel,” your whine muffled by your pillow. “I have to leave in fifteen minutes, I can’t be late for patrol again. We have to be back in time for Sunday brunch.” / “Only need ten, baby,” he drawled in a hushed tone, hooking his thick fingers beneath the waistband of your panties. “Please?”

— Picture by @/softlyspector

You really want to take Joel's picture. He can't really figure out why.

— Pieces of You by @pedros-mustache

Maybe it’s wrong. Maybe it’s possessive and a tad bit jealous. Maybe after years working alongside Tess, you’ve simply learned to lay your claim on what is yours. 

— Press the Gas and Ride by @charnelhouse

comfort in a car

— Roadside Delight by @/inklore

joel should have known you’d be trouble when he found you on the side of the highway. he should have known you’d taste so fucking sweet too.

— See You by @hopeamarsu

— Seeing You, Seeing Me by @amywritesthings

After handling a life-or-death favor for Tess, you're in deep shit. Until she can make things right, she suggests you lay low at her place for the week. The issue? It's also Joel Miller's place, and you're pretty sure he hates you.

— Silence by @/frannyzooey

 Joel makes a silent promise.

— So, My Darlin' by @/psychedelic-ink

you convince joel to have a bubble bath with you.

— Sober by @/sweetercalypso

When Joel needs a break from reality, he finds the perfect distraction in a QZ dive bar

— Something Bad by @/fettuccin-e

— Something Wild and Unruly by @/ezrasbrdie

At Madame Aurelie's Secret Garden, men pay for beautiful courtesans trained in pleasure to give them whatever they want. And all Joel Miller, infamous outlaw and gunslinger, ever seems to want from you is a warm bath and quiet conversation.

— Standing in the Eye of the Storm by @/stargirlfics

You find each other at the end of the world

— Stay In Bed by @/psychedelic-ink

After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

— Sweet Thing by @mandoisapunk

 the most unlikely pair in jackson just can’t get enough of each other.

— Sweet Words of Sin by @/moonlight-prose

“there was a certain high that came from this. having a man like joel miller relenting to your every word, all to hear those sweet words fall from your lips. as delicious as a glass of wine and just as sinful.”

— Sweetned Breath and Tongue So Mean by @/moonlight-prose

“joel couldn’t fathom what you saw in him. a man bloodied with the ravages of life. he’d taken life, killed to survive, and there were times he even fucking enjoyed it. but you were soft. you were the good that remained. the light he shouldn’t be allowed to tarnish.”

— Take Care of You by @theidiotwhowritesthings

You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It’s why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn’t look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn’t be so hard. Would it?

— Take Your Medicine by @/hier--soir

your medication makes it difficult to orgasm so joel (and your vibrator) help make it happen.

— Tarnished But So Grand by @morning-star-joy

tommy and maria lead a jovial existence in the countryside, but the appearance of tommy’s brother causes a stir in society with the dark rumors swirling around his reputation, some due to his standoffish demeanor and some due to the mysterious parentage of his rambunctious young ward miss williams

— The Checklist by @thetriumphantpanda

Your new boyfriend Joel finds your hidden stash of porn, full of pages with their corners folded over, marking the things you like the most. Expecting him to feel bad about finding things you’re into, things you haven’t asked for from him, you’re surprised when he offers to help you tick them off.

— The Dog of War by @/bits-and-babs

When Ellie is taken by David, Joel breaks open the part of him locked away since his hunter days. As the guilt eats him alive, you try to help him subdue the black dogs of mental warfare.

— The Revenant Wife by @pettyprocrastination

Ellie knows very little of Joel and even less of the wife he had before the outbreak. When she finally meets you, its just as much as shock to her as it is to your husband. 

— The Way We Fight by @/cupofjoel

you and joel love taking your frustrations out on each other—in more ways than one

— Toyin’ With Them Older Guys by @proxima-writes

Joel Miller is the grumpy bartender and owner of your favorite bar near campus, where you attend trivia every Tuesday night. Thinking there’s no way Joel could return your feelings, your friend suggests trying out Tinder. / But when you bring them to the bar for a date, they keep leaving mid date with no explanation. / Maybe there’s something Joel isn’t telling you after all.

— Trust Fall by @/tinycozycomforts

This, that was a shy thing at first, set into motion by some passing remark you’d made all those months ago—that he would do anything for you if you just asked nice enough.

— Two by @/the-scandalorian

— Watch Party by @/sweetercalypso

renting a Halloween movie turns into a nightmare when poltergeist!Joel Miller crawls out of your TV

— Way Too Damn Needy by @/cupofjoel

— What I Want by @/proxima-writes

joel comes home from a rough day of patrol and you know just what he needs.

— When You're Reading Me by @/psychedelic-ink

If you had to make a list of things Joel Miller might buy you as a gift— nipple clamps, would not be a part of it. 

— Wicked Games by @inklore

relationships are built on trust. favors, kindness, and hands meant to help, not maim. there’s no room for dishonesty, games, or ploys. that’s not the storybook way of things or how life should be. but maybe those rules only mattered when you weren’t living in a world that’s gone to shit |  joel miller x smuggler!reader

— Wish You Were Here by @macfrog

you and joel skip jackson’s annual holiday party in favor of some alone time. (not that kind you filthy animals it’s the HOLIDAYS)

— Woods by @/frannyzooey

— You Know I Don’t Mean It by @joelscruff

you and joel get off together. that’s pretty much it. you also have some unresolved feelings for him and he’s being closed off.

— You Take My Self Control by @/cupofjoel

your first act of brutality leaves you reeling, but you’d do it all over again if it meant saving joel’s life. in the aftermath, you realize you’ve started to crave that violence and it terrifies you. joel steps in to satisfy your craving.

— Your Summer Dream by @/swiftispunk

fresh on the heels of the worst breakup of your life, you find an unexpected kindred spirit in joel miller, who's agreed to tag along for seven days to a tropical resort with you and your parents.

if you haven’t read these, you need to! and please support these amazing fics & writers by reading, reblogging & commenting! 💕

#joel miller x reader #fan fic recs #fic recs #2023 fave fics #please support these creators!

[rowretro]

꧁ＤＲＵＧＳ ＆ ＭＯＮＥＹ꧂

✧warnings: Yandere themes, toxic themes, drugs, drug addict reader, abuse

♤synopsis: Nishimura Riki. One of the most well feared mafia sons, is filthy rich, He was never really interested in dating, hating the idea of putting all his trust, love, blood sweat and tears into one person. Then he laid his eyes on you, a broken, barely appreciated, drug addict. (Riki's "I love you 3000" cover was playing in my head non stop while writing this- I need him in my life frfr)

✧♤✧♤✧♤𝕯𝕽𝖀𝕲𝕾 & 𝕸𝕺𝕹𝕰𝖄♤✧♤✧♤✧

Get up, get ready, clean up, go to school, get high and arrive at her apartment late as fuck. That was Y/ns daily routine. She's high 90% of the time, filling the massive hole her parents stabbed in her heart, with weed, Whiskey and pills. She had nothing to lose. Her parents always hated her, the reason never clear. So she moved out at 16, and got her own small apartment, a very decent one. Now she's yet to turn 18 in a few weeks, yet she's making bad decisions back and forth

She had fallen in love many times, but she always ended up getting hurt, or being a burden. So she'd turn to her fellow, Jack Daniels and Marijuana for some company. No one ever visited her... so she was beyond surprised when she heard her doorbell ring. High out of her mind, she answered it, not thinking of the potential dangers that may be lurking behind the door.

"Fuck- you got a first aid kit?" He asked, shutting the door and barricading it. Y/n pouted as she started to think "Clearly you're high. I'll go find it myself." He said, as he walked through the clean, plain hallways. Of course he found a brand new, unused first aid kit, however, what he didn't find was any photos of your family or at least parents. No sign of a boyfriend, or anyone else who might live there.

The strong stench of Cannabis filling his nostrils as he groaned. The male treated his own wounds that were barely painful to him. He walked into the living room only to find the girl lying on the ground, high out of her mind. Y/n had fallen asleep on the cold, marble floor despite being so high and having a fever, but she was used to it and she was too lazy to move.

Riki however, found it cute. He found her cute. God she's too cute, so short, so clueless, and so stupid. He really wanted to know what you were like when you were sober, but when examining all the munchies you had randomly scattered in the kitchen, he realized that may be a challenge. So he decided to stay until you wake up.

Never would he have ever found himself cleaning up a girl's home, picking up a girl's underwear and putting it in the laundry basket, carrying a girl to her bed and tucking her in. But I'll tell you one thing. He fucking loved it. He loves taking care of this girl, he only just practically met her but... he really wants her. He's a mafia he can have whatever the fuck he wants.

That's how Y/n found herself in a massive, luxurious mansion. Guards here and there, all her artwork in a big room with all the art supplies an artist could dream for. A perfect yet psychotic man who seems to be on a murder rampage on the daily. It has been 1 month since the male kidnapped her saying that he's in love with her and will even marry her. However the place was missing something she lived her whole life on...

"I CAN'T FUCKING DO IT FUCK SAKE RIKI! GIVE ME MY WEED FOR FUCKSAKE!" She screamed, crying and kicking her bedsheets, yanking at her hair as she screamed. The male slapped her painfully hard, pulling her to himself "FUCKING PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER Y/N!" he yelled as the girl just cried in his embrace "Y-you don't understand ki... it's hard! it hurts, I need them I really do- I'm fucking weak I can't- sobriety is so fucking overrated! please- im begging you please!" She cried as the male just hugged her closely.

With drawl is extremely hard, and for a teenager to have to go through something like that, without her parents to support her is extremely hard. But someone really loves her, a man who'd kill for her and is even willing to die for her. So she will put through it. Fighting with every last bit of energy she has. Riki would keep an eye on her when she does have alcohol, making sure she stays within a limit. He let her buy a vape, just to help her lay off of the drugs.

He knew that all this was all worth it. because when the struggle is over, Y/n will realize that he truly loves her, and no matter what crazy shit he does, she will always run into his arms, and yearn for his touch. "I love you Ki... I'm glad you kidnapped me you know?... I've never been love like this before..." She admitted, her head pressed against his chest, as her body was shielded by his loving arms.

Y/n melted in his embrace, closing her eyes with a smile when she felt his perfect, plush lips on her forehead. Those lips, the only drug she's addicted to and will never let herself get over. "I love you too my darling..." he said with a smile, cradling her in his arms, his head rested against hers, theirs eyes closed as they sat before the fireplace, comforted by the relaxing sounds of their heartbeats.

✧♤✧♤✧♤𝕯𝕽𝖀𝕲𝕾 & 𝕸𝕺𝕹𝕰𝖄♤✧♤✧♤✧

#yandere #enhypen #enha #yandere enha #yandere enhypen #enhypen yandere #enha yandere #kpop #kpop enha #nishimura riki #niki nishimura #enhypen niki #enhypen nishimura riki #riki enhypen #niki enhypen #niki enha #kpop yandere #enhypen scenarios #enha imagines #enhypen imagines #enha x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfic #ni ki #enhypen ff #engene #enhypen fluff #niki reaction #ni ki enhypen #enhypen niki ff

[deathbecomesthem]

Three's Company +18 ONLY minors DNI

Part 2 - Ready, Steddie, Go

*This is a reupload from my old blog. If you think it sounds familiar, it's because it probably is.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader Everyone is about age 30 in this one, think mid to late 90s.

Summary: You and Steve share a live in boyfriend, but you're ready to consider a different dynamic. | 3.8K

Contains: Poly relationship dynamics, smut (oral, anal, vaginal), and lots of feelings. It's so soft guys.

A/N: I came into the fandom through the Steddie pipeline, but this is the first time I've tried to write a Steddie x reader. Take it or leave it, this is what I have to offer. I wrote this today, so it's a quick and dirty writing.

---

Months have passed together. You and Eddie. The move into his place was seamless. The room at the end of the hall has been vacant since they first moved in, a three bedroom apartment without a third. It wasn’t Eddie’s idea to add you to the lease, but he was overjoyed when the proposal was made. How could he not be? The love he had for you was something he thought was impossible, and yet - here you are. At the end of the hall.

Family dinner twice a week, Mondays and Thursdays. It was designed to bring the three of you together, and it worked. Those nights are filled with heartfelt discussions and deep laughter that bubbles up from the true places inside of the three of you. On those nights, the hesitation is gone, and Eddie sees his lovers reach across the table and connect in ways he had been dreaming about. A real friendship, a foundation that will last.

Eddie has too much love. With each touch, it folds over and over inside him, growing exponentially. It’s too much for just one person, too much for two. It’s something that Eddie has heard his entire life - he’s too much. Everything about him is too big. But you’ve never made him feel that way, and neither has he. You both take his love, and give what you have in return. Too much love? There’s no such thing. When it overflows, you step aside and let him take the excess. He does the same. The simplicity of it all sent your head reeling those first few weeks, but not now. No, you see it clearly. Each one made for the other, a perfect balance of love and connection.

“I know how it sounds. I get it, I’m not your type,” you smile at the man across the booth slyly, “but I just want you to think about it. I promise, I won’t talk to Eddie unless you and I have an understanding.”

A deep sigh is exhaled from the chiseled jaw of your man’s lover. He shakes his head and widens his hazel eyes before he brings them to meet yours, “Oh, my type? I don’t even know what that is. Eddie’s my type. And so are you.” He offers you a crooked smile, eyes twinkling with the charm that so many people had fallen victim to over the years of his reign as King, “I get it. I see it in you, why he loves you so much.”

And that’s how it goes, toes dipping into the lukewarm waters of possibility that afternoon in the coffee shop down the street from your shared apartment. Open and frank conversation, guilt free about excluding your mutual interest - Eddie. Let him save the heartbreak if the feelings fall too short of something that would work. That’s something you share - you could never hurt him, never be responsible for any of his pain if it can be avoided.

The two of you continue the conversation over the following weeks. Likes. Dislikes. Hard boundaries. Soft boundaries and how to maneuver them. You search your heart and mind, meditating on the idea of the thing. How it will change things, if the things that change will make your lives fuller, or if it will lead to the slow march of relationship death. 

You push away the negative thoughts, they’re fueled by insecurity and the unknown. You won’t be ruled by that. This life is the one you have, and you share it with Eddie, the love of your life. Steve though, can he be more than a third roommate? You’ve been letting yourself look at the lines of his face and neck. You’ve let yourself imagine what your fingers would feel like when they slip through his sweat soaked hair. The smell of him lingers in every corner of this home, his smile is safe and kind. 

—

It took longer to convince you than it did Steve, even though the idea had sprung up from inside your own mind. You took a month to let the trepidation and nervousness reign before allowing the warmth of possibilities to gain the advantage. Once they won out, you were ready to give the go ahead and talk to Eddie. Let him see the offer, openly given with no hesitation, a gift for him - the love at the center of yours and Steve’s worlds. 

“Eddie, my love,” you whisper to him in the darkness of your bedroom. You can feel the brush of his eyelashes against the bare skin of your chest, fluttering at the sound of his name. He hums, the vibrations are an acknowledgement that he’s listening to what you have to say. It’s stupid to want to talk about this now, but Steve has left the ball in your court - he sees the way you’ve wrestled with your own mind over the idea, and it’s in your own bed with the reassuring warmth of Eddie where you feel the safest. Cared for, protected, and less insecure about where you fit into this unlikely familial unit.

You waited until your lover crooked his neck to make eye contact with you in the thick darkness of the midnight hour that softens the overwhelming thoughts that you need to share with him. You push away the shadow of a curl that hides the fullness of his visage before saying the words that have been sitting at the back of your throat for weeks. “Do you remember that conversation we had a few months back, about me, you, and Steve?”

Eddie remembers, it was a night a lot like this one. In the dark he had whispered his secret to you, a precious and fragile thing that you’ve held in your heart, careful not to crush it. He’d wiped the tears from your eyes when you told him you weren’t ready for something like that, fearing he might lose his love for you. That night had reinforced things for Eddie, he knew he could tell you things, he knew you could be honest with him. The love never faded, instead it grew roots that threaded the love he felt for Steve also. A forest canopy where the three of you find shelter.

“I remember,” Eddie’s calloused fingers run down your cheek and under your eyes, a wordless question answered when they leave dry, “but we don’t have to talk about that, Baby. We’re so good.” He kisses at the skin of your chest, warm and soft breathing out the rest, “I love you.”

“I love you, Ed. But I want you to know, Steve and I have talked about it -” Eddie sits up straight in the bed, wide eyes shining by the sliver of moonlight sneaking between the drawn shades of the room.

“You and Steve have been talking?” Eddie repeats. You wait to see if he says more before you give him the rest. “You two talked about the three of us being together?”

“Yes.” You reach your fingers out to gently play with the curls at the side of his face to calm the sudden anxiety that’s building between you. “I didn’t want to talk to you until I knew that Steve and I were on the same page. I didn’t want to disappoint you.” You surprise yourself when the last sentence is choked out on a quiet sob. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying about this.”

Eddie pushes aside the anxiety and wipes away the tear that has escaped from the corner of your eye, “what did Steve say? I haven’t talked to him about adding a third since I met you. I know how he felt about it after he met you, but you two have your own friendship and stuff now.” 

You breathe out a relieved sigh. Steve had told you that he had initially hoped the three of you could have something shared, but a part of you hadn’t fully believed it. Hearing Eddie confirm it rouses the butterflies deep in your gut. “Steve’s on board. I’ve spent the last few weeks thinking about everything, and I want it too. I trust you both so much.”

“It’s ok if you need more time, or if you change your mind -” you cut Eddie off with a kiss. Lips brushing lips. You finally tell him the thing you’ve barely been able to admit to yourself.

“I want it. My two beautiful boys.”

—

Saturday mornings are for coffee and cigarettes on the balcony with Steve and Eddie. This morning is much the same, but with sidelong glances between you and two sets of eyes watching as you lazily blow smoke from between your lips. You heard the boys whisper to each other in the kitchen before they came out to join you. The sexual tension is so ridiculous, it makes you bark a laugh when you see Steve lick his lips.

“Jesus Christ, Steve, you’re drooling. See something you like?” You wiggle your shoulders under your oversized pajama shirt that leaves everything to the imagination. He’s seen you in it a million times before, only this time it’s different. He’s thinking about what’s underneath knowing he’ll get to see the curves and angles of you soon. It’s been a long time since he’s been with a woman, and he can’t stop thinking about how soft your skin will feel under his hands.

“Sorry.” He’s sheepish, the tips of his exposed ear immediately turning red at your teasing. It sends a rush of desire through you to see him flush under your gaze. He clears his throat, “I’m sorry, ok. I can’t help it.”

Eddie’s giggle fit is the catalyst for your own. The tension releases in a flurry of gasping laughs and an indelicate snort from your lips. You feel like a teenager with a crush. A first date with the cute boy for which you’ve been harboring a secret crush for months. But it’s just Steve. He buys your Tampax and cleans the bathroom when you and Eddie forget. He’s smiling shyly behind his acrylic frames, and you wonder how you’ve missed it for so long. You push back the regret, because this is how it’s happening. Better now than never.

“Don’t be sorry, Stevie. I like it when you look at me like that.” You drop your voice. You let yourself feel sexy despite the coffee breath and last night’s makeup smeared beneath your eyes. 

“Jesus Christ, you two are fucking killing me.” Eddie shakes his head and drains the last dregs from his mug before he kisses your cheek to head inside for a shower. “You guys need this more than I do.”

Steve follows Eddie into the apartment a couple seconds later, leaving a soft kiss on your cheek as he passes. A thing he does often, but he feels warmer today. You notice the honey highlights of his hair under the early morning sun and sigh. It feels right, seeing him like this. It feels good having him look at you.

It’s the farmers market first where you get fresh bread, cheese, and loads of veggies. Eddie’s making dinner for the three of you, roasted vegetables with tempeh and rice. The bread and cheese is for a quick snack lunch down by the river, sitting between the two warm bodied men, their hands meeting behind you in an embrace. The river hypnotizes you, the quiet rush of the water insistent. You leave them on the river bank and shed your sandals. With your jeans rolled up, you step into the shallow water, smooth pebbles under your toes. You can feel eyes on you, and let them watch you watch the water move downstream. Steve and Eddie watch you wet your toes, never saying a word. 

The whole day is quiet. Even Eddie finds words unnecessary, a rarity. The shy flirtation between you and Steve has an effect on him. It’s killing him, every moment of the day the tension builds more and more. He’s been half hard since he saw you teasing Steve under the early morning sun. He wishes he could have hauled you both into the bedroom at that moment, hands and mouths mapping undiscovered territory - but this is what you all want. A day together, a reminder of what’s real before you all get lost in the fog of lust. But, it’s killing him. 

By the time you all finally make it back to the apartment, the sun is low in the sky, light fading. Three heartbeats in a steady rhythm, nervous giggles escaping lips while shoes are thrown in the corner of the living room. Steve doesn’t even care that not a single one made it to its assigned spot, he can only see you and Eddie. You hold out your hands to him and to Eddie, both happily oblige. The wine from dinner gives you a pleasant buzz, the anxiety is gone completely with your fingers tangled in theirs while you lead them to Eddie’s room. 

The door between yours and Steve’s is your shared boyfriend’s. A bed rarely slept in, his time split between his lovers’, but tonight it will be full. The symbolism is not lost on any of you, neutral ground for the newest chapter in your story. All day you’ve wondered if you’d be able to follow the steps. There’s been a prickling anxiety that it might feel unnatural, but it doesn’t. All you feel now is heat in your belly when you see that Eddie and Steve are hard in their jeans. A pulse begins to pound where you want to be touched, and he’s on you as if he can feel it himself.

Eddie’s kissing you hard, his hands immediately find the curve of your ass and you wonder how you could have ever doubted this. Steve is still gripping your left hand, his large thumb runs across your knuckles as Eddie’s tongue breaches your lips to taste you. You squeeze back, the sweat of your palm mixing with Steve’s while Eddie moans deep. 

“Can I watch you two?” Steve’s voice is hoarse and full of want. “You’re both so pretty.”

You break away from Eddie, mouth opening, closing, opening again. No sound coming out, too lost already. Eddie helps, his head resting on your forehead and turns to see Steve before answering, “Stevie wants to watch, Baby. He can join in when he wants, though, right?” You nod, keeping your eyes on Eddie, already overwhelmed. 

It’s enough for both of them, and clothes are sloughed off onto the carpeted floor until you’re bared completely for Eddie. For Steve. You know this dance, even with an audience of one. Eddie and Steve both sink to their knees. Eddie pulls your legs apart wide while Steve rests his head on the mattress next to you. A perfect viewpoint to watch Eddie’s tongue and fingers work. 

“This is the best part, Steve. She makes the prettiest sounds when you do this.” Eddie spreads your legs apart, wider than normal so the view is completely unobscured before he flattens his tongue and runs it hard along your slit. Once, twice, three times. With laser focused precision, he zeroes in on your clit and begins to rub it between his upper lip and tongue while two fingers breach your hole to move inside of you. 

It’s all faster than usual, urgent and desperate, but your body reacts in kind. It meets Eddie’s need, and you can hear yourself crying out without any conscious decision to do so. A hand finds yours, threading between your fingers with digits longer and thinner than Eddie’s. Steve’s hand in yours while you climb the mountain of pleasure. He’s keeping you firmly on the ground. 

It’s Steve that talks you through the white hot lighting that spreads across your vision. “Oh wow. You’re doing so well. You’re so perfect, taking what you need from Eddie. God, I can smell you from here, you smell amazing Baby.” It’s Steve’s firm hand that rests on your hip when you start to pull away. He holds you there to ride through your high while Eddie drinks you up.

When you open your eyes you see them kissing, tongues sloppily dancing. Steve whining at the taste of you on Eddie’s lips. The hand that held you down now threading through the curls at the nape of Eddie’s neck, drawing him closer and closer. You’re still pulsing, and the sight makes you ache for them both. 

“Fuuuuucccckkkk. Oh my god.” Your panting voice breaks their kiss, and you regret it immediately. Pink cheeks and hooded eyes take in your naked form in front of them, and pupils dilate. “Please. Please. I need you.” 

I need you. You don’t know if you’re talking to Eddie or Steve or both of them. It doesn’t matter, because they answer by smiling at each other, Steve’s fingers undoing Eddie’s belt, and then Eddie’s hands pulling Steve’s shirt over his head. On and on and until they’re both on display in front of you. Works of art for you to admire. You burn it into your mind’s eye, hard cocks lazily held in hands while they eat you up with their eyes.

You know what comes next because it’s something you’ve all agreed you want to try. Eddie’s cock stretches you open in a familiar way that feels like home. A whimper leaves his lips when he sinks all the way into you. His eyebrows knit together, concentrating on the feeling of you surrounding him, swallowing him up. Your eyes seek out Steve and see him holding his heavy cock firmly in his grip. He’s matching Eddie’s rhythm, he’s trying to feel what Eddie feels. 

Your second orgasm crashing down on you under Steve’s weighty gaze, it’s impossible to hold back. Eddie never falters, if anything he picks up his pace trying to reach you while you soar high above the bed. He’s so deep, Your hands are tugging at your nipples, desperate for anything to latch onto. You realize that Steve isn’t by your side anymore, he’s behind Eddie now. 

With Eddie still deep inside, the head of Steve’s cock begins to play at Eddie’s hole. Eddie stills at the feeling. He keens, a sound you’ve never heard him make before, and you pulse around him. You can feel Steve push into Eddie, his cock reaches deeper inside of you. And again. Eddie’s hips are moving only through the force of Steve’s. It’s so beautiful to see this sight in front of you. Eddie’s gone at the feeling of Steve’s cock buried deep inside of him. Steve’s hand is in Eddie’s hair, pulling his head back to give you a full view of your boyfriend’s lovely neck. Every thrust of Steve’s hips is met with a small cry from Eddie. The cock inside of you slips out, and you decide it’s time to make a quick change. 

You reach up to cup Eddie’s cheek in your hand and say, “turn around, Baby. Let me hold you.” Eddie’s too gone already, you and Steve turn him around. You pull Eddie back against your chest to hold him, and Steve spreads his legs open wide. From this vantage point Steve is so beautiful it makes you ache. His pretty cock leaking arousal. And then it disappears again, deep inside Eddie. 

Steve’s eyes are fixated on your face, and you're fixated on his. One of your hands is in Eddie’s sweaty hair, soothing him while Steve sets a bruising pace. You reach down and grip your fist around Eddie’s leaking length. It’s bouncing against his stomach, so hard and desperate to be touched. You push the hair away from Eddie’s ear and begin to speak. Your eyes never leave Steve’s.

“You’re doing so well, Eddie, taking that fat cock in your tight little ass.” Steve falters for a second, his jaw is clenching at your words. He’s trying to hold on until Eddie cums at least. “Your boyfriend is so pretty, Ed. How’d I get so lucky, hm? The two prettiest dicks I’ve ever seen, all for me.” Steve's hips move faster, he’s close now. So is Eddie. Wordless whines at the back of his throat and reverberates through your chest. 

There’s a sort of power you had not expected in this position. Both men under your spell. And you decide - mercy. You know exactly how to push them both over the edge, break this fever. They both sit painfully on the edge of oblivion, Steve’s eyes still on yours, lost in chasing the rhythm of his hips.

“He’s good, isn’t he, Steve?” His eyes widen, it’s the first time you’ve directly addressed him in this bedroom. You can feel Eddie begin to pulse in your hand, stomach muscles tensing, and you shoot to kill - “I’m good too. Do you want to feel how my asshole feels while Eddie fucks my pussy, Stevie?”

Eddie lets out a strangled cry, cum shoots up his stomach and over your fingers, while Steve slumps down on top of Eddie. Shallow and deep thrusts accompanying his moans. You reach out, finally able to touch Steve, and run your fingers through his sweaty mane. You run a finger along the line of his jaw while he and Eddie find their breath. 

“Your girlfriend is evil.” Steve huffs out the words into the skin of Eddie’s chest while you all still lay in a pile of sweat and cum.

“Mmm, I know she is. But I think maybe she’s your girlfriend too, Stevie. She doesn’t invite just anyone into her ass.” Eddie can’t even fully deliver the line before he’s laughing. A joyful sound that feels like relief. “God, we’re a fucking mess.”

“Everyone needs to get off of me right now, I can’t breathe.” You feel weak under the weight of both men, pushing on Eddie’s shoulders with little effect. Steve rolls off Eddie, pulling him off of you at the same time. 

You look at the clock. 9:30. You laugh, and groan. “I’m taking a shower and getting the butter pecan from the freezer. You two do what you want.” 

You leave the room, not bothering with your clothes, and hear the boys groaning. You know they can’t resist ice cream. You think that it might be a good idea to do some bed shopping tomorrow. The queen won’t do it, not for the three of you.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #steve harrington smut #eddie munson x steve harrington #steddie x reader #steddie x reader smut #steddie x you #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader

[cameronspecial]

Hiii I love your writing so much! I was wondering if you could maybe write something where Drew and the reader moms have been friends since college only causing for the reader, Drew and his siblings to be close due to growing up side by side in Drew’s hometown.

Drew and the reader have been together for a while and they have a little girl together (around 3 or 4 years old) They return to their hometown to celebrate Christmas with their families all together opening gifts, eating Christmas lunch and things like that just loads of fluff between Drew and his daughter the reader and the family.

I would really appreciate if you could do this thank you!!!

Magic Snow Globe

Pairing: Dad!Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

A/N: Surprise! This wasn't on the schedule so it is my Christmas gift to you guys. This is separate from my dad!Drew series.

Masterlist

Drew watches as Grace examines her father’s childhood bedroom. This isn’t the first time she has been in it, but it feels like the first time because her consciousness is now able to form memories. Her eyes catch the snow globe sitting on the desk and she runs to it. She glances at her father for approval and he nods for her to pick it up. Once the trinket is in her hands, Drew picks the small girl up and places her on his lap as he sits on the bed. “Do you want to know where Daddy got this from?” he asks the three-year-old. Her head vigorously moves up and down. He takes the orb into his hands, turning it over to wind the key at the bottom. The melody of “Silent Night” plays as he begins his story. “Your mommy gave it to me. When we were in middle school…” 

———

Drew loved Christmas time. It meant that he got to spend the Winter break with the Y/L/Ns. This year, they were exploring a little Christmas village that Y/N’s mom found. The hour and a half drive was long, yet worth it once they saw the picture-esque shops covered in snow. Y/N and Drew were old enough to be allowed to go off by themselves and it was exciting for the pair. Drew’s eyes drank in everything and he adored everything about this town. The Christmas music. The small town architecture. The smell of gingerbread cookies in the air. It all brought the holiday to life for him. “God, I wish I could stay in this place forever,” he thought to himself out loud. She caught his words and wanted to make that dream come true. She excused herself for a minute, remembering something she saw inside of a store. She came running back with her hand behind her back and a wide grin on her face. 

“Close your eyes and hold your hands out,” she ordered. He was confused but obeyed her words. His eyebrows met at a point when he heard the familiar tune of “Silent Night”. A weight fell into his hands and his eyelids pulled apart. In his hands was a snow globe. Inside the glass, there was a red-bricked house with a green wreath on the black door. The roof was covered in glittery white snow and more sparkles floated through the water as he moved the orb around in his hands. “Why are you giving me this?” he questioned. She shrugged with a smile, “We can’t exactly stay here forever, so I thought that being able to bring a little piece of it with you would be just as good.” Drew didn’t feel like he needed his jacket anymore because her gesture warmed him up to be burning hot. He knew this was the moment he realized he had fallen in love with the girl who would do anything to make his dreams come true.

———

“And Mommy really did do everything she could to make my dreams come true. She’s the reason why I have an amazing wife, a successful career as an actor, and the most spectacular baby girl in the world,” he recounts. He lifts his daughter into the air and attacks her with kisses. She giggles at the feeling of his lips on her cheeks. He sits back down with her in his lap. He notices she is clinging to the snow globe like her life depends on it. “Auntie Brooke just got in. Come say hello, you two,” Y/N instructs her family. Grace nods and hops off of her father’s lap. She carefully places the symbol of her parents' love on the desk and runs downstairs to greet her aunt.

———

Christmas day, Y/N’s head rests on her husband's chest as everyone watches Grace and her cousins unwrap gifts. The adults love to drink in the Christmas magic coming to life for the kids. Y/N’s nephew places Grace’s next gift onto her lap and her parents watch as she tears apart the paper. Her face lights up at the snow globe she finds. She wobbles a little as her feet plant on the ground and she stands up. She makes her way to Y/N and Drew. Her mother pulls her into the adults’ hold. “Thank you for the snow globe, Daddy,” she says, kissing his cheek. Drew smoothes back her hair, “You’re welcome, Gracie. This is a promise that Daddy is going to do everything he can to help you achieve your dreams.” Grace snuggles into her father’s chest at the promise before going back to opening presents. Drew notices his wife’s gaze and kisses her on the lips. “I guess I’m going to need to get you another snow globe. We wouldn’t want our other baby to feel like their dreams aren’t going to come true,” she whispers to her husband. Drew’s eyebrows furrow for a second and then he fully comprehends her words.

A giant grin crosses his face as he rests a warm hand on her stomach. “I can’t wait for our little family to grow. I can’t believe that I keep having my dreams come true because of you. Having an amazing family with you will always be my biggest dream.” Drew should thank that snow globe because it must have some dream-giving magic. 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @nonbullshit-toleratingkindagirl

#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey oneshot #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey fic #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey one shot #dad!drew #dad!drew starkey #dad! drew #dad! drew starkey #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x you

[hyuuukais]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚your song (1.6k)

->♡idol!han jisung x fem reader

->♡pov: u fall in love with han jisung

->♡warnings: 1 kind of suggestive comment

it's a little bit funny, this feeling inside

never in your life had you fallen in love. of course, you knew love, you knew her well. love surrounded you in almost every way possible; you knew her like the back of your hand. but romance? fireworks? falling so deep you're drowning in it?

you can't say you're familiar with the feeling.

so when you get this tingling in your fingers as they brush against his arm accidentally, causing you both to look up and blush, you indulge in the foreign feeling. lightheaded, nervous, giddy.

"hi, i'm jisung-" his smile slightly falters as you pull your hand away. "you're felix's friend, right?"

i know it's not much, but it's the best i can do. my gift is my song and this one's for you

overworked, overtired, a cup of hot chocolate turned cold long ago the only thing in your system.

as if he sensed your stress from across the globe, your phone lit up with an incoming call. you debate getting up to grab your phone which is across the room charging on a small table. seeing the contact name decided for you; hanji.

"hello?"

"hey baby," the nickname he'd adopted for you makes your heart swell when he speaks. "you okay?"

"um, yeah, i guess so."

"you don't sound very convincing."

you sigh, giving in and confessing that your workload had been crazy lately. something about him made you want to tell all your deepest secrets, stripping yourself down to the bone for him to see.

"i know i can't do much from here, i wish i could." there's a pause. "what time is it for you?"

"...three am."

"three? y/n i- you!" his reaction makes you laugh. "okay. okay, listen. you, me on the phone, your bed, right now."

"i'm sorry, what?"

"not like that!" he says, a bit too loudly. "i meant like, you go to bed and i stay on the line. i could sing you to sleep."

a blush creeps up your neck, your cheeks, your ears. you agree, of course, and hurry off to bed, you can finish your work last minute in the morning. hearing the one and only han jisung sing to you personally? well, that was an offer you couldn't pass up. little did you know he would do it any time you asked.

his voice comes over the phone softly, and you can even hear him pick at guitar strings. you don't recognize the tune; something new, he said, something i've been working on for y- um, just something, haha. it doesn't take long for sleep to take you, and when you wake, he's hung up. of course he has, he has things to do too. a part of you wishes he'd stayed overnight. there's a text, a simple good morning i hope you slept well!! did you dream of me? :P, and your heart flutters.

and you can tell everybody that this is your song

"y/n hurry up or i'm gonna eat all your birthday cake myself!"

you had just finished getting ready to leave, picking out a green skirt to compliment the shirt jisung wore. you didn't know where you were going, only that one, you were meeting the boys there and two, he wanted to match. green looked so good on him, you couldn't help but stare when he first came into your little apartment.

over the past year, you'd grown closer to him, and one thing he couldn't wait to do was to celebrate your birthday. jisung brought it up multiple times, especially during the last few months, all of the things he wanted to do with you, experience with you. at this point he was almost challenging felix's best friend position.

"oh my god, you look gorgeous." his eyes widen as you step out. "you're joking right? like, you're actually joking? i get to spend my life with someone as beautiful as you-"

now your eyes widen, but it was like jisung hadn't even noticed what he said. he takes your hand in his, making you do a spin; you laugh freely and feel yourself become you in his presence. no one made you feel the way han jisung did.

you were slowly coming to terms with that.

"have i ever told you how much i love you?" jisung wraps his arms around your waist, playfully nuzzling into your neck. anyone looking in would think you were together. "because i love you a lot. shoutout to lix for losing you at that party, 'cause i don't know if he'd have introduced us. keeping you to himself."

he hums a now familiar tune, the song he refuses to tell you about. anytime you bring it up, he shies away, it's nothing, just work. the notes vibrate into your neck. this moment, it's engraving itself into your mind. the intimacy, safety, love.

a moment passes, he moves away from your neck. your faces are dangerously close. his eyes bore into yours, heat radiating off his body. the movement is slight, jisung moving in closer, lips parted.

a knock reminds you of where you are, who you're with, where you're supposed to be going. you break apart.

"i forgot felix was coming here," jisung pouts, leaving to get the door, heart beating just as fast a your own.

i hope you don't mind, i hope you don't mind that i put down in words...

the day finally comes where jisung shows you the lyrics to the song he's been writing. there's not a lot so far, being busy with the tour and all, but enough to feel a deep sadness lie in the pit of your stomach; it's a love song.

"it's... it's beautiful ji," you blink back tears, not wanting him to see. "whoever you wrote this for... they're very lucky."

"if anyone's lucky it's me," he says with a sigh. your back is turned to him, so you don't see the hearts in his eyes, don't feel the way his heart skips a beat when you lean back into him, back against his chest. "she makes me feel... like i could do anything."

he presses a kiss to your temple, and the tears well again.

"she doesn't even realize what she does to me," he says, tone serious. "or how amazing she is, how smart she is. she's a super hard worker, almost too hard, and that's coming from me," he chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "and her laugh? god, her laugh. you know, i thought i was annoying y- um, her, until she laughed so hard chocolate milk came out of her nose because of some stupid joke i made."

no way, you think, he doesn't mean-

...how wonderful life is while you're in the world

but he did.

that night, you didn't confess, just simply looked at him, eyes understanding. nothing happened, not physically at least, both still too scared to make a move even with the unsaid confession hanging heavy in the air, but something changed.

you were closer than ever, limbs entangled during movie nights, countless "friend dates", endless teasing from the others more persistent. the universe was pushing you together; why was it all so scary? although you were sure he felt the same, you couldn't act upon it. what about the media? and if not that, what about your conflicting schedules? a text pulled you away from those thoughts.

hannie bby - new song up soon !!!!!! ur gonna listen right??

y/n - nah. don't feel like it

hannie bby - WHAT

hannie bby - i mean i guess if you don't want to that's fine you don't have to. it meant a lot to me though but i understand

y/n - i was joking !!!!!

hannie bby - don't scare me like that

y/n - i have yt open rn. just waiting for the countdown

hannie bby - :)

hannie bby - i wasn't going to say until after

hannie bby - but this song is inspired by you

even more curious now, you wait anxiously for the video to start. 3.. 2.. 1.. it plays. it's slow at first, an extremely familiar tune playing in your ears. the lyrics are about love and fear; the fear of love. by the end your eyes have grown watery, almost missing jisungs incoming call.

"what did you think?"

the tears fall. "come over."

within twenty minutes, there's a knock on your door. he stares at your wet cheeks when you open the door, his hands on your face in an instant. warmth, connection. jisung kicks the door shut as you back up into your humble apartment, your arms around his neck. no words are said as he turns you around, hands slowly finding their way down to your waist, your back against the now closed door. your faces are close, breath intermingling.

"kiss me."

and he does.

he does and kissing him is an explosion.

his lips are soft, careful, gentle, grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly. your fingers find their way into his hair, lost in the feeling of him against you, chest to chest. when he pulls away, it's brief, you pulling him back more fiercely than intended. a surge of confidence, his tongue brushes against your bottom lip. you let him in, teeth knocking into each other. another heated moment passes before you pull away again, catching your breath. your lips are swollen, pink, his matching and eyes blown out.

"i take it you liked the song?"

"loved it."

he breathes out a laugh, hand caressing your cheek lightly, corner of his mouth twitching upward in a smirk. it doesn't last long. jisung clears his throat, looking down. his hands take yours.

"if i said i loved you-"

"say it," you take a hand away to lift his chin up.

his eyes meet yours. "i love you. ever since we met, i've loved you."

"i love you too," you smile. "more than words can describe."

he leans in again.

-

-> notes ♡ birthday gift for my love @tfshouldidohere bc i can't see u physically. i love u so much. like so much. like an insane amount you have no idea. i really hope you enjoyed this :3 have THE best birthday ever, i love you i love you i love you <333 💙💗🤎💙💗🤎💙💗🤎💙💗🤎💙💗🤎💙💗🤎💙💗🤎💙💗🤎

-> taglist ♡ @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143

#tachi💗 #˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚your song #skz #stray kids #han jisung #han jisung x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x reader

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Nineteen

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: AH this newest update has been so fun and emotional to write I'm ngl, but I'm so excited to post it!! Thanks to @procrastinatinglikeapro for proof reading it and for being so lovely with all her ideas! Please read the warninggggs, I hope everyone enjoys it, it’s a long one 🩶

Warnings: smut, feelings over scars, talks of death/selfharm in the sense of not taking care of yourself (past tense), mention of drug use

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

There were much worse ways to wake up than to a head of messy curls between your legs.

I’d been dreaming about something, I knew that much. Though the thought of it was now hazy as I inhaled deeply and shifted against bedsheets, hand reaching out to feel for the body that had fallen asleep beside me. Only it wasn’t there.

My brow pinched itself into a small frown, confused, and I blinked blearily into the dim light of my bedroom. A faint chuckle echoed and I wrinkled my nose at it, tilting my head downwards to peer towards the end of the bed.

The duvet had been shoved away, pooling around my lower legs and over the grinning idiot settled between them. He pressed a soft kiss to my inner thigh, hands gripping my hips with a certain tenderness I wasn’t all that familiar with. 

Instinctively my fingers moved to work their way into his hair, taking root there and tucking a helpless strand up out of his face. “What you doin’?”

My sleep-filled question was only met with another chuckle, then two more gentle kisses. My hips lifted a fraction as my feet planted themselves more evenly on either side of him.

“Matty.” I breathed out airily, wanting a reply, trying my best to remove the remains of sleep which continued to cling to my mind.

“Keep talking.” Matty finally spoke after what felt like an eternity, his breath tickled the skin of my thighs and I fought to withhold a shudder. “You sound so pretty.”

Stupidly, I smiled, blinking down at him slowly and enjoying the feel of him; the pressure of his arms as they rested over the tops of my legs, crowding the outer muscle, and the how his nose nudged the curve of my thigh, sending a wave of goosebumps over the exposed flesh. “Should I always expect to be woken up this way?”

He nipped me then and I inhaled sharply at the abruptness of it, hands strengthening their hold in his hair. “Would you like that?”

I felt my eyes slip close, letting the rasp of his voice trail up the length of my torso and light a fire somewhere deep in my gut. I hummed in reply, a thumb brushing over his temple when he began to plant kisses up my right leg, getting sloppier and sloppier with each press of his mouth.

“Answer me.”

“Yes.” I breathed back to him, spreading my legs even further apart to give him room and shuffling ever so slightly down the bed. “Yeah, I would.”

I felt more than heard his next chuckle. 

My chest tightened, shoulder blades pressing deeper into the mattress. 

“Matty.” I nearly whined, fingers tightening once more.

He retreated completely then, and I wished I hadn’t even spoken when he asked, “What’s wrong?” with a barely there snicker. 

I didn’t pout but it was a near thing, and he must’ve known it too if the smirk he wore gave any implication. “Don’t be a dick, please.”

My hands shifted slightly as he crawled his way back up the bed, bracketing my head between his forearms so that he could lean in for a proper kiss, delving into my mouth without much care for morning breath or the fact that I must have looked a state. 

I grabbed aimlessly at the back of his neck, pressing up into him whilst simultaneously attempting to pull him even closer. I could feel the way he’d angled his knee on one side of my waist to hold himself up and the press of his fingers as they curled their way into my hair. 

Dragging my hands down and across his front, I explored the expanse of his torso, pleased to find that he had already rid himself of the tee he’d gone to sleep in. My thumb brushed over the jut of his hip, tracing the skin I knew was the home to his ‘we are kings' tattoo. I found myself wanting, desperate to explore every part of him.

He broke away to stare down at me.

“God, you don’t-” Matty shook his head and delved back in for another kiss, “Don’t even know,” then another, “What you fucking do to me.” He punctuated those last few words with a succession of quick pecks and when he leant back in to steal another I captured his bottom lip between my teeth, before slowly I let him go.

“Show me then.” I demanded, enjoying having the feel of this man’s full focus on me.

Matty wasted no time and hastily moved his hand downwards to pull at the hem of my top. I lifted myself up slightly from the mattress to help and released a stuttered sigh when he began to work his way down the length of my torso, littering my collar with wet kisses, nipping here and there but never for long. 

I didn’t think much about my scars in that moment, hands finding purchase amongst his hair and neck once more, before I felt his lips skim across the length of a larger one that jumped over my right shoulder. My breath stuttered at the feeling and my hold fell slack at the sudden reality that hit me. 

Matty paused, obviously having sensed my harsh change, and raised his head up towards me slowly, like a person would when they didn’t want to spook a wild horse. He waited, probably trying to decipher the expression I wore.

But my mind had ultimately stopped.

“Squeaks. You good?”

My eyes snapped up to meet his own, then wandered over the expanse of his face. I saw a plethora of emotions there but none were of pity or disgust, and I found myself swallowing at the realisation.

It wasn’t that I’d never shown my scars to anybody before, or purposely gone out of my way to keep them hidden during intimate moments like this- well, at least I hadn’t for a long time now. But before, I’d typically had time to wrap my head around it first, come to terms with the fact that I’d be bearing them to somebody else, or at the very least get to mention it to the other person beforehand. 

This, this wasn’t that. And this was Matty. Matty, who’d probably had countless models in his bed. Matty, a man who was both lusted after and fought over. Matty, who was currently looking down at me with eyes so kind and soft and patient.

I let go of a shaky breath. 

“I’m good.” I finally told him, thankful for the way my voice didn’t waver when I said it.

He smiled down at me, a mischievous thing that eased my lingering doubts and settled my mind, before he was disappearing again. Nose brushing along the bone of my collar and over the milky white scars that littered it, sucking hard and fast at the skin just below my ear and then again at the shell of my shoulder.

I arched up into him, chest rising and falling the lower he got, leaving his mark alongside the rest of them. Only, I found myself wishing his were the ones that always remained.

He looked up at me once he reached the hem of my sleep shorts, an older pair I favoured, striped cotton and rimmed with a narrow strip of lace. I nodded, already knowing what his silent ask would be, and raised my hips up to allow him to drag the material down the length of my legs. 

Matty paused once more after he’d discarded them, tossing them somewhere to the edge of the room. I heard them land with a dull thud I didn’t see, too busy watching him watch me.

–

She was gorgeous.

Had he told her that?

Had he said it enough?

He’d say it again now but his tongue felt too heavy in his mouth and he couldn’t seem to drag his eyes away from her long enough to get his mind to work properly again. Her name on a constant loop in his head.

“Fuck.” He heard himself mutter, hands already reaching out to touch, trailing up the length of her leg, up up up, until they danced between the crease of her thigh. 

Unable to help himself he delved downwards to press another hot open-mouthed kiss to the sweet skin there, smiling at the catch he heard in her breath. “So pretty for me.”

Those hands of hers returned to his hair and he couldn’t fault her for it, she’d seemed like the type to want for something to hold. 

“Matty.” She dragged out and God, did he want to record that sound solely for the purpose of listening to it over and over again whenever he was missing her and had his hand wrapped around himself.

It seemed that someone must’ve been listening to his inner workings of his mind because again she said it not a second later, the same pitch, same breathy exhale. Matty’s dick twitched and he suddenly felt rather restricted in his boxers, but he didn’t dare pull away, too content to just lie there between her thighs.

His kisses grew closer and closer, until she was writhing beneath his mouth, fingers clinging tightly onto his curls. She whimpered and he groaned at the very sound, she seemed to like that though, forcing his face further into her folds. 

Any other time he might have laughed at her sudden boldness, but he was a little preoccupied. The taste of her seemed to explode on his tongue, rich and heady, and he reached up, hands gripping at her hips to pull her more forcefully against his mouth. Four long licks and she outright moaned, loud and free, uncaring in truth, and it only spurred Matty on. 

Quite suddenly he wanted to devour her whole, to keep the taste of her on his tongue always. And so he began to trace his name on her clit. His own selfish need to put his brand on her somehow, his claim. She bucked up against his chin, and he forced her back down. Groaning as his fingers trailed up to join his mouth. 

“Oh, God, oh shit.” He heard her mutter when his tongue delved deeper, her hands twisting in his hair, holding him against her as she chanted. 

She came not long after and Matty continued to lick languidly whilst she shuddered beneath him, drawing harsh and laboured breaths into hollow lungs. He withdrew slightly to look up at her when her hands fell slack in his hair and ran his tongue along the length of his own lip, lapping up what was there. She made quite the picture. Laid out before him, cheeks flushed, her chest rising and falling with each new breath she struggled to draw in.

Selfishly he gave one final brush of his thumb over the expanse of her overwhelmed nerves, before forcing himself up onto his knees. 

His chin was quite noticeably wet with the evidence of her pleasure and his tongue ached like fuck all else, but he felt as though he’d gone and started his day the best way he possibly could. 

So with that thought and a satisfied grin, Matty leaned over the edge of the bed to make a grab for the t-shirt he’d thrown there earlier and wiped his face with it, pressing the heel of his hand into his softening cock when he rose.

He felt like a kid, having jizzed in his pants, but he’d gotten off on that almost as much as she had. And although he’d definitely have to shower sooner rather than later, and would surely have to go commando once he was clean, Matty couldn’t find it in him to regret the way it had gone down. 

Fuck, she was maddening. Those sounds she’d made, how responsive she’d been. He only wished that he could scar the experience into his memory.

Tossing the shirt back to the floor, Matty crawled his way up the bed one more, throwing himself onto the chilled sheets beside her, admiring the way her chest continued to move with each deep inhale. His eyes latched onto everything she had to offer him, but mainly the scars she’d been so guarded about before. 

They weren’t as bad as she’d made them out to be. Though he was only drawing that conclusion from the small and quick quips she’d made about them since knowing her, and even those had been rare and few. 

He rather enjoyed the sight of them, weren’t all that different to the look of a tattoo in truth, though he’d never admit to that out loud- he wasn’t that much of a twat, nor insensitive. But still, he found himself wanting to reach out and trail over every jagged point and rounded curve of them. They were a part of her and he found them as equally beautiful as he did those soulful eyes of hers.

His index was grazing a faded pink line before he could think better of it. It rested just below the curve of her breast and looked to have been deep once upon a time, not as deep as a few of the others she bared but far enough for the skin to have raised itself in the shape of a small bump when it had scarred over. 

She didn’t stop his wandering hand. He noticed that after a few minutes had passed between them and the rise of her chest had evened out.

His eyes swept up her side to find her staring carefully back at him, he smiled and watched as she slowly copied the motion. Then witnessed the way her eyes darted downwards, shit. Matty almost went to cover up the wet patch that had seeped into his boxers with his hand but knew that there wasn’t much point. She’d seen it now. 

She wore an expression full of surprise when he looked back up at her again, as well as the beginnings of a smirk too. “Was gonna offer, but…”

Matty rolled his eyes and shoved her teasing smile away from him, she laughed giddily into her pillow.

“Yeah, laugh it up,” He retorted, and sprawled out further on the mattress, tilting his head back far enough to stretch as his eyes fell closed, “But you weren’t the one listening to you moan, babe. Fuck, it was-” He just ended up shaking his head, unable to compare the sound of her to anything right off the top of his head.

She buried her responding groan into the pillow and Matty tutted, grinning lazily up at the ceiling before he rolled on over to look at her.

“Nah, you’re doing it all wrong. It was more like-” And his mimicking whimpers were quickly cut short by the press of her hand against his mouth. Matty widened his eyes in exaggeration over the top of her thumb and mumbled something into her palm.

“Shut up.” Was all that she said to him before she was pulling away again.

Matty rolled his eyes once more. “Rude.” He huffed, forcing his weight onto the bend of his elbow so that he could properly look down at her, “You know, a thanks wouldn’t go amiss.”

She swatted him for that one before dissolving into a fit of giggles, tugging him in by the scruff of his neck to kiss him again. He wondered briefly if she could taste herself on his tongue and the thought forced a grunt to wind its way up out of his throat. 

She pulled back at that, but gave him one last peck before the pair of them then settled on their sides to share a pillow. 

Her thumb reached out to brush the edge of his mouth once they’d eased into a peaceful quiet. Matty kissed it, content to just lie there with her for as long as she’d let him.

A car rumbled outside her bedroom window not long later and then it was her whisper that broke the calm. “What time is it?” 

Matty wasn’t even sure. Just that the sun had been creeping its way slowly up into the sky when he’d first woken. He rolled over awkwardly to make a grab for the phone he’d left to charge on the side earlier, “Almost eight.” He told her. 

Squeaks blinked in surprise, eyebrows rising, “Teds should be up by now.”

Matty shrugged and pulled her close again, draping an arm over her waist and pressing his lips to the crown of her head. “Had a long day yesterday, can’t blame the kid for having a lie in.”

She snorted, “You’re the one who kept him up late.”

“He was learning!” Matty immediately defended, though he was grinning too. “And besides, I didn’t hear you complaining.”

He felt her shake her head beneath his chin, and could even picture the way she was most definitely rolling her eyes at him. “You tend to get away with everything, don’t you?”

Smirking, Matty couldn’t deny that. “Just the little things.” Was all that he replied with and she laughed into the column of his throat.

“Hm, don’t get used to it with me.” She hummed and he hoped that she was smiling still. “I won’t make things easy for you, let that be known.”

“Oh don’t I know it.” Matty teased, enjoying the way she’d wrapped her legs around his own, “Jaw fucking aches with how hard you made me work for it.”

She gasped and he barked out a loud laugh when she pinched his side, “Prick.”

Matty merely hummed, breathing in the scent of her and letting himself get swept up in the easy reality of it all. 

But then, “WAKE!”

They both seemed to freeze at the sudden interruption and Mouse was quick to pull away from out of his hold to make a grab for the tee he’d chucked onto the floor.

“Not that.” 

She grimaced at the sight of it in her hand and then shot him a begrudging look before kicking it towards a basket full of washing, pulling a larger shirt from the dresser and throwing it on.

Matty laid there on the bed, entranced by the way it fell so effortlessly off of her shoulder, exposing the scars she had there but also the marks he’d given her too. He grinned lazily and she narrowed her eyes at him when she caught it.

“What you smiling about?”

Lifting his arms up to cushion the back of his head, Matty shrugged, “No reason, baby.”

Her squint deepened, not buying a word of it, but before she could question him again, the bedroom door shot open to reveal a pouty toddler standing in a pair of pj bottoms and his superman cape. Matty raised a questioning brow.

“Save any lives yet today, Teds?”

Still grumpy with sleep, Teddy stomped his way further into the room whilst rubbing at his eyes. Matty was amused by the sight, but also the kid’s hair, which looked just as wild and untamed as his typically did.

“No. Sleepin’.” The boy grumbled to him before he seemed to realise that it was Matty he’d been talking to and his face brightened into something a little more sweeter. “Matty.” He acknowledged with a silly smile, eyes still puffy and blinking back the drowsiness he’d been suffering from.

“Teddy.” Matty mimicked, sitting up on the bed to poke his tongue out at the boy, who merely giggled in reply. “What cartoon’s on today then, mate?”

Teddy paused and it was like a light had switched itself on inside his head because one second he was staring back at Matty and the next he was barrelling his way down the hallway towards the tele set.

“Don’t drop the remote again, Teds!” Squeaks called out just before her son could disappear around the corner, she shook her head after and then turned towards Matty, “Every time it’s him that drops it, and every time it’s me that has to spend a good half hour down on my knees searching for the batteries that fucking escape.”

Matty smiled at the thought of her on her knees, and she must’ve sensed it too because she lobbed a thick hoodie his way, as well as a pair of joggers that looked to be his. He frowned down at the items and wondered when he’d left them here.

“They’re from that night I spent at yours, when I thought we’d-” She coughed then, an excuse to not finish that sentence, but Matty already knew what she’d been on about. Mind flashing back to that night he’d practically confessed all to her, and the next morning when she’d woken up in his bed and had a full blown panic attack. 

“Thanks.” He said, skipping over it all because it was in the past now and he didn’t want her stressing over shit they couldn’t well change, “Can I bum the first shower?”

She hummed, already moving around the room to tidy up a bit, “Yeah, I’ll get in after. Don’t wanna leave Teds on his own for too long.”

“I’ll be quick,” Matty assured her, already jumping up out of the bed to stumble his way on over to the door, “And don’t bother with breakfast, alright? I’ll make it.” 

A look of surprise passed over her face at the offer but Matty didn’t comment on it, having learnt long ago that him doing the most mundane tasks for her only continued to shock her.

“Five minutes!” He called out over his shoulder before he shut the bathroom door behind him. He stepped into the shower with a smile on his face when he heard her shout back a teasing taunt about timing him.

He figured that he could grow used to mornings like these.

…

It wasn’t long later when Matty shuffled his way out of the bathroom and further into the flat, ruffling his hair dry with a towel after having pulled on the clothes Mouse had thrown at him.

Having started down the hallway, he could hear the noise of the tele playing another episode of that show Teddy favoured and the kid’s faint chuckles whenever the characters said something mildly funny. He entered the front room to find the tyke settled on the floor before it, swaddled in a couple of blankets and still half dressed.

“Comfy, little man?” Matty questioned him with a smile, draping the towel he’d used over his shoulders when he’d come to pause by him.

Teddy peered up at him with an almost adoring expression, something Matty was still struggling to get used to. Because see it was one thing to have fans crying out to make a grab for his hand on stage, or asking for a photo in the street, he could deal with all that, had gotten used to it in fact, but this was something else. This was a tiny little bean of a person, so full of innocence and purity, looking up at him as though he was something to be admired, something special.

“Bluey ‘tending to be a bat, Matty.” Teddy grinned, pointing up at the screen towards where it looked like a cartoon dog was hanging out of a tree, “Up down.” 

Matty tilted his head at the picture and snorted, before he crouched down to run a hand through the kid’s unruly hair. “Upside down, hey?” He corrected with a smile, “Looks fun.”

Teddy nodded, eyes now trained back on the tv screen. “Wanna be bat.” He mumbled, unconsciously leaning further into Matty’s hand.

Matty chuckled to himself before he was hit with a thought, “Wanna be a bat, do you?” He smirked, hand already moving to wrap itself around Teddy’s tummy, “Alright then, Superman, get ready!”

With a squeal from Teddy, Matty swiftly jumped up and flipped the kid up into his arms, letting him dangle upside down. “Matty!”

Grinning, Matty jostled him about a bit, enough so that Teddy’s giggles started to echo around the room. “Yeah, Teddy?” He answered the boy, peering down at him from over the tops of his feet, “Did you want something?”

Teddy laughed again, harder, and then shook his head, positively delighted by the whole charade. “Down, Matty!”

“Down? What do you mean down? You said you wanted to be a bat!” Matty’s feigning of being completely unaware only made Teddy laugh louder.

“Down, Matty!” Teddy managed to giggle out again, wriggling in his hold now, enough so that Matty reckoned he ought to.

“Alright, alright.” He chuckled and pulled the little monster back up into his arms, sitting him the right way up, “Good?”

Teddy’s hair was a frizzy mess and his cheeks were all flushed, but he looked giddy with joy, grinning almost madly at Matty to the point where the corners of his mouth almost succeeded in their attempt at reaching his eyes.

“Good! ‘gain!”

Matty snorted, but dropped the kid back down again. This little passtime of theirs seemed to go on for a while before Mouse wandered out to see what all the fuss was about.

Both Matty and Teddy appeared to freeze upon noticing her standing in the doorway, a single brow quirked. “What’s going on in here then?” She laughed and Matty noticed the way her eyes darted between the two of them, “Hm?”

“Bats, mama!”

Her bewildered gaze wandered to Matty after hearing Teddy’s reply and so Matty pulled the kid up into his arms again so that he could settle him back on his mound of blankets. 

Matty jerked his chin towards the tele, “Blame the dog.”

Squeaks merely rolled her eyes, albeit fondly, before her attention was redirected towards the phone she held. Matty noted her slight frown.

“What’s up?” He asked her quietly once Teddy had grown enraptured by the kids show again. 

She sighed softly to herself but looked up at him as she did, pursuing her lips before she answered, “Just this work thing. Adi messaged me.”

Matty hummed and started to trail his way into the kitchen, recalling his earlier promise of breakfast. He could manage breakfast. “Right, anything bad?”

Squeaks shook her head, having followed, but was already staring back down at her phone again. “Apparently we somehow managed to score an hour with this one guest. Fucking notoriously hard to pin down and rarely ever available to work without it being in a moments notice, but their PR team just emailed us with an offer.”

Matty knew shit about the inner workings of a radio show, only that a guest like that could probably work wonders and bring in a whole new audience for them. “And this is a bad thing?”

She threw her head back and groaned unhappily, “Yes! It’s a bad thing, Matty! Because the only moments notice they’ve given us is a fucking hour! Apparently they’re only in London for the afternoon.”

Oh.

Things seemed to click for him then, “So you’ve got to get ready and be down at the studio as soon as?”

Another sigh and she nodded, Matty watched on as she dragged a tired hand across her face, “Or at least I would be if I had someone to watch Teddy. But Finn is on a flight back home, mum is too far away, and I can’t just turn up with Teddy to something like this- I’ll have to cancel.” And with that tangent she’s already skimming her thumbs across the screen of her phone.

Matty chewed on the inside of his lip, weighing out the pro’s and con’s, and what her reaction might just be to what he wanted to say, but then he thought fuck it. “I mean, I could watch him.”

Mouse’s head snapped up at that and Matty tried not to think too much about the weight of her gaze. “What?”

He shrugged, moving away from the counter to pick up a pan, “I could watch him, if you want.” He repeated, pausing to look her in the eye. 

Look, he wasn’t stupid, he knew this was a fucking big deal. Yeah, sure, he’d spent a lot of time with Teddy, but never the two of them alone. Him offering, was his way of helping her out, yes- but also? It was her entrusting her son to him. And that in itself was a big BIG fucking ask. “I’ve only got studio time today and that’s later, but if your thing goes on long enough then I’ll be alright to cancel.”

She was watching him like a hawk now, expression half bewildered- like she’d not even thought of this scenario playing out- and half apprehensive. He supposed he could understand. 

“Really?” She asked him and Matty noted how surprised her voice sounded, almost as though she couldn’t believe he’d offered. But he didn’t want to linger too much on that, he knew he had fucked up in the past and heard that same tone time and time before, but never with her.

Matty dipped his chin in silent acknowledgment, “Yeah, you’ll probably only be gone a couple hours, right?”

“Right.”

He swallowed, picking up the carton of eggs she kept in the cupboard and moving shit about to make it seem as though he wasn’t stressing about it either. “And me and Teds would just be here, I’ll make him food while you go get dressed, then maybe we’ll take a walk down to the park or the shops. Be back before you are,” He shrugged again, licking at his bottom lip before he continued on in his ramble, “Could even order a takeaway when you get in- A chinese or an indian, or something.”

When he chanced a glance back up, Matty found Mouse staring at him, her phone still clutched in the palm of her hand. He almost thought then that she’d turn him down, wave the offer off and cancel on the show’s guest, claiming it was too soon, that she was grateful but couldn’t make that jump just yet.

But then, “A takeaway sounds good.”

Matty startled and the spoon he’d been holding slipped out of his hand as he turned to better face her. “Yeah?” He asked, but they both knew this wasn’t about a takeaway.

He saw her throat bob around a swallow, before she took a breath and gave him a slow smile, “Yeah.” She answered softly, and Matty fucking beamed.

“Yeah?” He said again, eyebrows climbing up his forehead as he stepped his way on over the tiles to wrap his hands around her waist.

She laughed at the face he made, but he was excited. Could practically feel his heart hammering away in his chest. “Yeah, Matty.” Mouse murmured into the space between them, smiling up at him now, “If you’re sure.”

Matty laughed too and squeezed her hips, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

And as scary as it all seemed, he found that he was.

“I’m sure.”

–

Saying you could watch a kid, and then actually watching a kid, were two very different things as Matty quickly found out.

Teddy was rambunctious most of the time his mum was around, but once she’d given him a kiss, said her goodbyes and headed out the door, all that increased by tenfold.

“Teds, mate. Look, I love the cape, I do. But if you wanna go out you’re gonna have to put on a shirt.”

He was met with a stoney face and an evidently displeased pout. And that would’ve been fucking hilarious in itself, especially with the way the kid now had his arms crossed over his chest and chocolate from an earlier biscuit smeared across his chin, but that was only if Matty wasn’t the one standing on the other end of it.

“Please?”

See he wasn’t prone to begging for much of anything in life, he just wasn’t built that way, rebel and all that shite. But for Teddy? Matty reckoned he’d do an awful lot.

He crouched down to level the kid with his best melting look, one which had once gotten him through tsa with a couple ounces of coke in his back pocket, and simply prayed for the best.

At last, Teddy seemed to crumble! Or at least, almost. Because Matty did eventually manage to wrangle him into a decent outfit- only, the cape stayed.

Matty found that he could breathe a little easier once they’d made it out the front door, walking hand in hand with Teddy whilst the little monster splashed about in the slowly drying puddles yesterday’s rain had left. 

He’d thrown on his beanie, the one both Mouse, and now Teddy too, seemed to poke fun at him for, as well as a thick scarf to keep the biting chill at bay and cover up some of his face.

“Where’re we headed then?” Matty voiced once they’d walked a few streets with Teddy pointing out all the birds that he could see. “Park, or the shops?”

“Lego!”

Matty peered down at Teddy’s big grin and pleading eyes, guessing that the lad was after one of the few toy shops in town. He could do that, he supposed, and smiled down at Teddy to tell him so.

They ended up stumbling across an Argos further up the main road, the windows lined with ads of all sorts but Teddy spotted one showcasing all their Lego. And so they wandered in, Matty trying to recall the last time he’d ever been in an Argos whilst Teddy scrolled through the selection on one of their many reserve machines.

“Do they have Lego for everything?” He found himself asking the kid, who was propped up on his hip to better view the screen. Because it seemed it; flowers, cars, fucking aeroplanes- they even had a red telephone box that Matty couldn’t imagine any kid choosing.

Teddy managed to spot a set made up of parts for a Passenger Train that cost almost an arm and a leg, but Matty added it to his basket all the same, as well as the Pac-Man mini arcade they sold, which had been staring at him the entire time. 

What? It looked sick and he figured that he’d need something to do whilst Teddy messed about with his train.

So they paid and the bloke at the collection point seemed to sort of recognise Matty, going off of the faces he was making, but the guy only gave him a strained sort of smile and then a nod when he’d called out their number. 

He and Teddy were slow to set off again, Matty trying to wrangle the boxes of Lego he was now carrying whilst also keeping hold of the kid in his care, questioning when the hell Lego sets had gotten so fucking big. Didn’t they all used to come in plastic boxes or some shit?

He managed it anyway and they wandered about window shopping before Teddy finally spotted an ice cream shop up ahead. 

Matty was honest to God thankful for it, the bags were growing heavier as Teddy dragged him every which way and the chance to finally sit down gave him an opportunity to shoot off another text to Mouse. Although she hadn’t replied to his last, he knew that was mostly down to her being on air.

“Still can’t believe you got bubblegum.” Matty admonished once they’d sat down at a table, he wrinkled his nose at the blue monstrosity the kid seemed to be enjoying. 

“I like it!” Teddy giggled in kind, even though he was eyeing up the scoop of cookie dough Matty had picked for himself.

With a humoured smile, Matty gestured for him to pass over his spoon, one of those tiny little plastic ones that came in an assortment of five colours. Teddy eyed him suspiciously but did hand it over, resting his chin on the tops of the forearms he had crossed over the table.

Matty handed it back after taking a large chunk out of his cup and got to watch the way Teddy’s face brightened at the taste. “Like it?” He asked after the boy had licked the spoon clean and then chuckled when he got a hasty nod in reply. “Guess we can share then.”

Teddy seemed to like the idea, even more so once he’d given Matty a spoonful of his own and watched the way his face had screwed up at the horrific flavour.

“Grim.” Matty said around a cough, wanting to rid himself of the taste.

“G’im.” Teddy butchered the mimic, which only made Matty choke on his cough before spluttering into laughter.

“Yeah, mate. Exactly.”

They spent the next half an hour there, Teddy talking to Matty about the train set he’d gotten and then about how he really wanted to drive one when he was older. Which led them to, “What you do, Matty?”

Matty slumped further into his seat at the question and smiled over at the boy, “I’m in a band.”

Adorably, Teddy’s face scrunched up into a confused sort of frown at that, though it was made even sweeter by the array of ice cream he had littering the outside of his gob.

With a faint chuckle, Matty pulled out his phone and went onto YouTube, clicking the first video that popped up after typing in their name. He slid it across the table for Teddy to look at and got to see the way the kid’s eyes widened when he spotted Matty come up on the screen. 

Sure, his hair had been bleached to shit and he looked a hell of a lot younger, but it was still him. And Teds could see that.

“You.” Teddy breathed out, blinking down at the phone as TOOTIME started to play.

Matty snorted to himself and was merely thankful for the fact that the shop was loud enough to cover up the sound of his music playing. Because the last thing he wanted was to be spotted by a couple of fans asking for pictures when he was out and alone with Teddy.

“Singin’?” 

Matty blinked at the question, having lost himself in his previous thought, but then nodded. “Yeah, and see all those other people?” He mentioned, gesturing to the girl who cropped up next, “They’re like miming, pretending to sing it.” He added after Teddy had given him a puzzled tilt of his head. 

Teddy listened to the rest of the song play out after that, pointing to Matty everytime he was seen, as well as bouncing along. He made the decision to press play on the next music video before Matty could stop him, and he gasped when he recognised it.

Which cleared up that question on whether or not Mouse had actually been lying when she had claimed to like his music. He snorted at the thought. 

Matty let Teddy listen to it, grinning at the way he sang along to the chorus of Girls.

By the time they managed to escape the shop, having finished their ice cream long before, Teds had gotten to play a majority of their songs and was humming something vaguely recognisable to himself whilst they walked up the highstreet back the way they’d come. 

Looking back, Matty could see that he’d been distracted by it all. By the weight of the bags he carried and having to keep a constant hold of Teddy’s hand. Then by the way Teds was jumping along happily and singing up at Matty each chance he got. Too distracted that he didn’t seem to notice the oncomer until it was too late.

“Matty, mate!”

It was a reaction and a half the way his head shot up at the sound of a voice he hadn’t heard in years, not too far from snapping his neck clean off in fact. 

His eyes darted to the man who had started to stumble his way over to them, the grin on his face clearly hit induced, before Matty’s gaze dropped down towards Teddy, who seemed to step back on instinct and crowd himself behind Matty’s legs.

“Been fucking too long, man! How you been!”

Matty tried not to wince at how brash the bloke was, as well as the way he got too close for comfort so that he could thump him heartily on the shoulder in greeting. 

“Yeah, too long.” He muttered, keeping a strong hold on Teddy’s hand and fighting the urge to look down at him, not wanting to draw any real attention to the boy. “Look, mate, I’m a bit busy-” He said and tried to gesture the hand holding the Argos bags out to show exactly that, but his words were trampled all over.

“What the hell you doin’ in these ends then? Thought you were livin’ up on the Heath.”

Matty gritted his teeth. “Moved a bit ago, man.”

“Ah, no shit! Bet it’s as nice as the old place was though, remember the time I fucked that posh girl in your hot tub.” 

For fucks sake.

“Look, man, I’ve really got to get going.” Matty attempted once more, and was already pivoting on his feet to try and get past the loudmouth twat. It had been too long since he’d last seen Ziggy and he’d have much preferred to have kept it that way. 

“Nah, come on, let’s catch up! I know I skipped out Luke’s funeral and that, but the kid wouldn’t have wanted us lot there at his send off.” Ziggy chuckled, showcasing the chipped front tooth he was widely known for. “Got a couple e’s on me, but you can call up your guy, have a party, yeah?”

In his life, Matty had come close to dying a couple of times. He had fucking overdosed, choked on his own sick, threatened to top himself, and done some incredibly stupid shit that had almost lost him his head. But never had he ever felt a feeling like this. His guts wanted to upend themselves onto the very pavement he stood on, along with all the rest of the blood and the bones his poor excuse for a body was made up of. 

“I’m clean.”

Ziggy laughed loudly at his croaked reply, drawing more attention to the three of them than he already had, and Matty didn’t know whether or not he’d crumble then and there, or if he’d just end up punching the fucker.

“Always been a funny kid, I told ‘em that!”

Matty steeled his jaw and forced down the lump of bile that wanted to escape. “I’m clean.” He repeated, stronger this time around, grinding down on his teeth so hard that it felt like they’d shatter in his mouth.

Ziggy stopped laughing then and kissed his teeth, “Another one down.” He shook his head, in actual disappointment, “And to think you were once sound. Just another one of them rich toffs, aintcha?” He scoffed and Matty had to bite his tongue. “Tryna act hard.”

“Yeah, guess so.”

Matty went to walk away then, shuffling Teddy along with him, who was very much clinging to the back of his jeans now. It was that motion which caught Ziggy’s attention. 

“Oh shit! Matt, you’ve got a kid!” His loud and brazen cackle rattled through Matty and forced the rest of the goers littering the street to glance their way. “What, you knock up some bird, is that it? Bet she’s rinsin’ you out of all that money you made, ey rockstar?”

It was thoughtless but Matty went for him then, catching the prick by the edge of his cheap jacket and trying not to gag at the stench that fell off him. “You’ve no fucking clue, alright? So take your loud mouth and your fucking e’s, and do one.”

He gave Ziggy a hard shove, desperate to get him away, and then swallowed thickly at the realisation of what he’d just done. But still, Matty held himself strong, picking up the bag he hadn’t realised he’d dropped whilst keeping his eyes fixed on the man. He recaptured Teddy’s hand all too quickly and started to walk away.

In the time it must’ve taken him to do that though, Ziggy had righted himself and dropped the surprise. Matty heard him spit at their retreating backs, missing, but only just, and then he called out, “Yeah, walk on, Healy! But I know your type. You’ll come back, they always fucking do!”

The sound of his laughter echoed down the street and it followed Matty most of their way home.

His body shook with raw tension, jaw clenched so tightly shut that it hurt when he thought about it. But he couldn’t think about it, not then, not with what had just gone down. Not with what Teddy had- God, what Teddy had seen. 

Mouse would skin him for this. 

That thought alone broke something deep inside of him. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Matty?”

The world seemed to stop at the call of his name.

Matty loosened his tight hold on Teddy’s hand and inhaled before he turned to look at him. 

“I’m sorry.” He heard himself say, wishing it had been more than just a cowardly fucking whisper. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

Teddy only smiled up at him, it was careful and wary, but fuck it was genuine. And it made Matty want to cry all the same.

How. How had he fucked up this badly.

“It’s ‘kay, Matty.” Teddy tried to soothe him. 

And at his words, Matty got down on his knees to run a hand through the boy's hair. “It’s not, and I’m sorry.”

Matty shook his head, hating himself more and more.

But he tried to smile. He had to, for Teddy.

“We ‘kay, Matty.” Teddy murmured, reaching up a hand to touch the bone of Matty’s cheek. Matty wondered how strong his resolve truly was when he just about managed to bite back the sob that threatened to choke him. “We ‘kay. Just a bad man.”

“A bad man.” Matty sniffed, pulling Teddy in close to press a chaste kiss to his forehead. “Yeah, mate. Just a bad man.”

“Can’t tell mama.”

Matty froze at that, his mouth ghosting over the boy’s temple.

Slowly, he pulled away, hand falling to the back of Teddy’s head, cradling it carefully. “It’s okay, Teds. Nothing will happen.”

But Teddy shook his head adamantly, “No, can’t tell! Mama worry.”

Oh.

Matty smiled, it was fucking sorrowful and full of self-pity, but he managed it for this sweet boy. “It’ll be okay, Teds. I swear.”

Though he wondered truly if it would.

“Can’t, Matty. Can’t!” Teddy looked like he was about to start sobbing then and there, his bottom lip wobbling whilst his eyes filled with tears, “Don’t tell!”

“But why, Teddy?” 

It was all that Matty could think to ask, to say.

“No upset, for mama, for Matty.”

Christ, Matty had really fucked up this time.

“No tell.” Teddy repeated again, unaware of how his words made Matty’s heart break. “Matty. No tell.”

And then he was sobbing, aimlessly and hopelessly into Matty’s chest. 

Matty held him near, rubbing a hand up and down the boy’s back whilst simultaneously wishing he could take everything back. That he could go back to this morning and never leave the flat. Never make that fucking offer.

He just wasn’t cut out for this.

He wasn’t-

Teddy’s fingers clung to the hoodie he wore with a strength that scared Matty a little, chest heaving with his quiet cries. “Okay, Teddy.” Matty murmured brokenly, trying to lull his crying with a soft and stuttered hush, “It’s okay, Teddy. I won’t tell. It’s okay.”

#the 1975 #fic #matty healy #angst #radio host #reader #x reader #x you #george daniel #ross macdonald #the 1975 band #adam hann #fluff #humour #smut #matty healy fic #matty 1975 #matty healy x reader #matty x reader #matty healy x you #ao3 #fame #strangers to lovers #mum reader #kid fic #getting together #SLOWBURN #mutual pining #Warnings #aipoban

[quixoticall]

This Could Get Ugly Track 5: The Beginning of the End

Summary: It's 1983 and The Downsides need another lead singer and you just happen to need a band--it's a perfect match. The only issue? You have to pretend to be in a relationship with your bandmate, Steve Harrington, but you can't help but be drawn to the band's broody guitar player.

pairing: s.h. x fem!reader, e.m. x fem!reader, j.b. x n.w.,

warnings: ANGST, drinking, drug use, smut, oral and fingering f receiving, p in v sex, the Harringtons make an appearance.

a/n: It has been a while my loves! If you've been following me at all, you know I've had a rough month. I really, truly appreciate every single one of you who has reached out and checked in! I appreciate you! This chapter is extra long to make up for lost time and it contains smut. It's my first time writing smut, so hopefully, I did not disappoint.

wc: 11.2K

MASTERLIST🎸

PLAY PREVIOUS TRACK 🎵

APRIL 28th, 1984 PHILADELPHIA , PA—THE UPSIDE DOWN TOUR

If you wanted to be technical about it, the whole thing started with Argyle.

The two of you were backstage, sitting outside the dressing rooms killing time during the opener—some local band that you weren’t previously familiar with.

You had always appreciated Argyle’s ability to be friendly with everyone and float above the tensions, that was the case especially now when things with the others seemed to have fallen apart a little.

You were sitting next to each other on the floor, backs against the wall, as you were running him through some of the songs that had made the preliminary list for the next album and asking for his input while he threw a bouncy ball against the opposite wall. You liked working with Argyle, he was out of the box, creative, and one of the most technically skilled band members. You had been sitting with him for only 30 minutes and he had already made one of your songs infinitely better.

“What’s the move tonight, dude?” he asks you, nonchalantly as you scribbled down some of his suggested changes.

You shrug in response, “I dunno, I might just go home and sleep after this, maybe work on the arrangements for this—” You wave your beat-up notebook in the air, and he scoffs.

“You like never come out with us anymore,” he exclaims, “I miss when we all used to party together, dude. Now you are all dropping like flies and it’s not as fun anymore!”

It was your turn to scoff at him, “Please, I was never the life of the party, Argyle, c’mon.”

“Are you kidding, dude? People would always show up in droves to see you. Plus, you’re like totally fun. Remember when you and Steve did karaoke in Austin and you both got on the bar? That was totally cool.”

You chuckle at the memory and concede, “Yeah, that was pretty fun, but you still have everyone else!”

“Well, you took my dude Eddie too,” he points out without malice.

“What do you mean?”

“He hasn’t come out since St. Louis—keeps saying he’s gonna stay in just in case you want to write with him.”

Of course, this is news to you. You hadn’t taken up Eddie’s offer to write together since he had spurned you in Missouri (and since he starred in a very vivid dream of yours). It wasn’t that you didn’t accept his apology (presented in the form of a ridiculously large flower bouquet) it was that thing would have been far too awkward at this point.

It wasn’t that you had a crush on him necessarily, you were pretty sure that mantle was still taken up by Steve to some extent, it was more that there was an undeniable sexual something between the two of you below the surface that your dreams had made obvious and you didn’t trust yourself to be alone in a room with him without wanting to rip his clothes off.

Obviously, giving in to your desires was a bad idea for a multitude of reasons but chiefly, because:

a. It would wreak havoc on the band.

b. You were certain Eddie wouldn’t reciprocate your advances.

But then… you had heard what Argyle had said.

“Wait, are you saying Eddie has been hanging out after shows just on the off chance that I may call him?” You confirm incredulously.

Argyle nods in response, “Yeah. Did you put a spell on him or something?”

“No,” you respond wryly, “I’m not that type of witch, I’m the bad kind of witch.”

“Well, you definitely did something to the dude, he’s been obsessing over whether or not you hate him and keeps trying to get me to ask.”

This takes you aback completely. Eddie caring so much what you thought of him that he’d be willing to ask Argyle, of all people to discreetly scope that out seems improbable so you continue to probe.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, he obviously thinks you’re pretty and he’s just been waiting around for you to call him up, and he cares a lot about what you think of him, which is weird because last time I checked he kinda hated you—no offense.”

“How do you know all this?” You ask, ignoring the offense.

“He told me, duh.”

“Have you told anyone else this?”

“No one else has asked,” Argyle says plaintively.

“Well, how about we keep all of this between the three of us, then?” You propose.

Before the drummer can confirm, the thundering applause signaling that the opening act had wrapped up cut the conversation off.

Neither of you has the chance to continue the discussion before being rushed onto stage by a harried and high-strung stage manager.

Without knowing, Argyle had invertedly changed the course of everything.

***

EDDIE: We were in Philly. It was a great show—probably one of the best of that tour. The audience was feeling us the opener was sick and we were just gelling for what felt like probably the first time. It was like we were all finally on the same wavelength if that makes sense. No more guessing what the next move was or fighting to keep up. It was like we were finally learning to trust each other.

***

The Philly show was electric, all the elements had come together perfectly. You and Steve were particularly reveling in it. You spent most of the night singing into the same microphone, lips inches from one another, your hand grasping the back of his neck, fingers carding through his hair, and eye contact unbreaking. At one point, you were certain by the way he had captured your bottom lip under the meat of his thumb, that he was going to lean in and kiss you on the mouth, a barrier that the two of you had managed to maintain this whole time.

The audience must have had a similar thought by the sounds of their cheers—a sound that seemed to have shaken both you and Steve from whatever spell you had been under because the next thing you know the pressure of his thumb was gone and his eyes were turned away from you and towards the crowd.

The rest of the show was spent similarly—the two of you toeing the line and the audience following your every move. It was easy to get addicted both to the applause and the intimacy.

After the encores were sung and the last bows were taken, though, Steve was back to barely being able to look at you.

The only time his gaze does flit to you, ever-briefly, is when you politely decline Argyle’s invitation to go out after the show.

“Come on dude, you said you would come if I looked at your song,” the drummer gives a half-hearted attempt at bargaining which only makes you giggle.

“I never said that Argyle,” and truly you hadn’t, “I said that I couldn’t go out because I had to make those changes you suggested.”

In response, Argyle begins to boo you, loudly and the others join in eagerly.

You roll your eyes playfully and bid goodbye to Argyle and the rest of the band when you part ways for the night and you notice that other than yourself, Eddie is the only one missing from the boisterous group but you try not to think too much on it.

Your efforts to push all thoughts of Eddie out of your mind seemed to have the opposite effect and it was like the thoughts themselves were digging their heels in and had found your mind to be a welcoming home.

You had made the song changes you had told Argyle you would and even tried to make some progress on your plethora of unfinished songs. As it turned out, you worked slower when you wrote alone.

You knew that as the remaining tour dates dwindled and the band’s return to LA drew closer, you eventually would have to approach Eddie again to write together. It was indisputable that whatever the two of you produced together was almost always better than what you accomplished alone.

How could you possibly approach him when you could barely look at him without dying of mortification? With Steve, at least, you could get some of the sexual energy out on stage, but with Eddie you didn’t have the same luxury and it stayed bottled up.

All of this, along with Argyle’s words from earlier in the evening made focusing nearly impossible and you gave up on writing all together, deciding to call it a night and head to bed. To your chagrin, the better part of the night was spent tossing and turning trying to evict the thoughts and ideas that had begun to formulate in your mind fueled by a lack of sleep, stress and desperation. And suddenly, you had an idea.

Admittedly, it was not a very good idea. It was actually probably a very bad idea. A ruinous idea even. And yet, you found yourself pulling the covers off yourself and stumbling into a pair of slippers, perplexed by your actions. You wondered, as you blearily shuffled down the identical hotel halls why you weren’t trying to talk yourself out of this idea—one that you were certain was going to change everything. Perhaps you were itching for a new thrill. Or maybe you were as selfish as everyone seemed to believe. Maybe it was the poison that had settled in your heart before you were old enough to know better, insisting that there was no other option for you. Or maybe you were giving yourself far too much credit and you were simply horny.

Whatever the reason, it brought you directly to Eddie Munson’s door.

***

EDDIE: I swear I thought I was dreaming when I saw her there, standing outside my door in this tiny pajama top and even tinier short. They had little cherries on them. I remember thinking they were so cute. Her hair was all a mess. I thought that was cute too.

After probably 5 minutes of us standing there in the doorway, I finally got my brain to work enough to invite her in. She seemed nervous at first. Sort of paced around the room, not saying anything for a while and then—I swear to God—she asks, “Do you want to sleep with me?” out of fucking nowhere. If I hadn’t been there myself, I would’ve never believed it. Hell, even telling you now, part of me thinks I made it up.

My brain short-circuited because I couldn’t even respond. I just stared at her with my jaw on the fucking floor, trying to remember what the signs of a stroke were.

***

“Are you serious?” Eddie spits out, voice hoarse with shock at your overly-direct question.

You nod, wordlessly, trying to ignore the panic that has begun to set in.

“Why?” he presses.

You shrug, which he doesn’t find sufficient because he nods along, trying to draw the reasons from you.

“We both like sex,” you explain, clumsily, “and I find you attractive and I think you find me attractive, too—” he nods feverishly at this—“so why not have some fun?”

You try to say this last part enticingly but aren’t sure you pulled it off until you see a flush play itself across his pretty features.

“Why me? Why not Harrington?”

Even though you had anticipated the question, you can’t help but steel yourself as you respond, “Because we like each other enough for it to be fun but not enough for either of us to get attached.”

You watched, with bated breath as the thoughts played out over Eddie’s features and when you see a flash of what could be hurt you entertain for the briefest moment, the idea that maybe someone could get hurt but the thought is pushed away as a lazy grin begins to spread over his face and a newfound cockiness color his features.

Suddenly, he is much closer, and the space between your two bodies draws thin.

“Now?” he asks.

“Yes, now,” you squeak out as he encroaches in on you, fingertips grazing the bare skin on your hips.

You take a step towards him, moving to stand flush against his hip, invitingly and weave a hand through his unruly bed head curls. You want him to know how much you want this—how much you’ve wanted this. It was inevitable really, there had always been a tension between the two of you. Whether it was the hot friction of dislike , the bold spark of creative partnership or the hot embers of sexual tension, the two of you burned for one another just the same.

He leans in for a kiss when your impatience gets the best of you and you rush to meet him halfway.

He tastes like cigarettes and cherries, a taste you revel in as his lips move languidly over yours. Suddenly, he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and lightly tugs, and a moan tumbles out of you.

“We can’t tell anyone,” you mutter into the kiss and it goes unacknowledged.

The cold of his rings meets your nipples through the thin fabric of your strappy pajama top and your body arches in response.

The kiss is broken you are left gasping for air. Eddie wastes no time in attaching his lips to your neck, his tongue tracing over your collarbone hotly.

The straps of your top are shucked of your shoulders and the fabric bunched down towards your middle and a trail of kisses following in its wake.

Your knees hit the edge of the bed, and the hands in your waist guide you down in a fluid motion.

Your eyes flutter as wet kisses are peppered over your breasts.

“Come on princess, let me hear those pretty noises,” Eddie murmurs into your skin, his hot breath covering you in goosebumps.

A heady moan escapes you, almost on command. It would’ve embarrassed you if you still had the decency to care.

A trail of kisses and suddenly Eddie is thumbing at the waistband of your shorts. You nod fervently when his eyes suddenly trail up to find you, but that’s not enough for him.

“Come on, baby,” he teases, “tell me what you want.”

You throw your head back in frustration and want and Eddie takes this lapse in response to run his hand sloppily over your clothed core.

“So wet,” he murmured, “so pretty.”

You let out a desperate laugh at this and his eyes are back on you, expectantly and any resistant you have dissipates.

“Touch me, please,” you sigh, half plea, half demand.

It’s not a hard sell because your shorts and underwear are gone in a flash and cold rings are pulling your thighs wide open.

You reach out towards Eddie’s curls for purchase, gently tugging him closer to your core, hoping he’d get the message.

A moment of clarity cuts through your haze and suddenly you’re pulling him up by his hair, forcing eye contact.

“No one can know,” you insists.

He’s all half-lidded eyes and dazed smile when he’s looking at you.

Leaning in to grab his jaw in your palm, you pull him close. This is important.

“Eddie, no one can know. Promise me,” you repeat again.

He nods in agreement, even though his expression leads you to believe you could’ve asked anything in that moment and he would’ve readily acquiesced.

“No one can know,” he affirms before hitching your body closer with a harsh tug on your thighs and disappearing in between your legs, mouth latching hotly to where you need him the most.

***

EDDIE: We started sleeping together that night. A no strings attached type thing. We had to keep it a secret. She didn’t want to hurt Harrington’s feelings which I understood. He was a good guy and anyone could tell he was head over heels for her.

And she was just… well, I guess she was just afraid. We were kind of the same in that way. Couldn’t hold onto anything without crushing it into dust.

***

MAY 1st, 1984–STATEN ISLAND, NY—THE UPSIDE DOWN TOUR

Eddie’s hands are curled around your thighs, keeping your body balanced on the flimsy tour bus bathroom sink. His silver rings dig into the soft flesh of your thigh in a way that you are certain will leave bruises in their wake.

You have to be quiet, you know that. Even if the rest of the band had taken a quick pit stop between Philly and New York to explore the Staten Island Zoo and the likelihood of them coming back this early was low, it wasn’t non-existent . This left you stifling your own moans into the back of your hand as Eddie rocked into you languidly and delicious.

Your hand moved to steady itself behind you as he lets go of your left thigh and places the pad of his thumb on the soft flesh of your clit, causing you to forget nearly everything.

He seems to anticipate your next move though, because his mouth is quickly on yours, tongue gliding over your bottom lip and effectively keeping you quiet.

The angle of his hips meeting your core and his nimble fingers worked together to bring you closer to your release.

“I can feel it, baby, you’re close aren’t you?”

You nod feverishly, eyes screwed shut, “Yes, so good Eds. I’m gonna cum,” you manage to squeak out.

“C’mon pretty girl, look at me,” Eddie instructs firmly, but you can tell by the strain in his voice that he’s not too far behind, “wanna see you when you cum.”

You force your eyes open and he rewards you by pressing his unoccupied thumb into your bottom lip which you greedily take into your mouth.

Your release washes over you in a wave and you watch moments later as Eddie finds his own.

The two of you are left panting for a few moments as you try to steady yourselves. Once you find your bearings, you lower yourself from the sink and adjust the sundress that was so carelessly shucked to your hips and Eddie busies himself with disposing of the condom discreetly.

Turning to the bathroom mirror, you make an attempt at taming your haphazard hair and fixing your smudged lipstick before making a move for the door.

“Well, that was nice,” you offer before spilling into the tour bus’s common space.

“Wait,” Eddie cries out as he’s still adjusting his belt, “where are you going?”

You shrug nonchalantly in response but don’t turn around, “Back to the girls’ bus.”

“You don’t want to… you don’t want to stick around maybe? We could do some writing?” Eddie sounds out of breath when he asks but you chalk it up to the sex.

“Better not. It might look suspicious,” you explain as you take the stops down from the bus, two at a time.

“Right, wouldn’t want that,” Eddie squeaks out and you smile back at him, grateful for his understanding.

“See you later, Eds.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything back, but when you look back after having boarded your own bus, he’s still standing on the bottom step, eyes still on you.

***

EDDIE: Let’s get the record straight about something though, I didn’t steal her away from anyone. She is her own person first of all, not some thing to be stolen. And second of all, she came to me first. Not the other way around. And! She and Harrington weren’t even really seeing each other. So, other than the lying, it truthfully wasn’t that bad.

But then again, does the truth even matter? Especially now? After everything?

INTERVIEWER: It does to me and to you too, I think, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.

EDDIE: Has anyone ever told you you’re too smart for your own good?

***

MAY 3rd, 1984–NEW YORK CITY, NY—THE UPSIDE DOWN TOUR

It was easy, really, to keep your fling with Eddie a secret from the rest of the band. Most of them were barely paying attention to what you were doing anyway.

Nancy and Jonathan were once again preoccupied with waiting by the phone to hear from Jonathan’s mother, Joyce. Will’s condition had once again worsen and the two were on high alert.

Robin and Steve were busy sightseeing and pointedly only talking to you when necessary. They weren’t hostile, per se, (or at least, Steve wasn’t) but they also made a point to not invite you to their outing. You want to tell them to be wary of the paps since the city is crawling with them in a matter akin to cockroaches but you know better than to try to tell Robin what to do.

Argyle, for his part, is in his own world.

The two of you were essentially in the clear barring rehearsals, shows and any stray public appearance. Still, you couldn’t help but want to take precautions.

***

EDDIE: She would never sleep over. You know, after. She was too worried about what would happen if Steve or anyone else went looking for her.

It shouldn’t have bothered me as much as it did, she—we had made it very clear that this was a purely physical thing but, well, between you and me kid, I always knew it was never gonna be like that. At least not for me. I was in deep for way longer than I had realized.

***

Long, skilled fingers trace patterns along your naked spine. The movements are comforting, calming, you almost find yourself lulled to sleep. Except you know you shouldn’t—that you can’t.

Your eyes flutter open as you fight against the sleep that sets in. This isn’t your bed, you remind yourself, and you feel that in the brush of the sheets against your naked body that definitively do not feel like the sheets of your bed merely a few doors down. It’s a silly thought, truly, these sheets are probably the exact same as the ones on your bed and more so, you haven’t slept in your bed, a bed that is truly, strictly your own in years . Still, this does not feel quite right.

You will your body to stir, working actively against every nerve that is telling you not to move from the warm, comfortable haven you had found and the warm body next to you but you know better. This is a dance you’re familiar with: they ask you to stay but don’t really mean it and if they do it’s only to squeeze another quick fuck in.

“Why don’t you stay?” Eddie grumbles into your shoulder even though both of you already know the answer.

“What if someone comes looking for me, huh?” A question for a question, “it’ll be hard to explain to Hopper why I’m naked in your bed.”

“Bullshit. You’re one of the only ones Hopper doesn’t have to keep tabs on,” Eddie’s only partially playful in saying this.

“I miss my bed,” you rebut, plainly and the guitarist pouts in response.

“This is like the same bed, dude.”

“ ‘Dude’? You’ve been hanging out with Argyle way too much.”

“Whatever,” Eddie dismisses as his hand travels down along your spine to circle around the rise of your hip to the front of your body to pull you closer against his chest and you squeal.

His skilled fingers travel down to the apex of your legs and two of them swipe through your still-wet heat making you jolt. You’re still sensitive from earlier in the night and Eddie is using that to his advantage as he swipes over your clit.

You moan at the contact and your hips canter forward embarrassingly quickly.

“Don’t want to leave now, do you?” Eddie teases as he moves away from your clit to tease your entrance and you mewl in response. Before you know it a pair of lips are attached to your neck and two fingers are slowly, deliciously rocking in and out of your core. A hand moves up to grip Eddie by the hair as you moan.

“Just like that, please keep going.”

You feel Eddie’s length begin to harden against your back as his pace quickens and his thumb circles your clit bringing you closer to your third orgasm of the night.

“No fair,” you pant, as you feel a tightening in your lower stomach. “You can’t keep me around by giving me orgasms.”

He laughs at this, full-blown guffaws. “There’s no rule against it,” he says as his tongue slides over the shell of your ear. His fingers curl inside you and you gasp at the sudden pressure before succumbing to the feeling. Your release washes over you, unexpectedly and you cry out.

A few seconds reprieve give you a moment to come back to earth. You sigh contently feeling Eddie’s harden length against the swell of you ass.

It would be impolite to leave him hanging.

***

EDDIE: Not that I could complain about our arrangement.

***

You had fallen asleep. Accidentally, of course, but erroneously still. You realize this far too late as the harsh red numbers of the hotel room alarm clock blare at you angrily: 11:52 AM.

You scramble out of bed, covers flung in the process and you make a grab for your clothes that litter the floor. The sudden, frantic movement had inadvertently awoken the man sleeping next to you and you could hear the sleep in his voice as he tried to grasp the situation.

“Woah, woah where’s the fire, princess?”

“It’s nearly noon!” you respond, panic clear in your voice. “I accidentally fell asleep and now it’s almost noon!”

Your mind is overcome with worst case scenarios and conclusions that are easily jumped to as you imagine how this late morning can turn into your downfall.

Eddie tries valiantly to calm you down to no avail. You had done the one thing you said you never would: you stayed the night and now you didn’t know what to do with that other than panic and rush out the door half dressed and fully angered with yourself throwing a paltry goodbye to a very disoriented Eddie over your shoulder as you did so.

You try to fix your hair in the elevator along with your harried breath. Most of the band wake up late into the day, you try to remind yourself, especially after a night out.

It was not unusual to be walking the halls of your hotel room at this time, but you still felt overwhelmingly nervous walking back to your room in a way that you felt obviously gave away that you were coming back from a night of raunchy sex.

Your heart dropped to your stomach as the elevator doors slid open to reveal Steve Harrington waiting outside your door. This is what you were afraid of. Certainly one look at you and he’d know exactly what you were doing and probably with who and that would spell the end of the Downsides, you were sure of it.

You didn’t say anything as you exited the elevator and slowly made your way over, hoping to prolong the moment before everything came crumbling down as much as you could.

A few steps in and you had caught Steve’s attention. When he looked at you though, it wasn’t with anger or disappointment but with nerves.

***

STEVE: My parents moved around a lot after I left home. Indianapolis, Chicago, Phoenix in the winter and Bridgeport in the summer, you know, regular rich folks shit.

It’s not like I could ever go back home but when they heard the band was planning on making the stop they wanted me to visit them and they wanted me to bring my girlfriend to meet them.  I hadn’t wanted to ask then, things were kind of awkward between the two of us, but they kept insisting. It’s like they didn’t believe I could’ve bagged a girl like her and they were willing to call me on it. So, I had no other choice but to ask.

***

You understood where Steve was coming from, truly, your own parents were rich and demanding. Plus, something about seeing your fake boyfriend waiting at your door after a night sleeping with someone else really made you susceptible to his request.

And really, there wasn’t a universe where you would say no to a request from  Steve Harrington, so of course you were going to meet his parents.

***

MAY 6th, 1984–NEW YORK CITY, NY—30 ROCKEFELLER PLAZA

“So I heard you’re meeting the in-laws,” Eddie plops down in the makeup seat next to you

You’re backstage at The Nightly Show with Chris Palmer, getting ready for one of the few media appearances Hopper had managed to schedule during the band’s short stint in the city.

You can tell by the pinching between Eddie’s eyes and the snarl in his tone that he’s not in a good mood. You chock up his demeanor to the same thing that has dampened yours: the upcoming interview.

The lack of media appearances had been a welcomed change during the band’s time on the road and the adjustment back to them have been rocky. You, for one, are on edge at the idea of having to sit down with the smarmy, sexist, Chris Palmer who, on his late night show, had already taken a few swings at you for laughs and the thought of him having the chance to do so to your face, made you sick.

Which was why you barely responded to Eddie’s attempt t goading you and instead, shrug in response, tightly, “I guess.”

His eyes flit over you and his demeanor shift to one approximating concern. “Hey, you doing okay?” He moves closer, but not enough for it to be noticeable to anyone but you.

“Yeah,” you try to smile but it comes out a grimace, “just out of practice I guess.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I have an extra copy of Baldwin that I brought on accident if you want a distraction,” the book flashes in your periphery and this time your smile comes out genuine and unprompted.

While you can’t be one hundred percent certain, you’re familiar enough with the guitarist’s ways to know that this was no accident—he brought the book with you in mind.

You make a grab for it but have to keep yourself from leaning in for a hug at the risk of the others’ scrutiny and your makeup artist’s ire. Not knowing how else to communicate your appreciation, you give his shirt a quick—and hopefully discreet—tug.  He seems to catch your drift because his fingers graze yours purposefully as you move your hand away.

The brief touch shoots electricity through you.

“Thanks,” you murmur before watching him jaunt away to his spot between Argyle and Jonathan, both of your moods seemingly lifted, if only for a moment.

You’re grateful for the distraction although it barely keeps your attention and instead end up thumbing through the pages anxiously to the chagrin of your makeup artist who is clearly relieved to pass you onto hair once the final touches of lipstick are applied.

You thank her profusely before moving next door where, to the surprise of exactly no one, you’re sat next to Steve. Or at least you think it’s Steve you’re sat next to given how little you can see through the thick mass of hairspray clouding the air.

“They don’t call me ‘The Hair’ for nothing, right?” He says when you catch his eye through the fumes.

His hair stylists laughs a little too hard for your taste and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“I thought you hated that nickname,” you say, settling into your chair, ready to play your part as the doting girlfriend.

He shrugs nonchalantly, “there are worst things to be called.”

You scoff in response, your previous concerns regarding tonight’s host bubbling up again, “I am sure there are.”

Steve turns to you fully now, offering a charming apology to his stylist that leaves her a giggling puddle, and you can feel his eyes scanning you in assessment.

He suddenly reaches over to the vanity in front of him, “The vending machine in the hall is totally broke, it gave me four candy bars. Do you want one?”

You look over at the bars in his hand which he has fanned evenly and is waving as if they’re a wad of cash and you grab one out of his reach.

“These are my favorite,” you point out as you smooth a hand over the wrapper, remembering all the times you would raid the vending machines at venues or backstage before an interview for them.

“I know,” he says, impishly.

“Harrington, be straight with me, is the machine really broken or did you get me my favorite candy bar just to butter me up?”

He nods,  self-satisfied, like a little kid happy to be caught doing something that they’ll know they’ll get away with. Your joint hairstylists coo in adoration at your dotting “boyfriend” and you can’t help but roll your eyes affectionately.

“You seem a bit nervous,” he explains, “and candy usually helps.”

You exhale a laugh at this and admit that he’s right, “candy usually does help,” before nibbling on the bar carefully  for the sake of your lipstick.

“So, what’s up?” He asks after a beat, while the hairstylists are preoccupied cleaning their tools, “are you nervous about doing our thing again?”

He says the last part with an overly-dramatic eyebrow waggle and you giggle.

What do you mean?” You ask, avoiding his glance.

He almost rolls his eyes at this but catches himself, knowing better.

“You just seem off, like nervous almost? But not in the usual way you are nervous about interview, but like different. Normally you’re just nervous because you overthink it but now it’s like you’re dreading it.”

You snort at the way he saw right through you.

“It’s stupid but, Chris Palmer has made jokes about me in the past, you know, about my dating history and things like that and I’m not really looking forward to hearing what he has to say tonight,” you explain, bashfully.

“What do you mean? Do you and Chris know each other?”

“No,” you respond, shifting uncomfortably in your seat, “he just is, you know, one of those comedians who pokes fun at celebrities and he loves making fun of women who ‘get around’ or whatever and well, that was my reputation before you… and the band.”

You see realization dawn on Steve’s features, it’s almost like he doesn’t believe anyone could ever be mean to you.  Realization quickly turns to anger.

“And you think he’ll make fun of you tonight in the same way? In front of everyone?”

You shrug at this, “maybe, he’s not exactly known for taking it easy on his guests, but I’m used to it, it’s annoying though.”

Steve shakes his head aggressively at your dismissal and bolts up from his char, “No, I’m going to go talk to Hopper or something, have him tell Palmer’s people he needs to cool it or we won’t perform.”

He’s marching down the hall now, purposeful and quick. You make a beeline after him running ahead to cut him off.

“Woah, hey, Steve, you do not need to do that.” The last thing you want is the band being labeled as difficult to work with this early on.

Standing in front of him with your hands flat on his chest, you suddenly become very aware of all the eyes peaking out of the different green rooms to watch the exchange curiously, band mates and crew alike.

Steve grabs one of your hands lightly in his and gives it a tepid squeeze.

“I’m sorry but I am not sitting up there tonight and listening to anyone say anything bad about you.  That’s just not going to happen, okay? Please trust me, I won’t do anything crazy, I’ll just talk to Hopper and we’ll figure this out. I have your back, remember?”

You study his face as he says this and are caught up in the earnestness etched into every corner of it.

“Okay,” you finally say, softly and back away from his path, “thanks.”

And you watch him go.

***

STEVE: Hopper hadn’t known about the Palmer thing. He wouldn’t have booked us if he did. When I told him, he was pretty peeved and we immediately went to go talk to the stage manager—some smarmy  guy whose name I don’t remember.

Told us essentially, that it was no use, that Palmer wrote his own material fresh before each show.

Well, after that, Hopper and I track down Palmer in his dressing room and, you know, we give him a shake down.  Old school style. Like back when Hopper was on the force. … he did most of the shaking down, don’t get me wrong, I was definitely going to get in there, but he seemed to really enjoy it. Plus I had just gotten my hair done.

***

When Steve reappears in the green room half an hour later, Hopper is trailing him smiling giddily. 

Coming up to your side, Steve wraps an arm around your shoulders and leans into your hair to murmur, “We took care of it.”  The giant grin Hopper is sporting lets you know that they had and you exhale a sigh of relief, curling a hand against his bicep gratefully.

You spring back a few seconds later when you feel Eddie’s heavy gaze from the spot he occupied next to you, eyes boring into all the places your body is touching Steve’s.

You can sense Steve’s confusion at the lost contact but before anything else can be said or done, the stage manager appears to move escort the band to the sound stage saving you from having to navigate the complex social dynamic of interacting with your fake boyfriend who wants to be your real boyfriend and your band rival turned friend-with-benefits. Gratefully, you allow yourself to believe for the first time, that maybe luck would be on your side and tonight wouldn’t be so bad.

***

NANCY: Do I think Chris Palmer had a personal vendetta against her? No, not going into that night, anyway. I think he was just a misogynistic idiot who didn’t know what to do about a talented and beautiful woman who also did whatever she wanted.  His mind couldn’t wrap around that.

That was true for a lot of men back then. And now too.

JONATHAN: It felt like Chris had a personal vendetta against her.

***

The first half of the interview went well enough.

The band was welcomed with great fanfare and everyone filed towards the couches in the center of the stage next to the large mahogany desk Chris sat behind. You and Steve were, of course, together at the forefront and you could hear the collective cooing when he helped you down the platform.

The interview started out mild, questions about the tour and being on the road. Thankfully, Steve took the helm for most of them with the band weighing in throughout.

To your surprise, Chris directs his next question to you and Eddie.

“You two are the newest additions to the band, how has the transition been coming from working as a solo artist and from a band of a whole different genre to the Downsides and what made you want to make the change?”

The question was surprisingly insightful which took you a second to process and come up with an answer that wasn’t “Well, Chris, we were forced to join The Downsides at the risk of our careers ending completely.”

Eddie beats you to it, “The royalty checks are better than they are when you’re in a metal band for one—“ it takes the audience a second to realize this is a joke, but when they do the laugh pays off— “but honestly, I like the stability. What they don’t tell you, kids, is that too much rock and roll can be bad for you.” He says this part directly to the camera with a devilish grin.

“What about you?” Chris turns to you once the laughter subside, “do you miss being a free agent?”

You ignore how pointed that feels and smile in response.

“Not at all, the band has been super welcoming and there’s something really rewarding about working together to make something great happen.”

“Don’t miss your old duet partners at all?” The host needles.

“No, not really. At the risk of sounding cheesy Chris, I think I found my forever duet partner,” you punctuate your response with a pointed smile at Steve.

The audience eats your response  up but you can tell that Chris is not ready to let it go. Luckily for you, a well-timed commercial break saves you from further questioning.

When the cameras start rolling once more though and the segment is reintroduced, Chris flashes you a wolfish smile.

“So, does this mean you’ve settled down a bit more, now that you’re a one-duet partner type of gal?”

The question makes your throat run dry because you know that there’s another, much tricker question behind it.

“No, not at all. It’s nice to be a part of something,” you respond placidly.

Chris barely lets you finish before launching into, “well the press sure does miss writing about you! Did you know that, in the last year, you were one of the most mentioned stars on Subrosa, popping up a total of 65 times only rivaled by one Evelyn Hugo in 1967.”

You don’t really know what to say or where this is going but the feeling of dread in your stomach grows.

“In fact,” he continues, “why don’t we play a game that we cooked up with the help of your Subrosa mentions?”

Games were something Chris did with his guests pretty frequently and they varied in execution but in nature there was always something a bit embarrassing to them and tonight was no exception. But instead of going after the band as a whole, this game was targeted specifically at you .

It was a guessing game, “Simple enough,” Chris touted as his assistants bring out giant blown up headshots of various male celebrities, guess which of the men you had been involved with according to the media and which ones you hadn’t been. The joke of course was that you had been linked to all the men whose pictures had been provided.

The looks of shock on your bandmates’ faces perfectly countered the one of self-satisfaction painted on Chris’s smarmy face.

You felt Steve stiffen beside you, leg twitching as if he was getting ready to stand up and leave. Or punch Chris. Before he can, you place a stabilizing leg on his thigh and giving a squeeze. You didn’t want this to diverge into a fight and you refuse to let this vile man make a fool of you on live television.

“Well, this won’t do,” you smirk at Chris. “You only have half of my list out here, Chris! You’re missing quite a few other fellas. I thought you wanted to make this difficult.”

“Oh?” The host is clearly not expecting your response but has no choice to lean in since you clearly have the audience’s attention, “and who could we possibly be missing?”

“The crown prince of Monaco, for starters,” you respond, evenly, “and the entire Harlem Globetrotters ‘83 starting lineup—“ the crowd guffaws at your clear exaggeration, “—and most importantly, this guy,” you reach over to grab Steve’s chin and affectionately squeeze his face. At this, laughter turns into applause and from where you are sitting on the shared couch, you see Chris’s jaw tighten.

“Is there anyone who’s hasn’t made the list?” he cries, trying to turn the joke back on you.

“You, for starters,” you respond playfully, and then add before he can say anything, “but who knows? Maybe this band thing doesn’t work out and in a few years time I’ll become washed up and lower my standards and you and I can give it a shot.”

Before Chris can retort, Steve cuts in with an over-exaggerated, faux-jealous, “what about me?”  That kicks off a jokey bit of banter between the three of you that takes the show all the way up to comercial.

***

NANCY: There was a second part to the game.   

ROBIN: Yeah, that second thing was just mean. It was essentially the same premise as the first guessing game but instead of guessing different men she had been associated with, it was different nicknames she had been given by the media. They were not very nice names either, “Siren of the Strip”, “Heartbreak of Hollywood”, “Pop Music’s Maneater”, you get the gist.

Of course, like with the last “game” the joke was that it had been all is them.

***

The names had been a surprise.  You didn’t know how to react and neither did your bandmates although you’re pretty sure you can feel the heat from Eddie’s glare from the other end of the set.

Still, you kept your cool and  immediately admitted that all of them seemed familiar and instead turned the conversation into criticisms of each of the names, which was gaining too many laughs for Chris to try to stop it.

“See this one I don’t like at all,” you say, pointing to Malibu Minx that had been professionally printed on a giant poster board in newspaper font.

“Whys that?” The host asked wolfishly.

“Malibu Minx? Are you serious? Anyone with half a brain knows I’m from the Hills, not Malibu. Honestly, it’s a little insulting.”

“Come on, they can’t be that different,” Chris still plays along, even though your comment did not go where he wanted it to.

“Not at all! The Hills is where all the directors and actors live, Malibu is where divorced dads take their kids during their monthly weekend visits. It’s like, here on the east coast… well, I can’t think of an East Coast equivalent. Chris, help me out, where do you take your kids during your monthly visits?”

***

ROBIN: You should’ve seen his face when she said that.

NANCY: His first divorce had just gone public a few weeks prior. Guess it was still a sore spot. Not that he didn’t deserve it, he did, but he wasn’t used to his guests fighting back like that. The rest of the show was… tense and then after the show ended Palmer lost his cool.

STEVE: Honestly, I wanted to punch the guy since he brought out his stupid  little games, but I was willing to leave things as they were that night, especially after she had put Palmer in his place, but we get backstage after the show and he starts yelling at her about having “embarrassed” him or something like he hadn’t essentially called her a bunch of names on live tv. Before any of us could even do anything though, Hopper had him pinned against the wall, saying stuff like “I thought we had come to an agreement about the jokes, Palmer.”

He gave him a good shake down, you know how intimidating Hopper can be. Plus Chris looked like he had never been in a fight in his life so he was shaking in his boots immediately. Security had to come to get Hopper off of him and we were all thrown out after that.

ROBIN: Yeah, we were never asked back after that not that we would’ve gone back.It was a shame for him, really, that 1984 episode of The Nightly Show with Chris Palmer was one of the most viewed episodes in the ten years he was on the air.

***

You return to your hotel room in the early hours of the morning, after having gone for celebratory drinks with Hopper and the rest of the band.  Everyone had been thoroughly impressed with the way you had held your own against Chris and even previously-icy Robin seemed impressed and warmed by you.

You hadn’t had much of an opportunity to talk to Eddie throughout the night, something about the undecipherable expression he wore most of the night had left you curious and you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe hearing your entire history splayed out like that in front of him and the rest of the world had soured you and he no longer wants anything to do with you.

As you’re getting ready for bed, the ringing coming from the hotel phone jolts you.

“Hello?” You breathe out, harried and confused into the handset.

“Hey, I didn’t wake you did I?” Eddie’s concerned question statics over the line.

“No,” you respond, relief coloring your tone, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, really, I was just thinking how hot it was when you told that dickbag off and I was wondering if you’d be up to me showing you that.”

“Showing me what, exactly?”

“Showing you how hot I think you are. If you’re up for it, of course?”

25 minutes later, with Eddie’s face buried messily in your pussy you’re near inching closer to release when you hear him muttering into the soft skin of your thigh while two of his skilled fingers begin pumping in an out of your tight heat.

“You know, if I didn’t know better, seeing you all hot and desperate to come on my fingers like this would make me think you are a minx.”

Hearing him call you that so low and growly, left you burning all over and you keen into his hands. Knowing his words had the intended effect, Eddie smirks into your thigh and speeds up his fingers.

“Only for you,” you respond once you can find your voice again.

Eddie give a low moan at this and in an instant he clamors up onto the bed and moves to replace his fingers with his dick.

“Say that again,” he challenges as he swipes his tip through your folds and you cry out.

“I’m a minx for you,” you nod along to what you’re saying, hoping that it makes him more eager to stop teasing and finally push inside you.

He does exactly as you hoped and pushes his hips into you hungrily, setting a punishing pace, “Only for me right?”

You nod along, fucked out and on the verge of coming agian, “Yes, only for you, Eddie.”

You don’t make it back to your hotel room that night either.

***

MAY 11TH, 1984–BRIDGEPORT, CT—THE UPSIDE DOWN TOUR

“Are you sure the’d still want to meet me?” You ask Steve one evening, brushing your hair standing in the doorway of the door that separated your hotel room from his.

“Yeah, of course! Why do you keep asking that? Wait… do you not want to meet them anymore? It’s okay if you don’t,” Steve is already trying to hide his disappointment.

“No,” you rush to correct as you follow the sound of his voice to the bathroom, “it’s not that at all it’s just that, well with all the Minx stuff in the news, I worry that maybe they won’t think I’m worthy of the Harrington brood or whatever.”

You’re of course referring to the drama that had followed the band’s appearance on the Chris Palmer show where Chris had given an interview to Subrosa after you had affectively embarrassed him on his own show calling the band talentless and you worthy of every bad name that the press could call you and more.

In response to the interview—and partially inspired by your encounter with Eddie following the interview— you had gotten the word ‘Minx’ embroidered on the back of your favorite suede jacket which you made sure to wear to all of your subsequent interviews and media appearances for the rest of the band’s time in New York.

“First of all,” Steve begins,  rubbing shaving cream over his chin “neither of my parents would ever dream of reading a gossip magazine and even if they did, they hate Chris Palmer, always said he was too ‘blue’ whatever that means. Plus, historically, dinners with my parents haven’t been the most enjoyable affairs, so having you there would really mean a lot to me.”

You smile understandingly at him through the mirror and suddenly the whole domesticity of it all strikes you. In another life, the two of you could’ve simply been a couple discussing meeting one another’s parents in the bathroom of a shitty apartment the two of you shared.

The fantasy is interrupted abruptly by a bright cacophony of knocks at your door.

“That must be Eddie,” you explained,  “he’s coming over to write.”

(He really was.)

With all the fucking the two of you had been doing, writing music had fallen to the wayside and as the end of the tour was insight and Murray’s quota of songs still not met, which meant you had to get writing.

You scramble over to your door and let Eddie in. He almost leans in for a kiss but catches himself when he notices the open door leading into Steve’s room where he is very much watching the interaction with prying eyes.

The two nod at each other in greeting. You linger in the middle between either sides the awkwardness tangible in the air. You look at Eddie’s urging eyes and then flash back to Steve whose puppy dog gaze and newly received information about his parents make you do something that is surprising even to yourself.

“Do you want to help us write, Steve?”

The situation is awkward at first, especially with the glares Eddie seems to shoot you and Steve’s shy insistence that he’s no good at writing music but eventually, after two bottles of wine, the tension subsides, at least a little.

Eddie and you had presented Steve with a few songs that were very close to done but just needed a bit more work on the melody hoping that maybe he had suggestions.

He scans over a song that Eddie had primarily written, “Wild Ride”. Steve had an idea for a rhythm that could match the song and before long, he and Eddie were fully invested, both of them bent over their guitars trying out the rhythm and shooting notes at each other. Arrangement  was definitely not your strong suit, however, you were more than happy to watch the two guitarists work

Steve was fascinatingly somber when it came to writing. He would play the notes over and over again until he found what came next, treating the whole thing like a puzzle that needed to be solved and running his hands through his hair when he was particularly stuck on something. His eyes would close while he was thinking, his lashes fluttering on his cheeks and then blinking open prettily when he had finally thought of a solution.

Eddie was much less delicate and would play around with notes, sometimes scrapping what he had all together and starting new. He tucked a pen behind his ear and was constantly scribbling and crossing out. When he focused on playing, his tongue would stick out from the corner of his mouth a bit.

They worked well together, never talked over each other, and were always willing to listen to what the other had come up with. As Eddie would write notes down in his notebook, Steve would lean in really close, so they were almost cheek to cheek looking down at the paper together. It almost seemed like they’d forgotten you were there and you were too busy refining some lackluster choruses to notice.

Eventually, they hit a wall in their writing and more drinks were ordered through room service, and soon the three of you are sprawled across your bed, drinking French 75s and watching a late night marathon of “Night Court”.

“Hey Harrington, you excited to see your folks soon?” Eddie asks during a comercial break.

You turn to look and see Steve grimace at the question. You know Eddie means well in asking, but the question ruffles Steve nonetheless.

“Not really. We were never really close on account of them sending me away to boarding school when I was eleven and then when we were together my dad’s favorite pastime was criticizing me and my mom’s was drinking,” Steve says, finally, “seeing them once a year is probably the most I can stand, honestly.”

A beat of silence settles over the group before Eddie finally speaks.

“Sorry to hear that man. If it makes you feel better, my folks weren’t exactly parents of the year either,” Eddie responds.

“That sucks, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, my uncle took me in. He’s a great guy. What about you, Princess? Were your parents the perfect image of love and support?”

You scoff. “Barely. I went back to their house right before the tour started, to get some of my things, and they thought I was breaking in and called the cops.”

“Well,” Eddie bristles, “looks like being a terrible parent can happen across all tax brackets, huh?”

“Yeah, we kinda got fucked over, a bit,” you say and the other two murmur in agreement.

The three of you stay silent for a bit, processing what had been shared and how to possibly move past such a heavy topic.

It’s Steve who finally breaks the silence, “Do you guys think Dan and Christine will ever get together?”

“Oh, yeah.” “Definitely.”

***

“This restaurant is obscenely nice,” you shift uncomfortable in your chair, taking in the surrounds and the unfamiliar unease of being somewhere where you felt out of place. Of course, you had grown up in fine dining establishments in California, but East Coast wealth seemed like a different beast entirely.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Robin huffs next to you, “but what else can you expect from Stan and Carolyn? They’re obsessed with letting everyone know how rich they are.”

She of course, had the advantage of knowing Steve’s parents after over a decade of friendship and it made sense that Steve, wanting as much of a buffer between himself and his parents during this dinner, had invited her along as well. So far, she had only been a little hostile towards you which was a personal victory.

The two of you spot Steve entering the restaurant at the same time along with two middle-aged companions that, based off resemblance alone, you knew were his parents.

Steve’s father had the same starkly defined chin and nose as his son, but none his face didn’t turn up into a natural smile like his son. He stood stately and stern, eyes surveying the room with little interest. His wife, Steve’s mother, was made up of refined, delicate features offset by the bright eyes that were clearly passed on to her son. Her entire outfit was meticulously perfect in a way that almost seemed artificial.

Steve introduces you with fanfare and pride that you don’t consider yourself worthy of but you smile along anyway and graciously shake Mr. Harrington’s hand and exchange dotted cheek kisses with Mrs. Harrington.

You exchange niceties and think to yourself maybe they won’t be so bad.

“Stan, Carolyn, it’s so nice to see you again,” Robin grits out through a tight smile.

Carolyn pats her on the shoulder in response and says,, “Please dear, call us Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. We’re out in public after all.”

***

ROBIN: Yeah, Carolyn and Stan hated me. It was like they could smell the gay on me. Or the poor. From the moment Steve had invited me over to spend spring break with them in the Hamptons they did not like me. They despised the idea of their son’s best friend being some scholarship kid whose parents were public school teachers. However bad they were to me though, they were far worse to Steve, which is why I ever even bothered going to these lunches. I didn’t want him to have to suffer through them alone.

***

“Sorry we’re late,” Mr. Harrington drawls as the three of them take their seats at the table, “our idiotic son forgot to bring cash for the valet.” His statement is punctuated by a mirthless laugh and you can tell by the matching expressions on Steve and Robin’s faces and the way Mrs. Harrington makes a grab for the bottle of wine on the table that this level of disparagement is normal for the Harrington household. You remember the comment Steve had made a few nights ago about his father’s favorite pastime

“Don’t worry,” you respond with a smooth smile, “we’re so used to having drivers back in LA—“ a lie “—I can see why Steve forgot about valet. Although, I’m sure you both know what that’s like.”

Mr. Harrington stalled. Everyone at the table—including you—knew that the Harringtons were nowhere near wealthy enough to afford personal drivers but if there was one thing insecure men, like Stan Harrington would never do is admit that they couldn’t afford something.

You were familiar with these types of ego games from your youth, although you took no pleasure in them.

Your youth was spent tucked into your mothers skirts during luncheons and tea and fashion fittings, listening as the women would eviscerate each other with laser-edge precision. If there was anything your mother had taught you was how to sow the seeds of insecurity in someone and although it did not come naturally, you could make an exception for Stan Harrington.

***

ROBIN: It was easy to forget most of the time that she came from money but damn, the way she handled Stan that night made me think that some politician was missing out on having her as their cutthroat third wife. It was like watching an artist paint or someone do sleight of hand magic. He would say something mean about Steve and she would just turn it right back around on him but she would be smiling and batting her eyes the entire time. Even with that though, it wasn’t an easy lunch to get through.

***

“It’s so nice that Stevie was able to make something of himself through his little music,” Carolyn fawns. She means well, for the most part, but the four glasses of wine she’s downed during the last twenty minutes makes her words come out just a tad but demeaning.

Her husband sneers in response, “You say that now, Carolyn, but soon he’ll be back here asking for a spot in the firm.”

“Hopefully not too soon,” you giggle in response running a hand alongside Steve’s arm, “the studio wants us recording our second album as soon as we get back and then we’ll be touring again and we’ll need him for that.”

“But darling, you can’t possibly expect to do that for the rest of your life,” Mrs. Harrington sighs, “eventually the two of you will want to settle down and have children, live a normal life.”

“Well, yeah Mom, but that’ll be a long time down the road—“

“Making music is our life, we don’t want to ever stop—“

You and Steve halt your explanation once you realize what the other is saying. The two of you exchange blank, confused looks and it’s not until Robin says, “I’m sure that they’ll decide what their next move is when the time comes. We still have plenty of time.” That the two of you jolt back into the conversation.

“Right,” you add, “plus with the royalties deal we just secured on this new album, we will be pretty stable financially.”

The rest of the lunch is spent fielding Mr. Harrington’s questions about financials and Mrs. Harrington’s questions about grandchildren. It’s exhausting but the three of you come out mostly unscathed.

The five of you part ways outside of the restaurant, and not a moment too soon. The wave of relief that washes over the three of you once the Harringtons have been sent on their way in a taxi is palpable.

You and Robin offer to buy Steve a drink for having survived the lunch and Steve offers to buy the two of you a drink as a thank you for playing roles in that. Soon, one drink each turns into multiple rounds of drinks spent recounting all the agonizing points of the lunch.

This leaves the three of you stumbling into your hotel in the early hours of the evening, completely and utterly drunk. You ride the elevator together, a mess of laughter and then bid goodbye to one another in front of Robin’s door. She’s ready to sleep off the drinking and you do not blame her.

This leaves you and Steve to stumble back to your joint rooms together.

“You know, seeing you today having dinner with my parents and my best friend almost made the whole thing feel real,” Steve says lowly, standing in your doorway.

“Steve don’t,” you plea softly.

“I just don’t get it,” he cries in response, “we would be so good together. We are good together: we have so much in common and we just make sense, everyone thinks so except for you. Just… tell me why wouldn’t you give us a shot?”

You’re in your room now, perched on the edge of the bed , teary eyes focused on everything in the room other than the man who stands in front of you.

“Steve that’s not fair. It’s just never going to work, why can’t you accept that?”

“Because I’m in love with you,” Steve blurts out, “and I know I may not be your first choice, but if you give me a chance I will prove that I’m good enough—“

“Steve, stop please don’t say that, you’re plenty good enough for anyone,” you stand now, to face him.

“Just not you,” he says devastated.

“No, listen, it’s not like that. I just, I don’t know if I can be with someone in the way that you want me to, okay? You want someone to eventually settle down with and I’m not that girl. I’m the fucking Minx for God’s sake not someone’s future wife. In another life maybe, we could’ve made each other very happy, who knows? But in this one, I can’t be what you want.”

The two of you stand there in silence for what feels like an eternity. Finally, Steve moves, walking past you to sit in your vanity chair.

“Is there someone else you have feelings for?” He asks, timidly.

“No, no,” you insist. “I told you, I don’t do that.”

He laughs mirthlessly in response, “I think you’re wrong about that. I think you’ll find someone, maybe not now or in a year or in five years, but eventually you will find someone and they will make you want to try and you will love them and I will have to watch you fall in love with them and we will both realize I was just not worth it.”

PLAY NEXT TRACK🎤

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#steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x you #nancy wheeler #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson smut #band!au #robin buckley #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #jonathan byers #eddie munson x yn #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington imagine #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x f!reader #steve harrington x f!reader

[neil-gaiman]

I was a teenager when I found Death of the endless. A few years after “A Game of You.” probably sometime near or at the time the “The Time of Your Life” collected version came out. I didn’t have a ton of money but you’d better believe that what I did have went directly to those books. 

Later, I’d figure out how to afford a few collectables. I think somewhere I even have the first “Action Figure” of the character. 

I haven’t exactly fallen out of love with comics, but I’m now a decades older, married with two children-person, who has significantly less time and attention for anything these days. Video games are often easier escapes from reality, though usually less rewarding. In short, I haven’t touched my longboxes in a while. 

About 8 years or so ago we adopted our second dog, a beautiful Chocolate Lab. 

Fitting that his name was Buddy, we wanted someone to help keep our other dog company. At the shelter, we were waiting to see some dogs, when one of my kids asked to pet a dog that was waiting to be placed in a shelter room. He’d just been dropped off, the shelter said “by an older couple who said they just couldn’t keep up anymore.”

My kid had barely touched his head when he leaned against her with full adoration and trust. I’m not sure if he hadn’t gotten much affection in a while, or just fell in love. With us, he was always very affectionate. At 9 years old already, we knew that our time with him was relatively limited, but there was absolutely no question from that moment that he was going to come home with us.

A regular fixture in the lives of my family, including my kids and my dogs, my mother adored Buddy. My mom had always loved dogs, but hadn’t been able to keep one for the past few years in her apartment. But she would come over daily, and spend hours with Buddy, just slowly stroking his fur and chatting with him about his day. 

In 2020, when my mother passed away, and she no longer showed up at our door, Buddy noticed. He would look for her. He missed his friend. He did his best, as a dog, to console us as we wept, resting his head in our laps, putting his paw on our knees. 

Today was Buddy’s last day with us.  For the past few weeks, his health had been in steady decline. I did the hardest thing I’ve had to do yet, and scheduled an appointment to let him go peacefully. He was so well behaved, he gave no trouble to the vet, and he passed away resting his head on my legs.

Because the universe works the way that it does, between waking up today, and Buddy’s appointment, I found myself with several hours to spend. Maybe because of the recent new about the Sandman show, or something less knowable, I remembered that I had those comics. 

I knew right where they were. 

And so, I spent my morning with Buddy’s head in my lap, gently stroking his head, reading comics, and dreaming of a friendly person, who loves everyone, even the creepy and weird ones. Someone who would make sure that Buddy wasn’t scared or lonely. Someone that could make sure he knew he was loved. Someone who would lead him to where my Mom would be waiting for him to ask him how his day was. And for a little while, I was very happy.  Thank you.

That made me very sad, and made my day at the same time. I'm glad you wrote it. I'm so sorry for your loss. Thank you.

[dinsdjrn]

gone, from austin | j. miller | part one

pre-outbreak!Joel x f!reader

18+, a brother's best friend story

summary: Joel Miller: the one that got away; right person, wrong time. Now you’re back in Austin and it hurts just as bad, as if you’d never left five years ago

wc: 3.1k

warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, no use of y/n, Sarah is alive and well, female reader, young!joel is an assshole (but not rlly), brothers best friend, ex-lovers to lovers (eventually), f! mc has unresolved trauma, implied cheating (not joel), slow burn, eventual smut, angsty at first, proof-read but i have not a clue what im doing. let me know if i missed anything &lt;3

💌 a/n: not new to fic, but it's been a hot minute so please be kind <3 i am very nervous to post this but i'm posting it for me to share my joy and daydreaming with you. If youd like to be added to a tag list when i update lmk <3

next part | masterlist

Part One | April 2002 

“I’ve gotta heal myself from all the things I’ve never felt”

Life is disappointing. Accepting that aspirations and dreams aren’t the reality you face, it’s hard. Sometimes it’s even harder to accept that things can fall apart in the blink of an eye; you just have to move on. You are someone who things didn’t work out for and you understood that now. It was painful, numbing, and deserved; where ever you went destruction was sure to follow. 

You’ve accepted that in the blink of an eye your life had fallen apart once again. That was a given. What was unexpected was returning to the town that built you up and broke your heart. When you moved to Toronto, you swore you were done with Austin. Yet, here you were, stepping on the escalator at Austin airport your entire life in a few bags waiting at the carousel bay below. 

As you descended, the baggage claim came into view so did your twin brother with a massive “Welcome Home!” poster board that had your name on it. 

A smile couldn’t help but spread over your features, as defeated as you felt, your brother always knew how to make you smile. 

“Hey, I’ve missed you,” you say as your brother wraps you in a massive bear hug. 

“I’ve missed you too,” relief present in his voice. 

The buzzer on the baggage carousel sounded which pulled you from the hug that you didn’t know you needed. 

“I’ll get my bags and then we can be on our way,” 

Your bags came a few minutes later, you and your brother each took one. 

As you stepped into the car, a silence fell between you, neither really knowing what to say. You hadn’t been home in years and there was a sinking in your chest and darkness dawned on you. The past few days had been a whirlwind of anguish, it was dizzying how rushed you were to leave your life in Toronto. Nothing had time to sink in, until now, until you were back feeling the exact same heartbreak that pushed you to leave. You felt as if you had taken one step forward and three steps back. 

The car was quiet, Jake clearly didn’t know what to say, and you clearly didn’t want to talk about it. 

“Thanks for letting me stay with you and Kels,” you said after about ten minutes of brutal silence, “I promise it’s temporary, once I’m back on my feet I’ll be out of your hair.” 

“No worries, you can stay as long as you’d like, you know,”

Staying was never your plan. Austin may have been home once, but that was was a long time ago. The reasons you left may not outweigh the reason you came back, but this wasn’t long term. Too much pain wrapped your heart like a brick wall to stay for very long. That wall was taken apart piece by piece over the past over the past five years and put back up so quickly in the last thirty-six hours. 

“Thanks,” you forced a small smile on your face.

More silence. More time alone with yourself, more time to believe that you deserved this pain, these hardships. 

What did I do to make things fall apart? I thought we were happy. I thought I was building my life. You thought to yourself. 

“So I should let you know,” Jake started pulling you from your thoughts, “the Stars made it to the playoffs and I’ve invited Tommy, Joel and Sarah over to watch the game tonight.” 

Joel. You thought to yourself. You knew he’d be unavoidable, but you didn’t think it would be an immediate turnaround, close proximity,  kind of deal. Maybe a wave from the driveway or neighbourhood cookout first, but you guessed wrong.

“Oh.” 

“Look I know it’s,” he paused “Complicated for you right now, but being with familiar people might be good for you.” 

“Always the therapist,” you scoffed. 

It might be good for you to be near Kelsey, Jake, Tommy and Sarah, but Joel. There was so much history there, so many unresolved questions and feelings. Five years had passed, but the flesh wound he had left on your heart was fresh as the day you had left.  

“I’d’ve ended things anyway, darlin’! So you may as well just leave, go to Canada, start over!” The words burned into your skull. They had made it so easy to leave and so hard to come back. 

You had never explained to Jake what happened between you and Joel, just that things hadn’t worked out. They hadn’t worked out, but their friendship was more important than simply “not working out”. You insisted your breakup wouldn’t affect their friendship and you were leaving anyways, so what would it matter. 

Arriving at your brothers place you were greeted by another bear hug from your sister-in-law, Kelsey.  She was kind hearted, gentle, and charismatic, just like Jake. They acted like they were made for another, and maybe they were. You weren’t one to be envious normally, but life didn’t work out for you the way it had for them; so a small twinge at your heart wasn’t out of place. 

Though you had known this house like the back of your hand years ago, Amy still showed you to your room. This house had belonged toyour parents in the 80’s, and when they decided to move to Florida full-time they had offered it to your brother to start his family. Kelsey and Jake did a full renovation a few years ago bringing the house into the twenty-first century. It was nice, but it lacked the comfort you had once known. 

“Thank you Kels, really, I appreciate everything,” You said to Kelsey when she had returned from getting fresh towels for the ensuite. 

“Hey, anything you need. That’s what family’s are for.” She smiled softly at you. 

“Are you going to come down for dinner and the game? Jake is so excited that you’re here, and Sarah can’t wait to see you!”

“I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet,” you cleared your throat awkwardly. 

“Are you sure it’s not because you’ve been brainwashed to a secret Leaf’s fan?” Kels pointed at you. 

You laughed. It surprised you but felt good to laugh things off as if nothing had changed. 

“I don’t think I could ever be brainwashed to like hockey, Kels,” 

“I hear that sis,” She laughed with you, “I’m just in it for Joel’s wings and the beer honestly.”

“If I remember correctly he makes ‘the best barbecue in Austin’,”  you mocked Jake’s tone. 

Kelsey leaned on the door and chuckled until you fell into a comfortable silence. 

“We’ve all missed you,” She sighed. 

“I’ve missed y’all.” 

“Y’all!” She exclaimed startling you, “I knew there was still a country girl left in you!” 

You rolled your eyes in her direction. You can take the girl out of Texas but you can’t take Texas out of the girl. You’d lost a few of your Texas-isms but there would always be a little twang here and there. 

“Join us tonight, please? For me and Jake?” She pressed. 

“Oh fine,” you gave in, there were vert few people you could not say no to. Kelsey was one of them, and you’re certain both her and Jake knew that.

“Perfect! Games at 7:30. That gives you about an hour to get settled in.” 

Kels then left you to get organized. You had put away some essentials in the bathroom and were going to try and put away some clothes before heading downstairs. Kelsey and Jake had put a new dresser in but had left the knick-knacks and photos you left behind on top. The one that caught your eye was from seven years ago, you and a little girl with the curliest brown hair and biggest smile were sat together on a kayak in the middle of a river. That had been one of the best weekends of your life.

Sarah couldn’t have been more than five years old, she insisted that you come with her and Joel camping. You were exhausted after coming off a string of night shifts at the hospital and fully intended on staying home. You’d told Joel just prior that you would see them as soon as they got back, but how could you say no to Sarah. She had you wrapped around her finger, and she knew it too.  So you packed a bag and off you went camping with Sarah and Joel. You were so grateful you had decided to go. Between fun on the lake with Sarah, and stolen midnight kisses by the campfire with Joel, it had been exactly what you needed at the time. 

You put the frame face down on the dresser. So much historic pain surrounded your heart being back here in Austin. So much fresh pain surrounded your heart from the events that pushed you back here.  It was suffocating, and somehow being alone made it so much worse. You wished that it would subside, leave a dull numbness that was familiar to you. Instead it clenched and twisted in the pit of your stomach, leaving you more nauseated than when you arrived. 

You checked the clock and realized that nearly forty-five minutes had passed since you started unpacking. You changed quickly out of your plane clothes into something a little less stale, went to the bathroom and splashed some water on your face before heading downstairs to the kitchen. 

“There she is!” Jake exclaimed. 

“Feeling better?” Kelsey asked, offering you a Stella.

You accepted the beer with a smile.

“Big time, planes always make me feel like shit,” you laughed. 

Just then the doorbell rang and you heard the front door open. 

“Put your clothes on kids!” You heard a familiar voice yell. 

“Tommy!” Your brother exclaimed and walked out of the kitchen.  

“Oh my god!” You heard someone yell, “You’re here!” 

You turned around, and the curly haired little girl with the killer smile you once knew, wasn’t so little anymore. 

“Hey kiddo!”

She ran up to you throwing her bag next to the island and wrapping her arms around your middle. 

“I didn’t know you were going to be here today!” 

“It was a bit last minute,” you laughed and squeezed Sarah.

“How long are you here for?” She asked looking up at you.

“We’ll see kiddo. I’ve got a few things to sort out here, so I’ll be around.” 

“Oh hey, stranger!” Tommy yelled as he walked into the kitchen carrying a two four of beers. 

“Oh hey,” you gave a small wave. 

“Nuh-uh Toronto, that’s not how we do thing here. C’mere give me a hug,” 

You laughed at and embraced Tommy in a hug. It felt comfortable, like you were with people you had known your whole life at least for the parts that mattered. 

You felt like someones eyes were burning into the back of your head when you released Tommy from the friendly embrace. A small cough came from the entrance to the kitchen. 

You turned around and felt the wind get knocked out of you. There was Joel in all this glory, he looked older than the last time you had seen him. The lines on his face were a little more prominent and he looked a bit more tired, but god he was attractive. He was tall and lean, but still looked strong and kind. It’s hard to not fall in love with him all over again. But to fall in love with him again, just acts as a reminder that he would leave you so easily again. 

“Dad can you believe it?!” Sarah exclaimed, stating she felt like you hadn’t been home in forever. 

“Well I’ll be damned,” Jake said, “You’ve rendered this jack ass speechless.” 

He slapped his best friend across the shoulder only to receive a small shove back. 

“Shut up would ya?” Joel said. 

“I don’t know about y’all, but I’m hungry and puck drop is in five minutes,” Kelsey said, promptly changing the subject from you. 

Everyone then fell into a comfortable conversation about hockey without you. Tommy and Joel had put out containers of barbecue and everyone was grabbing a plate. You were intensely uncomfortable and felt out a bit out of place. 

You insisted everyone grab a plate before you so they didn’t miss out on any of the game. Once everyone had moved to the living room you shakily grabbed a plate of food. Still rattled by the ghosts of your past and events of the past few days you weren’t too hungry, but you knew your brother and he’s be the first to comment you needed to eat something. He was always so worried about you, even when you were thousands of miles away. 

You brought your plate to the living room and sat in the only available seat remaining next to Sarah, on the couch. 

“So,” Tommy looked at you from the T.V., “is that boyfriend of yours going to be makin’ an appearance?” 

Jake shot him a look. 

“What?!” He laughed. “Just gotta know when I should avoid coming over is all,” He put his hands up in defense. 

“We, uh, we actually broke up not too long ago,” you cleared your throat uncomfortably.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” 

“It’s alright, it was never going to work out anyway. Our lifestyles were too different,” you smiled politely. 

Joel refused to even acknowledge the conversation at hand. His eyes were glued to the game and you were grateful for it. After a briefly awkward silence, comfortable conversation fell over the group. You had never felt more at the sidelines, it felt like you were watching these interactions through a window. It was uncomfortable for you, but everyone else, including Joel, was having a great time.

It was getting late when the game had concluded. It had cooled off and gotten dark outside, luckily the Miller’s didn’t have far to go to get home, they were just next door. Joel had bought the house when Sarah was just a baby, he and Jake had hit it off almost immediately. You were still in school at the time, living at home to save money and instantly felt a connection to Joel. 

You never acted on you feelings, he had a little kid, you were a broke Med student and he was your brothers best friend. The day things changed was the weekend after your and Jake’s 21st birthday; you all had gone into the city to bar hop, one thing led to another and the Joel Miller had taken you home with him. That night was reckless, it was hot, the line where your individual bodies began and ended had been blurred by intense, drunken, passion for another. There was a danger to your relationship when it started, neither of you wanting Jake to find out, but also neither willing to stop seeing one another. 

Eventually, you couldn’t deny your feelings for one another and fell into a very comfortable relationship. You spent five years building a life together. One year dating and getting to know one another. Then, after you had matched in paediatric surgery at St. David’s, you had moved in together. Four more years or figuring out what it meant to date someone with a kid, managing a brutal residency that consisted either nights or 24 hour on call stints. You had thought you were making it work rather well for two people who had no idea what they were doing because at the end of the day at least you knew you loved one another. 

Until it all came crashing down. You don’t know what changed, but you were left in the dust with only the shattered pieces of your heart left to pick up after him. It made the decision to move to Canada easy, a no brainer even. It was a fresh start arguably as far away as physically possible from Joel Miller. You thought it would give you time to heal, give you a clean slate. Except, the heart ache never went away, it dulled over the years. There were days it was barely there at all. You had told yourself you moved on countless times. That was until a picture would come to your email of Kelsey and Sarah at the pool, or Jake, Joel, and Tommy at a baseball game, and then it would all come crashing down all over again. 

The dull ache was a full on fire in your heart today, you knew it would hurt, seeing them all again. It did hurt, but Jake was right, it was better to be surrounded by others than left alone to wallow in self pity upstairs. The Miller’s started making their goodbyes and you got up to see them out. 

“Hey, can we hang out if you’re going to be staying around for a little while? I’ve missed you so much!” Sarah said while giving you a hug goodbye. 

“You’d have to ask your Dad, kiddo. I’d be happy to, but it’s up to him,” 

Sarah turned to face Joel and pleaded him for a sleepover this coming weekend. 

“I, uh, I don’t know darlin’…” He sighed, “You’ve got a lot on the go between school and soccer.” 

“Dad, please! We haven’t seen each other since I was little. It’s been so long, just this once?” The teenager pleaded again. 

“Alright, alright,” Joel put his hands up in defeat. 

Sarah let out a little squeal and hugged her dad. 

“Okay, kiddo… I’ll text your dad about it once I’ve gotten settled in this week,” you smiled. 

You could tell both you and Joel were uncomfortable with the situation. That didn’t matter at the end of the day because you’d both do anything to make sure Sarah was happy. Even after five years you could tell Joel knew that. 

The Miller’s said their goodbyes and you excused yourself upstairs. A sleepover with Sarah meant a whole night at Joel’s. You hadn’t realized the gravity of your actions until you were sitting alone in a bed that no longer belonged to you, in a place that somehow felt different, yet exactly the same. It dawned on you that you may never get over Joel, but he sure as hell had moved on from you. It was clear in the way he avoided you, acted as if you didn’t even exist. 

Who knows how long you’d stay in Austin and you already knew it would only end in more pain than which it began. Tomorrow you’d start looking for a way out again, before too much damage could be done. You had built your walls even higher than they had been before you left and you were determined to make it out unscathed. 

“About time that I face the hard times I’ve let go. If love was just an ocean I’d drown before I float” 

To be continued. 

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #pre outbreak!joel #joel miller x f!reader #meg writes things

[ahundredtimesover]

Belong (05: Post-Credits) | MYG

Pairing: Yoongi x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: exes-to-lovers-to-exes-to-lovers; actress!OC x basketball coach!Yoongi; summer romance; “long” distance relationship; parallel timelines; angst, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, family drama, sport injury; dreams & moving away; allusion to depression; basketball and acting talk; 2014 and 2022 Yoongi; shy and nonchalant cocky whipped Yoongi; almost drowning, sexual content (kissing, oral, penetrative sex) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 5k

Series Masterlist

Status: Complete

Series summary: Being an actor has always been your dream. Pursuing it meant many things - leaving the town where you grew up, distancing yourself from your family that had fallen apart, and saying goodbye to the man who made you feel what home was like. When you decide to finally return after being away for so long, you meet Min Yoongi again, and you’re reminded of the summer romance from 8 years ago with the college basketball superstar whose broken dream pushed you away. As you find yourself spending time with him, you’re left to wonder if love changes, if it gives second chances, or if it’s just another illusion that will hurt the both of you the second time around.

A/N: Wrapping up this story and this world now, as I keep its meaning close to me, where this Yoongi was a source of comfort. Thank you to those who took a chance with this one. Please know that in the midst of deciding to stop writing, you told me I could keep going. 😌

It was nice to be able to write about a sport that I deeply love (yes, I am manifesting with the NBA game featured here 🤞🏽) and about a theme I’m personally experiencing. Yoongi told us to live in the present and that we can dream simple, gentle dreams, too. Let’s cheer each other on! 💜

Listen to: For All You Give (feat. Lucy Rose) by The Paper Kites || Playlist 🎶

1.5 years later

You walk past the hallways to head outside the airport, large luggage in one hand and a small one on the other. 

Your phone rings and Jimin is on the other end, asking if your flight was alright and if the weather is good. You give him a lowdown of the past 18 hours, including your lovely encounter with a Korean-American family during your Minneapolis layover. Their 6-year old is apparently a fan of yours after you did a stint of hosting her favorite Korean variety TV show, and your heart soared when she told you that she wants to be funny and beautiful like you. You found it amusing that doing cute poses and laughing your way through every episode was entertaining enough for her. 

“That’s adorable,” Jimin chirps. “I love how your fanbase gets younger every year. You started with grandparents and now you’ve got 6-year olds under your spell.”

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” You laugh. “I just hope these kids don’t watch my latest movie because it’s gonna terrify them.”

“Yeah, at least keep the variety shows to entertain the babies,” he chuckles. “I already told Hoseok that you want to guest-host again. There are a couple of shows that want you onboard.”

“Ah, that’s great,” you beam. “I need as much joy and laughter in my life after that last project. That took so much out of me.”

“It did, didn’t it?” Jimin hums. “But it’s got the media buzzing about you again. So much for that one so-called journalist who claimed that you’re one-dimensional and can’t do anything other than romance because you’re only good at being in love. Let me smack her face with all the good reviews about your latest role so she can shut her one-dimensional mouth.”

You giggle at Jimin’s words, his protective nature soothing you like it always does. You remember when that article about you came out after you starred in a mini-series, a project you had after the show you filmed in Paris, which did turn out to be your biggest break then. Your role in that drama had you falling in love with someone from a rival family, one of the show’s major plot points, and that journalist went off about your supposed versatility being premised on the emotions of being in love. You can’t really do much outside of it, she said, and it was that same day when you got the lead role for a psychological thriller, with the industry’s eyes on you to see if you’re able to handle a character that’s so different from what you’re used to. 

And well, it’s safe to say you blew their minds. Even you didn’t think you could do that well, but you pushed hard, not only to prove yourself to them but to challenge yourself, knowing that there’s more to learn and showcase even after 10 years of being in the industry. 

The reviews showed that you delivered. Critics praised your acting, saying how disturbed they felt during specific scenes, and that was a compliment for you, knowing that was the goal. The movie was even shown in a recent foreign Film Festival, and the praises are still coming; Jimin’s been the one sending you every article and post he could find, and he’s been nothing short of amazing when it comes to encouraging and praising you himself for another successful project. 

It wasn’t without its difficulties though, as getting into character meant you had to immerse yourself in its darkness, in the disturbing themes that ate away at you sometimes. It was Yoongi who’d been the one to bring you out to the light every time - sending you flowers while on set, giving you a bath after every filming so you’re not left in your own mind, holding you close whenever you slept, and driving you out during days off. It was hard but it was worth it, as you felt liberated from all the negative emotions once filming wrapped up. 

Yoongi was supportive all throughout - including all the promotions you had to do and the moments of doubt you’d have about your performance. He held your hand during the premiere and took you to the mountains for a weekend to escape it all for a while. Other than the amazing sex you had and the time away from everyone, you both spent those days  wrapped up in each other’s arms, easing back to your normal lives that didn’t include you randomly crying at night or losing sleep from your tiring schedule. 

You’d just wrapped up your promos for the film in Seoul and you’re also waiting for the next project while working on some endorsements and guesting on the side. But after the exhausting couple of months, you deserve a break, and you want nothing more than to focus on Yoongi, knowing he’s the one who’ll be needing your love and support this time. 

Jimin breaks through your thoughts and asks if the car he’d arranged has arrived.

“Not yet, but Yoongi messaged that he’s 5 minutes away,” you respond. “Thanks, by the way. I know you had to arrange all this in such short notice and had to work with Hoseok to push back all my other schedules. I know it was stressful for you, too.”

“And who said I ever minded?” Jimin replies. “I’ve spent enough time with Yoongi to know how much he takes care and supports you, and that also means I know just how much his career means to him. I’m sure you already know but nonchalant and cool he may be, he’s incredibly nervous. I just know having you there is gonna make all the difference.”

“I know,” you smile, feeling emotional at the thought. “I’m just so happy for him. He’s been sending me photos since he got here and I could just see his eyes sparkling. I’m so excited to see him in action.”

“Me, too, at least from here. We’ll be tuning in and I’ll just pretend I know shit about basketball and the NBA,” Jimin laughs. “I guess it’s weird to be cheering for the commentator and not the players but oh well. Just tell him we’re rooting for him; Jin’s gonna host watch parties in his house. We’ll invite Jungkook and Namjoon so there’ll be people who can actually explain to us what’s happening.”

You laugh at Jimin’s rambling. It’s touching to know just how much your friends have come to support Yoongi as well. You’ve to remind yourself that not long ago, they were all wary of him, given the 2 times he let you go. But they’ve seen in the past year and a half exactly what that love you treasure really looks like. You always said it was transformative for both of you in different ways, and they’ve come to witness that, too. 

They’ve seen how tough days for you were always made better whenever Yoongi was around, how negative voices were always drowned out by his gentleness and encouragement, how bouts of insecurities were easily mended by his belief in you. 

That love got you regularly going home to Daegu to see his dad and to be with yours, and to make an effort to heal the wounds with your sisters. 

That love also got Yoongi to be braver, to take chances and to make the most out of every opportunity he could find. It’s that love that supported him throughout the months that he wrote for that online sports magazine, until he became a regular guest at an online sports show. It’s what encouraged him to apply for a sports channel’s basketball analyst position; you remember the smile on his face when he got the job and the first time he appeared on TV to talk about the sport he’s loved for most of his life. It’s your shared love that got him to dream again - maybe coach a professional team in the future, perhaps become a household name in sports media. It doesn’t matter what form, you’d remind him, as long as it was in the world of basketball.

It’s that same love that’s going to hold his hand through the next 2 or so weeks, as Yoongi lives out a dream he didn’t think he’d have. As a 10-year old who’d imagined himself playing for the NBA too many times, he didn’t think that 20 years later, he’d be reporting on it as part of the South Korean media. He thinks it’s just as much a dream as any. This is the sport he loves, and he told you once that he can’t imagine his life without it. 

“Oh, I think that’s him!” You tell Jimin, as you spot the maroon car that Yoongi said he was in. “Thank you again.”

“Just call me for anything, okay?” He says on the other end. “And enjoy Boston!”

You bid him goodbye and rush to the car that stops not far from where you are. Yoongi exits and you hug him immediately, falling into the warmth that you’ve missed this past week. You were at a promotional event in Busan when he left Seoul for the US a few days ago so you didn’t get to say goodbye, but it appeased you that you could spend your break with him here. 

But more than anything, it’s the fact that you get to be part of his new world this time, and nothing makes you happier than being able to see that sparkle in his eyes that made you fall for him that first time all those years ago. There’s that confidence again, that drive. Yoongi is all kinds of beautiful everyday, but seeing him do something he loves has always been special. You’re glad you get to witness that again.

“I missed you, jagi,” he hums in your ear. How was your flight?”

“Good. I got a bit of rest,” you reply. “And I missed you, too.”

Yoongi smiles and gives your luggage to the chauffeur who loads them in the trunk. You both enter the car and sneak in a kiss for the seconds that you’re alone, and he smiles against your lips before turning to you. 

“You seem excited,” he states.

“Of course, baby. It’s the big day tomorrow. Aren’t you?”

“I’m terrified, actually,” he chuckles to mask the nervousness. “But Mr. Chan called earlier to ask how I’m feeling and he’s been so supportive, saying that his sprained ankle must’ve been a blessing in disguise if it meant I get to take his place. I did the reporting the other day during Media Day and he said I did really well, asking the players and coaches really good questions. He said if I sustain this during the entire championship series, I could be well on my way to reporting more big games even in other sports.”

“Baby, that’s huge!” You beam, turning to him to see his shy smile. “You could be reporting on the Olympics, who knows! But the NBA… this is huge for you. The fact that you’re who they thought to replace him is a big deal. It means they really see something in you.”

“I still think it’s a fluke,” he sighs. “If Mr. Chang hadn’t gotten injured, it would’ve been him. It just so happened that the other guys are either on leave or on another assignment and I was… there.”

“Then you just saved their asses! It means you get to show them how good you are, and I know you’re good. I wouldn’t be paying attention to basketball if you weren’t calling it.”

“You’re biased though,” he laughs. 

“Duh. Name one other sports commentator who knows his shit, is incredibly handsome, has such a soothing voice, and looks hot talking about people shooting balls?” You exclaim. “No one! Just you! Baby, you’re saving the industry!” 

Yoongi thinks you’re adorable when you go off like this. He always knew you didn’t actually pay attention to his games before because your eyes were only on him. Whenever you’d both watch on TV, you’re often curled into his arms, remarking that he does that same jumper smoothly or that the players are either boring or too cocky. You understand the sport, though. He knows you’re interested because you get basic terms and ask him questions. Sometimes he thinks you just want to hear him talk or analyze a play; sometimes you just giggle when he’s pulling his hair or yelling over a stupid call or when his team’s losing, but regardless of your level of appreciation for the sport, he knows you love it because he does, and that means more to him than you’ll ever know. 

He gives in though, knowing you feel strongly about his basketball commentary skills. 

“Thank you, jagi. I at least know that if I completely fail at this, you’d still think I’m hot.”

“Baby, I think you’re hot all the time. You could even model or act, you know? The industry will benefit from this pretty face,” you wink.

“Let’s say hypothetically, I do act. What happens if I have an intimate scene with someone? What would you do?” He asks, arching an eyebrow because he can almost predict what you’re gonna say. 

“I will cry,” you pout, causing him to laugh. 

It’s all hypothetical, but he can tell you’ll really be upset even if it’s something he has to live with all the time. It’s something he’s gotten used to, though. He did survive watching your scenes with Pablo where you both cuddled “naked” in bed, although he admits looking away so many times. He also made it through your mini-series where you had multiple sexually tense scenes with your co-star. He admits he likes it when you’re more clingy and affectionate after each filming and episode, and he won’t complain. 

But knowing how affected you’d be if the roles were reversed makes him a little soft. He remembers those summers years ago when you’d eye the girls who’d cheer for him during his games and how you always ran to him after to hold his hand and then kiss him intensely in the bathroom or his car. You would deny the jealous girlfriend allegations and he used to just laugh through it. It seems like nothing has changed.

“These lips are for me only,” you say, cupping his cheeks to hold him in place for a deep kiss.

“They are,” he smiles. “And I know at the end of the day, your lips are only for me, too.”

He kisses you again, no longer minding the chauffeur in the car who doesn’t seem to care that you’re being affectionate in his backseat. 

“They are,” you hum. “They’re for your neck, and your chest, and—” you palm his cock — “for this.”

“Jagi,” he laughs, already used to your antics. 

You’re usually like this after being away. You were apart for a few days and it’s been a while since you’ve been separated for longer than that. 

“I just miss you,” you sigh, hugging him now and liking the comfort of his touch as always. “No one would massage my feet after walking in heels for hours and have a bath with me, no one would make me cum to sleep or kiss me goodnight.”

“Nice to know that’s all you miss,” he teases, earning him another pout.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do, and I miss those, too,” he hums as he kisses your forehead. “Thanks though, for coming here. I know that Jimin and Hoseok had to push back some of your schedules.”

“No issue at all. I wanted to be here, babe. This is a big deal and I’m… I’m just so happy for you,” you say against his chest. 

“You know I wouldn’t have gotten here without you, right?” He replies, emotional now at how far he’s come. 

It’s been years but the memory of his injury and his subsequent fallout from the sport comes and goes sometimes, so was losing you in the process. And then losing you again. But he’s here now, with you, the night before an important moment of his young career as a sports analyst, and he’s never felt more secure in his life. 

“You’ve always been a fighter,” you look up at him. “And you’re here because of you.” You kiss him softly. “But I can also take credit, that’s fine,” you laugh. “But really, thank you for not giving up on your dream, babe. I hope you know that it gives me courage, too.”

That night, you climb into bed with Yoongi, the exhaustion from the long trip overtaking you. There’s warmth in his eyes when he looks at you, and he chuckles when you try to stay awake. It’s his soft lips against your forehead that bids you goodnight, and you fall into his arms, knowing that this is what you’ll be waking up to in the morning.

The next evening, you walk inside TD Garden, Boston’s sports arena, where Game 1 of the NBA finals between the Celtics and Phoenix Suns are being held. The energy is insane, something you’ve never felt before, and it’s making you giddy and excited. You can only imagine what it’s like for Yoongi, and the thought makes your heart warm. 

You did see him taking long breaths earlier after he’d dressed up and prepared to leave, and much as you’d been so tired, you just had to hug him to calm him down and tell him that he’s gonna do great. He’s just excited, he claimed, but he’ll look for you in the arena; knowing you’re there with him will be enough to calm his racing heart. 

He had to go earlier to cover the press conference and film for their segment in Seoul’s morning news channel. It’s just him, Hee-soo, and a small production crew but it’s all they need. As commentators, they get to call the game but also interview the players and staff, report it, and then write about it. It’s tough and stressful but it’s the kind of buzz that Yoongi lives for now, you can tell, as you eye him in his designated analysts’ table, looking around and taking in the energy of the arena. His smile is priceless. There’s pride in it, there’s acceptance. It looks like the smile of someone who fought hard to have a new dream, and someone who worked to achieve it. 

Yoongi’s eyes go to you and you wave. You’re thankful for the connections you have that got you this ticket last minute, and even if you won’t pay attention to the game as much, being here to witness Yoongi call his first NBA match is too special to miss. You can’t imagine being anywhere else.

The game is an exciting one. You get into it with the crowd even if you don’t exactly have a team you’re rooting for but you cheer just the same. Your eyes constantly flit to Yoongi though, whose position isn’t far from where you’re seated. 

You listen through the online channel so you can hear what he’s saying, and the way he describes the energy inside is on-point. He narrates the plays effectively; you could be looking away from the court and still feel like you’re watching because of how good he is. His voice is calm and measured, except towards the end when the game is close and his pitch increases and he matches the excitement of what’s happening. It’s intense and exhilarating, and when the final buzzer sounds, you turn to him and see that smile on his face again. 

Tears form in your eyes as you feel overwhelming pride. Perhaps it’s similar to what he felt when he was with you during the recent Film Festival where your movie was shown and the audience gave your entry a standing ovation. He knew what you had to go through for that role and seeing your hard work paying off meant so much to him, as he got to hold your hand and tell you he was proud of you. 

That was special, he said. So many times in the past, he wanted to tell you all that, and that you did well, and that he’s looking forward to the next big thing you’ll do, but he never had the courage to. That’s why he’d send flowers, he told you. 

He also revealed how that came about - how he’d driven to Seoul for your first movie premiere with a bouquet of daisies but that he’d seen you with someone, and how he decided to leave it at the agency for you to receive. He almost took it back but you seemed to like it so he just continued with the tradition. You cried then, and he said he didn’t want you to feel guilty. But you were emotional because he still looked out for you and his care for you never wavered. The flowers gave you strength, and you’d told him you wanted to be like those daisies for him, too. 

Seeing him now gives you that sense of fulfillment, that not long from now, you’ll be able to hold his hand and tell him you’re proud of him, and the chance to do that for someone you love is special beyond words. You’re glad you can finally do that for each other now. 

Gentle dreams, you think. This life with him and all the simple things you do for each other and together are some of the biggest ones.

It’s quiet in the car on the way to your hotel, the fancier one you booked for both of you instead of the mid-range one they got for him. Yoongi is focused on his notebook, jotting down notes from his memory that he’ll have to write up later on. 

He’s then glued to his device once you get to your room, with him seated on the couch and agreeing to your orders for room service for your dinner. It seems he’s going through the messages of praise from his colleagues and his friends. A lot of people tune in to the channel’s coverage of the NBA, and other than you, no one’s prouder than his dad and his brother. 

You watch him from the bathroom door, appreciating the joy he exudes. It’s different from what you’d seen all those years ago. This is a man who went through various kinds of pain and had other people suffer because of it, something he still burdens himself with every once in a while. But he did the brave thing of dreaming again; sometimes you think that’s probably harder than when he gave up on the first one. 

Yoongi shows you everyday that courage takes different forms. Sometimes it’s letting something go, sometimes it’s fighting for them. Sometimes it’s loving someone from afar and sometimes it’s flying thousands of miles to a foreign country and asking for them back. 

But it’s always picking up your broken pieces and learning to love yourself despite and because of them. It’s finding something or someone you can’t live without and offering what you can, trusting that they’ll take you into their world because you deserve it. Courage is dreaming again, it’s loving again even with the possibility of getting hurt. It’s trusting yourself enough that you’re going to be okay if things don’t go your way. 

You hear him call your name. You realize you’ve been gazing at him for longer than you intended, and so you walk towards him as he looks at you questioningly.

“I was just admiring how happy you look,” you say. “It suits you, and I’m just so thankful I get to see it.”

His face softens and he reaches out his hand, one that he kisses and he doesn’t say anything else. He just looks at you tenderly and your heart races at the sight. 

You bend to capture his lips on yours, your movements gentle yet wanting. But it builds as time passes, until you feel him undoing the knot of your bathrobe, with him sighing in satisfaction when he feels you bare underneath. Your breath hitches when he cups your breast and you want nothing more than to have him right now. 

You pull away then remove your robe, liking the way his eyes roam around your naked form and how he gulps at the position you’re getting into, as you  get on your knees and spread his legs apart. His slacks get off first, and then his briefs. He removes the rest of his clothes as you take him in your mouth, his cock heavy and wanting as it reaches the edge of your throat. 

You take your time, wanting him to feel good after what he’d done tonight, but he’s the one who pulls away, wanting instead to bury himself inside you. It’s what he does, as he directs you on the couch, entering you from behind while his fingers do their magic on all parts of your body. But he lets you both come together, on the bed as he hovers over you, his head no longer buried in your neck, with his eyes looking straight into yours as you both come down from your highs. 

He kisses your lips tenderly as his I love you, and the way he holds you later that night says everything he can’t say. 

Loving you is what he wants to do in his life. Loving you is courage. 

You didn’t realize just how tiring covering the NBA finals would be. Considering their small team, Yoongi and Hee-soo work double time to get all the information they need to cover the games and write about them within a short period of time. They also have to fly back and forth depending on where the game is and you’ve liked tagging along, enjoying the amenities of your hotel and exploring the nearby area. It’s what you do in Boston and then in Phoenix. 

And while a game 7 is great for the league and basketball fans, you can tell it’s taxing for Yoongi. He doesn’t complain though. It’s part of the experience; the first one tends to be very memorable, he says. 

Both of you find yourselves in Boston's public garden the afternoon after the final game of the series. It’s been a crazy 24 hours, as Yoongi and Hee-soo had to do interviews and then report and then write about the game. You stayed by Yoongi’s side, attending to his needs and helping whenever you can. 

It’s early morning in Korea by now and work can resume later, perhaps right before or during your early morning flight back home, but you’re both at what has become one of your favorite spots in the city. It’s nice and simple and quiet. The garden is also accessible. It reminds you of the park in Paris, the one where Yoongi had come to meet you, and you cried in his arms at the sight of the man you didn’t think you’d be able to be with again, but he braved through his fears to be with you. 

“I like it here,” you say, as you walk past one of the many statues. 

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” He hums. “The pond reminds me of Paris.”

You turn to him and smile, letting him know you were thinking the same. 

Yoongi watches you lovingly look at the flowers. Your head turns when you hear toddlers squealing on their parents’ shoulders. And you perk up at the dog that stops to sniff his leg. They’re all simple but they’re so unabashedly you - soft, charming, and everything he needs. 

He thinks about all the things he loves about you as you smile and laugh at your surroundings. He’s been thinking about a lot of things, actually, constantly pinching his arm to remind himself that this life he’s created with you isn’t just some dream he conjured in his mind to get over losing you twice. You’re actually, truly next to him, living his new dream with him, as he dreams your dream with you. He doesn’t think he can get any happier than everyday he gets to live like this. 

You told him a few times that he’s brave for dreaming a new dream. It’s scary to do that, you’d said, so are other things, like loving again and again, accepting the broken pieces of himself and loving every one of them. You’d said that he was brave for flying to see you and asking for you back, and while he agrees to some extent, he doesn’t think anyone can be braver than you. 

You love intensely and genuinely; you love so certainly. You love like you heal, and you love yourself and others so you could heal as well. The way you loved him all these years has been filled with courage - you loved when it hurt, when it didn’t feel like he wanted to fight for you, when it felt like your love wasn’t strong enough to carry his burden. You loved so hard that there would be nothing to regret if the world ended the next day, and your love is so transformative that it created a home in his aching heart so that it could be strong enough to love both you and him after everything. 

You turn to him and reach out for your hand as you head towards the exit, and he jogs to where you are and intertwines his fingers with yours - not loosely but securely; he wants you to know he’s never letting you go.

There’s no version of life that he’d let you go another time. And so when he gets a message from the jeweler that his order for a customized daisy ring is ready, Yoongi’s heart soars to know that he could at least give you - ask you - something that will let you know that he’ll choose this life over and over again as long as it’s the one where he gets to live the rest of it next to you. 

You’ll both go back to Seoul, in the home you both created, in each other’s arms where you both belong. 

Series Masterlist

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#yoongi fic #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #yoongi fanfiction #min yoongi #bts suga #yoongi series

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

I'm actually really surprised that the supergirl writers didn't steal from a Charmed episode and have an episode where there was someone killing people in their dreams. Or maybe instead of killing people, he somehow traps their minds in their own nightmares and uses their bodies to do bad things.

Of course Nia would be the only one who could stop the bad guy, obvs, but I also had an intense desire to set this idea in the Sister, Sister verse, so maybe when the guy sets his sights on the superfriends, they're just like, okay we won't sleep then.

And everyone thinks Lena is most equipped to deal with the lack of sleep, so they don't really worry about her, until one evening Nia goes to Lena's apartment passed out on the floor, having hit her head on the way down.

They bring Lena back to the Tower medbay, but because she's fallen asleep, Lena's now compromised, so they have to restrain her. Except when she wakes up she seems totally herself, if a little panicked to be strapped down. Most people who are targeted by the bad guy are zombies from the moment they wake up, so Lena is so normal that they're kind of taken aback, and ultimately determine that maybe her magic protected her, question mark?

So they release her, and Lena gets back to work. Until Nia makes a discovery on a potential strategy and turns to find Lena behind her with a knife.

They fight, and once Lena is subdued, Nia dives into her friend's nightmare that she's trapped in, where Lex has her strapped to an operating table and is ready to pick her apart like a specimen. Nia is horrified, but understands that it's a manifestation of Lena's old fears, and tries to get through to her. Because maybe it'll be like the Black Mercy-- if Lena can reject the nightmare, maybe it will end.

It takes some effort. At first Lena can't even see her, and Lena's raw and palpable fear makes Nia's heart pound in her chest like the fear is her own. But little by little she gets through to Lena, and when Lena believes Nia, the straps release her and Nia can help Lena slide off the table. But they're still in a lab, with no visible doors.

How do they get out?

Then they hear Lex start clapping, and as they watch Lex's face melts away to reveal their true villain. Lena grips Nia's hand tight, and Nia can taste her friend's renewed fear. Lena can feel how her mind has been violated, her body made not her own. But Nia can also feel that old Luthor fight in her.

The bad guy monologues about how he couldn't tip his hand with Lena too early, before he fully had his claws in her, not when Lena had such power at her disposal. With Lena, he gloats, he could do anything he wanted.

"I don't think so," Nia says, lashing out with a bolt of dream energy. But the guy deflects with a magical field.

Nia looks to Lena. "Was that his power of yours?"

Lena swallows thickly. "Mine. I-- I'm sorry, I can't--"

"It's okay," Nia promises. "I got this."

And she does. But as she fights the villain, it becomes apparent that the magic he siphons from Lena is finite-- Lena visibly weakens as the fight progresses, and Nia falters.

"The more we fight," he taunts, "the more I drain from her. Kill me, and she goes with me."

But before Nia has the chance to face an impossible decision to choose one or the many, Lena grabs a scalpel from one of the trays amd slits his throat.

"Fuck you," she grunts, before she staggers.

Nia catches her, tearfully asking why she did that.

"Spite, mostly," Lena rasps, prompting a tearful laugh from Nia. She squeezes Nia's hand. "And because I couldn't bear it if he used my power to hurt you."

"Lena..."

"I'm sorry I blamed you for keeping Kara's secret. It should never have been your burden to carry..."

"Lena, stop--"

By now Lena is visibly fading, her life force bleeding away as Nia cradles her close.

"Thank you, Nia," she whispers. "For-- for everything."

It's the last thing she says as her eyes flutter shut. In growing panic, Nia shakes her head in defiance. "No," she declares. "Not like this."

She reaches out to where the villain is similarly starting to dissipate, and uses her dream energy to corral the sense of Lena that's bleeding from him. She gathers all she can, then compresses it into a ball of glowing light, an energy that's warm, and gentle, and familiar.

Using her power, she returns the energy to Lena, directing it to settle squarely in Lena's fading chest. It takes a moment, but then the orb of energy pulses, and the light spreads through Lena, bringing her back to opacity.

Lena's eyes open once more, her chest rising with a deep, full breath. Nia gasps in relief, and hugs Lena to her chest.

"Don't you ever do that again."

When they return to the waking world, everything seems to return to normal. Except for one thing that doesn't make the trip back with them.

Lena no longer has her magic.

#supercorp #sister sister verse #dream killer au

[oddinary4bts]

A drabble with jungkook, smut 87 and angst 12 / 99, tysm 💘💘💘💘

I think this is like the first time I've written something on here that doesn't have a happy ending? Oop, beware

The Bane of Your Existence | jjk

☆pairing: Jeon Jungkook x female reader, mentions of Kim Taehyung x female reader

☆rating: 18+ (contains smut, minors DNI)

☆genre: college!au, smut, angst

☆warnings: unedited, mentions of getting ghosted by a friend, mentions of bullying, curses, alcohol, explicit content: nipple play, clit play, oral sex (female receiving), protected penetrative sex, hickey

☆word count: 2.6k

☆angst prompt 12: "You really were the worst thing to ever happen to me. I mean that."

☆angst prompt 99: "It could've been worse. We could've fallen in love."

☆smut prompt 87: "It's hot when you talk back."

☆The smut prompt is from this list and the angst prompts are from this one!

☆☆☆☆☆

If there is a thing that is true about Jeon Jungkook, it’s that he was born to be the bane of your existence. You’ve never liked him, he’s never liked you. All through high school, you hated each other. And when you got to college and had to attend the same one, the hate only grew.

It’s not that Jungkook is a bad person. He’s just always irked you, in all the worst ways. His presence annoys you, his dumb smiles and stupid smirks make you want to punch him. His explicit jokes and cocky remarks make you roll your eyes to the back of your head and, frankly, you really hate him. Abhor him, and all the worst words in the dictionary somehow apply to him.

It’s even worse when he’s assigned to be your partner in a project in one of your elective classes that he ended up taking too even though your majors have nothing in common. Because now you’ve suffered through hours of his annoying personality, and you’ve also just learned that he slept with your best friend last year, before she suddenly ghosted you.

She’s moved colleges now, and you’ve long moved on. But the reminder makes you see red, in that little study room where you’ve been for the last hour and a half.

“Fuck off,” you tell him, because some part of you refuse to accept it.

He smirks, tilts his head to the side. “What? Too hard to accept that some girls want to fuck me?”

You laugh, but it’s entirely devoid of joy. “With you? All of them are just stupid.”

“Right.” He still sports the annoying smirk and you really feel like punching him for it.

But you have a project to focus on, so you do that even though he keeps looking you up and down like you’re a piece of meat. He’s surprisingly intelligent though, and his insights on what to do are mostly good, so at least you get to advance on the project a lot.

You’re dreaming of your dorm bed, of hiding under the covers only to resurface when Jungkook will be gone from your life when a trio of girls open the door of your little study room, saying that they have reserved it for the next two hours.

Your eyes slide to Jungkook. “I thought you had booked it,” you tell him.

“I couldn’t, it was already booked,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m done anyway, we can finish some other time.”

You clench your jaw. “I’d really like to finish today, Jungkook. We’re almost done.”

“Then come over to my dorm,” he suggests, and he’s got a smirk on his lips when you offer him a glare as you’re putting your laptop in your backpack.

“Fuck off, I’m not going to go over to your dorm,” you tell him, slightly shaking your head in disapproval.

“I can go to yours if you prefer,” he suggests.

You really don’t, but your wish to finish the project is stronger. You know your roommate won’t be there – ever since she started dating someone that has an apartment not too far from campus, she’s been spending most of her time over at their place. So that’s how you find yourself sitting cross-legged on your bed while Jungkook is at your desk, shooting ideas as if you’ve never really hated each other after all.

You form a better team with him than you ever expected you would.

“What about this?” Jungkook suggests.

He sends you a link from an article he was reading, and you quickly skim over it. “It says the opposite of what we’re trying to explain.”

“I know,” Jungkook says. He sighs, picking up his laptop to move to your bed.

The sudden closeness makes you stiffen, a frown moving on your features, but he’s entirely immune to it as he points at a line on the screen.

He recites it, before adding, “See, it would be perfect”.

“You did not just find a single sentence that can be used?”

He furrows his brows as he meets your gaze. “Yes?”

You laugh, and it’s a little cold. “If the TA looks at the sources he’ll fail us.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes this time. He leans closer, which in turn makes you lean back. You’re very aware all of a sudden that one of his knees is brushing your leg, and your mouth slightly parts as if in anticipation.

“No TAs actually look at sources,” he says, head cocking to the side. “Especially not Namjoon.”

Right. Your TA is one of Jungkook’s friends anyway, which you reckon might be the reason why Jungkook took the class in the first place.

He sits back in his spot, and you take a deep breath as you straighten. “Right.”

He looks as if he was expecting you to talk back, but as you return to focusing on the project, so does he. You don’t see the time go, but at a certain point a loud rumble coming from Jungkook’s stomach has you ordering burritos. You’re almost done eating, surprisingly able to converse with Jungkook about high school without feeling like murdering him. He finishes his burrito first, and then he says, “Your teeth looked so weird when I met you”.

You cock an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Before you got your braces,” he says. “People made fun of you all of the time about it.”

You frown. “By people you mean you?”

He offers you a sweet, innocent smile as if he wasn’t your bully for years. “Yeah.”

It kills the conversation as you just stare at him, holding his gaze for a while. Your burrito is long forgotten in your hands when you blink, as if breaking out of a reverie.

“You were the worst person I knew, back then,” you tell him a little pensively.

“I was just teasing you! You always got worked up over nothing.”

You scoff. “You really were the worst thing to happen to me,” you tell him a little pensively. “I mean that.”

He looks insulted, somehow, as if he believes he’s the best thing to ever happen to everyone around him. You reckon he might actually believe that, with the size of his ego.

“That’s a bit excessive,” he says, a frown taking over his features. “It wasn’t like you were any better.”

“I treated you the way you treated me,” you drawl. “Didn’t like it?”

“I just thought…” he trails off, scoffing. “I just thought it was funny.”

“In what kind of sick and twisted world is bullying someone funny?” you ask.

He doesn’t reply. He just stares at a vague spot next to you, looking so conflicted you want to push him out of your dorm.

“I wasn’t bullying you,” he finally says, voice small.

“Fuck off, Jungkook, you were,” you snicker, a cold laugh falling from your mouth.

He meets your gaze then, and he looks so angry your eyes widen. “I didn’t realize that I was. What the fuck do you want me to do about it now?”

Your burrito suddenly catches your attention, because you’re too much of a coward to hold his gaze. “Maybe stop being an asshole?”

He chuckles bitterly. “I’m not an asshole. You’re literally the only person I know that thinks I’m an asshole.”

“Maybe because that’s the way you act with me, Jungkook! You’re always on my back.”

You see him rolling his eyes as you look up, your anger giving you enough courage to be able to hold his gaze.

He says your name like it’s an insult. “You’re the one that takes every opportunity you get to insult me,” he points out. “To call me a man-whore because I sleep around. What’s so wrong with having a little fun?”

“You rub it into everyone’s face!” you burst. “That’s what’s wrong.” You pause, and it’s your turn to chuckle bitterly. “And you fucked Nabi and she ghosted me.”

He purses his lips, glancing down at your chest. You’re wearing a turtleneck, so you know he’s not looking at your breasts. He’s just avoiding your eyes, and he suddenly seems extremely guilty.

“Not my fault,” he grumbles.

“Not your fault my ass!” You shake your head in disbelief. “What the fuck did you tell her to convince her to ghost me?”

“I called her by your name,” he admits, and he meets your gaze then. It’s a little intense, a little dark, and your heart misses a beat in your chest.

“You called her by my name? You’re so fucking weird.”

As you were speaking, Jungkook’s gaze trailed to your mouth. So he’s looking at your lips when he says, “It’s so hot when you talk back”.

You were about to insult him even more, but all you manage to choke out is, “What?”

His big doe eyes look up to meet your gaze, before dropping to your lips once more. “Every time we fight, I have to physically refrain from grabbing your face and kissing you stupid.”

You have no idea how the conversation got here. Only that it makes the very bottom of your stomach warm up. “What?”

“I want to kiss you,” he says, drawing out every syllable. “I’ve had a crush on you my whole fucking life.”

You want to punch him, to tell him he’s even more of an asshole than you always thought he was. All you can do is put your burrito to the side and jump on him, grabbing his face and clashing your mouth on his.

It’s so hard you taste a little blood, but as soon as your lips connect you lose sense of everything else. There’s just him and his lips and his large hands moving on every inch of your body, caressing you over your clothes before he feels emboldened and rids you of your shirt.

His mouth drops to your erect nipple then, and he murmurs that you’re beautiful as he sucks on it lightly, tongue flicking at it right as he pinches the other one. You moan, one hand going to his hair, pulling at the long strands.

He takes that as a cue to kiss you again and so he does, his tongue parting your lips until it’s lapping at your own. He swallows the sounds you make as his fingers move between your legs, blindly looking for your clit through the fabric.

He pulls away, letting out a frustrated grunt, and he tears his shirt off before helping you out of your pants and panties.

In less than five minutes you’ve found yourself entirely naked with the bane of your existence which, you reckon, feels way too good.

He’s quick after that. Quick to bury his face between your legs and pull an orgasm out of you. Quick to take off his pants as you watch his erection spring free. Quick to put on the condom he finds in his wallet, and quick to kneel between your legs.

He watches you as you rub your clit mindlessly, before pushing in in one powerful thrust, bottoming out when there’s still some of him left. You cry out, grabbing onto his thighs as he starts fucking you, quick and hard, and it’s no wonder you come again as he angles his dick to hit a sweet spot inside of you.

He comes into the condom as your walls pulsate around his cock, teeth digging in his bottom lip so hard you think he’s going to draw blood. He only relaxes his features once his dick stops twitching inside of you, and he’s quick to pull out.

And that’s how you start having sex with Jeon Jungkook. It’s an irregular schedule, with exams and part time jobs and parties and friends keeping you away from each other, but somehow you still find Jungkook buried deep inside of you a couple of times each month. You still hate him, hate the effect that he has on you, hate how he’s able to make you beg for it.

It all culminates on a late February evening, when he arrives to your dorm two hours after he said he would with a bright red hickey on his neck.

“What the fuck is this, Jungkook?” you ask him, pointing at the proof he was with someone else. “You’re still fucking other people?”

“Are you not?” he asks, rubbing his neck. “You keep insisting that it’s just sex. Why do you even care?”

You fold your arms on your chest, taking a few steps away from him. “It’s just weird. When did you fuck her?”

You hear him scoff. “I didn’t fuck her. We just made out.”

“As if that makes it any better,” you drawl.

“You’re so fucking confusing,” he complains, with an edge to his voice. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

“Nothing,” you tell him, surprising yourself when you realize it’s true. “I’m done with you.”

“Fuck off,” he spits. “You’re just throwing a little jealousy fit because you can’t admit to yourself that you care about me.”

You laugh, a joyless sound that feels like nails on a blackboard. “The funny thing is I really don’t. I don’t give a fuck who’s under you, Jungkook. As long as it’s not me anymore.”

“What? You’re just going to end things like this?”

You nod, finally turning to look at him. He’s scowling, eyes burning with unhinged anger.

“Yeah,” you tell him. “Leave, Jungkook. The project was last semester, this has lasted for way longer than it should have.”

“Alright,” he snickers. “Suit yourself.”

And then he’s gone, not once looking back at you. It hurts to watch him go, somehow, and you curse yourself, force yourself to forget about him. It works – you barely even see him on campus to begin with anyway. So much so that, eight months later, you’re dating Kim Taehyung, an exchange student from Korea, when you actually run into Jungkook for the first time again, at a bar you don’t usually go to.

You’re at the bar, ordering drinks for you and Taehyung who went to the bathroom when Jungkook approaches you.

“Haven’t seen you here before,” he drawls, leaning on the bar. “What’s bringing you here?”

“A date,” you reply truthfully. “If you even know what that is.”

He furrows his brows, rolling his eyes. “You haven’t changed.”

“Okay, Jungkook.”

He remains silent for a time, and then his expression relaxes. You don’t like the way he’s looking at you, doe eyes turning nostalgic. Especially not as he says, “I wish we had ended things on better terms”.

You chuckle bitterly. “Sorry, Jungkook.” You pause, looking towards the bathroom as you see Taehyung walking out. You direct your gaze back to Jungkook before speaking again. “It could’ve been worse. We could’ve fallen in love.”

And then you’re receiving your cocktail and Taehyung’s beer, so you walk away, not once looking back towards Jungkook.

Little do you know that Jungkook fell in love, all those months ago. Tried to forget it with someone else, only to have it backfire in his face because of that stupid hickey. So, he watches you go, feeling sick to his stomach, then figures that getting drunk and fucking a stranger should help him forget.

He knows it never does, but it’s all that he knows how to do.

#btswritersclub #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook #jjk smut #jjk angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fanfiction #jjk fanfic #jjk fic #jeon jungkook #jjk #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook angst #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook fanfiction #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fic #1k followers celebration #follower milestone celebration

[foli-vora]

Massive congrats Foli! Thanks for bringing joy and thots to us, we appreciate you! 💗

I’m being greedy and I know it: 110 “is that a drawing of me?” with Marcus Pike à la You’re Somebody Else? Angsty or heartbreaking smut? Or both?

my sweet, sweet angel! thank you so much for your request and your kind words. i appreciate your presence here! i'm always down for hopping into this universe - i hope you enjoy! x

rough lines [marcus POV ’you're somebody else’]

marcus pike (alex) x f!reader

word count: 1.8k+ warnings: angst. A N G S T. lies and deception, undercover work, soft moments, these two were so in love it fucking hurts me, soft sad smut/love making - not overly explicit but still very much 18+ ONLY.

It shouldn’t be happening like this, but it is.

He feels it everywhere. He feels it thrum through his system, mixing with the blood that runs through his veins. He feels it in the pit of his stomach, twisting and curling and threatening to tear its way up his throat and choke him. He feels it crawl over his skin, stretching over his being with rivers of trembles and sparks of something wonderful. 

Love.

God, he’s such an idiot.

What the hell is he doing?

This is a job—a case—and here he is, falling in love. 

Falling? No. It’s too late. He’s already fallen. He’s done for. He’s sold his soul and now has to live with the pain of knowing it has an end date. This wouldn’t, couldn’t, be forever, and it’s starting to slowly break him. He swears he could hear the tic of a clock.

Time patiently chips at his heart, the inevitable end lingers in the shadows of every tender moment.

There would be no ring. No house. No altar. No future.

He fights it. Of course he does. 

Despite his heart singing it’s relief, it’s joy, of finally finding another, he shuts it away. He ignores the thrill that shoots through his system. He ignores the way his heart starts to thud in his ears. He ignores the fire left in the wake of your touch.

You give him the affectionate name of Snoopy. You merely think he just likes rifling through your things, flicking page after page of your journals and sketchbooks out of curiosity and the want to know you on a deeper, more personal level… if only you knew. 

While, yes, that was true—he loved studying the curl of your handwriting and the notes you’d leave next to your drawings and memories and soaking in your voice as it recalled moments in the past—he was looking for things to lead him and his team in the right direction with the case.

He wasn’t doing it for the right reasons. 

You believed he was just asking about your friends after coming across photographs of you smiling prettily at the camera, when in reality he was memorising names to give to his fellow agents for a background check and to grow their lengthy suspect list.

Every bit of your life was under scrutiny, under careful observation, and you had no idea. None whatsoever.

He wasn’t expecting the guilt that would come with this investigation and the way it would grow, the way it would fester into this hideous beast of a thing that threatened to make him sick the second he looked at you.

It’s there now, bubbling on the back of his tongue—anxiety, nausea, mixing with the ever present words of apology and declarations of love. Words you’d never dream of hearing, yet words you’ll hear through ringing ears as your love for him morphes into red hot loathing. Hatred.

He won’t ever be ready, prepared, for that day.

The soft pat and stroke of your brush is calming in your apartment, lit only by your favourite candles lining every available surface. You weren’t into strong bright lighting, choosing to instead turn to soft, warm hued lamps and lighting wicks birthing a constantly calm, welcoming atmosphere.

He knows your favourite scents.

He knows your favourite lamp. 

He knows you prefer to lounge on the large, shaggy rug rather than any of your comfortable chairs.

He knows the way your tongue would peak from between your lips when focusing.

He knows you. 

The nausea grows.

He can no longer focus on the journal in his hands and flicks it shut, smoothing his fingers over the front cover with an air of apology for stealing from its depths. He slides it back into your monstrosity of a bookcase, the vintage dark wood stretching along your wall, ignoring the way your collection of trinkets and souvenirs placed over the shelves seem to jeer him.

“Are you okay?”

Your voice pulls him from studying the shelves, and he forces a smile in return, turning his head to find you sat comfortably on your rug with a small easel propped out in front of you. He can see the swirls of colour sprawling out across the canvas—an original, he notices with relief— and admires it as he wanders closer, sinking down behind you and warming at the way you comfortably recline into him.

“Yeah baby, just had a bad day,” he murmurs, kissing the bare skin of your shoulder where your cardigan had fallen from.

He rests his lips there, sighing quietly and closing his eyes, almost in pain, when your hand raises to cradle the back of his head, your fingers weaving and combing through the grown out hair there. Your nails scratch lightly against his scalp and, just for a moment, he pretends he’s himself.

Marcus.

He’s Marcus, not Alex.

It’s bliss.

There’s no hiding, no secrets kept close to his chest or lies to burn his mouth. You know him, you know everything, and you’re still here, still open to him, loving him… but the moment can never linger. He returns to the present, to the truth of your situation, and languidly opens his eyes at your concerned tone. His fantasy melts away with the next exhale that blows along your skin. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask quietly, tilting your head so you could gaze up at him from where you rest against his chest.

“It’s work,” he replies truthfully, letting his head hang until his forehead presses into yours, “it’s just getting harder and harder, that’s all.”

It wasn’t meant to be this hard.

The feelings he holds for you had just developed so quickly, and admittedly, he had lost himself in the budding romance. The intel on you had left out how sweet you are. How caring and kind and compassionate and smart… he should’ve stepped back the second he felt that spark of true attraction.

Maybe it was selfishness, maybe it was the loneliness inside him crying for the company of another… either way, he was fucked.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you murmur softly, your fingers tracing his cheek, “is there anything I can do?”

Self loathing rolls around the pit of his stomach at your tone, at your touch. His exhale blows softly across your lips, his head giving a small shake of denial. 

“It’s just the way it has to be,” he admits in a whisper, trying to push his unspoken apology into his tone.

He hates it. He hates it so fucking much.

“I get it,” you reply with a distinct note of sadness, your eyes fluttering to a gentle close. 

God, he wishes you’d say more.

Maybe he could help you, maybe he could get you out before it all goes too far. Maybe there was still time…

You’ve been incredibly tight-lipped about your place in this whole illegal art ring, but with the more time he spends with you, taking in the cryptic marks you’d make here and there, he’s almost certain you weren’t into this life of crime as others may suspect.

It’s not like he could just come straight out and ask you, so he was simply left with his theories until you trusted him enough to open up. 

“No more talk of work,” you decide after a moment of silence, turning in his hold and looping your arms around his neck with a sweet smile.

He finds himself returning it immediately, unable to resist.

“Okay,” he grins, eyes closing at the delicate press of your lips.

Everything feels so easy with you, so natural. The way your lips mould with his, the way you both seem to fall into such an effortless rhythm. He burns under your hands, his heart launching into his throat as your nimble fingers drag his T-shirt up and off his body before exploring the planes of his bare torso. 

He’ll never get sick of the sounds that fall from your throat. Your whines, each and every soft exhale, the muffled moans that he swallows down eagerly when his own hands explore your body.

He memorises it all.

The feel of your skin, the curves and dips and soft spots that tear the prettiest of sounds from your lips; the way your back arches when he hovers over you, his mouth crafting its own path over your skin; the way you open up for him, weep for him, muscles clenching and tightening and fluttering around him as you meet your end. 

The guilt lingers.

It hangs there in the back of his mind as he moves, his skin like fire against yours as he fills you. He hides in your throat, squeezes his eyes shut when you start to whisper the name that doesn’t belong to him. If he focuses hard enough, he can almost imagine your sweet coo of Marcus ringing in his ears.

The shadow of it takes hold when he sits on the edge of your bed after spending the evening losing himself in you, chasing your end and kissing away your bliss filled tears. He tugs at his jeans, pulling them up his legs and relishing in the warm fingertips that trace up and down his spine, bringing a pleasant wash of electricity across his skin.

“Can I have my water, please?” You murmur tiredly from where you rest in the sheets, your face half hidden in the pillow you snuggle into.

He gives you an amused smile over his shoulder before stretching for the water jug beside your bed, pausing when the page of your open sketchbook resting on the edge of the night stand catches his eye, displaying a familiar face crafted from hasty, rough lines of graphite. His stomach tightens.

“Is that a drawing of me?”

You hum softly, accepting the offered jug and leaning up on an elbow, unbothered by your nudity as the sheet slips and pools around your stomach. You gulp at the water greedily, smiling when he catches the drop that escapes your lips and slides down your chin with the rough pad of his thumb.

“It is,” you admit quietly, “that’s not weird, is it?”

He chuckles, reaching for the sketch pad and shaking his head. 

“No, it’s not. Why did you draw me, though? I’m hardly the Statue of David,” he says with a heavy tone of amusement, his grin hiding the faint wash of pink that crawls along his cheeks.

You sit up more, shifting closer to him and brushing the strands of hair falling over his forehead with such a soft tenderness it threatens to knock him down. 

“Because you inspire me.”

His heart aches at your answer, the pain spreading throughout his chest and seeping into his bloodstream. It takes every bit of strength within him to not let the anguish twist his features as you soften into his side with a peace filled exhale, a single thought circling around and around his mind with a fierce, unrelenting force—

I’m so sorry.

---

everything pp tags: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld, @juletheghoul, @punkerthanpascal, @itswanktime, @karolydulin, @pedrostories, @fabilei, @ghostwiththemostbitch, @omlwhatamidoinghere, @cannedsoupsucks, @chaoticemz, @hows-my-hair, @alexxavicry, @cran-berry-vodka, @deadhumourist, @outercrasis, @thisshipwillsail316, @toxicfrankenstein, @hotchlover, @ew-erin, @mishasminion360, @jitterbugs927, @penelopeimp, @woodland-mist, @pedro-pastel, @spaceserialkiller, @adriiibell, @1andthesame, @elegantduckturtle, @captain-jebi, @magpie-to-the-morning, @sharkbait77, @sleep-tight1, @musings-of-a-rose, @karlawithacapitalk, @woomen23, @frasmotic, @songsformonkeys, @loonymagizoologist, @aynsleywalker, @ruhro7, @bluestuesday, @what-iwish-you-knew, @princess-djarinn, @totallynotastanacc, @girlofchaos, @pjkimrn, @bangaveragewhitewine, @trickstersp8, @rominaszh, @gooddaykate, @ms-loverman-066, @bunniwarrior, @detectivecarisi-1, @tintinn16, @iceclaw101, @bport76, @thatpinkshirt, @tusk89, @withakindheartx, @curiouskeyboard, @pedropascalsx, @sirpascal, @racetrackheart, @timpletance, @titabel, @xdaddysprincessxx, @dnxgma, @astronomeoww, @dindjarinswhore, @alwaysdjarin, @mando-amando, @mx-ferelden, @trinkets01, @jxvipike, @thesmutslut, @thereisaplaceintheheart, @scentedthingtidalwave, @mwltwo, @loveslide, @artsymaddie, @untitledarea, 

marcus pike tags: @pedrohoe04, @evyiione, @androah, @wildmoonflower, @naughtynecromancer, @quica-quica-quica, @stevenmylove, @lawfulgranola, @fuckoffbard, @dins-cyare, @eatommo, @serini-ty, @chaoticevilbakugo, @raphaelaisabella, @f*cklife_imdreaminghere, @randomchick546, @in-for-a-pennyx, @littleone65, @joelmiller81, @Curiouser-an-curiouser, @h-hxgirl, @thevoiceinyourheadx,  @shadowolf993

yse/rty tags: @kirsteng42, @insomniamamma, @albertasunrise, @oursubjectisntcool, @birdie-girl, @lepagera-blog, @maryfanson, @toomanystoriessolittletime, @cecilyjmorgenstern, @donnaa, @spishsstuff, @hungrhay, @tanyaherondale, @dreamcatcher121, @elegantmusicdragon, @aninnai

#foli's 3k #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike #pedro pascal x reader

[kindred-sims]

Will Barclay considered himself a very proud and determined man. He was also, as proclaimed by his wife, to be “far too stubborn for his own good”.

He supposed that all things considered, she’d been right to say so. Especially since it had led him here.

He’d always dreamed of this. Having his own home, his own farm. Growing up he’d loved to run wild, playing in the woods behind his home, going fishing with his friends and going out riding on his horse whenever the moment allowed it. But then, he’d gotten older. He’d been given more responsibilities, more demands. Gone were the carefree days of frolicking in the woods, as the moment he’d turned thirteen, he’d been put to work in his father’s store. It’d been expected of him of course, it was a family business after all – but there was only so much he could take when it came to standing behind a counter all day.

It just wasn’t what he wanted from his life. He knew that, he knew what he wanted and it wasn’t that.

And so, soon as he was old enough, he made up his mind. He was going to be a farmer, and he would do as he himself pleased. No one around to give him orders, no one to yell at him or complain.

Here, he felt free. And it was the best feeling describable.

Even if it was the reason he and his father were no longer on speaking terms. He’d not been at all pleased when Will had revealed his plans to travel out to Nevada and begin farming, why, even now Will could still hear the exact last conversation they had ringing in his ears:

“Do you know how hard our family has worked to get to this point? Do you?”

“You tell me all the time, Papa, I know--”

“No, I don’t think you do! Else you wouldn’t be throwing away everything we’ve given you so hastily like this, I just don’t understand it, boy! Why? What on Earth has gotten into you?”

“Papa--”

“And to drag your new bride into all of this, I really just don’t understand it. Why not stay here, where there’s more certainty, more stability? Why risk traveling so far for what could very well be a pointless gamble--”

“Enough! That’s enough, for the love of God! Will you just let me speak my peace? I’ve told you time and time again, I’ve already discussed this thoroughly with Aggie and she’s on board with it. Neither of us would be going if we weren’t sure. Yes, it may be a gamble, but it is mine to take, and I don’t care if you support me or not. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life behind a counter, watching the world go by when I could be an active part of it! That may be all well and good for you, Papa, but its not for me. Its just not.”

“...I see now, that my words have fallen on deaf ears. Very well then, if that’s the path you have chosen, then so be it. But just know, if things do indeed fall apart and you find yourself in great need, do not come crawling back to me.”

“Trust me, I won’t.”

Looking out over the view that surrounded him now, that conversation didn’t sting Will as much as it once had. It hurt him, the words that had been spoken and the words that were heard, but it didn’t matter anymore. He was here, he was where he’d always wanted to be. His father was wrong, things would turn out alright. Things would not fall apart, and someday, when the farm was where he wanted it to be, he could gloat. He could gloat, and prove his father had been the fool all along, not him.

He didn’t want to think anything otherwise.

#sims 4 #ts4 #ts4 history #ts4 historical #decades challenge #barclay legacy #gen one: 1890s #william barclay