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rrxnjun · 11 months

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where do broken hearts go? [lmk]

you know what they say about past lovers that can remain just as friends - either they're still in love with each other, or they never were in the first place.

pairing: mark lee x fem! reader

genre: exes to lovers. angst, fluff.

wc: 12k (11.926)

warnings: mention of sex, weed and alcohol, heartbreak, swearing, park jihoon of treasure is one sassy bitch and also accidentally somehow the main character of this fanfic plz dont @ me, inconsistent writing style bc i took 3 months and 3 depressive episodes to finish this fic

playlist: where do broken hearts go - one direction / too good to say goodbye - bruno mars / everytime - ariana grande / closer - waterparks / tornado warnings - sabrina carpenter / survive the night - the boyz

a/n: hey do some of you still remember me..... AHAHA tell a friend to tell a friend rrxnjun is BACK! this fic isn't the ideal vision i had in my mind but we are working on not being so hard on ourselves with our writing so! here we are. i still kind of like it :,)

When you walk up to your best friend’s apartment one day with a tub of ice cream under your arm and the biggest pout on your face, Park Jihoon makes a complete list of things you should do to get over your failed relationship with Mark Lee. And while you think your dear friend has some psychopathic tendencies sometimes, you’d say the list is actually pretty reasonable of him.

There’s something about the five simple steps that makes you wonder if it’s really as easy as Jihoon makes it sound. And while you doubt it– because the pinging pain in your heart makes it seem like the heartbreak is truly going to kill you in a few minutes if you don’t do something about it– you give it a try, because come on… you’d do anything to not feel like this ever again.

Step one – cry it out.

“He was a cunt anyway,” Jihoon mutters as he steps into the living room with two spoons in his hands, throwing one of them to you– while almost managing to hit you in the middle of your forehead in the process, adding a concussion to the mix of problems you have going on right now– and you find yourself furrowing your brows at his hateful comment.

“Why’d you say that?”

“Well, as your best friend, I’m supposed to be on your side, no?” he says as he takes a seat on the sofa next to you, watching as you wrap one of the thick blankets you got for the male around your figure– you bought it mainly for yourself, because his apartment is cold as a freezer and you knew he wouldn’t buy one for you to use in the first place– and shrugs. “Besides, he broke your heart, and any male who does that is a cunt in my eyes.”

“I broke up with him,” you mourn, “so I broke my own heart,” you snicker, despair fully filling you up from the inside– fitting everywhere into your lungs and choking you up from how bad you truly feel. Now, this isn’t your first breakup– you’ve had your fair share of boyfriends in high school (in your baddie era, as Jihoon called it), but Choi Yeonjun from Maths class and Jung Woonyoung, the guy you dated for a total of 2 months over the summer break before he moved away, weren’t exactly boys you found yourself falling in love with. Sure, you liked them, you kissed them and went on dates with them– hell, you even hooked up with Yeonjun once before you realized the relationship truly wasn’t for you– but no one managed to cave into your heart just as much as Mark Lee, your first college boyfriend did.

“But you sure had a reason for it, come on!” Jihoon huffs, taking the tub of ice cream from your hands and opening it for you, since you’ve gotten quite weak from the lack of sleep and nutritions ever since the break up, hands clammy and not cooperating. “You don’t just break up with someone to break your own heart. He did that, that’s why you said goodbye to him,” he says before sitting the enormous tub of ice cream between your two bodies, nudging you to dig into the frozen delicacy.

“Yeah, but–”

“No buts, young lady. We are here to make you forget you ever even dated Mark Lee, so open up, eat the ice cream and focus your attention on Titanic so you can finally cry it out,” he says, and by the tone of his voice, you’d think he’s angry with you. Jihoon has this aura around him that makes you think he’s always at least a little annoyed at everything– but he told you to not mind it and that it’s just his sassy bitch attitude.

He does have a point, though. You broke up with Mark because he broke your heart first– there was no other reason for it. If it was something minor, something small, you were sure you could work on it. You have, numerous of times before, brought up something and had a mature conversation about it– something you always so admired about Mark, being so cautious and understanding when navigating problems in the relationship– but when you bring up the same thing over and over, and it never gets fixed despite him telling you he’ll try harder next time, you think you’re allowed to feel a little heartbroken at his nonexistent efforts. And that’s exactly why you decided to quit the relationship– after a while, you felt like you were putting in more effort than he was, effectively making you feel like he’s not even that interested in dating you in the first place.

First, he just told you he was forgetful. He forgot he promised to pick you up from class one day– and you said that it’s okay, he is busy, after all– and it was the first time it happened, so you didn’t really mind that much, truly. Then, he forgot about the date you scheduled– but it was fine, because you didn’t have reservations anyway, you could change the day to any other day of the week, after all. He kept forgetting the stuff you told him in between the conversations you shared– and it was small things, you understand, but sometimes, you wondered if he was ever really listening to you at all.

Forgetful soon turns not interested in your eyes, and when he doesn’t call you in the evening like he promised he would, when he doesn’t show up to the party you invited him to, because he forgot it was that day, you’re one step closer to calling it quits, because each and every one of these situations sends a sharp pain into your stomach. The last straw was just last week, though– and realistically, it was an important day, as much that you thought the day is somehow gonna fix everything, but the truth is somewhere completely else as Mark Lee forgets about your one year anniversary and never shows up at your doorstep for the dinner you prepared for the two of you like he promised he would.

And it doesn’t click in him two days after either– you don’t even get a text. He got so forgetful over time that he forgot about you completely, and that’s when you took an uber to his place and broke up with him for good.

And even though the breakup was the most painful thing you’ve ever felt yourself go through, Jihoon is right– you’re not the one that broke your own heart. Mark Lee did that for you many times before, and this was just the breaking point.

“Fucking hell, you bought cookies and cream again?” Jihoon huffs when he takes another spoonful of the ice cream into his mouth, eyebrows furrowing at the sweet taste. Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you wipe your left cheek as you hum, immune to his nagging by now.

“You know I hate cookies and cream!”

“You know, Hoon, I bought this for myself. When you’re the one that’s heartbroken, we’ll share your favorite ice cream flavor instead,” you mumble, munching on the coldness on your tongue, sniffling a little when your eyes avert to the TV screen.

And after that, the teasing from your best friend’s side stops. Maybe it’s just because he hates to see you cry– and he rarely gets the chance, if you’re being honest, since you’re pretty good at handling your emotions– but you secretly know that it’s because when he looks back at the TV screen in front of the two of you, the sad part of the movie hasn’t even started yet and the tears are not the result of the movie, but of your own thoughts instead.

Step two – give him back all of his stuff and the stuff he’s given you that reminds you of him. Demand that he does the same.

Now, step two was a thing most couples do when they break up. Realistically, it makes sense– you wouldn’t want stuff that’s not yours just laying around, and also, it’s just bound to remind you of the person you lost. Naturally, you’d want to return it.

“Why does he have to return my things as well?” you mutter under your breath as Jihoon helps you fold all Mark’s hoodies into a cardboard box, alongside with wrapping the little things your ex boyfriend made out of ceramic for you in tissue paper like you asked him to– even though he complained and said that it shouldn’t matter to you if they break, because you are the heartbroken one– but you held those little things too close to your heart to let them get damaged in the first place.

“Because that’s how it works,” Jihoon hums, watching as you throw another one of Mark’s shirts onto the top of his head, shielding his vision. “What, you don’t want your stuff back?”

“I mean…” you mumble, deeply considering of the fact that the thought of getting your stuff back didn’t even cross your mind until now, before you realize your favorite pair of socks is thrown somewhere in Mark’s drawers– the blue ones with peaches on them– and you suddenly have the revelation that while you don’t necessarily need the stuff back, you’d love to wear those socks again. “I guess…” you note as you walk over to Jihoon and take a glance into the full cardboard box, looking over the stuff and chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“It’s like witchcraft, y’know,” Jihoon points out, looking at you with fierce eyes mirroring the stupid idea that just flashed through his brain, “if you don’t exchange the things, a piece of you is still kept at his apartment and you won’t be able to move on.”

And again, Park Jihoon does have psychopathic tendencies, but he may be onto something here. So you listen to him as you nod along and close the cardboard box, ready to drive over to Mark Lee’s apartment and drop off the things you’ve collected from him for the past year. The box includes all of the clothes messily scattered across your drawers and your closet, the picture frame of you two together that you always had on your night stand, the ceramic bowls and a little tiger sculpture he made for you when he took a pottery class with his friend Renjun, and the lost guitar pics you found under your bed and at the very top of your bookshelf from when he used to bring his guitar along and play you songs on rainy afternoons. The only things of Mark’s that you kept were the love letter he gave you for your birthday and the USB with his cover of Justin Bieber’s Off my face on it that he shyly gifted to you on one of your dates; but you would never tell Jihoon that in fear of him getting rid of those most precious memories for you.

It’s good to let go, but you don’t think you’re wrong for wanting to keep something to remind you of the good times. The times you still felt loved by Mark.

“Off we go,” you say, standing up and bringing the box towards your front door, your best friend at your feet. He promised to drive you to Mark’s place– you think he’s worried about you meeting your ex-boyfriend face to face for the first time since the break up, but he said it’s because you’re too broke to Uber all the time, efficiently throwing all the considerate thoughts you were accrediting him out the window– and after a few minutes of the drive, you find yourself standing on the doorstep of Mark Lee's apartment.

Taking a deep breath in and out, almost chickening out with the flood of thoughts and excuses you could say to Jihoon when you come back to his car with the box still in your hands– sayings like “he wasn’t home” or “he didn’t want those back”, the latter stupider than the first– you decide to face your problems head-on and finally knock on the mahogany door, waiting for Mark to answer. And he does– of course he does, because he’s always home, and as his ex-girlfriend of one year, you're painfully aware of the fact– but when that happens, you feel your heart falling all the way down to your stomach, crushing you and suddenly making it hard for you to breathe.

“Um… hi,” he greets you, voice a little groggy, as if he hasn’t spoken in a while– and when you meet his eyes, the deep chocolate orbs you always found yourself admiring and writing silent odes to in your head, you quickly glance away in fear of staring into them for too long and making decisions you wouldn’t like to make.

“Hi,” you awkwardly greet back, clearing your throat and moving a little in your place, shifting the weight from one foot to the other. You're surprised you're able to keep up with the conversation, thoughts running in your brain faster than you can comprehend them, heartbeat ringing in your ears from the unexpected anxiety. Maybe Jihoon was right and you should've taken a shot before coming here– at least you'd have more courage and social skills clearly needed for this kind of interaction. “I… brought you back your things,” you say, finally looking up at the male and chewing on your lips, letting out an awkward, tense laugh when he stares at you with an empty look, “figured you’d want them back,” you add, watching as the male opens his mouth and closes it in what seems to be shock before he presses his lips tightly together and nods at you.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he watches you clumsily hold up the cardboard box to him, ready to leave his stuff there with him and escape as fast as you can, not really minding how you'll get back to Jihoon's car– if jumping down the window of the entrance hall is the fastest option, you're ready to get to it. The truth is, everything is starting to get a little too hard to bear– his familiar scent filling your nose, the hoodie he wore to your first date enveloping his figure, his messy hair reminding you of the many times you brushed your fingers through it in attempts to smooth it down. It’s only been two weeks since you last saw him, but it was starting to feel as if you forgot about him already and were now relearning all the things you once fell in love with again, looking at him in the same light, yet noticing him and all the small details a little bit differently. “Thanks, I… I actually, uh… I have your stuff here too, so if you want it back I’ll– I can just–”

“Y-yeah,” you nod, almost a little too eagerly, “that would be… cool,” you say, trying hard to ignore the fact that he had your stuff packed too, intending to give it to you, and the crashing reality that comes with it, telling you he was prepared to do this before you were and how it’s making you feel kind of shitty.

Mark moves further into the apartment, the sound of him dropping the box to the floor filling your ears before he’s back at the door in no time, a similar cardboard box in his hands that he offers to you with a tense smile on his face. “Wanted to bring it around so I had an excuse to see you, but you, uh… beat me to it, I guess…”

Looking at him as you take the box out of his hands, gaze as if to tell him not to say such words to you when you’re still so fragile to his effect, you only nod and mutter out a simple “Thanks,” before you turn on your heel and intend to take the stairs back down.

“I’ll… see you around, then?” Mark calls after you as you take the first step out– something about it making you feel like it’s the first step out of his life, in a way– and you only nod, because one, you truly don’t know how else to reply to this question, and two, you really, really don’t know if you’ll ever see him again, but you can't bring yourself to say it to his face. Somehow, it would feel like torture to admit it– and you're not prepared for that reality just yet.

Rushing outside and getting into Jihoon's car, you almost feel like you’re on the verge of breaking, and when the male asks you how it went as he’s reversing out of the parking lot, you only bid him a one-word reply before you look through the box on your way home, too impatient to stay back from the memories.

And Jihoon didn’t really think this one through, because the fact that you gave Mark back the things that reminded you of him meant that he did the same, and now all the things you brought along to Mark’s apartment were in the cardboard box, all stained with countless memories and feelings attached to each and every single thing. The artwork you made for him, the little heart-shaped keychain you gave him for his birthday, the plant you gave him that was now long dead and dried out– those were once your stuff, but all in this world with the intention of love being sent out through them to your now ex-lover, and the fact that they’re in your possession again instead of his is not making letting go of Mark any easier.

And maybe Mark was right and he truly was forgetful, because as you rummage through the contains of the box, while you find out your favorite blue socks are nowhere to be seen, surely still buried somewhere in the drawers of his closet, obliterated out of his memory, there’s a gray hoodie sitting at the bottom and it’s surely not yours– it’s his and it was always your favorite, and you always used to wear it at his place when you got cold or when you just really wanted to smell his cologne, and you suddenly don't know if it's presence in the box slipped his mind or if he truly left it there on purpose.

Couldn’t he forget about that too?

Step three – block his number.

The third step comes into place after you accidentally slip out to Jihoon about the phone call you get on a Friday night– more like two hours into Saturday already– and now, most of all, you must admit that your best friend might be right about his advice.

Your phone starts ringing at 2:11 AM, and while you weren’t sleeping– you’ve been having some trouble with dozing off without being overbeared with thoughts lately– the name flashing on your screen shocks you for more reasons than one.

Mark Lee calls you, three weeks after your breakup, in the middle of the night. You haven’t spoken since the time he gave you back your stuff, and even though you’ve done quite a bit of stalking on his social media, you have no news of him or his whereabouts. Naturally, a call from him in the middle of the night startles you and shakes you to the core. He has no reason to call you, so your brain does the math and concludes there must be an emergency– and god knows that even after being hurt by him, you could never ignore him and leave him hanging in a state of need.

So you pick up– with shaky hands and a raging heartbeat, expecting the worst. Listening to the other side of the line, you take a deep breath in and out, bracing yourself for the impact of the words you’re going to hear. The voice on the other side is laced with haziness and his tone is almost a little tired– worn out, even– when he finally greets you from wherever he is.

“Hi,” Mark says, and for a second, your heartbeat steadies itself and the world stops spinning– he sounds okay, and for a moment, you’re grateful to hear his voice.

Humming, as if to collect your thoughts, you clear your throat before you offer him an answer. “Hello,” you greet, “what’s- what’s up?”

“Just wanted to hear your voice,” he says, almost a little abruptly to your question. He doesn't overthink his answer and he doesn't give himself time to think if it's a good idea or not– he just blurts it out and now it's your problem to deal with, when it's there, out in the open. Your palms get sweaty and you start to lose feeling in your fingertips, making you take a few seconds to yourself to process the situation before you decide to finally answer to the strange sentence.

“It’s late, Mark,” you mumble, and you involuntarily wonder if the sentence doesn’t have double meaning– it's too late for anyone to call at this hour, and at the same time, it’s been weeks since your ex boyfriend lost the privilege of listening to your voice when he can’t sleep in the middle of the night whenever he feels like it– and it’s now too late to do anything about it or make it any easier to deal with.

“Shit, sorry,” he chuckles to himself, and you suddenly recognise the laziness in his voice to be the effect of his and his best friend Hyuck’s Friday endeavors; the sweet coating of his voice being the effect of none other than the momentary bliss that comes with the relaxation of his body and mind when he's high. “Didn’t realize,” he concludes, making you shake your head at him in disbelief– not really mattering that he can’t see you in the act.

“‘s okay,” you mumble– and in your perfect reality, you hang up the phone now. In your perfect reality, you connect it to your charger and close your eyes, calling it a night. You fall asleep with no thoughts rummaging through your brain and wake up in the morning to a new sunny day, ready to take on the responsibilities of what’s to come, having productive days ended with smiles and a hot dinner you make for yourself just because you feel like it. In your perfect reality, you protect your own heart. This is not your perfect reality, though– and that’s why you stay on the line, listening to Mark ramble on the other side of the phone, intoxicated and slightly out of it. You wonder if he’ll remember calling you when he wakes up tomorrow. You wonder if he’ll regret it, or if he’ll just shrug his shoulders at the fact and go on with his day, not really paying you much thought when he’s sober.

“I was with Hyuck just now,” he says, and you hear the rustling of his sheets on the other side of the line, making you wonder if he’s washed up and ready for bed, “and– and I remembered how we all used to hang out together, y’know… you with us all– you always clicked with my friends and it was so cool and stuff… and I realized, right, they’re not as funny when you’re not around… but anyways… Jeno’s girlfriend asked about you, ‘cause she didn’t know…and telling her felt so silly, ‘cause they all kept looking at me and I knew they were pitying me, but it was my fault in the first place–”

“Mark–”

“No, it’s true. And it’s cool, I don’t– I don’t blame you, or anything. I just… I dunno, I guess it got me wondering…”

The line goes silent on the other side, and you settle into your own bed, giving him time to continue. When he doesn’t say anything for a long time, you wonder if he’s fallen asleep.

“Mark?”

“Hm?”

“You still there?”

“Yeah. How was your day?” he asks, tone of voice casual as ever, as if he’s forgotten about all the words he’s told you up until now– as if it’s not 2 AM and both of your hearts aren’t breaking at the sound of each other’s voice on the other side of the line.

“It… it was okay, I guess,” you say nonetheless, too hopeless to find a way to end the conversation before he does.

“That’s good to hear,” he says, sighing, “that’s… awesome. You still taking those yoga classes on Mondays?” he asks, and you snicker to yourself– because what kind of question even is that? Who asks that on a late night call, when there are more important things you two need to talk about?

“Yeah,” you lie, still. You haven’t been since the breakup.

“That’s great. Wouldn’t want you to… y’know,” he laughs to himself, “be too sad over this… ‘t was for the better, after all.”

You hear yourself hum– the noise way more stable than your actual words ever could be– and you find yourself feeling silly in the conversation, lying to your ex boyfriend through your teeth; because at the end of the day, you don’t want him to worry about you– because it seems to be the case that he is. And it’s stupid, because he hurt you and you shouldn’t care, maybe you should’ve even show him that you’re heartbroken and that he is the reason behind your pain and the way your life is falling apart, bit by bit, but you don’t find it in you to be so cold and heartless. At the end of the day, you still care about Mark and there’s nothing you could do about it. Turns out that breaking up with him doesn’t magically make the feelings go away– and you knew that, but now you have proof.

“What were you saying before, by the way? You… trailed off at the end,” you say, reminding him of his previous words.

“Oh, that,” he snickers into the microphone again, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he twists and turns in the sheets, “don’t worry about it. It was selfish of me.”

It was selfish of him to call in the first place. But you won’t tell him that.

“What was it?”

“It’s just… I was wondering if I lost you forever, y’know… if there was a chance we could ever…” he trails off again, but this time, you don’t bug him to complete it. You’re not stupid– you know the implication of his words. You’ve known him for a long time, after all– maybe you should’ve predicted this when you picked up the call.

“I mean…” you hum, “you didn’t lose me completely, if that’s– if that’s what’s keeping you up at night. We’re still friends, aren’t we?” you say, and in the corner of your brain, you can’t even believe the words yourself– but if it was selfish of him to call, you think it’s okay for you to selfishly fill both of you with empty promises, just for the sake of not breaking your heart even further.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “that’s– …I’m glad.”

The line’s silent after that, and you wonder if you two have used up the list of words to say to each other this time, if there’s truly no other answer at the end of this conversation. When the situation gets too much for you to bear, the heaviness finally settling on your shoulders and your chest, you finally find the courage to sniffle out a quiet goodbye.

“Good night, Mark.”

“G’night,” he drags out, mind still cloudy. “Love you,” spills out from his tongue, like a bad habit.

He ends the call before you get to say it back. Maybe that’s for the better.

And the truth is, you should’ve really listened to Park Jihoon and blocked Mark’s number after this encounter. But you didn’t– you’re too weak for Mark’s sweet words, finding yourself still hanging on to his saccharine voice and the muffled ramble he has reserved for you only every time he gets high and loses all self-control before calling you on Friday nights selfishly demanding your attention, somehow falling for him like a teenager over and over again despite promising yourself you're gonna move on for real now.

Step four – date someone new.

“So…” Jihoon starts one day, eyes glued to your skull like laser beams, the tone of his voice so incomprehensible you think he’s going to scold you for the actions of your previous days– even though you haven't told him about the midnight calls with Mark and so if he's not going through your phone, he has no way of knowing. Tense and nervous, still, knowing that the impact of his words could either heal you or cut you open like a knife– damn him for always being so brutally honest, no matter how soft his heart is for you– you smile at him with tight lips, crossing your arms on your chest in defense.

“So…?”

A nervous laugh almost escapes your throat. If Jihoon wasn’t suspicious of you before, he surely is now– or he just finds you strange by the way he furrows his brows at you and scans you up and down, taking a second for himself before he sighs and seemingly decides to drop the weird way you’re acting right now, shaking his head and focusing on the task at hand.

“I was thinking… my friend asked about you,” he says, nonchalantly looking down onto his hands and taking the dirt out from behind his nails, as if it’s not a big deal and he doesn’t even care that much. “Choi Hyunsuk from Biology, you know him– shabby haircut, kinda short, failed the class so he has to retake it this year…?”

“I think you’re forgetting the fact that the two of us have completely different majors, Hoonie,” you sweetly smile at him with irony, making him roll his eyes with a sigh before he tries again.

“The guy who ripped his pants at Xiao Dejun’s party last year?”

“Oh, that one! You should’ve said that earlier, of course I remember Choi Hyunsuk from your Biology class,” you nod hurriedly, the gears finally clicking in your brain.

“As if I wasn’t talking about him for the last few minutes–”

“Okay, and what about him?” you cut him off, already tired of his annoying tangent.

“I said he asked about you.”

“I heard that already,” you nod, looking at him with expecting eyes. “And?”

Jihoon stares at you, unblinking, as if you fell on your head and he’s trying to comprehend if you’re still here with him or if you got a concussion and need to be transferred into a hospital. When the contact of his eyes on your skin gets a bit too uncomfortable– you swear his looks could actually kill someone, if he tried enough– you furrow your brows at him in confusion and shake your head in disbelief.

“Why are you staring at me like that, Park Jihoon?”

“Just tryna see if you’re really that stupid or if you’re just pretending,” he mutters under his nose before he sighs again– his favorite activity whenever you’re around, it seems– and speaks up again, tone of voice reminding you of a kindergartener teacher trying to explain why it gets dark in the evening to a bunch of 4 year olds. “You know, when people ask about you, they are usually interested in you, as in, my friend Hyunsuk didn’t ask because you’re nice, but because you’re hot, if you know what I'm getting onto.”

“Oh,” you get out, eyes wide in concern and a little shaken-up, “well, that’s… nice of him, I guess.”

Jihoon only hums at you before he looks around himself and brings out the bag of chips that he left open by his right side only a few seconds ago, not really speaking more about the topic. It’s either he’s waiting for you to get what he’s hinting at, or he’s just waiting for you to get even more confused and ask him about it in a few seconds again– either way, he’s not the one doing more talking right now, because conversations with you, the most oblivious person he’s ever seen, are never productive if he goes too fast.

Chewing on the chips, his eyes go wide when you finally open your mouth and talk more about the topic at hand– just like he predicted. “Why are you telling me this?”

Your best friend swallows before he places the bag of chips back to its original place and turns his whole body so he’s facing you, speaking up again. “I was thinking that maybe, just maybe, you’d like to hang out with him. Like a date, before you ask– because I know you’re gonna ask– and why? – because, again, I know you’re gonna ask– because I simply think you should try to date again to get your mind off the loser you broke up with two months ago,” he says, blunt and honest, answering all of your unsaid questions at once, and before you know it, he has you snickering and shaking your head in disapproval.

“Absolutely not,” you retort, waving your hands in the air to only further show your disagreement with the proposition, “that would just be a massive catastrophe.”

“Why? Hyunsuk’s nice.”

“I didn’t say he isn’t, it’s just…”

“Just?” he probes you, eyebrows raised and questioning.

“I… don’t know,” you nervously chew on the inside of your cheek, aimlessly shrugging. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea, Jihoon.”

“Because of Mark?” he asks, and the moment his name escapes your best friend’s mouth, the whole room goes strangely quiet– you feel your heartbeat in your throat, the tips of your fingers start tingling and you swear that if you concentrate hard enough, you could feel a bead of sweat drip down your forehead with the incoming stress and nerves only the mention of your ex boyfriend brings you.

“No, that’s not it–”

“Sure,” he nods, sighing to himself– and there it is again, the judging look you so despise.

“You can’t just expect me to date other people a few weeks after my break up, Jihoon,” you exclaim, “that– that wouldn’t even be fair to your friend. You know I wouldn’t be invested,” you explain, and your friend rolls his eyes in frustration, sighing to himself.

“Oh but I know that! And Hyunsuk does too,” he shakes his head at you, “just thought the company of someone else could take your mind off things.”

“I have you,” you try.

“Yeah, but all we do when we’re together is mope about Mark Lee,” Jihoon snickers, “and don’t get me wrong, I’m more than open to bitch about your ex boyfriend and as your best friend, I don’t mind, but the fact that you’d be hanging out with someone else could take your mind off him, because you wouldn’t feel comfortable talking about him with someone else, y’know?”

You shut your eyes closed, a heavy sigh heaving out of your body as you try hard to concentrate and not lose it, and with how Jihoon’s tone gets softer and he’s not as loud with his brutal, yet logical advice, he must feel you getting overwhelmed and accommodates to your needs. “Look, it’s gonna be fun. I promise. Hang out with someone new, feel wanted and hot and pretty again, get some male attention that’s not your ex boyfriend, and you’ll see how it makes you feel. If you hate it, you hate it and you can slap me, I don’t know... If you don’t, you can keep dating around with my friends, and I swear I’ll hook you up only with the nice ones,” he takes your hand into his and waves it around in comfort, making you open your eyes and look at him again.

Seeing the softness and encouragement in your best friend’s eyes, you sigh to yourself. All this time, he’s tried to help you– what if you finally follow his advice? Who knows, it might even help.

Sighing, you squeeze his palm and hover over him to get the stranded bag of chips he’s guarding on the other side of the sofa. “Fine,” you mutter, “but let your friend know that he’s the one paying, okay?”

“Perfect. I'll text him your number, then.“

And maybe Jihoon was right and after dolling yourself up and dressing up in your favorite dress just so you would feel as comfortable as possible, you don’t feel as bad when his friend Hyunsuk picks you up in his white Volvo and chats with you on the way to the restaurant. He makes good small talk and even gets a giggle out of you, the music in his car is low and you find yourself slowly easing into the situation. You don’t remember when the last time you went out with a guy that wasn’t Mark was, but it’s surprisingly nice.

And Jihoon was right– you feel pretty. And when Hyunsuk opens the door for you after pulling up to the parking lot of the restaurant, you even feel wanted. You like the attention, just like any other girl would, and the smile you offer to your date seeps of tender shyness as you get out of the comfortable seat of his car.

The illusion, though, is soon broken as you notice the restaurant he pulled up to. Your smile freezes, your palms get sweaty and you feel your heartbeat rummaging against your ribcage as soon as the idle atmosphere of the restaurant opens up before you. And realistically, you could turn on your heel and get back to the car, tell Hyunsuk that you want to go to another restaurant– but you don’t do it, against your biggest wishes, because you worry that the boy already made a reservation and you don’t want to ruin an evening that’s going well so far.

“Everything alright?” your date checks up on you, seemingly noticing the frown on your face, and when his worried eyes meet yours, it’s sealed– you’d feel too bad for pulling out of the date now. So you only do what you always do best– you put on your best relaxed smile and nod, catching up to him and ensuring him that you’re all okay and you didn’t just talk yourself out of an anxiety attack.

Because you owe it to him and to Jihoon– both of them worked so hard to make you feel happy and help you to get over your ex boyfriend. It’s not Hyunsuk’s fault that he just managed to pick the restaurant your said ex boyfriend works at part-time. He had no way of knowing, and if you’re lucky enough, Mark wouldn’t be on today. He only works here part-time, it’s not like he’s here every day, and as far as you’re concerned, he only worked like two or three days a week when you dated. It would be a weird coincidence for him to be working the day you go there with your new date– you hope you’re not that unlucky.

Hyunsuk is a gentleman. Opening up doors for you, pulling out the chair for you, letting you talk and not interrupting you. He watches you with fond eyes and you almost try to feel bad for the fact that even if this ended well, the poor boy would just end up being a rebound. He deserves so much more, and you start to worry if this date was a good idea after all. Wasn’t it selfish of you to agree to this?

“What do you want to get?” he asks as you open up the menu, and you squint at the prices, mentally taking a note to order the cheapest thing just in case he wants to pay for you at the end of the evening.

“Spaghetti Bolognese,” you blurt out, despite it not being your favorite meal. Hyunsuk just stares at you with squinted eyes, but doesn’t disagree with you. After all, he has no way of knowing that you dislike the taste of the sauce in most restaurants– even though your conscience tells you that Mark knew that and always made sure to remind you about it before ordering for you, worried that you won’t get to eat much that evening– the only thing left to hope is that it tastes good in this particular place.

“Okay, sure,” he nods and puts the menu down, smiling at you before engaging in a comfortable conversation with you. It feels like you’ve known Hyunsuk forever– his personality oddly reminding you of Jihoon’s caused mainly by the fact that the two have grown up together. Everything flows soundly, but you still find yourself anxiously picking at your cuticles as you cautiously look around the restaurant, fearing the fact that you could catch a glimpse of your ex boyfriend at any second.

And maybe you should be a psychic, because those bad feelings were not there for nothing– when you see a waiter walking out of the back and eyeing your table, ready to get your order, the boy is a few inches taller than your current date, raven hair messy, but still a little styled, dark circles under the man’s eyes, and there he is– your ex boyfriend. Mark Lee halts in his movements, wearing his work uniform, eyes wide, a hint of something that breaks you at least in two mirroring in his orbs before he turns on his heel and disappears in the back again. When he doesn’t come back and his co-worker joins you and Hyunsuk at your table with a warm smile, you stop waiting to see the glimpse of him you selfishly desired to catch despite fearing the interaction the whole evening.

You want to fall through the floor and disappear in the depths of this earth. For some reason, you feel mortified. What would he think? And why do you even care about his feelings? A million different thoughts run through your brain and you worry that you’re being too distant from your current date, but Hyunsuk’s warm eyes reassure you that he doesn’t mind.

Piercing the food on your table with your eyes, you try to battle the noisy words running around your brain.

It’s easy to say you’re over someone when you don’t see them. To have them in front of you, meet their gaze and acknowledge their existence and still be able to nod and say that you’ve moved on, is something completely different.

Were you ever convinced that you were over Mark Lee in the first place, though?

After all of this– the months of following Jihoon’s advice, although making a few mishaps along the way as you continue to pick up Mark’s calls on Friday nights, snoop around his socials and let your mind wander to places it shouldn’t, overthinking everything and making you wish the relationship never ended in the first place– it’s time for the last step of it all. The last, most crucial part of this whole moving on process– the most important one, if you may.

Step five – avoid him at all costs.

Sounds easy, right? After the four previous steps, you’d already cried plenty about the lost months with your ex-boyfriend. You’d already given him back all of his stuff, not tying yourself to him with any material memory. You’d already gone on a date with someone new, choosing to distract yourself instead of letting yourself feel the emotions. After all the previous steps, this one’s supposed to be the easiest one. The one you’re supposed to want to do, after all. The break-up wasn’t messy, but it was still painful– it’s only natural for you to not want to see Mark ever again, right?

Wrong.

Because you never listen to the advice you’re given. That just wouldn’t be you, would it?

And so when Mark Lee calls you one day and tells you that he has a free train ticket to the Bukhansan stop, explaining that he was supposed to go hike there with Donghyuck who canceled on him last minute because of an assignment due midnight, you don’t really hesitate much before you shoot him a short text saying that you’re down and get ready for the short hike.

When you meet your ex boyfriend at the station, his figure slightly slouched up until the moment his eyes meet yours, you feel the quiet tension in the air. You’ve seen each other a few times before this meeting– on a party you went to with Jihoon, at the campus when you went to class one morning, your ex boyfriend walking you towards the Art building, hell, you’ve even met in the grocery store, all accidental and making your heart leap in your chest with tension. This time, though, you’re here completely intentionally, just to hang out with him, and something about the fact makes a dull pain shoot all through your intestines, a sensation so uncomfortable you try to hide with a tight-lipped smile.

“Ready for the hike?” he asks, adjusting the bag on his back, playing with the straps with clammy fingers. You can’t help but notice how he looks just like a little boy, in his little world, shielded from everything. He seems to have taken a protective stance, and you hate how the air between you shifted from how you two used to be when you were dating. Mark seems scared. Nervous. On top of his feet. Maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to this at all.

You’re already here, though. Turning around and leaving wouldn’t really work right now, as you take a step towards the train that’s just arrived, humming to your ex boyfriend in agreement. Taking a seat on the place Mark’s pointed to you on the train ticket, you try to loosen up your muscles and get as comfortable as you can, clearing your mind as you gaze outside of the window.

“How have you been?” he asks, clearing his throat.

Pressing your lips into a tight line, you turn to him as you search for an answer. “Better,” you nod, voice quiet. “You?”

Mark hums, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Good, good,” he lies through his teeth, “I’ve seen you at the restaurant the other day,” he hints, and you battle the sigh that’s begging to cut out of your throat. You don’t know where he’s going with the sentence. It’s not a question– only a proposition, barely even that– and you could ignore it with a nod of your head, you could pay it no mind as you see the bitterness in his gaze and the slightly self-conscious averting of his stare. You don’t know where he’s going with the conversation, but frankly, you don’t know where you are going with your answer either, as you shrug to him in a casual manner and peep under your breath.

“Yeah,” you say, “that was just… Jihoon’s friend from uni, I suppose,” you complete, and the sentence hints at nothing– it doesn’t clear out the confusion, it doesn’t outright say anything that could make Mark believe that it was just a casual hang-out with a friend, but still, you see the boy visibly relax as he nods to you and offers you a tight-lipped smile.

“Oh,” he hums, looking out of the window, past the profile of your face. The change in topic is sudden and sharp, but also welcome as he falls into a casual conversation with you, and suddenly, you’re reminded by the Mark you once knew– the guy you’ve once called not socially awkward, but so social that it’s awkward– as he talks to you about his day and rambles on about the weather. “It’s good that it won’t rain today, I bet the view will be nice.”

Locking your gaze with him for a brief second, you lick your lips and point your eyes towards the ground. It’s good that it won’t rain today, as opposed to last time you two went to the Bukhansan trail. You wonder if he remembers.

Before you have a chance to mention it– and in all reality, you won’t, no matter how bold you could be feeling at the moment– the train comes to a stop at your station and you hop out of the carriage, ready for the hike.

It’s easy to forget how messed up things have gotten between the two of you when you walk alongside with your ex boyfriend, laughing at his silly jokes and gasping at everything he shows to you with a pointed finger, finding yourself admiring the sound of his giggle when he spots a squirrel pass your path somewhere near the top of the hill. The trail is almost empty at this hour, since the two of you have decided to go in the late afternoon, and you find your soul to finally be at peace after so many weeks, you finally feel relaxed in the nature, one with the wind and the gentle sound of birds chirping lullying your running thoughts to a rest.

You realize that this is just what you needed all this time. You needed to get out and walk for some while, to tune out yourself and to accept the fact that you’re still here, for another day, and something about that is still a blessing. Watching the back of Mark’s head as he walks a step in front of you due to the narrowness of the trail in this area, you smile to yourself. It’s easy to forget just how much you were hurt by him when he heals your soul with such a simple gesture. It’s easy to forget you were hurt when he seemingly tries to put all the broken pieces back together, glue them to where they were in the first place, when things were easier and you both didn’t have so many things to worry about.

You reach the top just as the sun starts setting over the horizon, and there are only a few people scattered across the peak, sitting on their own picnic blankets and gazing into the distance. The hues of the sky paint the world in a different color, the oranges, pinks and muted purples playing with your heartstrings as you come to a halt and crouch down and feel the presence of another soul mirror your actions only a meter away to your right, his gaze glued to your side. The view is beautiful, but the feeling of being watched isn’t ignorable anymore, and so you turn to your companion and raise your eyebrows at him, wondering if he has something to say.

You don’t know how you’ll be able to come back to your life after this and pretend you still don’t want to spend every passing second with the man on your right. You don’t know how you’re supposed to ignore the ever so growing love for him– even though after being so disappointed with the past, the feelings should be decreasing, not doing the opposite– and frankly, you don’t even want to think of going back to the way it’s been for the past few months. And so you don’t– you allow yourself to indulge the moment, to ignore the pain that’s about to come, just so you could hold another beautiful memory to your heart and enjoy the moment before it hurts you to think of it tomorrow morning.

“It’s even more beautiful than the last time,” Mark hums, but his eyes never leave your figure– if you were still dating, you bet he’d come out with a cheesy line about how you’re prettier than the view, or something. “It didn’t rain this time around, thank god.”

Gazing at him, you shake your head in disbelief. Scoffing, you play with the grass between your fingers. “You remember that?”

“Yeah,” he hums, “I remember a lot of things.”

The sentence makes you bitterly chuckle. He knows why you’re reacting the way you are– and you have every right to. He claims to remember a lot of things, but the ones important to you, the ones you wanted him to remember, he failed to save into his memory. And that’s eventually what made you break up with him, at the end of it all.

At your reaction, he sighs and drags a hand across his face, seemingly realizing the weight of his own words and just how ridiculous he must have sounded to you right now.

“I- That-” he stutters, shaking his head, “that sounded stupid right now, considering… everything… Didn’t it?”

“Kind of,” you nod, not wanting to meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, voice suddenly raw and serious, so different to the tone he’s been using with you the whole afternoon, “I don’t- I can’t remember if I said that back then, when you- when you… broke up with me, but I really am sorry, Y/N. You didn’t deserve that, and I am in no way shape or form trying to make this about me, but I hate myself every day for the way things turned out and if I could go back to that day, I’d do so many things differently.”

The sky in front of you deepens in reds and you taste iron on your tongue, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that you’ve managed to bite on your lip too hard in the midst of the conversation. Tearing out stems of grass with your clammy fingertips, you focus on the clouds running through the sky, calculating your next response.

“Okay,” you nod, not giving him much else. The answer perfectly encapsulates the way you feel on the inside right now– you don’t know if you’re ready to accept his apology, if you’re ready to let go of it and act like you weren’t hurt or that none of it ever happened, but you listened to him and you internalized his words. He is sorry. He knows he was in the wrong. And you were aware that he knew all of this before– hell, you’d even go as far as say he knew it the moment you knocked on his door that day and told him it was over– but hearing it from him surely moved something inside of you to a more comfortable place.

“I-” he starts, voice breaking making him clear his throat before he continues, “I don’t expect you to forgive me. And I know I shouldn’t have expected you to still be my friend after all of this, and that- I shouldn’t have even called you so many times and approached you at the store and stuff, but um-” he mumbles, shrugging to himself, “I guess I just couldn’t stay away from you. And again, I don’t expect you to forgive me, I don’t expect you to do anything, really. So… yeah…”

Snickering at his aimless monologue, you shake your head in disbelief. “Mark?”

“Yeah?” he stares at you, eyes a bottomless pool of emotion.

“Why did you invite me here today? What was the… point, I guess?” you ask, hugging your knees to your chest as the breeze makes goosebumps appear all over your body.

Mark offers you a sad smile, head leaned to his right as he shrugs, and this time, his eyes don’t leave yours as he spills the truth into the air. “I guess I was just feeling selfish today,” he hums, and the sentence makes you cringe with the memory of his first call to you after your break up, “wanted to spend time with you.”

“Here, of all places?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “told you. I was feeling selfish.”

Snickering, you look away, staring at the sky again. The colors are starting to blend together into a deep, dark purple– the horizon darkening as the sun starts to say its final goodbyes to the day. You sigh to yourself, yet feel no bitterness or terror at his words. Somehow, you understand. Somehow, you get him a little too well. Somehow, you think you knew the moment he texted you today, and somehow, you think you felt it in your bones when you didn’t say no, although you could have. There’s calmness in your soul when you nod at the implication of his words, leaning back on your elbows and plopping your bottom to the ground, sitting at the dusty surface.

“You said you didn’t expect anything out of me today, Mark.”

“And I don’t,” he says, voice soft.

“And you brought me here to remind me of the last time we went?” you stare at him, a hint of a bitten-back smile playing with your lips. “Because you’re selfish?”

He nods, not escaping your gaze. “To remind you of the last time we went. To show you that… I remember, I guess. And that I still care, just like the last time. If not more.”

“Mark, you can’t just say all of this and expect nothing out of me right now,” you mutter.

“Actually, I can. Because that’s what I’m doing. I’m just… laying it out in the open, and what you do with the information is completely, completely up to you,” he explains, and you find yourself chuckling at him, the atmosphere instantly lighter as you hear his voice in its usual casualness, talking to you as if he was just unpacking what went on in class today, and not the starting and the end of your one year relationship.

And he’s right. What you do with the information is completely up to you, and the next steps and the progress of your relationship with Mark Lee is also completely in your hands. You could turn away and never talk to him again, you could curse at him and tell him that it’s too late now and he missed his chance, but if that was the case, you wouldn’t be here in the first place. He wouldn’t be inviting you to this place, lying about his roommate canceling just to trick you into going, and you wouldn’t be blindly accepting the invitation, wanting to see where the afternoon brings you.

“So you still care about me?” you hum, looking at him from under your eyelashes, noticing his slouched-over pose as he looks back at you over his shoulder.

“Always have,” he admits, “never stopped. Despite not really… acting like it in the past few months.”

“Why’d you stop acting like it, then?” you ask.

A sigh escapes his lips, his head turning forward before he leans back and sits cross-legged on the ground, more comfortably now. Shrugging, he answers the question. “I guess I just got too caught up with different things. And don’t get me wrong, you were always my priority, always, but I was all over the place with everything and my mind just couldn’t… there were too many things to keep up with and I couldn’t stay up to date with everything,” he says, “and I know it’s not an excuse, but it’s an explanation, and it doesn’t make it better or undo the pain I’ve caused you, but it’s… at least you know it was never because I’d care about you any less.”

His eyes bear into yours with such honesty you think the weight of the world will crash on you any minute, and suddenly, the whole situation seems so much clearer.

And you wouldn’t take it back, you wouldn’t undo the breakup or do anything differently, because at the end of the day, you think it was needed. Perhaps the time apart was what he needed as a wake up call and what you needed to shield yourself from hurting more.

“Stop me from saying it if you… if you don’t want to hear it right now,” he hums, voice barely louder than a whisper. There seems to be a silent communication between the two of you, a connection of some sort that brings out the strange telepathy, but you just nod at him, a gentle smile playing with your lips as you understand exactly what he means, telling him that it’s okay and that you don’t mind– you welcome, you need to hear him say it again.

Licking his lips, he turns to you fully, facing you. There’s not a hint of nervousness in his body, having done this a lot of times before, and then it happens– the repeated confession, confirming what was there the whole time, never leaving even when the times were rough.

“I love you,” he says.

And isn’t that all that’s needed?

A year is a long time with someone. Somehow, you wouldn’t want the time to go to waste. At the end of the day, if love is still present, isn’t it worth trying? One more time?

“And you still don’t expect anything from me?” you ask, gazing at him softly. “You don’t expect me to say it back?”

“No,” he breathes out, shrugging. “I just needed to get it off my chest.”

“Because you’re selfish like that,” you nod, teasing him.

“Because I’m selfish like that,” he agrees, breaking out into a slight grin.

Looking at the sky, now completely dipped in dark purple, you sigh to yourself at the turmoil of the conversation. You don’t say it back– although you feel it, you know it’s in there, playing with your heartstrings and clenching the muscle in the palm of its hand– you know love is there, deep inside, for the man that’s currently staring at you as if you hung the very stars appearing on the sky there yourself, stolen them from your own eyes and gluing them there selflessly, for everyone to see. You don’t tell him you love him back, you don’t tell him you forgive him or accept his apology. You don’t worry about what tomorrow will bring you, what your brain is going to tell you when you come down from the hill and get home, lay in your bed and overthink. You let the worries escape you, letting fondness and calm envelope you in a tight hug instead.

“Okay,” you nod, watching the boy next to you look at you with curious eyes. You take his hand into yours and place it on your thigh, playing with his fingers for a heartbeat before you meet his eyes again and smile. “I won’t say it back, but for all it’s worth, Mark… I’m glad you remembered.”

And that’s all he needs– there is love, there is fondness, and there is the silent confirmation that all you need right now is just a bit more time.

Where do broken hearts go?

Somehow, you think they hold on to the place where it all started. Somehow, you think your heart never went anywhere– it stayed on this hill, waiting for you to pay it a visit and pick back up everything right from where you left it.

“It doesn’t seem like a good idea to go here today, Y/N,” Mark laughed behind you as he looked up to the sky, the dark clouds shielding the sun that had been previously shining down on your hiking figures, casting an orange glow on the strands of your hair.

“Well, there’s no turning back now,” you shrugged, turning to him and grinning as you tugged on his hand, grip strong as you dragged the boy up the trail, your sneakers fast against the dirty ground. “We have finals starting next week and it’s gonna be too cold to go after the exam season is over, so we gotta go now.”

“I kind of regret telling you that I’ve never been here before now,” Mark sighed, but followed you nonetheless, breathlessly following your excited stride. It was October, the leaves on the trees were welcoming the two of you in shining colors, and the wind kissing your skin turned a bit chilly in the evenings– courtesy of the warm hoodie Mark shyly lended you when you shivered for the first time, adoring the way you, his friend, looked in the light gray fabric. Something about you wearing his clothes made the boy a bit hopeless about the day. Maybe he’ll have enough courage to confess his feelings to you, he thought. Maybe, despite the first raindrops falling on the skin of his bare arms, this evening will have a happy ending for you and him.

“Oh, please,” you squinted at him, continuing to run up the hill– thank god it wasn’t that steep, serving both of you as the perfect hiking difficulty, “even if you wouldn’t have, I’d drag you here anyway. It’s like, my favorite place to go in Seoul, haven’t I told you before?”

You have, Mark thought. But he was okay with hearing it again.

You squealed when the raindrops got heavier and the rain started pouring faster on the two of you, and Mark found himself laughing at your running figure. He was right behind you, praying that you don’t slip on one of the rocks and break your leg on the hiking trail, but he encouraged you with sweet comments and a hand on the small of your back as he watched the tip of the hill appear right in front of his very eyes, your body coming to a satisfied halt when you reached your destination.

“Tada!” you grinned at him, twirling a little like a ballerina, showing him the place with outstretched arms. He tried hard to observe the place, but his eyes stayed glued to your excited figure, gaze bearing into yours as you looked at him, amidst a little flustered, with sparkly orbs and a bright smile on your face. Your hair was a mess, his gray hoodie enveloping your body was slowly growing darker in color from absorbing the rain, and your sneakers were getting a bit muddy from walking around the place. He wanted to remember this moment forever, he thought– this version of you, the smiley expression on your face, the carefree and excited nature of your step.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” you exclaimed, jumping around and nearing the boy, but as you went to take his hand to drag him around the top of the hill once more, your feet slipped and you fell forward, a surprised squeak battling its way out of your throat.

Your whole life flashed in front of your very eyes in that moment, embarrassment spreading down your neck at the fact that you were about to fall face first onto the ground in front of your crush of a few months, before your body collided with a soft, yet firm mass engulfing you closer. A pair of strong arms steadied you against his chest, and when you looked up at your friend, you swear all words were taken out of your dictionary, the sight leaving you speechless.

“It is,” he gaped, eyes bearing into yours. Mark was agreeing with you, but something in the back of your head was telling you that he didn’t really admire this place as much as you did– his curious gaze was always plastered somewhere completely else.

That place being your face, of course. And your eyes, your cheeks, the mess of your bangs, and occasionally– screw that, almost always– your lips. Much like in that moment, a few centimeters away from his face, so inviting he thought it would be a crime to contain the urge.

And so he didn’t– he didn’t control his feelings and the ever-so growing yearning for you, as he silently leaned towards your face and captured his lips with yours in a firm, yet short kiss.

He looked at you with a nervous tint behind his gaze when he leaned away, the sight of your wide eyes staring at him making a slight flush grow on his cheeks. You looked so beautiful in that moment– flustered, surprised, with messy hair and lips still apart– and he was relieved to not find a hint of a displeased emotion in your expression.

“Okay, so- well-” you stuttered, laughing to yourself, “this didn’t go as I planned, but I guess I’m happy as long as the final result is the same,” you hummed, standing on your tippy-toes and pressing your lips against him once more, this time letting yourself enjoy the moment fully, mouth moving against his in a careful, yet excited rhythm. He tasted like the strawberry candy you offered him on the bottom of the trail and smelled a bit like rain, the mixture always staying in the depths of your mind as his warmth enveloped you in comfort and a feeling of home.

“The final result being…?” he asked when you pulled apart once again, a dazed expression overtaking his sharp features.

“Us,” you shrugged, “like this,” you clarified.

Mark laughed at that, hugging you closer to his chest. You rested your head on his shoulder, listening to the sound of raindrops washing away the top layer of dirt off the rocks on the tip of the hill, hands sneaking around his waist and enjoying the way they wrapped around him so tightly and so comfortably. You in his hoodie, in your favorite place, standing in his arms. It was raining, but it didn’t matter.

“Mark?”

“Hm?”

“If we ever get lost, or something happens… bring me back here, okay?” you mumbled close to his ear, lips gently glazing the skin of his ear, making goosebumps appear all over your new lover. “I’m convinced that this place could fix everything.”

“Even us?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not allowed to ever leave me now, what would there be to fix between us?” you smacked his shoulder, snickering to yourself.

“You never know,” he laughed, “what if I accidentally mess up somewhere along the way?” he asked, threading his fingers through your hair, smoothing down the wet mess.

“Okay then,” you hummed, “even us.”

Staring into your eyes, letting the moment play out by itself, Mark swore he’s never felt more at peace. He wondered if it was the effect of the place, the rain, or just your sheer presence. “I’ll remember that,” he giggled before he let go of your body, petting your head as he took a hold of your hand, tugging you down from where you came from, “now let’s go home before we catch a cold.”

Nodding, following the man as you both carefully, yet fastly made it down the trail, you enjoyed the way his hand fit into yours and the way you knew that after this, you can’t ever come back to being friends with Mark Lee. He was all yours, completely, utterly yours, and you knew in the back of your head, that you were his– and nothing will ever change that.

You would always come back to the hill with him. It felt ridiculous to think about you two ever having to fix anything between the two of you back then, but even in that moment, you knew that for him, you’d keep trying. As long as he does– as long as he remembers.

Where do broken hearts go? You guess they always come right back to the place they come from– and they leave glued back together every single time.

You guess your heart never really left the hill.

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tonguepiercedanyway75 · 30 days

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Family bonfire // Matty Healy x Reader

a/n: send me more requests, I love nothing more :) also I know it’s getting warmer and summer feeling but this gave me an autumn vibe.

summary: Matty and you spend some days with your family in your childhood house. Not only the fire gets hot in the evening ;)

content warning: 18+ smut, fingering,idiots totally in love, unprotected sex

based on this request

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As the sun dips below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the kitchen, you stand alongside your mum and sister, watching through the window as Matty and your dad work tirelessly to prepare the bonfire.

Your two brothers are running around the pile of logs, doing anything else besides helping both.

Every time Matty comes back with wood, he searches for your gaze in the window and every time he can catch a glance, he does.

You’re doing the dishes with your mum, while your sister is just sipping her green tea. You try to suppress a little giggle when Matty tries to wipe away the sweat with the sleeves of his brown cute lumberjack jacket.

Your mum glances at you, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "He's a good one, isn't he?" she remarks, her voice soft with affection.

You nod, your heart swelling with pride as you watch Matty and your dad laughing over something. “He really is,” you agree, a smile spreading across your face.

Your sister chimes in, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “And look at them bonding over chopping wood,” she teases, nudging you playfully.

“Dad wasn’t this open when I brought my boyfriend home,” she states. Your sister is only two years younger than you but she’s with her boyfriend for 5 years now. When she brought him home, your dad was skeptical if he would be the one.

With Matty it was different. It’s only the second time you’re together at your home and your dad seems to really like him. He hasn’t said any judgmental comments or asked him thousands of questions, which is always a good sign.

“That’s probably because he realized that the both of you have made great decisions.” You laughed because it’s definitely not the truth. Your dad just found it easier with Matty.

Together, you watch as Matty and your dad continue their work until the logs are stacked up perfectly. “Finally, come and help me get the chairs out,” your mum says to your sister. She takes the last sip of her tea and hands the cup to you.

Both leave the room and only seconds later Matty comes in, pulling the gloves off his hands, laying them on the table. “Hey lumberjack,” you giggle.

“Lumberjack? More like fucking legend,” he jokes, lifting his arms to show his biceps, walking towards you. “Had fun out there, especially with you watching me like a stalker.”

His hands find your waist, the coldness of his finders radiating to your body. You smack his chest at his comment, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation. "Please, you were practically posing out there," you retort, a teasing glint in your eye.

Matty tries to act offended, placing a hand over his heart. "I'll have you know, I take my wood-chopping very seriously," he declares, his tone overly dramatic.

You just laugh and get yourself a small kiss from his lips, humming as you pull away again.

As Matty's hands rest gently on your waist, you feel a shiver of anticipation run down your spine. His touch both comforting and electrifying, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along your sides, sending tingles of pleasure dancing across your skin. “Should we join them?” He asks, nodding towards the laughing people outside.

“In one minute,” you argue, wrapping your hands around his back, hugging him.

Matty chuckles, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your lower back. "clingy much?" he teases, his voice playful.

You leaned back slightly, meeting his gaze with a playful grin. "Can you blame me?" You reply, your tone light but sincere.

His lips curl into a fond smile, his eyes softening as he looks at you. "Not at all," he admits, leaning in to press a sweet kiss to your forehead.

You keep your head resting on his chest, meanwhile Matty watches as your dad tries to light the fire, the wind being a huge obstacle. “As much as I’m enjoying this, think we have to join your family.”

You groan as he removes his body from yours, kissing your cheek one more time to try to make this separation easier. He intertwines your fingers, walking outside the kitchen to join the others in the backyard.

“Matty,” your dad tells, “mind helping me light the fire?” He’s kneeling with a lighter and some tinder, to light the fire.

“Of course not,” you watch as Matty walks over to your dad, kneeling as well, holding his hands in front of the tinder, to keep the wind away.

Your other sister walks towards you with her boyfriends arms around her. In her hands, it’s Matty’s acoustic guitar. You look at her, lifting your eyebrows questioningly.

“Mum wants Matty to sing for us later,” she laughs, knowing it’s a bit awkward, “here.” She hands you the guitar, the material almost slipping through your hand. You lay it down gently against the wall, walking towards the chairs around the fire.

It’s 8pm when you’re all sitting around the fire, hands reaching out to the heat, trying to ignore the cold wind through your hair.

You pulled your chair right next to Matty’s so you can nuzzle into his comfortable jacket. “I can give you the jacket y’know?” He chuckles, his arm around your shoulder rubbing soothing circles into your arm.

You feel a warmth spreading through you, both from the jacket and the comforting presence of Matty beside you. "Nah, I like being close to you," you say, leaning into his touch.

Matty's smile widens, and he squeezes your shoulder gently. "Fair enough.”

Everyone’s busy talking, your mother discussing something with your sister, in their own world.

The fire lights up Matty’s face, his brown eyes glowing in the darkness.

You rest your head on Matty’s shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne mingled with the smoky aroma of the fire. "You know," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, "my mum really likes you."

Matty pulls back slightly, a surprised smile spreading across his face. "She does?" he asks, his eyes bright with curiosity.

You nod, a fondness shining in your eyes. "Yeah, she said you're the right one," you admit, feeling a surge of warmth at the memory of her mum's words.

Matty's smile widens, a hint of emotion tugging at the corners of his lips. "Well, I'm glad to hear that," he replies, his voice soft with sincerity. "Because I think her daughter’s the one for me”

Your heart swells at his words, his head leaning down to give you a soft peck which follows by gagging sounds of your 13 year old brother. You just flip him off, making Matty giggle.

Some time passed, the crackling of the bonfire filling the night air, casting a warm glow over the gathered family. Blankets are draped over shoulders, laughter echoe in the darkness, and the scent of roasting marshmallows mingle with the crisp autumn breeze. It is a scene straight out of a storybook, where time seems to stand still and worries melted away in the flickering light.

After your mums request, Matty sits on a weathered log, his acoustic guitar resting comfortably in his hands. His fingers dance effortlessly over the strings, producing melodies that seemed to weave themselves into the fabric of the night. His voice, rich and soulful, filling the air as he sings ‘be my mistake’, each note carrying the weight of emotion.

You feel a lump form in your throat as you listen to the haunting beauty of Matty's voice. The vulnerability in his tone sending shivers down your spine, and you can’t help but be moved by the raw honesty of his performance.

Some times when you’re asleep Matty sits down next to you, to sing to you. Most of the times, it’s be my mistake and it’s definitely one of your favorites.

“He's incredible," your sister murmured in your ear.

“Truly talented," you agree, nodding in appreciation.

And when the song comes to an end, the silence that followed is filled with whispers of awe and admiration.

You lean in close to Matty, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. "You were amazing," you whisper, your voice filled with love and pride.

Matty smiles, his eyes shining with gratitude. "Thanks, love," he replies, his voice barely audible over the crackle of the fire. "I'm just glad I could share it with all of you."

It’s already pretty late, your brother’s the first ones having to go to bed and you can’t wait to finally leave as well.

As the warmth of the bonfire envelope you, Matty can’t help but notice how close you are every second. He leans in, a playful smirk playing on his lips. "You're awfully cuddly today," he remarks, his voice low and teasing.

His hand finds your thigh, squeezing it slightly, his touch driving you insane. You shudder and give him a look. “Matty,“ you mutter, trying to free your thigh from his grip but he’s very persistent.

You let your eyes trace over his profile; the strong, curved line of his nose, dark stubble that’s flecked with a little grey. He thinks it makes him look distinguished. He catches you watching him out of the corner of his eye and squeezes your thigh again, kneading the flesh there.

You shift in the seat, open your legs wider, encouraging him to move higher. You think about pressing your lips against the juncture of his throat, inching your own hand over the front of his jeans, wondering if he’s already half hard. “In front of your family?” He tuts, “you know better.”

You look around, making sure no one is aware of the scene, when you lean in, whispering in his ear. “Take me inside,” you lean back, watching his eyes go dark before whispering a quiet ‘please.’

You bite your lip, almost letting out a whine when his hands leaves your thigh, to run it through is curls. “Fucks sake,” he mutters, “you were the one telling me I need to behave, and what now?”

It’s true. Before you left the car you told him he cannot hit on you in front of your family and he didn’t but it’s slowly driving you crazy, missing his touch.

He turns his head away from you when your sister’s boyfriend starts talking to him about tour. It is the subtle tension in his demeanor, the vein pulsating on his neck as he speaks, that draws your attention.

With a sudden impulse, you reach out and gently take Matty's hand, guiding it to rest on your thigh beneath the cover of darkness. His fingers tighten around yours, a silent acknowledgment passing between you as his gaze briefly meet yours, a spark of understanding flickering in the depths of his eyes.

“Behave,” he whispers, when your brother isn’t looking, too busy searching for his phone. You just stick your tongue at him, making him roll his eyes.

You fake a yawn, followed by you standing up, grabbing Matty’s hand, forcing him to stand up. “I think we’ll head to bed.” Matty glares at you, shaking his head in disbelief, a smile never leaving his mouth though. You thank your parents for everything and say your goodnight when you finally make your way into the house.

“You’re unbelievable you know that?” He says, following you into your room. The second the door is closed, you press him against the door, crashing your lips onto his. You don’t let him say anything else while you get rid of his jacket and his shirt under, tracing your hands all over his chest.

“Christ,” he groans, feeling your hands squeeze his bulge, “what’s gotten into you?”

You lead him to the bed but as fast as you’re on top of him the faster he has you on your back. “Are you out of your mind?” You bite down on his shoulder, “baby-“ he groans, pushing your head away from him. “C’mon, you know these walls are thin.”

You groan, knowing he’s right and you definitely don’t want an essay from your parents about how you should act. “Then be quiet, it’s not my fault you decided to touch my thigh and give me ‘fuck me’ eyes.” You roll your eyes dramatically.

“Fu- darling, can’t even look at you anymore without you getting all hot and bothered?” He smirks, “besides, we both know you can’t be quiet.”

“But I can,” it doesn’t come out as convincing as you wanted it too and Matty just raises his eyebrows, “c’mon just try okay? And when I’m not quiet we can stop.”

You place a hand on Matty’s chest. It’s crazy, but you can feel his heart pounding; the heavy rise and fall of his breath. He looks at you for a second, his lips on yours again. His hands finding your zipper and button of your jeans, opening them. He removes himself from you, pulling your pants down in one swift movement, then your panties.

His lips scrape against yours, parting so you can slip your tongue inside. Your lungs have left your body, leaving a hollow space in your chest, making it impossible for you to breathe. You feel lightheaded. But oh, the way he’s biting at your lips; tangling a hand in your hair and pressing against you. His leg is between your thighs and you practically melt on it, trying to grind on it, but he holds you down.

“Where did your patience go huh?” Your legs open to wrap around his waist. Matty groans, wanting to feel friction as well, grinding into your core one time.

He brings a finger to his lips; fixes you with a gaze that shows he’s serious. Be quiet. “I love nothing more than hearing you moan for me, not tonight love, be quiet okay?” You nod and gives you a kiss for your understanding.

You throw your head back and close your eyes. If you look at him for another second, you’re not going to be able to stop yourself from moaning. Even with the simplest gestures, he drives you crazy. You feel Matty reach his hand down between your legs. “Fuck,” you whisper.

Two seconds in and he has you gasping for breath. If you were wet before, you’re positively dripping now. You dare to crack open your eyes. Matty’s face is stoic with concentration, fixating on you, trying to make you stay quiet, and you can’t believe how incredibly turned on it makes you. He bites his lip slightly, and you think you might pass out. Looking was a mistake, but you can’t tear your eyes off him.

“What am I gonna do with you?” His thumb is rubbing your clit, while his fingers pump in and out of you, leaving you gasping, suppressing your moans, “you’re dirty, can’t even stay a few days without me having to make you cum.”

You ride his fingers until you forget your own name, and you already feel the coil tightening inside you. You grab Matty’s shoulders, pulling him to lean down over you. He kisses you. Rough and sloppy and frantic. You let out the smallest whimper into his mouth as you cum, hard, clamping your legs around his fingers. “Didn’t know you can fucking listen,” his words are mean, teasing but his kisses say otherwise, praising you for being good.

“You’d do anything to cum,” he gets up, undressing his pants and getting rid of his boxers, only to be on top of you after only seconds, “can stay quiet again right? Can show me how good you can be?”

He puts a hand on your waist to steady you, and you feel him line up with your entrance. It takes everything not to scream as he slides into you. “Shh, love, you were a fucking beg, now take it.”

The stretch is intoxicating. You haven’t even recovered from your orgasm, but just the sight of him pausing after he’s buried inside of you, needing to collect himself, breathing hard. It’s enough to make you ache. “Please Matty.”

Matty is fucking into you, careful at first to stay quiet, but getting sloppier every second. He can’t pull out all the way for fear of slapping too loudly against your thighs, but the result is an incredible friction that has you soaring. You grab at his shoulders, his neck, and Matty lets you. When the pleasure has you tear open your eyes, you catch him watching you again. Enjoying the way you fall apart on his cock. It makes you clench around him even harder, and you catch the faintest whisper of a curse fall out of his lips as he leans forward, dropping his head to the crook of your neck. “Fuck,” you half whisper, half moan.

His eyes shoot up, ready to punish you if you are loud again. “Fuck, fuck,” you whisper into his ear.

“You have a filthy mouth,” you moan at his statement, not being able to hold it in anymore and the second another moan threading to leave your mouth, a hand is slapped over your mouth, the side of it slotting just under your teeth. Your heart pounds as Matty leans in to whisper to you again. “Bite down if you need to, don’t make another fucking sound.”

He continues to thrust inside of you, his body somehow lowering to get even closer to yours. When he has gotten sufficiently near, he presses a kiss to the side of your mouth—now stuffed with his hand and leaking spit—and mutters something about how good you are for him, how nicely you fit around his cock.

Then he tilts his hips and proceeds to pound you into the bed like an animal in heat. Your ankles lock behind his back, and his nose settles next to yours, breathing hard.

He couldn’t be more in awe seeing you veer close to the edge, again. “C’mon, cum for me.”

Then, he doesn’t sink so much as simply collapse on top of you while you both kicked back and let the waves of ecstasy roll over you. You adore his warmth in spite of the heat practically suffocating you both in that car. Matty scrunches his nose up, ripping his hand out of your mouth, a bite mark very visible and some blood dripping down.

“Fuck, sorry,” you apologize, taking his hand, gazing at the wound you created. “Don’t be, did what I told you to.”

You reach for a tissue and try to clean his hand, Matty hissing every second the fabric touches his hand. “You’re a fucking bear with those teeth.”

You giggle, the sound is replaced by a whine when Matty pulls out of you. “Told you I can stay quiet,” you wink, pulling him in for a kiss.”

“We can be very lucky if no one gives us shit tomorrow,” it’s not regret in his voice but more like a thrilling sound. He loved the secret.

“Mhm, very lucky,” your sentence has a double meaning and Matty understands it immediately, laughing before grabbing his shirt, pulling it over your head.

“Your mind is in the fucking gutter love,” he walks to the drawer to but on a pair of boxers before picking you up. “Use the bathroom, I’ll be waiting.” You smile and waddle over to the bathroom, your legs still shaking and Matty watching you with a goofy grin on his face.

#the 1975 #ross macdonald #matty healy #george daniel #adam hann #the 1975 fic #matty healy smut #matty healy x you #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty healy imagine #matty healy oneshot #you do make me hard but she makes me weak

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moonstruckme · 4 months

Note

I've never requested before so I'm quite nervous but may I request something with a reader thats like usually very chatty when coming home from work but maybe someone at their job said something rude or they just feel to tired to talk? preferably with poly!marauders but i dont mind any characters, i love your writing and i hope you have a wonderful day :] no pressure to write this ofc

Thank you for requesting lovely and hope you have a wonderful day as well! <3

Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 677 words

Eddie’s van is idling at the curb when your shift ends. He grins as you get in, swapping his cherry coke to the hand already holding his cigarette to wrap the one closest to you around your thigh. It’s a favored spot. You’re always thinking you ought to trace an outline of his fingers and get it tattooed with “Eddie’s place” inside as a lark, but he’d definitely enjoy it way too much.

“Hey there,” he drawls, voice saccharine sweet and expectant as he leans across the console toward you. You peck him on the lips.

“Hi,” you say back. “You taste like cherries.”

His grin is crooked, goofy in that unabashedly lovesick way that makes your heart stutter. He holds up his cherry coke like he’s making a toast. “T’was the point. You want a sip?”

“Yes, please.” You take it from him, letting the cool fizziness wash over your sandpaper tongue. You’ve been craving a drink since halfway through your shift, when you’re fairly sure you’d willed all the water out of your body so you wouldn’t cry in the break room. Poor forethought.

The syrupy sweetness is comforting, familiar like Eddie and summer days and the lake. It makes you feel a bit more normal. You have to stop yourself from gulping it all down, dropping it in the cup coaster as Eddie stubs out his cigarette and puts the van into gear.

It takes until the first stoplight for you to realize he’s not headed towards home. “Where’re we going?” you ask.

“To the arcade. We’re meeting Dustin and them there, remember?”

“Oh. Right.” You’d totally forgotten. At least Robin should be there.

Eddie gives you a sidelong glance. “Work was good?”

If you’re being honest with yourself, about 70% of it was totally fine. “Mhm.”

He hums back at you, short and low. “Okay. What’s wrong?”

“Hm?” you hum again, unable to help it. “Nothing, why?”

“Don’t play dumb.” He squeezes your thigh meanly, metal rings biting into your skin. “You always want to gossip after work. Something happened, yeah?”

You toy with your bottom lip, looking out the window. You’re quiet long enough that Eddie gives your leg another warning squeeze.

“Talk.”

“It wasn’t really anything,” you say, honestly but forcing a bit more offhandedness into your tone than maybe you really feel. “A customer got all pissy with me because he thought something should be on sale and it wasn’t, but I’m not, like, still sad about it.”

Eddie doesn’t take his eyes from the road, but his lips purse unhappily. “But you were, huh?”

“I was,” you allow. “But I’m not anymore. I guess it just tired me out.”

He glances your way, as if to be sure you’re telling the truth, and hums. “M’sorry, baby. Still down for the arcade, or do you just wanna go home?”

“No, I’m good.” You wrap your hand around his forearm, running a path from his wrist to the crook of his elbow and back again. “I wanna see Robin. I can rally.”

Eddie nods contemplatively. The steady rumbling of the van is the only sound for a few seconds, and then he says, “On a scale of one to ten, where are you right now?”

You think about it for a few moments. “A four,” you decide.

He nods again. “Okay. By the time we leave the arcade, we’re gonna have you at a six.”

You grin at him. It’s already easier. Eddie sees out of the corner of his eye, quirking a brow like you’re being a dork but then slipping his hand from your thigh to intertwine your fingers from his. He brings the back of your hand to his mouth, kissing it wetly. You know he's content to sit in silence as long as you need, but you have one more thing to say.

“I feel like finishing off your coke would bring me up to a solid four-point-five,” you suggest hopefully.

Eddie rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth kicks up. “It’s all yours, sweet thing.”

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rebelfell · 6 months

Text

Surrender II

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader x lesbian!Chrissy Cunningham

You find out the full story of Eddie and Chrissy's past, and surprise yourself a little with just how interested you are.

Part One┃Part Two┃Part Three

cw: established relationship, platonic!hc (eddie and chrissy are college besties), questioning/bi reader, phone sex (w/Chrissy), oral sex (fem receiving).

18+, MDNI 6.5k

Does excessive backstory need a warning? Cos that's what you're getting, bby. Also, this post by @pollenallergie is more or less how Chrissy came out to Eddie in my head 🥲

A little smirk breaks through Chrissy’s stoic facade and you feel yourself starting to laugh, half from shock and half from relief.

“Wait, so you…you’re…”

“Yep,” Chrissy nods. “Gay as the day is long.”

She smiles proudly at the admission, seeming pleased she can state it so plainly without any hemming or hesitation. You on the other hand, are long lost in your tangled thoughts, feeling almost as though you have whiplash trying to think of something to say.

Eddie clears his throat and you look up at him instinctively, finding an expression you’ve never seen before. It’s like he’s…worried. Did he need to be? The sharing girls thing was quite a revelation, but given everything you knew about his past, it kind of made sense.

“S-sorry,” you say, realizing how long you’ve been silent. “I’m just…trying to play catch up.”

“Well, Eddie should have told you,” Chrissy says, a little pointedly. “Sounds like someone is still a tad overprotective.” Her glance darts across the table at your boyfriend, who mumbles under his breath something like, jus’ trying to look out for you.

His typically boisterous face has grown sullen as he stares at his beer and swirls the last swallow of it that sits in the bottom of the tall glass. Chewing nervously on the corner of your lip, you turned back towards Chrissy.

“Do you think you could, uh…would you mind walking me through it?”

“Of course,” she says. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

“Okay,” you sigh. “How, um…how did it start? Like, how did you guys…when did you…”

The question snags in your throat, face getting hot as you search for exactly what you’re trying to ask only to come up empty. Chrissy’s head tips to the side and she smiles at you reassuringly.

“Should I go back to the beginning?”

She glances between you and Eddie, gauging your reactions, and you look back at him as you reach over to take his hand in yours.

“Is that okay with you?” you ask quietly.

He nods as your fingers lace together. “Yeah,” he says. “I want you to know.”

He holds your gaze for a moment and you squeeze his fingers quickly three times in a row. Your secret communication. An invisible note you pass back and forth whenever you think the other needs the reminder. I. Love. You. It finally brings a small smile back to his face. He lifts his gaze to meet Chrissy’s and gives her an affirming nod.

“Okay, then. Here we go!”

She titters excitedly and spreads her fingers wide as she prepares dramatically to lay her scene. You shoot Eddie a glance, noting his storytelling influence as she begins.

“So: high-school. Super fun if you fit in, but of course set one toe out of line and you’re all but burned at the stake. And I was this total goody two-shoes. Genuinely, the wildest thing I ever did was buy a tiny baggie of weed from this one.” She jerks her thumb at Eddie. “And my boyfriend was this super uptight Christian—like, I’m pretty sure he thought if he fingered me, he’d have to chop off his own hand. Which was fine, because he wasn’t what I wanted at all as it turns out.”

That must be the glass of spoiled milk. You nod thoughtfully as Chrissy goes on.

“We broke up right before graduation because I refused to follow him to his first choice school and instead I went away to be a counselor at summer camp…where I met Evelyn.”

She smiles wistfully again with that harlequin romance face of hers.

“We were truly, madly, deeply in love for all of about six weeks. And then our summer bubble popped and it all came to a crashing halt. She went back to Minnesota, and I went home to try and figure out what I was gonna do with my life. And, as it turned out, Eddie was too.”

You knew this part—how Eddie had just barely scraped by on his third attempt at a senior year; how he was more shocked than anyone when the college he applied to on a whim actually admitted him. It was cheaper than every other school in the area, and they had a reputation of accepting just about everyone. But Eddie had been convinced “everyone” wouldn’t include him.

“So, we both wound up at the same school and I was feeling really lost. The whole Jason debacle caused a big rift with my parents and my friends had gone away for college. I was already lonely and I’d just discovered this massive, totally life-altering thing about myself, but I had absolutely no one I could talk to about it.”

Chrissy looks down at her drink somberly and you tried to imagine her back then—the beautiful girl from his yearbook, the literal queen of his high-school, seemingly losing everything that made her, her and it makes your heart ache a little bit.

“I was stressed out and not sleeping well, so I went looking for Eddie to see if I could buy from him again. And he wasn’t selling anymore, but he asked if I wanted to hang out instead. He invited me to sit in on a D&D campaign and introduced me to a lot of really great people.”

At this, Eddie and Chrissy smiled, remembering how poorly her fairy character had fared in that first campaign.

“He was actually the first person I came out to,” she says, eyes softening as she cast a fond gaze in Eddie’s direction. “I wasn’t sure how, but I just knew he wouldn’t judge me. Would never make me feel bad for…being who I was.”

You can’t help but look up at Eddie at Chrissy’s words. You knew all too well the depths of his kindness and his unfailing decency. You knew exactly how at ease he must have made Chrissy feel because he’d been doing the same for you as long as you’d known him.

“So, now I knew I liked girls, but still it was, like, terrifying because I had zero idea how to go about it. And not having any experience kinda made it tough to get experience y’know? Plus…it was still Indiana. Hawkins wasn’t that far away. I knew if anybody found out it would 100% get back to my parents, and I was afraid they’d drag me out of school and send me to a conversion camp or something. I really wouldn’t put it past them to do just that. And back then I…I really didn’t know how to fight back yet.”

Chrissy frowns a little, something like regret or shame ghosting across her face. It’s quickly chased away, though, gone almost as soon as it appears.

“Anyway, Eddie became like my…” She pauses, glossy lips pursed as she thought. “What’s the lesbian equivalent of a beard?”

“A merkin?” Eddie offered, earning a mutual eye roll from you and Chrissy.

“Well, whatever you call it, getting together with people with him felt way safer than going up to someone and hitting on them in a bar. Plus…Eddie has excellent taste in girls.”

Chrissy’s eyes dart sideways and flicker over you again. They linger on your face and drift down briefly to your chest before returning to your eyes. In spite of everything, it makes your cheeks tingle and your core pulse, and you have to forcibly bring yourself back to the moment.

“So, what happened with Never Have I Ever?”

“That was how it got started. I was having a party and Eddie brought this girl he was kind of seeing. We were all sitting around playing and we started talking about threesomes. And she’s like, oh, I’ve never had one, but I always wanted to try. And starts getting all touchy and affectionate with me. And, I guess, I knew she was trying to get Eddie to like her more? Like she was for sure using me, but I was kind of using her too? I don’t know, that’s for me and my therapist to unpack.”

She waves her hands, dismissing the thought before she gets too wrapped up in it.

“Anyway—we all go back to my room and she and I start making out like, ooh, yeah, we’re just kissing trying to turn Eddie on. Meanwhile I’m, like, basically forgetting Eddie is even there!”

Your brows raise as you turn to look at your boyfriend, who simply shrugs his shoulders with an it is what it is, kind of smile on his lips.

“Wow…that’s…quite the visual,” you say.

It really was.

You knew Eddie was no saint. He’d had quite a roster in his heyday and he’d always been up front with you about that. He wasn’t Hugh Heffner or anything, but he had that boyish ease and a roguish charm about him that girls (and a couple guys) flocked to. It wasn’t difficult to imagine him and Chrissy tearing through their college like the Williams sisters playing doubles.

“It wasn’t, like, a routine or anything,” Chrissy assures. “But it did end up happening pretty regularly. I got my sea legs, so to speak, and Eddie totally became my wing man. We’d, like, confer about what girls I was interested in and he would lay the groundwork to see if she’d be down. I mean, it was college, so of course a lot of girls were trying to experiment.”

Her dainty fingers made exaggerated air quotes.

“By junior year, I’d found some actual queer girls instead of straight girls trying to get attention. And if I’m ever looking to really date someone, I try to stick to people who are out.”

Eddie snorts as he takes a sip of his beer.

“Hey!” Chrissy squeaks indignantly. “I said try.”

She plucks a peanut from the bowl of mixed snacks sitting in the center of the table and flicked it at him. As if predicting the move, he opens his mouth to catch the nut and crunches it loudly in his teeth as he grins back at her smugly.

You half expect him to stick out his tongue.

“Anyway, all that is way behind us now,” Chrissy says. “We’re much older and wiser.”

Eddie nods in agreement as he reaches for the bowl of snack mix.

“Well…older, at least,” she adds, murmuring to you under her breath as Eddie coughs and sputters slightly on the handful of snacks he shoved so unceremoniously in his mouth.

You snicker again as you two share another conspiring look.

“So, yeah. That’s pretty much it,” she says.

“Wow,” you sigh softly, lost in thought.

It’s surprising how quickly you start to imagine them together. Soft, reddish blonde curls falling across a smooth back; mixed up with pale, inked skin and his dark, wild shag. Eddie’s rough and guttural moans layering over the high, feminine whines you imagined falling from Chrissy’s lips. And maybe even more surprising…the only one you actually felt some jealousy of was whatever girl that got to be between them.

“Yeah, we had quite a time. And we could get kind of competitive…which added a fun layer.”

Chrissy’s voice drops as she lifts her cocktail to take a sip, her eyes meeting yours over the rim, and a little of her drink dribbles on her bowed lips. Her tongue flicks out between them to collect it and you feel a sudden warmth on your leg. Her hand finds your knee under the table and she gently starts to gently glide it up your thigh.

You look down, hypnotized by the sight of her fingers drawing figure eights that slipped briefly beneath the hemline of your dress, leaving your skin buzzing wherever she touched it. Almost on instinct, you look over at Eddie, who was already smirking as he followed the movements of Chrissy’s hand on your leg with his eyes.

His gaze lifts to meet hers and her lips twitch with a smirk of her own, clearly offering a challenge. There’s more buzzing as Eddie reaches for your other thigh, gripping it tight in his wide palm as he hauls himself closer to you in the booth. Chrissy responds in kind, nudging up next to you until your nose is filled again with the crisp, light scent of her perfume. It mixes with Eddie’s headier musk to create something totally unique, much like their distinct touches and the varied pressures of their hands on your thighs and differing weights of those hands.

Heavy and light. Rough and soft. Leather and lace.

Chrissy’s sea glass eyes flicker with intention as you meet her gaze. Her fingers wander higher still, disappearing beneath your skirt and flirting with the crease of your thigh. And you’re certain she must be able to feel the heat radiating at the apex of your legs. Eddie’s hand moves up in kind and he leans in close to kiss the sensitive spot behind your ear he knows so well.

It’s just a game, you think. They must be doing a bit.

The heat of their combined gazes causes an excited fluttering in your chest and a warm rush of blood to your face, among other places. Your pulse throbs, head spinning until Chrissy pulls her hand back and you finally exhale a shaky breath. Eddie chuckles darkly and he presses his lips to your burning cheek, his eyes flickering one last time to Chrissy’s as he does.

You can practically hear his childish taunt of Ha-ha, I win.

At the end of the night, you and Eddie wait outside with Chrissy until her Uber arrives. She was house-sitting for Robin and Nancy while they were in Barbados for a babymoon before Nancy was due to pop in the next four or five months. When her car arrives, you all start to say your goodbyes and both of you open your arms and envelop one another while Eddie looks on.

Chrissy hops in the backseat, reminding you again to let her know if you want to get together again before she heads back to Chicago in a few weeks. You smile and assure her you will, holding up your phone that now has her number saved in your contacts.

On the ride back home, Eddie seems more fidgety than normal. He’s mostly quiet, not even humming along with the radio when you switch it to his preferred station. And when you get home, he’s extra doting from the moment he pulls into the driveway, rushing to tell you to hold on as you reach for the handle so he can come around to your side and open it for you.

Inside, he stops you at the door so he can kneel and help pull off your shoes.

“Thank you, baby,” you whisper, running your hands through his hair and gently scratching his scalp. He sets your boots to the side and stands, wrapping you up in him.

You breathe his scent deeply and start to step away, but he’s not done with you yet.

“Hey,” Eddie starts, gently tugging you back into his arms. He tilts his head down and touches his forehead to yours. “You’re okay, right? With everything you heard?”

“Yeah,” you say, nodding slowly. “I do wish you had told me. I was really getting up in my head about you two.”

“I should have,” he murmured. “And I wanted to, really, but…I guess I was a little afraid of what you might think. Like Chrissy said, I know it sounds kind of scandalous.”

You licked your lips, deep in thought. It was a little weird to think about, sure. You’d never asked for a lot of details about his past relationships, afraid of the specter of jealousy that loomed. You’d figured in most cases, the less you knew, the better. But it was difficult (impossible, actually) for you not to wonder about this.

“So, you’ve had like…a lot of threesomes, then?”

“Technically?” Eddie shrugs. “I don’t know, I never considered it that because I never got with Chrissy. I think she liked watching me fuck girls, but we were like ships passing in the night. The most we would do was like a stage kiss.”

Eddie demonstrates by pulling you into him like he’s going in for the kill, but angling his head in such a way it only seems like you’re touching. Unless someone was laying down beneath you, it would look like you were kissing from almost any direction. He wiggles his head around wildly and makes a series of slurping and smacking noises that cause you to erupt in giggles.

“And none of the girls ever noticed?” you ask, breathless from laughing.

“I think they were a little distracted,” he tells you, his voice getting all low and rumbly. “Kinda hard to keep track of what’s going on with two people trying to make you come.”

The words ignite the fire in your cheeks as does the way he keeps his hold on you, hugging you flush against his body. His excitement is evident pressed up against your hip and you wonder if he can tell you’ve been soaking since he and Chrissy touched your thighs under the table.

“That tracks,” you breathe heavily, shivering as he runs his fingertips up and down your arms. “I can see how the two of you together would be difficult to resist…”

“I definitely didn’t have to push,” Eddie chuckles. “The girls were super down all on their own.”

“No, I get it. Chrissy’s…really pretty,” you say softly. Eddie notes the shift in your tone when you say it this time, no longer threatened. Purely appreciative. Genuine.

“You know, she thought the same thing about you,” he says with an impish smile.

“What do you mean?”

To answer, Eddie takes out his phone and holds it out for you to take. The screen is open to his text thread with Chrissy and you scroll through the messages they’ve been sending leading up to your meeting. It’s all fairly innocuous, not dissimilar to the texts you’d exchanged with him about what nights you were free and where you should go while Chrissy was here.

One of the messages, though, is a picture of you he sent to Chrissy captioned with a heart eyes emoji. The shot is one you’ve never even seen before, from a day not long ago when you and Eddie went for ice cream. You’re sitting across a table from him, looking totally relaxed and comfortable—the polar opposite of how you normally feel in front of a camera.

In your hand is a vanilla cone, a little dab of it on the tip of your nose. Your sunglasses rest on top of your head and your face is luminous as you look off to the side at something—a little dog wearing a bowtie, if memory serves. It might be the most flattering photo you’ve ever seen of yourself, and even more flattering are Chrissy’s proceeding reactions.

Chrissy: wowowowow 😛 she’s stunning! jeez, I might need a minute…

Eddie: hands where I can see ‘em, cunningham.

Chrissy: I kid, I kid! I wouldn’t dare steal your girl

Chrissy: at least not the *first* time we meet.

Excitement warms your chest and the feeling of it radiates down to your center like when Chrissy’s eyes flickered over you at the bar. Eddie’s eyes glint with excitement of his own as he slips his hands down to palm your ass, lifting the skirt of your dress so it skims the tops of your thighs.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you more explicitly,” he says. “I wasn’t sure if Chrissy wanted it to be broadcasted. This is still Hawkins, you know?”

“It’s alright, I get it,” you say.

“And you…you’re sure you’re okay?”

Eddie’s eyes shimmer as he stares at you, revealing the briefest hint of fear. He doesn’t like lying to you, ever. And you know he wouldn’t have done it under many circumstances.

“Yeah, definitely.” You smile, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. “It's just surprising, I guess.”

“Surprising how?”

“I don’t know, how…hot it is?” You squirm slightly in his arms. “The thought of you guys sharing a girl…both of you making it all about her…”

Eddie’s brow lifts with interest. He knows what a turn-on that is for you—the thought of being the center of your lover’s attention; having them lavish you with affections; prioritizing your pleasure over anything and everything else. He also knew how hard it was for you to voice such a desire because of how selfish it made you feel. And then he had to grit his teeth as he listened to you recount seemingly endless tales of past boyfriends who took advantage of your giving nature and didn’t return even a fraction of what they received.

For a whole month afterward, he’d enacted a strict two-for-one policy on himself just to see if he could pull it off. Obviously, he could—even pushing it to three and four if he remembered to stretch first.

Still, he was always looking for new ways to indulge your fantasies. And it sure sounded like this was shaping up to be one of them.

It’s a couple days later when you come home after work, practically singing to yourself as you kick off your shoes and head into the kitchen to start prepping things for dinner. Fridays normally put you in a good mood anyway, but they’re especially sweet when Eddie had a weekend off.

You had beat him home. He typically left the garage around 3:00 to compensate for having to be back so early Saturday morning, but the shop was closed through Monday because the owner’s daughter was getting married. To make up for it, their hours had been extended today to squeeze in a few extra customers. Eddie volunteered to stay on, knowing how his boss appreciated it and how he showed that appreciation on payday. Hopper probably could have kept regular hours just by asking Eddie to run things in his stead, but he liked giving his employees a free weekend now and again, especially when he had something to celebrate.

You busy yourself chopping vegetables and browning some ground beef with onions and garlic, a row of cans containing the rest of your ingredients for chili lined up on the counter. Just as you’ve thrown everything in the crock pot and set it to cook on low, a picture of Chrissy’s sweet smiling face fills your phone screen as it buzzes on the countertop. You reach for it with shaking hands, trying to contain yourself and sound as normal as you can as you slide onto a barstool.

“Hi, honey,” she coos in a dulcet tone. “How are you?”

“I-I’m good,” you say, doing your best to pretend you aren’t trembling with excitement just at the sound of her voice. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing, really,” she sighs, sounding a little bit like a pout. “I’m so bored. Eddie said he would call when he got off work so we could all do something, but I haven’t heard anything yet.”

“Ohh, he had to stay late at the garage. He should be home soon, though.”

“Ah, I see. What about you, angel? When did you get off?”

You draw a shuddering breath at her question, feeling certain the entendre is intentional, and hoping she can’t hear you gulp as you answer. “Umm, just…just a little while ago.”

“Mmhmm…and what are you doing now?”

You hear a soft brushing sound over the line and could swear it sounds like she’s laying down on something soft. Maybe a couch, maybe a bed.

“I’ve, um…I’ve been thinking a lot about what you guys told me at the bar.” Another gulp. “About you and him and…sharing girls?”

“Me too,” she sighs. It’s languid and gently strained as though she’s stretching as she says it, exhaling softly into the release of her muscles relaxing. “Made me kinda miss those days…part of me wonders if I’ve still got enough charm to woo a straight girl.”

“I think you’ve got enough charm to do anything you want,” you chuckle.

Chrissy’s laugh is like peals of jingle bells tinkling in your ear. “You big flirt,” she teases.

Your heart is pounding now, the rhythm of it pulsing in your ears and between your legs. Is this for real? Maybe she’s just messing around. Maybe she just likes attention. Maybe—

“Have you ever been with a girl?”

You inhale sharply and chew on your bottom lip. “No, never. My, uh…my friends and I kiss sometimes, but it’s just out of affection. Nothing serious. Nothing real.”

You wonder if she’s able to glean your own disappointment. You’ve never had feelings for a woman, per se, but there had been moments here or there where you noticed certain ones and it caused your mind to wander. There was something so enticing about them. Something so bewitching it made your head spin. Boys were attractive, sure, but women were like works of art come to life.

They seemed more like masterpieces in museums hanging behind glass barriers and velvet ropes you would never dream of touching for fear of tarnishing their beauty.

You’d always suspected there was some part of you that was interested in women and that it might have blossomed if given the opportunity. But then you met Eddie and it didn’t seem to matter so much anymore. Bi or otherwise, he was the one you wanted.

Still, that curiosity lingered.

“Have you ever wanted to try?”

Chrissy asks her question plainly. There’s no judgment in her voice, no sense that she’s trying to shame you for your sheltered existence or even pressure you into answering in the affirmative. It feels like talking to an old friend, except your panties didn’t get this wet talking to your friends.

“I did. Or, I guess, I do. I don’t know, it’s hard to say. I love Eddie and he’s who I want to be with, but…” You can’t help trailing off because the truth is you don’t know the end of that sentence.

This was a common failing with you.

Not a failing, Eddie would scold you gently. It’s just a space for improvement. You weren’t great at expressing your desires and had a bad habit of just accepting whatever was offered, and making your own wants an afterthought. And Eddie was everything you ever wanted, so how could you possibly be so selfish as to ask for more?

“No, I get it,” Chrissy says. “He really loves you and you two are so sweet together. But…” Your heart leaps into your throat. “I’m sure he would like the idea of you finding something new that brings you pleasure.”

You pressed your lips together, deep in thought. She definitely had a point there.

Eddie was great about exploring new things and doing whatever he could to help you figure out what you might like in bed. So far, you’d had fairly limited experiences, partly due to being shy and also just a lack of opportunity. Again, see ex-boyfriends who were perfectly content having you pleasure them, but rarely made the leap to think outside the box (pun intended).

He’d read up on soft dominance when you mentioned once in passing you liked the idea of someone being in control over you, but figured you couldn’t be a submissive because you didn’t think you’d enjoy impact play or being punished or humiliated. And another time when you saw a short video on proper hair pulling technique and asked if you could try it out on him, he started doing it back to you and excitedly realized it was very much more your thing.

“I mean…we could try something?” Chrissy says. “With Eddie there?”

“I think I’d be too scared,” you say, wincing at your own diminutive voice.

“Oh, honey,” she mewls sweetly. “Why’s that?”

“B-because I…I wouldn’t know what I was doing and I…” You pinch your eyes shut and dredge up every speck of confidence you have to finish the thought. “I would wanna make you come.”

There’s a soft gasp over the line, so faint you thought you must have imagined it at first. And when Chrissy takes a few seconds to respond, you swear your heart stops until her smooth, sultry voice returns.

“You would, huh?”

“Yeah, of course,” you say. “I’d, um…I’d want to know you were enjoying yourself.”

“Trust me, I would definitely be enjoying myself,” she says with another lilting sigh.

There’s some more rustling on the line. Was she taking off her shirt? What did her bra look like? Is she even wearing a bra or are her breasts exposed now, pretty pert nipples hardening as she skates her free hand over them and down her abdomen and belly?

“Why don’t you tell me how you’d do it? What would you do to me if I was there?”

Okay, that is definitely the sound of her unzipping her jeans. Your heart races at the thought of one of the prettiest girls you’d ever seen touching herself to the idea of what you would do to her and you think you might combust on the spot.

“I’d…I’d wanna touch you all over…feel how soft you are…I’d wanna grab you by that ponytail and yank your head back so I could kiss your neck…”

“Oo-ooh! That’s right, baby. Show me who’s in charge.”

You chuckle bashfully, trying to keep your cool hearing the slick sounds of Chrissy’s fingers playing with herself. Your mind is still scrambling for what to say next when the sound of the front door opening catches your ear and your head jerks up to see Eddie returning home from work.

“Hey, baby,” he says, smiling brightly as he comes through the door and you practically gush all over the barstool just at the sight of him.

He’s still got his hair pulled back in a low bun, little curly tendrils framing his handsome face. He hasn’t changed out of his coveralls, but has the top unzipped and tugged down with the sleeves knotted around his waist to reveal the white tee he wears underneath. The material is smudged all over, stretched tight across his chest and around his biceps that flex as he plops down his bag and leans on the counter across from you. He smells like sweat and motor oil and the sex you had this morning that made him have to skip his shower so the smell of you clung to him all day long.

It takes him all of about five seconds to deduce what is going on. His eyes flit first to your face, biting down on your lip with your expression pained from how turned on you are. And then down to your thighs that press together as you squirm in your seat, desperate for some friction.

“Who ya talkin’ to?” he asks, his casual smile descending into one of pure filth.

“Ch-Chrissy,” you gasp. “She, uh, wanted to do something tonight.”

Eddie’s eyes are positively wolfish and the sight sends another jolt between your legs. He nods and motions for you to hand the phone to him. He holds it to his ear and stands tall over you, getting as close as he can so you can still faintly hear Chrissy’s voice over the receiver.

“Cunningham, you dog,” he chuckles darkly. “You getting my girl all worked up?”

“She’s getting me worked up,” Chrissy retorts with a tinkling laugh.

“Oh, I know she is,” Eddie says, tongue flicking over his lips to wet them. “I bet you’re touching yourself while you talk to her too. Aren’t you, you bad girl?”

Even as Eddie speaks to Chrissy, his eyes lock onto yours and you can tell this show he’s putting on, the words he’s saying in that deep growl he knows you love, is all for your benefit. He places his hand on your knee and gently guides your legs apart to stroke your inner thighs. His fingers roam freely, but decidedly swerve away from where you need him most and you have to grip the seat beneath you to stop yourself from dragging his hand straight into your heat.

“Ma-a-ybe,” Chrissy’s voice lilts, half-moaning her answer. “Is she touching herself?

“No, not yet,” Eddie says, his fingers still inching their way up your thighs. “My sweet girl knows how to behave. Don’t you, baby?”

You whimper as you nod, even though part of you knows if Eddie had taken much longer to come home he might have found you in a much more compromising position. His fingers finally reach where you need him most and he sighs at the warmth and wetness he finds.

“Ohhhh…” he moans, the sound coming from deep in his chest as he swipes your panties to the side and nimbly begins to stroke and tease your entrance. “She’s dripping though.”

“You’re welcome,” Chrissy titters faintly.

Your back arches in response to his words and his touch, thrusting yourself towards him, wordlessly begging for more. His fingertips sink inside, but remain decidedly in the shallows as he watches them, enraptured by his own movements as well as the way your slick coats them.

“Talk to Chrissy for me, baby,” he grunts. “I need to taste you right fucking now.”

Eddie grins as he passes the phone back to you and drops to his knees, spreading your legs apart so he can bury his face between them. It’s not often he jumps straight to the point like this. Sometimes he gets so wrapped up in the teasing and toying, you think he enjoys the lead up as much as the main event, if not a little more. But right now, his fervor can’t be delayed for one second as he flattens his tongue and licks a fat stripe directly through your center.

You throw your head back and moan with abandon as his lips surround your clit and he sucks on the over-sensitized nerves. Your arm trembles from the effort of clutching your seat, one hand holding onto it for dear life as you press the phone against your cheek with the other.

Chrissy moans in response to your own that rang through over the line. You picture her laying on a plush bed piled high with blankets and pillows, her lithe body all twisted up in pleasure as she touches herself. For some reason, you imagine her under a gauzy canopy strung with fairy lights that cast her in their soft, radiant glow. The hot girls always had canopies over their beds when you were growing up. You wished you could smell her perfume and feel her lips on yours.

You bet she tastes like a piece of watermelon candy.

“I missed you, darling,” she says, breath stilted as her moan trails off. “Tell me how you feel. Is he touching you? Filling you up nice?”

“Y-yes, his…his tong—fuck…his tongue is…”

Words are already impossible when Eddie is going down on you so enthusiastically, and it’s made all the more difficult with Chrissy’s breathy voice in your ear, coaxing you towards your release.

“I wish I was there too, pretty girl. I wish I could lick you up like he is.”

Eddie jumps to his feet and you gasp at the movement and the loss of his mouth on you. Thankfully, you have just enough wherewithal to hold the phone away so you don’t squeal in Chrissy’s ear when he lifts you up and heads for the bedroom with you cradled in his arms. He doesn’t place you down so much as he throws you on the bed and you bounce slightly on the mattress before sinking into the extra thick down duvet he gave you for your last birthday.

His eyes are wild as they rake over you and he snatches the waistband of your panties to drag them fully down your legs. He flings them to the side and strips off his own shirt before frantically tugging down his coveralls, revealing his boxers that are stretched to their absolute limit.

You’ve had more than your fair share of energetic encounters with Eddie before, but there’s a fire lit within him this time pushing him to new heights. Part of you wonders if he likes having Chrissy as an audience—likes the thought of her listening to him draw every moan and whimper out of you; likes the thought of showing off his prowess, showing off you. Maybe you do too.

His mouth returns eagerly to your center and as he devours you like an animal, Chrissy hears your pleasure in pealing moans that fall from your lips.

“God, you sound so good,” she sighs. “I wanna hear more.”

Your mind is turning straight to mush from their combined efforts. You can’t even think about the noises you’re making, only the ones you hear coming through the phone or drifting up from between your legs. Eddie moans sinfully and you can feel the vibrations of it as well as the words he’s murmuring into your pussy about how hot you are. Distantly, you register a low buzzing on the other end of the line and when Chrissy speaks you can hear in her voice how close she is.

“Come for me, sweetness,” Chrissy moans. “Come for me and I’ll come for you.”

Eddie feels your reaction to her words as he fucks you with his tongue. He drags the tip back up to your clit and begins to flick it against the swollen bud. He fills you with his fingers, sliding them easily inside and curling them upwards in search of that sacred spot inside of you.

Blinding white light fills your vision as he presses on your g-spot and your orgasm overtakes you rapidly—your entire body quivering, exploding all over. In your ear, you can hear Chrissy as she reaches her peak, her breathy moans echoing your own. Eddie remains buried between your legs as you ride out your high, still murmuring his endless praise that’s muffled by your cunt.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby, so fucking good. Jesus fucking Christ…”

Slowly, reluctantly, you return to earth.

The softness of the bed beneath you cradles your body that has gone slack with exhaustion. Eddie sits back on his calves as he surveys the results of his toil with a triumphant smile. There’s a sheen of sweat on his bare chest and his chin is glistening with your spend. He pulls the phone from your limp grasp and holds it up to his ear to talk to Chrissy as he gazes lovingly down at you.

“You alive over there, Cummingham?”

He grins wide at his own joke, always his own best audience. You roll your eyes, but laugh too as you try to regain your breath. You’re too blissfully fucked out and he’s too far away for you to hear Chrissy’s response, but that fiery blaze returns to his eyes as he listens to whatever she is saying.

“Oh, I don’t think we’re even close to done yet,” Eddie chuckles.

You giggle softly and manage to shake your head to confirm his suspicions. He leans over you, dark curls falling forward as his bun comes loose and surrounding you in a curtain. And he speaks to her, his voice low and even, eyes burning into yours as he does.

“How about you get your ass over here and we see who can make my girl come the most?”

Part Three

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #chrissy cunningham x reader #chrissy cunningham x female reader #chrissy cunningham x you

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vienssunshine · 4 months

Note

GUAAA you’re the best maki writer on this app istg /&;&;@/@/@-“&/ could you please write smth nsfw where the fem reader like gets jealous of yuuta cause she thinks something is going on between them?

She likes a boy but I'm not a boy

pairing: Maki Zenin x fem!reader sfw: love confession word count: 1.5k author's note: thanks for the ask! not smut but def jealousy! enjoy! description: it's hard to find out maki and yuta have a thing, maybe a conversation with her could clear some things up

“Last lap!” Yuji calls out, his breath labored despite being far ahead of anyone else circling the track. It’s been twenty minutes of this drill—sprinting until you can’t feel your legs anymore—and with the sun beating down on you, it’s utterly grueling.

You were psyched to have the earlier training sessions this week along with Nobara, Panda, and Yuji, because, though getting up before sunrise is a challenge in itself, it tends to be cooler in the morning. With summer approaching quickly, having the afternoon sessions like Maki, Yuta, Inumaki, and Megumi do is a near death sentence.

However, this morning is uncharacteristically hot. The sun has only been up for the past hour, but its rays are blinding and oppressive. With no shade offered by Jujutsu High’s training facilities, all one can do is suffer until practice is over.

You cross the line and stumble off the field, making your way to the bleachers to lean back on the metal that’s too warm to cool your overheating body.

“I thought that would never end,” Yuji sighs, draping the shirt he had taken off over his forehead and pouring water onto it.

You reach for your water bottle, taking in the cool liquid in clumsy swallows before saying, “I don’t think I’ll be able to get back up.”

“Same here,” Nobara says, lying like a starfish on the grass in front of you. She glances at her watch and groans, “Only thirteen more minutes ‘til we go again.”

Panda sits up, somehow full of energy—you suspect he’s been using gorilla mode to make the drill easier—and says, “That should be enough for some of my favorite kind of break-time talk!”

Yuuji pulls his t-shirt off of his face, “Is it–”

“Sexy talk!” Panda exclaims.

“Gross,” Nobara says, throwing her empty water bottle at him.

“Not gross,” Panda counters, deflecting the bottle. “A necessary bonding experience for those on a team. Haven’t you ever heard of locker room talk?”

“I think that’s different,” you say.

“Yeah,” Nobara agrees, glowering.

“I’ll start,” Panda says, “Yuji, who do you think would make the best couple in Jujutsu High?”

Yuji crosses his legs and strokes his chin. “Umm…I don’t know…”

Nobara eyes him. “Spit it out.”

“Thought you didn’t like this kind of talk?” you say.

Nobara folds her arms, “Doesn’t mean he should take forever to answer.”

“Come on, Yuji!” Panda says, clapping his paws together.

Yuji sits back on his hands, “Maybe…Yuta and Maki?”

You furrow your brow. That’s a strange pairing.

“Great choice!” Panda says, looking smug, “I would agree.”

“What? Totally wrong!” Nobara objects, offended by the idea, “Maki isn’t interested in anyone, she doesn’t have time to be in a relationship.”

This isn’t making any sense. You sit up so you can face them. “Are you guys being serious?”

“Uh, yeah,” Yuji says, puzzled, “I thought they were kind of a thing?”

“Definitely,” Panda says, “I’ve always known.”

You pull your legs into your chest and rest your chin on your knee. This is not what you expected, or understood to be what was going on.

You’ve known Maki for a while, and she’s always been very friendly to you, well, as friendly as Maki can be. But still, she pays you extra attention, noticing the little differences in your appearance—like if you changed your hair or wore a new outfit—and following it up with a compliment that feels strangely intimate. She tends to touch you a lot as well, opting to brush by you rather than go around, or have her hand graze your forearm as she laughs at one of your not-funny jokes. So you’ve been thinking that maybe, after all this time, she might see you how you see her. But this conversation is making you wonder if it’s all in your head.

“Well, I guess if it had to be someone,” Nobara concedes.

“Just admit it, they’re made for each other,” Panda says dreamily.

You huff. Yuta and Maki are definitely close, but made for each other? What makes him so great? Just because he’s a special grade doesn’t mean he’s equipped to handle someone like Maki—he always looks like he’s two seconds away from crying. If what they’re saying is true, if they’re actually together…you’re not sure what you’ll do, but just thinking about it is heating your blood.

The conversation devolves into discussing what everyone’s type is, but you tune it out, instead searching your memory for the signs of Yuta and Maki’s special connection. You're not sure how you could've missed it if it was so obvious to everyone else.

The rest of training is easier now that you’re pissed off. Your form is sloppier as you run around the track, feet hitting the ground in hard, careless pounds, but you’re going much faster than you were; there’s less of a gap between you and Yuji.

You’re still angry when you shower, change your clothes, put on shoes, and go to class for the rest of the day. It’s good that Yuta and Maki are in the afternoon sessions of training, you’re not sure you’d be able to stay composed with how you’re feeling right now.

The day cools as the sun goes down and, after trying and failing to talk your feelings out to one of your stuffed animals, you resort to finding a late night snack in hopes of soothing your inner turmoil.

Only, when you get to the communal kitchen, there’s a light on, and under it, sitting at the table, is Maki watching something on her phone.

She looks up when you walk in. “Hey,” she says, an interesting smirk on her face.

“Hey,” you respond, passing by and heading to the cabinet to grab some chips. You debate going back to your room—you’re not sure if hanging out with her tonight is a good idea—but the urge to stay wins, so you sit down in the chair next to her and open the bag.

Maki puts her phone down and rests her elbows on the table, clasping her fingers together and tilting her head as she says, “I heard you were talking about me today.”

Looking straight ahead, you say, “Did you?”, and put a chip in your mouth and chew. “Maybe you should tell Yuta about it.”

There’s that attitude you were worried about slipping out. You don’t want to give her a hard time, you’re just frustrated, because Yuta? Over you? Really? But then she laughs, and despite everything, it’s immensely gratifying.

“Yeah, you guys were saying we’re a thing or something,” Maki says, expression calming into a soft yet devious smile.

She’s baiting you, though you don’t know why. Her golden gaze is as heavy and intense as the sun this morning as she searches your face for any reaction. It’s peculiar behavior if she likes someone else—unless you’re misinterpreting again.

You’re as casual as can be when you ask, “Aren’t you guys a thing?”

Maki responds matter-of-factually, “Yeah, we are.”

You cough, nearly choking on your chip. That confirms it, confirms everything you were worried about. Maki likes someone else. A boy. Your mind spins, trying to make sense of the situation. Panda and Yuji had a better read on the situation than you? You had just imagined the tension with Maki? The one thing you can conclude is that you were totally wrong.

Maki hands you her glass of water, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you force out, taking a sip. “That’s great,” you say, “For you and Yuta.”

She laughs again. “Don’t ever become an actress.”

You break out into a stupid smile, “I’m serious.” Putting the chips down, you try to recover. Obviously this is terrible news, but you still have to be a good friend. “Really, that’s great. I’m happy for you.”

“Stop,” she says, waving her hand, “We aren’t really.”

“Uh…what?”

“We aren’t really a thing,” she says, her hand landing on your forearm like it always does. Only, this time, it stays there. “I just wanted to see how you’d react.”

She moves her thumb along your skin, and though her strokes are gentle, the sensation is electric. No doubt she’s noticed how your arm has lit up in goosebumps.

“Why?” you ask, your voice quieter than it was, anticipatory. You don't want to be wrong again.

She speaks slowly, her gaze holding steady. “Because, I don’t want to be a thing with Yuta”—her fingers give your arm a squeeze—“I want something with you.”

It doesn’t register at first, the words not sinking in, rather just sitting there, utterly impactful. Her amber eyes watch yours as you tell it to yourself again: Maki doesn’t want Yuta, she wants you.

Your friend, who for months you’ve longed for, dreamed of, desired, Maki, she likes you back.

There’s no room for air in your body, not with the surge of excitement pushing up through your chest. Everyone else—Panda, Yuji, Nobara—they didn't know what they were talking about. Maki wants you.

Your hand lands on hers without consulting your head first. Then you’re leaning forward, leaning closer to her, and you echo the sentiment, whispering you’ve much you’ve wanted this. She smiles before your lips meet; the kiss was mutually long-awaited.

And so, in the dimly lit kitchen, a secret romance was born. Would the others get it right this time?

#maki zenin x you #maki zenin x reader #maki zenin #maki zenin fluff #zenin maki #maki x you #maki x reader #maki

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cringe-but-proud · 4 months

Note

Muggleborn reader taking Reggie to a sport game

I'm alive.

Regulus Black x reader

A/n TYSM FOR 100 FOLLOWERS HOLY SHIT???? This is the most American baseball game you could possibly think of despite the fact that this supposedly takes place in Britain. Sorry if anything's super inaccurate I'm not a sports person 😕 Anyways requests are open.

"I can't believe I'm actually doing this." Regulus said as you dragged him along behind you.

A cool summer breeze drifted through the air as you and your best friend walked toward the line for the ticket booth.

"I can't either. I thought you'd chicken out on me last minute." You teased and he rolled his eyes.

You'd somehow managed to convince your best friend, Regulus, to accompany you to a baseball game over the summer break. And it really did take some major convincing. His parents were quite adamant about his total lack of engagement with anything even slightly related to muggles. That's why they didn't know about you, and that's why they didn't know Regulus had snuck out to spend time with you.

Once the two of you found a spot in line, you turned to Regulus and smiled. "But, seriously. I'm glad you could make it." You said sweetly.

Regulus' eyes darted down to where your hands were still interlinked.

"Oh," You let go of his hand and nervously looked away. "Sorry."

"No, it's okay." His cheeks turned slightly pink as he put his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

After standing in the line for about 10 minutes, the two of you finally got your tickets and walked into the stadium.

Regulus' eyes seemed to be constantly moving, looking at all of the things he'd probably never seen before.

"Do you wanna get food right now or should we wait?" You asked.

Regulus looked back to you. "They serve food here?"

"I don't have muggle money." Regulus stated.

"You can't go to a muggle sports event without them serving food." You chuckled as you led him to one of the concession stands.

"Who said I was making you pay?" You pulled out your wallet and handed him $20

Regulus blinked, suprised. "You don't have to pay for me, Y/n." He tried to hand the money back.

"No!" You made him close his hand around the money and pushed it back to him. "This is your first time going to a baseball game! You can't go to a baseball game without getting concessions."

Regulus, once again, blushed when you touched his hand. "... Fine."

The two of you were finally in your seats with all of your concessions. You had to explain how the game worked to Regulus and he seemed to understand after a while.

Once the game started Regulus glanced over to you. "So... What team are we supposed to be cheering for?" He asked.

"The guys wearing red." You answered.

"And that's because?"

"Because they're superior."

"What if I don't agree?" He challenged.

"Then I'll leave you at this stadium in the cold and dark to fend for yourself." You replied sarcastically.

He gasped. "You wouldn't!" He chuckled. "You love me too much."

You let a smile play on your lips. "Yeah. You're right."

Regulus felt his cheeks grow hot and he quickly looked away, turning his attention back to the game.

By the time the game was over, the sun was down. Regulus has spent most of the game feeling a bit flustered, blushing everytime your hands brushed against one another, his glances lingering a second too long.

"So, time to go now?"

"Nope." You shook your head. "We've gotta stay for the fireworks."

"The fireworks?"

"Yeah. They shoot off fireworks after the games every weekend." You said. "I wanna watch them, if that's okay with you."

"Yeah... Yeah, it sounds nice."

A few minutes passed before the first firework shot into the sky, painting the night sky with a stunning blue color.

You gasped and excitedly shook Regulus' arm a bit. "They're starting!"

Regulus looked over to you. Your eyes were wide and seemed to sparkle as they looked up at the firework display.

You were so beautiful.

"Y/n..." His voice was soft. Like he was whispering something only your ears would ever get to hear.

"Yeah?" You turned your attention to him.

"I uh..." He felt his heart beat fast. "Can I tell you something?"

You silently nodded and he continued. "I should've told you this way sooner, and I totally get it if you're weirded out by this or whatever... I... Like you. I like you a lot. And I have for a while now."

You sat there, stunned for a moment. His heart beat faster in anticipation for your response.

You finally spoke. "Seriously?"

"Seriously." He nodded. "Is... That okay?"

You paused for a split second. "More than okay." You leaned toward him and softly kissed his lips.

Fireworks went off as he kissed you and he knew this would be the best summer of his life.

#x reader #fanfiction #harry potter x reader #regulus black x reader #regulus x reader #regulus black fanfiction #marauders x reader #marauders fanfiction

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scoopstomyahoy · 10 months

Text

i’ve seen a couple lavender marriage stobin posts, but what about lavender dating stobin?

they’re both way too young to get married — robin’s parents especially would be shocked, and, well, steve’s parents would just be shocked by his choice. but maybe when robin goes back to school after summer ‘85, all the girls in her grade are asking how she possibly landed steve the hair harrington.

and she’s soooo sick of it. she’s sick of telling someone that they aren’t dating and getting asked the same question by another girl the very next period. she’s sick of the way they treat steve like a prize to be won and not a human being and let’s be honest, a dingus. and she’s sick of the way everyone is scandalized by the thought of him dating HER because at some point, it kind of just hurts her feelings!

and she goes on a rant one day in front of a whole group of people about how basically, none of them ever stood a chance with steve, because they didn’t see who he really was and they didn’t treat him the way he deserved to be treated and she could totally land a hottie like him if she actually wanted to, for the record, and that she’s sick of everyone harassing her over it and making her (and steve) feel like zoo animals behind thick glass.

and everyone is staring at her, and oops, she didn’t say they were dating, but these normies wouldn’t understand the concept of platonic soulmates even if she tried to explain it. so they all think she’s dating steve.

“everyone thinks we’re dating, steve,” she grumbles when he picks her up from school that day. and, well, she wonders what could possibly have given them the impression that they were dating, when he picks her up from school like he does every day, and tosses her a little candy bar, the kind she likes, probably because he saw it at the gas station and thought she’d want it and just. bought it. because he loves her.

steve looks at her. “uh, yeah?”

because this is not actually news. dustin has been convinced they’re dating for months, and she’s been complaining about the kids at school for weeks.

“no, like, they really believe we’re dating now.” she cringes. “uhh. i might have said something that implied we were.”

steve snorts.

“not on purpose!” she cries.

steve snorts again. “doofus.”

“shut up, dingus. it’s a problem! i was, you know, defending your honor—” a third snort “—and i just didn’t deny our relationship like i normally do, and everyone took that as— admission.” her hands fly around her as she talks.

steve is silent. she looks at him. he’s thinking. hard.

“well,” he says, “that wouldn’t be… the worst thing. right?”

“what.”

“i just mean, if we were dating—”

“LESBIAN, steve!” robin points to herself.

“i know! i know, jeez-us. if everyone thought we were dating, like, actually, that could solve some of our problems.”

“explain.”

“like, i keep striking out, but that’s ‘cause i’m not really interested in hooking up with girls who aren’t looking for anything serious anymore. and you said i should try to be single for a while, ‘be comfortable with my own company’ or whatever—”

“it’s healthy!”

“sure! yeah, whatever! so i could be single with you, and you, you could, you know, you’d be a little safer. i could be your… goatee.”

“beard.”

“that.”

“although, i don’t know, maybe for lesbians it is a goatee.”

“rob, we’re getting off topic. my point is, we could… we could be dating.”

robin considers it. “you want to fake date.”

“not like, actually fake date. like, i’m not taking you to the diner and sharing a milkshake with two straws after we see the latest john hughes.”

“steve, we have literally done exactly that.”

“oh. right.”

“wait,” robin says, “wait wait wait. we have literally done exactly that.”

“right,” steve says.

“steve, are we…. are we already fake dating?”

it’s steve’s turn to consider it. “wait, are you the reason i keep striking out?”

“hey!”

“kidding!”

anyway. they talk it out a bit more, and robin warms up to the idea. because steve isn’t wrong, she would be safer if people thought she had a boyfriend. she had never dated a boy before. and dustin might lay off of steve for a little bit if steve admits he was right. (steve groans, loudly, at the idea of ever admitting to the little genius that he’s right.) and they don’t have to make some huge announcement to the world, posting it on the school’s bulletin board for everyone to see.

but maybe robin would stop getting weird looks in the locker room if she had a boyfriend to prove people wrong.

#stobin #stobin qpr #stobin ficlet #stranger things #mine #i imagine this is long before robin develops a crush on vickie because. then the lavender dating would cause a problem.#this miiiiight end up getting continued. as little hijinks. if anyone is interested.

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hannahssimblr · 8 days

Text

“Oh God,” Shane puts his head in his hands, “That’s so bad. Shockingly, shockingly bad.”

A wobbly rendition of Total Eclipse of the Heart floats through the open doors of the local pub, invading the night with flat, tuneless melody. From our picnic bench on the docks, every karaoke performance has been crystal clear. We hear every note, every fumbled lyric and pre-emptive, spirited launch into the chorus even though there’s an entire verse to go. Jen swore that we’d have more fun as a group if we went in and watched it, complete with the overdramatic physical performances, but Shane objected. He says he has a hard time coping with embarrassing things. He can’t watch other people fail miserably, and while I’m the opposite and thrive on it, I still prefer our seats at this comfortable distance, right by the barrier to the sea where the fishing boats bob serenely on black water. Being away from the karaoke minimises the chances that Liam will force me to include myself. I can’t sing. I am completely tone deaf, so it’s better that I steer clear of that microphone and all others.

I didn’t want to come out tonight anyway, I’ve been pretty tied up with all my wallowing, but Jen refused to take no for an answer, the same way that she has refused to let me order spirits from the bar. It’s beer for me only until she can trust me to act reasonably again. Not that I’ve made any attempts to contact Michelle since last week's ordeal, not even through email, where sometimes, when I log on to contact various students in Berlin about housing, I see her name there and the last email I ever sent her. It was just study materials, and I should delete them and move on, but I can’t. I’m stuck. it feels too final.

But the night is clear and the conversations are flowing, and if I don’t think about anything outside of my immediate experience then one could argue that things are going well, that there's no need for me to feel unsettled. What’s not to love about a night by the water with friends? It’s what the summer is for. I should be trying harder to enjoy myself.

There’s distant chatter as two girls step out of the bar. I recognise them. It’s Kelly and her friend from the tennis court. The blonde one. Shane perks up in recognition and waves. She waves back.

“Who’s that?” I ask him.

“Claire. My sister’s friend.”

“Right, from school or something?”

“Yeah, from Tullamore.”

They’re coming over now, at least Claire is while Kelly drags her feet behind and does her best to look disinterested, but if Claire notices her friend's reluctance she doesn’t show it. She’s smiling, a wide, even smile as she hops onto the dock and greets us all with a confident, “Hello everyone!”

Shane runs a hand over the top of his head, “Hi, were you- were ye in doing the karaoke and stuff like that?”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t sing because I’m awful at it, but Kelly did.”

Kelly, hanging back in the shadows, grunts and keeps her arms crossed.

“Oh, was that you caterwauling Bonnie Tyler just there?” He teases, “Sounding absolutely diabolical?”

“No,” she snips, “I sang something else, Claire, can we just go sit over there or something?”

“Yeah in a minute. You didn’t feel like singing, Shane, no?”

“No,” he laughs self consciously, “I don’t think you’d have liked to have heard that. I’m no singer at all. I’d be brutal.”

“Ah c’mon, I’m sure that’s not true! Sure you're good at everything.” She’s got a very sing-songy, country kind of accent, high and feminine, but what’s most interesting about her voice is the things it seems to do to Shane. Every time she speaks to him his cheeks turn pinker.

“Ah, well, no,” he lets out a goofy laugh and goes back to touching his hair, “I don’t think anybody would have liked to hear me,” He peers around her for a moment and looks back towards the pub, “Where’s Evie?”

“Oh, she’s with Liam.”

A pause, “Oh right. As in, they’re singing?”

“They were,” Kelly pipes up, “But they went off.”

“Off where?”

“To shift.”

“Evie is shifting Liam?”

“Yeah. Who else would do it?”

This tickles Joe, “Aw lads! Liam is off with some girl? That’s so funny. What do you think is wrong with her? Blind? Would you say? Or blind and deaf?”

Kasper laughs once the joke is explained to him, and I make a deliberate point of not joining in, because Jen’s warning eyes are on me like a hawk. I will be nice to Liam this summer. I will.

We hang out with Claire for a while, chatting and pretending we’re not aware of Shane’s blatant crush on her while Kelly sulks on another bench alone, pointedly checking the time on her flip phone and sighing about how they’d better get back to the caravan park soon.

Claire doesn’t notice, and I find it satisfying.

Eventually we break off into our own conversations and let Shane and Claire talk on their own, and I wonder if he’s going to do anything about it this summer, if he’ll ever find the courage. Shane’s always been shy with girls, it’s just how he is. Always reluctant, always hanging in the background waiting until he’s absolutely sure about any mutual feelings to say anything to them. Maybe focussing on him like some sort of project would help to keep my mind off my own stuff. Is that a normal thing to think?

Claire raises a hand and calls to someone behind us. We turn around, and it’s just Liam. Liam, holding hands with a girl, which is interesting because it’s an unusual sight, but not interesting enough to interrupt my conversation with Jen. I look away and continue talking about the things I’ve been googling about Berlin.

“You can’t mow your lawn on Sunday, that’s another thing.” I say, and she scrunches up her face, “You don’t mow the lawn.”

“Yes but if I wanted to, I couldn’t.”

“I’m sure you could, they might just frown upon it.”

“It seems restrictive though, doesn’t it?”

A shrug, “Maybe they respect silence. And in that case you might have a hard time fitting in.”

“I can be silent.”

“You can’t even whisper normally,”

“What? I can. Yes I can.”

Shane, who is now standing by the end of the table with Claire, Liam and his girl-friend, throws an arm around the brunette’s and interrupts us before I can argue my case and prove to Jen just how well I can whisper.

“Lads, this is Evie by the way. She’s another one of Kelly’s friends from home in Tullamore.”

We have to do the whole thing of going around the table and introducing ourselves, even though I don’t really have much interest in who this random girl is. “Jude,” I say when we get to me, and Jen gives me a tight smile like I should be making more effort. What else does she want from me? This whole being nice thing is starting to feel akin to a totalitarian regime.

“Good to meet you,” Evie says with a smile. She’s tense and overly formal.

“Good to meet you too.”

Claire leaps in excitedly, “Shane was telling me about the house they’ve all been staying in. It sounds unreal. It’s way up the beach where all those modern mansion places are, they’ve got a big outdoor deck and a fire and everything.”

“Sounds cool,” Evie says, and then Shane explains that it belongs to my parents, that they’ve let us use it for the summer while leaving out all the juicy bits about how they can’t risk being trapped in it together for the summer in case they kill each other, which is why the care of it has fallen to me. All I have to do is make sure that it doesn’t get damaged, that the roof tiles don't fly off in a storm or something. I realise I forgot to clean the puddle off the floor two weeks ago, and remind myself to check if the timber has any marks when we get home.

Claire goes on, “You were just saying though, Shane, that we could go up and hang out with ye all some time?”

Shane scratches the back of his neck and shuffles about looking awkward. I wonder if he was trying to invite her over alone.

But Jen comes to the rescue. “Ugh, yes please.” She says. “I’m getting sick of hanging out with only boys, so I’d be delighted if the two of you came up to visit.”

Evie glances at Kelly, forgotten but not gone, still on the bench. “Maybe three of us?”

“If she’ll be seen with us.” Shane calls over his shoulder, and his sister flips her middle finger at him.

I’m amused. Three of them? Are they forgetting the obvious fourth party? “Four of you, including Liam?” I say.

“Oh yeah, well, obviously I thought that went without saying,” Evie smiles at him, tucking hair behind her ears and he smiles back. He’s delighted. He feels lucky. He’s got a smudge of her makeup on the shoulder of his t-shirt.

“They’re cute, aren’t they?” Jen murmurs.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. I suppose.” I say. “Haven't really thought about it.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

Corresponding LG chapter

#lucky boy 2010 #he's in his bastard era #and really annoying me lately tbh #i'm like do you even want me to write you?#bc you're pissing me off #anyway! very fun to do this scene again from his POV #i know their outfits are mostly different but listen #i'm not striving for perfect consistency here they all looked bad in LG

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happyk44 · 9 months

Text

actually annabeth joining luke's army as a double agent for chb but percy doesn't know this so he just thinks alright and grabs grover and hooks it over there bc annabeth does what she wants and he knows there's no convincing her otherwise bc she's a stubborn ass and also ares fucking sucks so as far as percy's concerned the gods can suck it based on that alone

grover is just ??? bc he does NOT want to be over here and percy's just like "look, we can't convince annabeth to not be part of monster army, so the only option is to be part of it ourselves" and annabeth walks in on them trying to join (or rather percy trying to join for both of them and grover looking on the verge of tears) and she's just ??? bc what the fuck percy why are you two here

whole time percy is going on a rant about ares and how he sucks and how he's pretty sure the god has abused clarisse ("maybe we should get clarisse to sign up with us") because no one believes that he wants to join luke's army and they just thinkk he wants to spy on them so he's trying to show that he thinks gods (well at least one god) is a total ass and can get obliterated and percy will be happy to do that bc he did it once before, he can totally do it again! and if they get clarisse she can deliver the final blow as an FU

someone asks why grover's there and percy is like "um. he's my best friend? he has to come with me? what, you think I'm gonna fucking fight my best friend? are you stupid?"

meanwhile grover is having the worst panic attack of his life. like why is this how he discovers percy has no morals. couldn't it be something smaller like putting french fries in a strawberry milkshake?

and annabeth is resisting the urge to start screaming and now she's gotta vouch for percy and her vouch for percy is basically "if it came to saving me and grover or a bus full of people about to plunge into the atlantic, percy would save us, no hesitation" and everyone's like "jesus christ, the hell is wrong with this kid" because like maybe they're on the side of a cannibalistic titan but they're not fucking evil

ofc once they're let into the group, annabeth drags them both to the side and wrings percy a new one for fucking up her double agent plans and they're both whisper-arguing bc it's not his fault he didn't know she didn't really shack up with the enemy, but like fuck off percy, you didn't have to follow me here! why the hell would you choose to come here, were you going to try and kidnap me and bring me back to camp by force??

and percy is just like "yes that is 100% what i was going to do, i was definitely not joining with the intent to be by your side and blow up olympus because i'd rather destroy the world than fight my friend" and grover turns to annabeth and is just "he's fucking lying" "yeah i know"

anyway grover is released as a double agent for the monster army (but actually for CHB) bc the idea is that he can help them get more demigods to their side as a searcher being sent out to grab kids and he's mentally banging his head bc NOW he has to figure out how to get unclaimed demigods safely to camp without making it look like he took them there on purpose and if it looks like he defected back to CHB, they'll probably kill annabeth and maim or imprison percy and good gods, percy i hate you so much rn

percy? idk. it's past summer so he just goes home and luke is like "bro you can't just fucking leave" "um no offense luke but if you try to stop me from going home to my mom who i love more than life itself i will legit eat you" and then he goes home

come december, grover is calling percy up like "hey i found these fucking powerful ass kids, plz help me get them to camp without making it look like i got them there on purpose" and so they gotta loop annabeth in who's just mentally banging her head and cursing percy out over this whole thing as she strategizes a way to get the army there but have them fuck up so badly it would look super suspicious if grover just shoved them over

so first she yells at percy then she makes grover call thalia up so she can help him and it'll be okay 'cause she's in the same area as him so it won't look suspicious, it'll just seem like camp sent her in with him, like they do sometimes when there's dangerous monsters that a satyr might not be able to handle by themselves.

and then she makes percy go with them as support for grover's "nefarious" deeds since thalia's there. and it's a whole fucking thing, and mentally she's just like "oh thank fuck" when artemis and the hunters show up.

they retreat back to wherever the monster army was at this time (not the boat, but like idk. atlas' post? were they all chilling there or was it just luke and some ppl being assholes and everyone else was still on the boat, i can't remember) and curse their loss of two powerful and clueless demigods, only for percy to call annabeth up a couple hours later like "hey, remember those kids from a couple hours ago with the manticore and the hunters and everything"

"percy it was two hours ago, ofc i remember it, my memory isn't as shit as yours" "right right, you're elephant" "oh my- why are you calling me!!" "oh yeah. uh. well. they're kinda in my house" "what??" "yeah they're sitting right across from me. my mom's giving them some hot chocolate."

"how the hell?"

"i have no clue. they also have no clue. they just, uh, didn't feel safe at camp, bc grover was being weird about trying to save them. which, um, yeah, makes sense. and they don't like thalia because her spear scares them 'cause they don't like lightning. and also the girl said the hunters keep trying to convince her to join them which is freaking her out, so they didn't want to stay at camp. and then suddenly they were in my house."

"..."

"what do i do?"

this time annabeth bangs her head physically on the closest wall. and somewhere in the fine forests of new york, grover is banging his head on the nearest tree, both of them unified in their feelings of "for fucks sake percy i hate you so much rn"

#this is just a total nonsense stream of consciousness #and no before you ask i still have not eaten #happy talks pjo #in this au bianca doesn't join the hunters because. well i don't want her to #but also bc of my artemis told the hunters to kill bianca and nico bc she knew who they were and needed them to die theory #and bianca obvi felt that energy and since annabeth didn't get captured by the monster army she's not as freaked out #and desperate to rely on the safety of the first god she meets #plus grover thinks artemis is the coolest thing ever and bianca does not trust grover rn so like she's not gonna trust the goddess either #lmao percy sitting across from his cousins and thinking why does this feel familiar and then suddenly hades appears and he's like oh right

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fraudulent-cheese · 2 months

Note

Think you would change any of the finalists of any of the seasons? Think you mentioned a Pahkitew redo or something, would that be a part of it?

OH BOY THAT IS. A QUESTION IN A HALF

I'll start off by giving my opinion on all the finalists of each season!

TDI: Honestly, i wouldn't change it. Both Gwen and Owen are pretty relevant characters, they're fun as the finalists and it makes sense they'd make it that far tbh. I wouldn't swap them out for anyone else this season outside of maybe Leshawna if her elimination wasn't so cheap? That or change it to be like "oh yeah we should make them stay in this nice resort instead of that shitty summer camp" as motivation for nominating someone during Haute-Campture. Idk. Id be more in favor of finalist Leshawna if Fresh TV, you know, gave her more relevance outside of being Gwen's bestie towards the end? And just gave her character depth? Or an arc on her own? But she's the only other candidate in my eyes

TDA: I'VE SAID THIS BEFORE AND I'LL SAY IT AGAIN: THE FINALISTS SHOULD'VE BEEN LINDSAY AND HAROLD. why was Duncan a finalist. Literally why. What does he do that's interesting enough to justify keeping him for the ENTIRE SEASON. If you wanted to do the Courtney list plotthread, just introduce it earlier on in the season and kick Duncan then! Or better yet, make one of the early rejoins be Courtney instead and have Duncan get eliminated pre-merge and Izzy come back post-merge! Im less against finalist Beth, but her character's plotlines aren't compelling to me at all this season :/

Lindsay on the other hand has a full character arc this season of coming into her own and trying her hand at leadership, has a rivalry with Courtney, and she still keeps her character throughout! And honestly i just think Harold's an entertaining character and him making it further than Duncan for at least one season would've been great!

TDWT: As the season is written? I wouldn't change the finalists at all. Heather and Alejandro are the most important characters of the season outside of the Love Triangle and Cody + Sierra and if you want my opinion, none of them should've been finalists. Now, if you do rewrite the season, i'd say Courtney (or even Eva if you make her rejoin mid season) deserved at least to reach the final three. Don't have much to say here.

ROTI: JO. OMG JO. JO SHOULD'VE BEEN A FINALIST. Again, i've made a post about this earlier (which i CANNOT FIND. WHY) But Jo should've been a finalist! They didn't need to give Lightning a vilain arc in the last two episodes just because! Im not super against Cameron being a finalist, but i don't like Lightning being one. Granted you could argue for different characters making for good finalists if you're going to rewrite the entire season (Anne Maria maybe? Or Zoey)

TDAS: Oh boy, TDAS. Sweet, sweet TDAS. Listen. Listen. In an alternate universe where Total Drama is a good show, Mike and Zoey could be good finalists. Unfortunately for them there is a large, looming Courtney-shaped shadow over that idea, made even worse by how both Zoey and Mike were used throughout the season.

Yeah if you couldn't tell by now, Courtney 101% SHOULD have been a finalist! TDAS should've been her season! It's the only season where she makes it past Duncan! She's a strong competitor, a compeling character, she's been put through shit the entire series, hell she could have interesting interactions with all the cast members! But no, Sundae Muddy Sunday happened instead.

As for possible finalists? Lindsay. And Jo. Yeah look if they're not gonna be finalists in earlier seasons you may as well make them finalists here. You could still make an argument for Zoey if the season were rewritten, but otherwise yeah this is probably the worst season for canon finalists :(

TDPI: Honestly with the direction they took, im... fine, with Sky and Shawn being the finalists. They're relevant characters, they have the more important arcs and outside of Scarlett and Jasmine, some of the most competent characters, enough to get here.

I'll take this as an opportunity to say i haven't landed yet on finalists for my PI rewrite? I know for a fact i want Sammy to be one, but im unsure about the other. All i know is that i don't think it'll be Shawn or Sky.

TD2023 S1: Nothing wrong with Bowie and Priya as finalists i'll be real! Priya might be a bit predictable, but it opened up alot of avenues for different things to be explored within her character (that the show never took rip), and she honestly deserved to get far for this cast's first season. As for Bowie, he's pretty relevant all throughout the season and seeing a more antagonistic character make it to final two is really nice to see! No complaints!

TD2023 S2: ALL OF THE COMPLAINTS! ALL OF THEM! The final 3 kind of sucks this season because every option has at least one gapping flaw in it due to the writing over the season: Wayne is barely a character for half the season and only gets interesting moments before the finale, Caleb has the most dragged out and annoying romance subplot in all of TD (not just because it was boring and artificial but because it dragged down and arguably ruined one of the most interestin characters of it's cast) and Julia's just magically gotten amazing at everything, INCLUDING playing the game because these teenagers just keep! beliving her! and telling her things! for some reason! Urghhh

If i had to rewrite the season entirely i'd have an MK vs Raj final 2. You'd get the antag/vilain rep for a finalist position, and hopefully a more interesting character than Wayne (fuck you Raj's more interesting of the two by default.) Maybe Scary Girl could be a 3rd curveball option. Nichelle or Axel if they were given actual arcs. And characters. Whatever.

Sorry for ending this post on such a sour note! i just really don't like reboot season 2 everytime i think about anything outside of the Finale or Mkulia!

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bonebabbles · 11 months

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Jagged Peak sucks too

And I'll say it actually. Gray Wing's anger is completely fucking justified. This has nothing to do with Jagged Peak's disability, this is because he's completely irresponsible with the well being of children

This isn't the first time he lost track of the kittens when he was in charge of them, either. Last time this happened they had to mount a rescue mission.

We see Sparrow Fur get painted a lovely shade of red in her own blood because she ran off on her Father Quest, mauled by One Eye in her goal to reconnect to her mother's domestic abuser, while Gray Wing trusted his brother with ONE JOB to make sure they didn't do something ridiculous

Gray doesn't know that Sparrow looks like a Children's Hospital right now, but he does know she's missing. And he learns where she is from OWL EYES

JAGGED PEAK SAID IT WAS OKAY

FOR SOMEONE ELSE'S CHILD

TO RUN INTO THE FOREST

TOWARDS A GROUP THAT IS HARBORING A WIFEBEATER

AND DIDN'T EVEN HAVE THE DECENCY TO BE THE ONE TO TELL GRAY WING THAT HIS ADOPTED DAUGHTER IS NOT IN CAMP

It gets worse. Gray Wing calls him over FURIOUS and Jagged Peak plays stupid

"IS THERE A PROBLEM THAT I LET YOUR CHILD GO LOOKING FOR HER ABUSIVE BIODAD IN THE WOODS, UNACCOMPANIED?"

Jagged Peak started to look uncomfortable :(((((((((( "im sowwy i thought it would be okey :( after all the wifebeater is HER FATHER, gray wing, guy who was mates with turtle tail and is the only paternal figure the kittens have ever known. i thought you wouldnt be a little bitch about it because she's big enough that a fox could eat her in two bites instead of one."

THESE KITTENS WERE BORN IN SUMMER. IT IS CURRENTLY AUTUMN. THEY ARE, AT MOST, 6 MONTHS OLD. That is assuming that they were born at the start of summer and this is the end of autumn.

Most likely scenario is that we are looking at 4-month-old kittens, and Jagged Peak said it was FINE for Sparrow Fur to run off on her own into the Oh So Dangerous Woods

How many stupid pills is a lethal dose?

You do not, under ANY circumstances, "GOTTA ADMIT HE WAS RIGHT"

EVERY time I believe that this arc has scraped the BOTTOM of the barrel, I hear the sickening crackle of wood and peak over the rim to watch them scooping out splinters.

"all three of them wanted to train with the man who got their mom killed, gray wing. so i let your 10 year old run off into the woods. 10 is old enough to make their own choices gray wing. come on man. c'maaaaan"

Then he starts gushing about how HE is going to be a dad, because that's just fucking GREAT, Jagged Peak. You've really proven how responsible you are and how much you can totally be trusted with children.

RE: This has NOTHING to do with Jagged Peak's disability. None of that is a factor into LETTING CHILDREN RUN OFF INTO THE WILDERNESS UNSUPERVISED

But then The News reaches the Moor cats. Sparrow Fur has been mauled and she is hanging on for dear life. What a turn of events!! No one could have seen this coming!!!!!! Gray Wing rips into Jagged Peak.

All THREE of you suck. NONE of you are okay people. You are all BLIGHTS on my eyeballs and I wish all three of you fell into a meat grinder at the end of this series

Gray Wing downplaying Clear Sky's role in everyone's pain and torment. AGAIN

Clear Sky "ohhh I feel dreadful :(" good. die.

Jagged Peak: "im sorry b-b-b-b-b-BUT your daughter was INSISTENT, so, you have to forgive me for letting her run into the woods alone--"

Before you go ahead, go on back up. Read that again. Sparrow Fur was put in danger because of Jagged Peak's STUPID choice, and he can't even FULLY take responsibility for it. "I AM sorry, I should have checked with you................................ BUT."

Always, ALWAYS in this series, a character who is angry is treated as JUST AS BAD as the person who hurt them and mustered up a shitty apology.

You expect me to take Gray Wing FINALLY expressing anger towards the shitty people in his life as a bad thing?? You think I'm supposed to see this as an expression of ableism???? TWICE now Jagged Peak has let children wander off, they have been KIDNAPPED in the past, and now Gray Wing is faced with losing ANOTHER family member. All because of Jagged Peak being an irresponsible manbaby who couldn't say no to an "insistent" child

His leg had NOTHING to do with this. Jagged Peak is the same reckless kid that charged out of the mountains and forced Gray Wing to follow him to prevent him from becoming eagle food, not thinking about anyone else besides himself, but this time he isn't a kid anymore. He's an expectant father.

Fuck, I'll bet you that it's why he let Sparrow Fur run off into the woods alone in the first place. "I did it and turned out fine!" When he's always had GRAY WING behind him to save his ass

Is this harsh? Yes.

Is it deserved? ALSO YES. Jagged Peak should take this shit to heart and THINK about what it means to be a parent before his children come into the world and have to deal with having HIM for a father

TEA.

A BOSTON HARBOR FULL OF TEA

I hate that the only time this arc ever lets Gray Wing fucking unload onto someone, it has to go and try to make it a big shameful thing that he's NOT being a total doormat. He's RIGHT.

Jagged Peak needs his wife to jump in and stand up for him because he can't face the fact that his stupid, careless decision put Sparrow Fur in danger and his brother, NOTORIOUSLY A PUSHOVER, is rightfully losing his shit with him

Jagged Peak, I hope it felt just as good to smack your brother as it did to call Bumble a fat slob before you stood by and watched her get dragged back to her domestic abuser. The same one you let a kitten run to. I hope your paw falls off.

But before it does, I hope you learn to take responsibility for your actions. Loser ass.

And before someone tries to clown at me about "Oh but Gray Wing was legitimately ableist to Jagged Peak in the past so actually it's not okay that he's yelling at him even though he's totally right!" Do you mean the time he prevented him from running towards a forest fire, the same one that also permanently disabled and ends up killing Gray Wing himself via complications, that everyone could only barely escape from with a lot of jumping? Or do you mean when he told him to defend the camp instead of joining in on the First Battle Murder Party, when Clear Sky was indiscriminately slaughtering people?

Or do you mean when Clear Sky was insulting him in public by calling him useless and Gray Wing was out here trying to insist that he IS useful? Which is its OWN bucket of problematic worms, but no, NEVER in a way that was meant to insult Jagged Peak for his ability or lack thereof.

This is completely new. He has NEVER snapped at Jagged Peak like this.

In fact I even point out in the link above that Jagged Peak shouldn't have to "justify" his existence. His life has value (even though he treated Bumble like hers didn't). That doesn't mean he can't face criticism for what he just allowed to happen to Gray Wing's adopted child. That doesn't mean he'll make a good dad if he doesn't smarten up. That doesn't mean Gray Wing shouldn't be fucking pissed at him.

Shove off, Holly. Shove off, get lost, play in traffic, suck an egg. You should take out your pain on the person who is responsible for sending a child to an unsafe camp with her mother's abuser where she got mauled, actually. That's completely fucking reasonable.

Holly x Jagged Peak FOREVER. HAND IN UNLOVABLE HAND. YOU CERTAINLY DESERVE EACH OTHER, IF NOTHING ELSE

Disclaimer: This is not a Gray Wing defense post. All three brothers are terrible. Clear Sky remains the absolute worst. Jagged Peak is the "least" bad but he's still fucking awful.

#this arc is going to give me an aneurysm #How do you have three children and all of them come out with their own unique flavor of awful #NIGHTMARE blunt rotation #tw ableism #tw child abuse

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juicycoutureheaux · 1 year

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Fixer Upper: An AU Sheriff!Leon Kennedy x Reader Fic

Chapter1 Chapter2 Chapter3

Hey y’all!! I’m back again! I’d like to thank all those who left such nice things to say about the other chapters. This story is going to be a bit longer than anticipated, but that just means more details and drama (oooh!) lol. Again there are some TW, in this chapter. (Mention of suicide). I’d like to think @alewesker & @angelscoda for all their encouragement! You both are amazing and keep me motivated! If you haven’t checked out their blogs you totally should!

You learn that the sharp dressed, curt man that greeted you and Suzanne was none other than Buckley Richards, who worked as a private stylist to Jackie Bouvier Kennedy and Lily Pulitzer.

He was a force in the dressing room, ordering his assistants to grab different fabric swatches of all different colors and textures; comparing them to your skin to see what shade best suited you.

He didn’t hold back his facial expressions either, especially when something was less than flattering.

“No, No!” he would exclaim, commanding the whole studio’s attention. “She is not a winter, she is a summer! I do not want to see those colors again!”

You felt totally detached from your body, it felt like they were dressing up a doll and you despised it. You began to dread your future, because you knew it was going to be filled with nothing but superficial moments and people.

The studio assistants picked you apart, scrubbing your face, your fingernails, just about every bit of your body.

By the end of the 8 hour session, you had been taught how to apply your makeup in “the right way,” the correct way to style your long hair and how to dress for every occasion.

When you looked in the mirror, you were dressed in a prim, but stylish outfit; your hair was pinned behind your ears revealing your now “acceptable” face; your already long dark eyelashes were enhanced by mascara, cheeks now rosy with the help of some light rouge, and your nails were now shined.

It felt as if a stranger was looking back at you. You never saw a problem or cared about your looks before today. Mama and daddy always told you that you didn’t need makeup or a fancy haircut; but, according to Buckley and Miss Suzanne, they were dead wrong.

“Finally, underneath it all, a beautiful girl!” Buckley exclaimed, grabbing you by the arm and leading you to your future mother in law.

“Y/n, you look absolutely stunning!” Suzanne squealed. “You are going to be the perfect wife for my boy! The public will just love you when you make your debut at the party!”

You just smiled a polite, but forced smile. They didn’t seem to notice. The heaviness in your stomach started to creep its way up into your throat; it was starting to consume you.

You were following behind Buckley and Suzanne all the way back to the town car, where the chauffeur was putting away all the shopping in the spacious trunk.

You said your goodbyes to Buckley and thanked him for his hard work.

“Suzanne, you’ve always had the best taste, Y/N is quite the catch.” With that he hugged Suzanne one last time and returned to the boutique.

As he was leaving, Suzanne turned to you. “We’ve invested A LOT into you my dear, I hope that you keep that in mind when Patrick gets into his *way.” She said, pointedly annunciating the last words.

“Just know that it's a part of marriage that we all go through, but think of all the benefits of being married to a man like Patrick! You’ll never be bored ever again!”

“You’re right,” you thought to yourself, “I’ll never be bored because I'll be busy chasing my husband all over the city.”

You decided to keep that thought to yourself.

The chauffeur opened the door open for you and Miss Suzanne. Miss Suzanne got in effortlessly and gracefully. Your head felt like it weighed like 1,000 pounds, and it must have shown. As you made your way into the car the Chauffeur lifted your chin up by his two fingers.

“Chin up madam, you’re going to be the wife of a very important man.”

You looked up sadly and settled in the backseat of the car, praying for silence on the way home.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXxxx

You arrived home at just about dusk. The cicadas were buzzing as the oranges and reds of the sunset stretched out lazily over the horizon.

You thought what it must be like to be a part of the colors of the horizon. You knew the hues were caused by scattering the different light rays; but even then you wondered if there was something sentient behind those sunsets.

If there were, did they know how beautiful and admired they were by those on Earth, or did they look down upon your kind in envy like you looked up at them right now? You wanted to be free, emancipated from your situation, you wanted to be as vast and colorful as the rays in the sky.

Miss Suzanne insisted her chauffeur take your bags in for you as it wasn’t lady like for you to bring in your own shopping. She followed you in with a good sized gift bag; you immediately knew who it was for.

You could tell your mother was waiting excitedly by the door, by how quick she answered. She ushered you all into the foyer.

“Thank you for letting me borrow your daughter for the day, she is just the sweetest thing. I had to bring you something back for my appreciation.” Suzanne said to your mother holding up the large bag from the boutique.

You looked on miserably as your mother pulled out an expensive cocktail dress and an even more expensive looking pair of shoes.

“Suzanne, I don’t know what to say!” Your mother stuttered.

“You don’t have to say anything darling! This is my thank you for letting me have your daughter. I want you two to look your best at the engagement party.”

Your mother had her back turned to you when she and Suzanne shared a friendly embrace. Suzanne winked at you and you acknowledged it as a warning. She had your mama wrapped around her finger and you would be foolish to back out of your engagement to Patrick.

Your mother said her goodbyes and you received a peck on the cheek from Suzanne.

You watched the fancy town car roll away down the dirt road as your mother was showing off her new cocktail dress and shoes to the rest of the family.

“Suzanne is just the sweetest isn’t she, Y/N? You are so lucky you have such a generous woman as your mother in law.”

“Future mother in law.” You corrected her bitterly.

“Oh Y/N don’t be so sour. You have what other girls would kill for. You have to see your blessing!”

“I’m sorry Mama, you’re right.” you said obediently. You were getting used to resigning over your power, maybe it would be easier with time.

You ran up the stairs and into the restroom. You began to take off your makeup with the cold cream you knew your mama had in the cabinet. The mascara and lipstick now melted in a way that contorted your face so much that you looked like a ghoul. You scrubbed until your eyelashes felt soft and your skin was dry.

Your face may have been red and raw, but at least you looked like yourself, or your old self.

You stayed in your small room, hearing the bustling sounds of the house beneath you. Your mother was talking excitedly to Mary-Anne, as daddy and Hank were discussing sports. You wondered if Patrick and his family even interacted with each other at all.

What would they talk about? You came to the realization that you and Patrick had nothing in common at all. When you would go out together and ride in his car, all he talked about was himself. You were so enthralled with the fact that someone like him would even talk to you, that you ignored the fact he was so shallow.

You started to shake, you felt yourself detach from your body. You had to get out of the house, you had to leave. You didn’t know where to go, you had completely sold your life for the happiness of others. You couldn’t run away, they would find you and it would be an embarrassment, more shame.

The only way out you could think of was the unthinkable. If you passed away in an accident, sure your family would miss you, but they wouldn’t have to worry about you. They would just have to worry about putting fresh flowers on your grave or telling Hank & Mary-Anne’s baby about you and how you would almost* marry the most important man in town. To your niece or nephew you would live on as a princess in a fairytale; but fairytales weren’t real and you wouldn’t have a happy ending.

Patrick and his mother could find another, more qualified girl to fix his image, someone that grew up in the right family, who knew all the right etiquette and had all the right clothes.

You had convinced yourself, it was the perfect plan and maybe you would find yourself in the sunset looking back down on the earth, where you longed to be.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

There was a fresh dew on the vegetation growing along the path, that brushed up against your bare legs as your bicycle made its way through the tall grass. You were riding as fast as you could, the crickets and frogs making their presence known by their various chirps.

You could see the lake just ahead, you wanted to take one last final obstructed look at the stars before you would join them. You had daddy’s sleeping pills he had been taking since he came home from the war and a bottle of whiskey that he thought no one else knew about. It was wrong taking them from him, but it was the only peaceful way you thought of going.

“It would be like falling asleep,” you had convinced yourself. “I’ll drink the whiskey till I’m drunk and throw the bottle into the water. They’ll just think I went for a swim and drowned.”

You parked your bicycle against the tree, and sat upon the soft grass at the embankment overlooking the deep blue void. As you sat closer to the shore, the wind had started picking you up, like it was a friend, drawing you closer.

The moon was the only source of light out in the wilderness and its brightness called to you, mockingly as if she longed for you to join her out in the vast nothingness, where you could be free.

You waited for an untraceable amount of time, the night was clear, the air was cool and you felt like you were finally where you needed to be. You had begun drinking, the bitter taste of the liquor was unfamiliar and stung your throat. You drink until you become unsteady and sleepy, the breeze feels like it is moving through you, like strings attached to a puppet.

You felt ready enough to unscrew the lid from the pill bottle and empty its contents into your mouth. You were fiddling with the lid for what felt like years when you were spooked by bright lights creeping up behind you. You froze in a stupor as you heard a car door open and shut, followed by heavy footsteps.

You made out the silhouette of a man in the darkness, he didn’t seem to notice you as he walked closer to the edge of the embankment. You saw him bring his fingers to push his hair back behind his face as he let out a sigh and lit a cigarette.

You were focusing on the orange ember of the end of the cigarette and didn’t realize the man had spotted you.

“Y/N?” The familiar voice spoke to you, softly.

You looked up through watery eyes and met the sharp blues of Leon’s.

You couldn’t find the words to speak as he moved closer to you. He found a place next to you and sat down.

“What are you doing out here?” His voice is gentle, just above a whisper.

You couldn’t speak, you just let the tears flow. Your body was still languid and you felt like all your energy was flowing out with your tears.

Leon wrapped an arm around you and you let him, you didn’t realize how cold you were until you felt the warmth from his body on yours.

He smelled of aftershave and tobacco, you leaned in closer to take in all of him.

You started to calm down after being in the embrace for a while, the liquid heat in your belly from the whiskey became soothing after a while.

Leon laid you down so your head was laid on his lap, your long hair was spread out over his legs; the moment was intimate and comforting. You had never felt this kind of comfort before. You were thinking of just drifting off to sleep in his embrace, but he began to speak.

“It's not worth it, Y/N.” he mumbled.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting.

“What?”

“These pills, the alcohol, I know what you came to do.”

You shifted uncomfortably, and turned your head away from him. He began stroking your hair again.

“I had an older sister,” he said, softer.

You looked up and acknowledged that you were listening.

“She was caring, she was vibrant, she was smart,” he paused. “It’s a memory now.”

You raised yourself so your torsos were intertwined, making comfortable eye contact.

“What happened to her, Leon?”

“She married someone that didn’t respect her, someone that wanted to own her, treat her like property. It started off small like the altercation you had with your fiance.” Adding emphasis to the word “altercation.”

“He was just awful to her, would cheat on her, come home drunk. After a while, she finally made a plan to leave him because she had had enough. The night before she was to leave he found out and killed her.” Leon was stoic and she could see the tenseness in his jaw.

“He would have rather snuffed out her light than see her be happy, he took my only living family away. The pain was unbearable, I wanted him to suffer.”

You reached out to caress his face; he surprised you by holding your hand to his face. You wanted to kiss him, to take his pain away.

“I decided the best way to get revenge was to prevent what happened to her, to anyone else.”

“Leon, I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say.”

He took his hand away from yours, and wiped the tears from his eyes.

“Patrick is trouble, Y/N. I know you know, otherwise you wouldn’t be out here doing something so stupid.” He raised his voice, he was angry, but it sounded like there was hurt in his voice.

Your cheeks turned red from embarrassment, his words stung.

“I didn’t know what else to do, Leon! I feel so trapped, you think I want this kind of life?” You were sobbing. You were full of despair and anguish; you had been holding it in for a long time.

“I know you don’t,” he lowered his voice again and began to rub your back gently. “I know you really don’t want to die either.”

“What am I going to do?” It was a rhetorical question.

“You’re not marrying that asshole.”

“Leon, I wish it were that easy! My mother, she’s over the moon! They’ve already spent so much money on me, I could never repay them in my wildest dreams.”

“They’re manipulating you into staying! Will your mother’s feelings matter when he’s beating the shit out of you? Or when he cheats every night and leaves you alone with your children? When he makes a complete fool out of you in public? Is that really what you want?”

You just began to cry, the sobs escaping from your mouth with so much force, they sounded like choking hiccups.

Leon pulled you closer and let you cry into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so rough with you, Y/N.”

You gripped his shirt and looked up at him, face red and eyes bloodshot.

“I needed that reality check. It's true, I just don’t know if I'm brave enough to leave.”

“I’m going to help you.”

You looked at him surprised. “Leon, why would you help me?”

“Because, Y/n, you’re innocent in all this. You deserve better and you deserve to be happy,”

You smiled an effortless smile. You laid your hand down on top of his. Your heart was beating out of your chest; You no longer felt helpless, this new sensation, you couldn’t quite place it.

He cupped your head behind your ear, his fingers holding your hair out of your face.

“You’re beautiful when you smile.”

You blushed and tried to turn your face away; instead, Leon moved in closer,keeping you in place. You searched his baby blues, for a hint of what he was thinking. He didn’t keep you waiting long before he moved his face closer and enveloped you in an intoxicating kiss.

It was sweet, not like the wanton kiss Patrick had given you before; this was full of fervor. The feeling of his lips meeting yours was akin to actual sparks. The current of electricity reverberated through your body, as you wrapped your arms around his neck instinctively, closing the space between your bodies.

Leon, without breaking the two of you apart, gently laid you down again on the soft grass. He had moved from your lips to the nape of your neck, the feeling causing you to feel a fire in your belly as he caressed your sides.

You had never experienced pleasure like this before, never in your wildest dreams would you have thought a man like Leon would be attracted to you in that way.

You began to panic, you were kissing a man that wasn’t your fiancé, and you were scared. You enjoyed it too much, if Leon had wanted to take it further you would have let him. He was making you feel too good; your mother had always warned you that things that felt too good to be true, were.

“Leon, please, I can’t do this.”

His body went stiff and moved off you immediately.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me, I’m so sorry, I feel awful.”

“Leon, don’t.” You said gently cradling his face in your hands, your thumb stroking his cheek. “I want you so bad; but I've been promised to Patrick.” You could tell by the wounded look on his face your words pained him.

“It’s obvious you’re too good for him, even though he treats you cruelly.” You flinched at his words, he was right.

“What are we going to do?” You whispered, still holding on to him

He pushed the loose strands of hair behind your ear.

“I know for a fact the Armstrongs are doing shady business dealings, how do you think he got funding for his political campaign this year?”

You thought about it for a second. You knew they came from family money and they lived in a small town, but it really never occurred to you that their dealings could be illegal.

“So you want to blackmail Patrick? That’s your idea?” You said incredulously.

“You should know I didn’t come out here to just work as the Sheriff of a small town. I’m here because I AM investigating The Armstrongs and their associates.”

“Why are you telling me this? I’m engaged to one of the family members.” You were shaking now, was everyone just going to pull the rug from under you? You pulled away from him.

“I know, because you don’t want this. I know for a fact if you had any other choice, you would take it.”

You stare at him, annoyed, but he was right. No wonder he was sent down here.

“Are you using me to get information then? I’m not okay with that, Leon.”

“Of course not!” He looked like the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. “I figured you were an innocent bystander in all of this.”

Your shoulders relaxed, you realized you had accused him of something horrible.

“Leon, I’m sorry, I just didn’t know what to think, I’ve just pulled every which way and I just want to be told the truth.”

“Y/n, I promise, I wouldn’t lie to you to hurt you.”

“That’s all I ask.”

The two of you shared a chaste kiss, and he drove you back to the long driveway of the farm.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you up to the house?” Leon had his right hand over your headrest.

“The lights and noise from the car would probably wake up my family. I don’t think I’d ever be allowed out of the house again if they saw I snuck out and you drove me home.”

“Good point.”

You both said your goodbyes and you walked slowly up the dirt road to the house.

You stopped in your tracks when you saw your daddy sitting on the steps of the house and he had his eyes locked on you.

You swallowed hard and decided to face the music. You walked right up to him.

“There she is, prancing in like I wouldn’t notice she snuck out. Where the hell have you been?”

“I had to get out of the house daddy, I’m sorry it felt like I was suffocating, I’m scared.” You said and sat down next to him.

You loved your daddy, he was always there for you. It felt like recently with this Patrick mess your relationship was suffering.

Your daddy’s face softened up and he put his arm around you.

“My magnolia, I know you’re going through a lot, it’s killing me. I wish your mother wasn’t pushing you so hard.” He held you close. You felt like a little girl, safe in your father’s arms, he hadn’t called you Magnolia in a long time. It was his nickname for you since you were little.

You remembered when the boys first started to bully you at school and your daddy would hug you while you cried. He would comfort you and the next day when the boys would start again, he’d stand at the school bus stop with his shotgun and point at them.

They never messed with his “magnolia” again after that.

You wish daddy could make the Armstrongs go away. She just wanted to work her little job, maybe meet someone on her own. Leon, she wouldn’t mind dating him, he was everything an actual gentleman should be.

“Do you think you could talk to mama? I don’t think I want to marry Patrick, daddy.” You said weakly.

“I’ll try magnolia.” He said. “We should head in before Mama wakes up and yells at the both of us.”

You exchanged a hug and went back into the farmhouse feeling better off.

#leon kennedy x reader #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil #fanfiction #leon kennedy #resident evil infinite darkness #patrick infinite darkness #TW:suicide

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danvillecheese · 1 year

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why do u think act ur age is fucked

[cracks knuckles] alright. essay time. you asked for it.

I’ve done a similar response to this before here and mentioned something else about it here but I’ll go over it again since those posts are both from a while ago. also bear in mind I haven’t seen aya recently bc I don’t like it. okay let’s get into it

[also im gonna preface this saying maybe i sound very pessimistic but im ranting and its just gonna sound like im complaining because i am. i mean no real malice by the way. im simply a person with a blog.]

first off. they don’t use the show don’t tell as well as they could. in the what might have been montage, sure, they showed potential scenarios and how phineas felt (very briefly) when isa stopped visiting his backyard but it just feels so rushed. I get that they only had like 11 minutes to show it but idk there has to be another way to write it. or just not have it at all idk its just from a writing point of view the whole episode feels rushed and out of place from everything else continuity-wise. why not use little easter eggs planted in the show beforehand? operation crumbcake? pharmacists? meapless in seattle? god theres so many episodes with evidence that phineas liked her back even if he didnt know. just. continuity!!!!

second. why did their friends not try something sooner. it’s not like they didn’t know. like phineas seems to be okay with saying “i wish! i am so in the friend zone there” in front of his friends (that quote alone makes me lose my shit but that’s a whole other point) so clearly they knew about phineas. and isabella also wasn’t quiet about it (source: pnf s1-4). they had like four years of high school to do something and they planned it the day isa left for college? nah its just the least realistic thing ever for me. also them being 18 is like yeah okay maybe the slow burn was worth it and theyre way more grown up (i love a good slowburn) but ohhhhhh my god SURELY their friends were getting sick of them dancing around each other. just me?

third. and I’m sorry to ash simpson but oh my god I hate the character designs like They Would Not Fucking Look Like That. it almost feels like it completely disregards their arcs during the original summer. like yeah child chub disappears over ur teen years but sometimes it stays a little longer! make phineas less twiggy!! make isa look more like her mother! (am i about to redesign them again? whoops)

four. and i know this is no fault of dan and swampy but the show was about to end anyways and yet the entire friend group was paired off into hetero ships?? get fucking real. none of those kids are straight. realistically, i know it was a different time and gay marriage wasnt even legal in the us yet so it wasnt all that common to have queer romance on screen let alone on disney channel but like i said, the show was about to end. what were the disney channel execs gonna do? cancel it? lmao

five. "I am so in the friend zone there." "we are guys. we do not talk about our feelings." WHAT!!! i cant believe this shit is real. these lines of dialogue are canon. what the hell. what kind of message does that even send to younger, impressionable viewers? if ur a 10 year old boy watching that (ok fine maybe that isnt gonna stick with you forever but listen) and you go 'oh its okay to just bottle everything up and not tell my friends about my feelings about anything ever' that is insane! thats not how things should go!! like i get the whole "im so in the friend zone" and yes, this also has to do with the era but like if they wanted to be a more progressive cartoon that kids look up to and enjoy maybe they just. shouldn't have put that whole conversation in.

i barely have any problems with the b plot. in fact id watch the episode just for the kazoo solo. because that plot lines up with the continuity. i can totally see heinz having bowling night with perry and carl and monogram every week! i can totally see perry and monogram retired! and carl running owca and getting payed for it! that all checks out! that one makes sense and works with the canon! if they got that plot so right how did they get the a plot so wrong?

i can answer this question: fanservice. its an awful word, i know. act your age is a fanservicey episode which is why i think it crashed and burned. mml season 2 is rooted in the same issue: doof is very present and takes away from the original plot of the show. like, the one he wasnt even in until the last episode of s1. slightly getting off topic but it is the crux of the issue. fanservice doesnt make for good storytelling. even if it brings in the big bucks. at its core, telling the story the way it should be told is the best one. even if it pisses people off. a good portion of the viewers will still appreciate whatever ending the creators come up with. and no, im not saying phinbella shouldn't have become canon, in fact i really like the ship and all their dynamics, i just think they went about it the wrong way.

as someone who's written and published fic about them getting together in different universes (granted, they were from when i was younger so its mildly terrible. take them with a grain of salt) there are a lot of other ways to tell that story canonically. honestly, i think the best way of doing it was to keep it ambiguous. dont tell that story. let the viewers pick their own ending for phineas and isabella. maybe they dont get together after all. who knows!

thanks for the ask! hope you had fun getting lectured <3

#phineas and ferb #phinbella #act your age #ask #this was fun you guys should ask me more stuff like this #dwampyverse analysis

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yenforfairytales · 1 year

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We need an AU with teenage!Daniel in cut off shorts and band tees, and his long suffering neighbor young!Kreese (maybe on leave from the army?) who is totally tormented by this little tease.

Daniel, licking a vanilla ice cream slowly, leaning over the fence with his ass out, all sunkissed and gorgeous: Oh heyyyy John, didn’t know you were there!

John, dying on the inside: …hey kid. [Do Not Rail Him. Do Not Rail Him. Do Not—]

Daniel, sucks on the cherry: Mmm!

John: Yeah, jail’s worth it.

And they were neighbors! NSFW!!!!

----

Kreese braces himself as he passes by the nonfunctioning pool in his complex, taking the steps up to his second-level apartment as measured and purposeful as he can.

Because going up the stairs to his apartment means walking by his next door neighbor. There's no avoiding it.

And normally that wouldn't be a bad thing, but his new neighbor's kid has taken to hanging out right in front of his door, leaning over the railing like there's anything in the courtyard worth looking at.

Kreese curses silently to himself as he pulls his keys out, steadfastly facing his door and not the half-naked twink behind him.

Just his luck that the kid and his mother moved in near the start of summer.

Summer means no school.

Summer means the boy has nothing better to do than pester Kreese in the least amount of clothes as possible.

And he is a boy.

Sixteen, the boy's mother had said.

Although, Kreese wasn't much older when his own mother had died and he'd had to find multiple meager jobs to pay his own bills. Not long after when a gun was placed in his hands to defend a nation.

Kreese is interrupted of his musings by an obscenely loud suck.

He turns to see the little cocktease smacking his lips around some melted ice cream. The boy then wraps those lips around a cherry while creamy vanilla drips down the cone in his hand, leaving gleaming trails along a slender wrist.

"Hey, John," the boy says. "Hope you don't mind the mess. I'll clean it up, I promise."

Kreese can tell there's a smirking playfulness in the kid's eyes, even behind the aviator sunglasses he's wearing.

"Hey, kid."

Kreese can feel his pulse race as his heart beats wildly. It's not going to happen again. It's not.

The last time was the last time.

He's stronger than this. He should have never touched the kid-- Daniel to begin with.

But the thing was, the thing was...

Kreese hadn't felt good once since he'd come home from 'Nam. There wasn't a whole lot in his life that had ever felt good.

"Your mom at work?"

----

Gasps and moans fill Kreese's small bedroom as Daniel rides him like he'll die if he doesn't.

His skin is still hot, sunkissed from being outside, and Kreese groans as he watches his cock disappear again and again into Daniel's body as the kid bounces with enthusiasm in his lap. Just like the first time.

"Fuck, fuck."

Kreese is forced to throw his head back against the mattress. It's so good, so tight that he has to keep himself from shouting out.

Wet slaps in rhythm with the squeak of well-worn bed springs.

Daniel loves it. Eyes squeezed shut as he chases the feeling of something deep inside him, building and sparking. He braces his hands against John's chest for leverage; if he can just get John a little deeper, a little harder...

An itch that needs scratching.

John's hands grip Daniel's hips tight enough to leave bruises but glide down, slick with sweat, to squeeze Daniel's ass.

Daniel cries out, breathy moans getting louder as his body clenches around the hard cock inside him. So close, so close...

"Ah-! God, yes- please-!"

Daniel comes almost painfully on a down thrust. Feels it all the way down to his toes.

Kreese follows a second later-- the sounds Daniel makes, along with his body sucking him in deep as he rides out the waves of his orgasm, too much for anyone.

They moan together as they come down from the high. Daniel's hole occasionally clenching in aftershocks that make them both shudder in pleasure.

Daniel collapses over Kreese and nuzzles in close under the older man's jaw, completely blissed out.

Daniel hums happily. "That was great! Why'd you make us wait so long?"

Kreese wraps a muscular arm around Daniel to pull him in close. His other hand running along his own face to fight off the post-coital fatigue. To fight off the disbelief of his situation.

"Three days is a long time to you?" Kreese grumbles tiredly. "Don't come crying to me when your mother suspects something. I'll deny everything."

Daniel's heard this lecture before. Several times. About stopping before getting caught. About how John is too old for him, too bad, too wrong for him, too male. Too, too, too. He grins.

"C'mon," Daniel coos, running his fingers over Kreese's chest. "She's too busy working to notice. And besides, I'll be cleaned up and in bed before she even gets home."

Kreese stops brooding long enough to finally look at Daniel, a small smile forming before he places a soft kiss against the boy's temple.

Daniel snuggles in closer and laughs as they wrap their arms around each other a little tighter.

"I should get going, actually," he sighs.

Kreese grumbles again, placing more kisses on Daniel's cheek. His lips.

"Can I get my sunglasses back?"

"Not a chance."

----

Things continue on like this. Stolen moments whenever they have the opportunity.

John has the distinct feeling that if it were up to Daniel, with his teenage libido, they'd fuck no less than 10 times a day. But as it is, John is only one man, and he keeps the little punk at bay as much as he reasonably can.

He has to laugh at himself sometimes. He'll be lucky if he doesn't end up in Hell, let alone jail.

But since when has John's life ever been fair? And he's tired of denying himself something he wants.

Every day John grows a little bolder. A little angrier. It isn't fear holding him back. Fear doesn't exist.

It's that Daniel could be taken away from him. Separated. Just like--

And why shouldn't he have Daniel?

Who could possibly stop him?

----

John lets out a guttural growl as he comes inside Daniel, hips rolling as he continues to pulse and twitch inside him.

He has the boy bent over at the waist, leaning over him as he's pressed against the wall. They didn't even make it to the bedroom this time, fucking in the hallway after having gotten their pants down.

John pulls out and blows out a breath. His chest feels like he's run a marathon.

They right their pants as Daniel tells Kreese he has to leave soon anyway. His mother had called to say she'd be home early, and who knows when that'll be.

Kreese walks him to the door and smirks as he watches Daniel move a little gingerly. It makes his dick twitch again, but only because he knows Daniel loves the feeling.

Daniel opens the door and spins back around in the threshold.

"Oh! Hey, so I was thinking--"

"Careful. Wouldn't want to hurt yourself."

"--Hah. What a comedian. No, I was going to say, why don't I come over later tonight? You know, when my ma is asleep?"

It's risky. Makes plausible deniability more difficult.

They'd have to be quiet.

Kreese stares into the kid's hopeful eyes. They were initially what had drawn Kreese to him.

That first day when the kid's mother had caught him on his way to work. Introduced themselves to him.

Kreese had looked at the boy, standing off to the side with a defiant pout. Really looked. He had a black eye and was all the more beautiful for it.

Even then, the kid had stood out. Something in those eyes that called to the deepest parts of John and said chase me, I dare you.

His mother had explained that her son was always getting into fights, and Kreese had felt a tiny twinge in his heart.

Memories of being knocked into lockers. Books shoved off his desk. Bruised knuckles and detention.

Now, Kreese looks into those beautiful brown eyes, with their own light as bright and burning as amber, and knows it was always inevitable.

"I'll leave the door unlocked."

----

Kreese shoves Daniel down onto the bed, overwhelmed that they have all night.

He slicks up his cock with one hand while the other runs greedily over miles of smooth, golden skin.

Daniel spreads his legs in invitation, anticipating the first push of the older man inside him.

Kreese lines himself up with Daniel's glistening hole, soft and yielding as he slowly inches his cock into him.

Daniel sucks in a breath through his teeth. The initial stretch and burn always a little surprising, but always welcome.

John pushes and pulls slowly, rocking into the boy, letting the slick sounds of the gentle slide of his cock into that hole drive him even crazier.

Daniel's moaning quietly with every stroke, not that he thinks they'd really wake anyone up, but he knows they both have to reign it in a little, and for some reason that only adds to the little thrill up his spine. He lets out a shaky breath.

"Okay," he tells Kreese.

That's all the man needs to hear to start fucking him harder, picking up a steady and heavy pace.

Kreese spends long minutes in blissful pleasure, but suddenly it's not enough. He rises up on his knees and throws one of Daniel's legs over his shoulder, wrapping his arms around the supple thigh to pull the boy back onto every quickening thrust.

Daniel's huffing and gasping as Kreese starts pounding into him-- a man on a mission. All he can do is grasp weakly at Kreese's thighs, the sounds of the older man grunting and moaning going straight to Daniel's dick.

The orgasm catches Daniel by surprise. He had felt it cresting and just barely had enough time to wrap a hand around his bouncing dick before he was coming and sobbing.

Kreese chokes on a groan as he watches Daniel come over his hand, his own orgasm pulled from him quite literally. He leans over the boy with taut arms, stilling his hips to savor every pulse of his seed into the warm body beneath him.

Daniel's practically useless afterwards, halfway to sleep as Kreese grabs a cum rag and cleans them both up. He collapses on the bed next to Daniel, pulling him into an easy embrace.

After a minute, Kreese gets up again. He sets his alarm for 5am. That should be early enough for Daniel to sneak back into his own apartment.

Kreese frowns at the thought. But for now, he'll let the kid sleep.

----

It's one Saturday that finds Kreese milling around his apartment, waiting for his best friend to show up.

They have plans to look at potential locations for their own karate dojo. A shared dream that went from the enthused talk of young soldiers trying to pass the time to an actual, legitimate possibility.

John smiles as he hears the stomping footfalls of someone running up the concrete stairs. That must be Terry.

He grabs his wallet and keys but pauses when he hears voices outside his door.

One of them is definitely the smooth rumble of Terry's, but the other sounds an awful lot like Daniel's.

They're laughing together.

Something inside Kreese clenches as he flings the door open a little harder than intended.

Terry and Daniel turn to Kreese in surprise.

For some reason what's even worse, is Daniel dressed in nothing but a pair of red gym shorts. Kreese can feel his blood boil inexplicably.

"What do you want?" He snarls before he can stop himself.

Daniel's eyes widen like a deer in headlights before his brow furrows, eyes burning with bright fury.

"Nothin'," he snaps back. "I was on my way out."

Daniel makes a show of walking towards the staircase and Kreese can't help himself.

"Your mother let you walk around like that?"

Daniel sticks his tongue out and lifts one side of his shorts, revealing the black strap of a jockstrap framed around one round butt cheek. He's gone before John can say anything else.

"Jesus," Terry says with feeling.

Kreese has half a mind to run down the stairs after Daniel and beat the shit out of him.

He clutches the keys in his hand until it hurts.

"Let's go," he commands instead.

----

Daniel doesn't speak to him for one long miserable week.

None of the dojo locations had worked out either.

----

Daniel forgives John even if he never did apologize. He tells himself he gets it.

John is kind of like a caveman that way. Jealous and possessive.

It's only because he cares, Daniel reasons.

But he has to explain to John that California summers are ungodly hot. And he only has the one pair of shorts.

His friend was nice, though.

----

John gets a dizzying sense of deja vú as he and Terry shoot the shit in front of his apartment, ready for another day of dojo hunting.

There's a building for lease that looks especially promising, Terry says.

Daniel steps out of his apartment and waves at them as he passes.

At least he's wearing actual clothes this time; a black tshirt cut into a tank top and a pair of denim shorts cut from an old pair of jeans.

The kid could be a little less generous with the scissors, if he'd bother to ask John's opinion.

It's only a minute later when Daniel is bounding up the stairs again, stopping abruptly in front of the two older men.

"Hey, hi, do you guys have a dollar?" he asks excited and breathless with all the youthfulness of his age.

Terry makes a show of patting his pockets.

"Sorry, I'm all out," he says before leaning down towards Daniel conspiratorially. "You want a cigarette?"

Daniel laughs in surprise, absolutely delighted.

"No, no," Daniel honest to God giggles. "My friends and I wanna go see a movie, but I only have enough for the bus. I was hoping I could borrow a dollar? I promise I'll pay it back!"

Kreese is pulling out his wallet and shoving a five into Daniel's hand before Terry can say anything.

"Keep it," he smiles.

Maybe the kid can really treat himself and get some popcorn or something.

Daniel smiles back a little moony-eyed. Clearly wanting to say something he can't in front of John's friend. He moves back towards the stairs a little dazed.

"Hey, thanks. Really. I appreciate it." He bounds back down to the small group of neighborhood kids waiting for him. "See you around!"

Kreese watches them until Daniel disappears around the corner with the other kids.

He doesn't want to look at Terry, who undoubtedly will be looking back at him with every judgement in the world.

Instead, Kreese is surprised to see that Terry is turned away from him, still looking after where Daniel had gone too.

"Hm," Terry muses to himself before swiveling back towards Kreese. "Cute kid."

Kreese says nothing.

"Have you asked him about joining Cobra Kai?" Terry asks.

Kreese blinks.

"I- I hadn't thought about it."

He really hadn't. Daniel? In their world of warriors and battlegrounds? It never crossed his mind.

John catches himself, scoffs. "That skinny punk? He isn't exactly Cobra Kai material."

Terry's staring at him with a hard expression.

Crystal-eyes cold and calculating.

Hateful.

But just like that, the strange spell is broken, and Terry himself breaks out into one of his signature grins.

Even if it doesn't quite reach his burning eyes.

"Well, you have to start somewhere, right? C'mon," he claps John on the shoulder. "Let's get going. We can get some drinks after. My treat."

John stands a little frozen as Terry swaggers down the stairs.

There's ice and dread creeping up his veins. Something John hasn't felt since Vietnam.

Because Terry's never looked at him like that before.

----

#it got a little angsty y'all #i couldn't help myself #i love drama #hope you like <3 #thank you anon #asks #my fic #lakreese #hint of #silverusso #krilverusso #we all float down here

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