#and every time i go for a walk it's impossible to NOT have 'YOU CAN DO MAAAAGIIIIIC YOU CAN HAVE AAAANYTHING THAT YOU DESIRE' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Post activity is at the highest at 4:00 pm EDT; notes peak at 10:00 pm EDT.

#and every time i go for a walk it's impossible to NOT have 'YOU CAN DO MAAAAGIIIIIC YOU CAN HAVE AAAANYTHING THAT YOU DESIRE'

thedeviltohisangel · 2 days

Note

Ghosting their lips against yours before pulling back with a smug smirk, making you chase them desperately

This for Cass and Bucky but paired with the spiciest/kinkiest thing they've ever done together?? Just out of curiosity haha

DROP TO MY KNEES BLURB PROMPT ERA

Ok so like I would never be able to tell you the spiciest/kinkiest thing they have done because every day my mind is telling me new heights of depravity they can reach. Literally whatever you can think of, they've probably tried at least once. And I should dedicate time to writing some of their Kama Sutra adventures. But as we all discover kinks, drop them in my inbox and I will write them.

For this blurb in particular, I went with sub!John being tied up by Cass. Was screaming about Cass punishing John for treating his daughters differently than his sons today with @karasnonsense99 so this is partially born from that as well.

warnings: smut

He was left wondering so many things as his wife disappeared into their walk-in closet. Chief of mind was where had she learned to tie knots like and why had she been holding out on sharing this secret skill of hers for so long?

"You can tug on them all you want. They aren't budging," she remarked as she poked her head back around the corner. "Those knots are meant to withstand their subject being tortured."

"This is fucking torture," he muttered. Both his wrists and both his ankles were currently bound to their bedframe by silk scarves. The same scarves that he complimented endlessly whenever she wore them. The same scarves he had used to blindfold her just last week. The same scarves that Penny used to play dress up and pretend she was her mother. What a fucking betrayal that they were now being used against him.

"We haven't even started in earnest yet, Johnny. Don't make this too easy for me." He was already hard and curved against his stomach, his cock leaking with every tug of the scarves. Leaking with every swish of his wife's hips. Leaking with every needy thought that flitted across his mind.

"I'm being punished for craving the attention of my wife?" Cass walked until she was standing right beside him, her nails scratching at his chest and stomach.

"You're being punished for the way you spoke to Penny." The little girl had some home from kindergarten and John had overheard her talking with her twin about a cute new boy in their class. Just last week Gale had asked for John's help drawing a girl a little picture. He had practically kicked his heels together to help the little boy who he said was following in his footsteps. But Penelope? His little girl? He had shut down her first crush faster than Cass had ever seen him do anything.

"Baby-"

"No. I am done with hearing your voice for the evening. The only time you speak is to beg. Am I clear?" God, she was really asking him to do the impossible. Asking him to be quiet while they made love. But he didn't think he had a choice. Not in his current predicament. He nodded his agreement. "Good."

Cass threw her leg over his torso, her nightgown hiding that she wasn't wearing anything underneath, but the soft, wet skin of her pussy landed satisfyingly against his stomach. Her hips twitched back slightly until the head of him came tantalizingly close to her back entrance. She thinks he was going to draw blood with how hard he was biting his lip.

She threw him a bone and lifted the hem of her nightgown so he could watch as she angled herself just right so his length rested perfectly in the center of her pussy. The throbbing vein feeling like heaven as she moved herself back and forth.

"Spook, please." John lost his semblance of control at the sight of how slick his cock was. He knew the way it would feel wrapped around him. Knew how sweet it tasted. She stilled her hips and dropped her gown. Gone was his view of the most gorgeous, glistening cunt in the world.

"What did I say?" Her hand wrapped around his throat and squeezed gently, John's cock twitching in response. "Don't make it so I have to gag you too, baby." She ghosted her lips over his so lightly he thought he imagined the contact, Cass pulling back with a smirk as she started to swivel her hips gently against his skin. John whined and tried to sit up, chase the feeling of her kiss that he wanted so desperately, his restraints pulling taut and snapping him back down to the bed. Defeated, all he could do was watch as she grinded herself against his stomach, nails digging into his chest for leverage, as she got closer and closer to her own release.

She collapsed to his chest with a breathless laugh once she found it, John pressing his lips to every inch of her face and head he could reach from his vantage point. Cass sat up and giggled, holding his face in her hands. "I love you," she said simply.

"I love you, too. And I'm sorry for how I handled the situation earlier." Cass nodded and hummed, looking back to see that his balls looked heavy and his cock was red and angry. He was about to burst.

"It's a good start," she offered, gracefully landing back on the floor next to him. "I'll think about touching you while I'm in the bath."

"No! Cass, fuck, let me...let me..." There was no way he could lie here knowing she was wet and sudsy only mere feet away from him.

"The door will be open a crack. So we can keep an eye on each other...keep an ear out too, Colonel. Never know what sounds I might come up with to aid in my torture."

#john egan #masters of the air #john egan fanfiction #masters of the air fanfiction #john egan x oc #answered #cass and bucky

19 notes · View notes

drdemonprince · 8 months

Text

If you’ve never been all that disobedient before, you can and should start really, really small. For example, you can wear the slightly revealing or gloriously trashy-looking garment that makes your mom roll her eyes and sigh despondently every time she sees you put it on. You will feel judged and disapproved of when you put it on, but that is fine. Your goal is to sit with the uncomfortable feelings and continue with your desired behavior anyway. Saunter down the steps in that highlighter-yellow Garfield crop top with your chest hair flowing over the neckline, and harness as much courage as you can muster. It’s okay if you feel like a beacon of sin. Just keep it moving. Your emotions are not the target here. Your behavior is. You can feel however you are feeling in the moment so long as you keep acting like you’re free. Do you have a favorite TV show that a partner or roommate vocally hates? Try watching that show around them without apologizing or defensively joining them in mocking the program. At first, you probably won’t be able to enjoy the show while in their presence. You’ll feel self-conscious about everything they find annoying or cringe-inducing about the show, and so focused on their reactions that you can’t relax. That’s okay. Allow those feelings of embarrassment and guilt to exist and pass through you without giving up. In time, you will be able to ignore these reactions more, and enjoy the activity. You want to see the needle of discomfort moving down just a little, like Link’s body temperature meter in Tears of the Kingdom when he puts on a breathable outfit in a hot climate. You’re not gonna go from roiling hot to frosty cold in an instant. But after a certain point, you won’t be actively in pain anymore. Things are just gonna slowly suck less, bit by bit, until they are finally okay. That’s true of most major life adjustments, I find. Probably the best way to develop self-advocacy skills while growing in your distress tolerance is simply by telling other people no. Do this without explanation or hedging. Nitpicky aunt wants to hear all about your dating life? “No, I don’t want to talk about that.” Unreliable ex-friend wants you to do them the tiny favor of moving their entire home gymnasium into a new third story walk-up? “No, I’m not available.” Manipulative shift supervisor wants to cajole you into sticking around for another three hours to close? “No.” As many advice columnists smarter than me have already intoned, “no” is a complete sentence. “No” requires no explanation. “No” is not subject to debate. “No” can be repeated over and over like a broken record if a disrespectful person acts like they can’t hear it. And you can walk away at any time to make your “no” physical and impossible to argue with, when someone has proven they don’t respect your boundaries.

you can read or listen to the full piece for free here

22K notes · View notes

burntoutdaydreamer · 7 months

Text

Things That May Be Causing Your Writer's Block- and How to Beat Them

I don't like the term 'Writer's Block' - not because it isn't real, but because the term is so vague that it's useless. Hundreds of issues all get lumped together under this one umbrella, making writer's block seem like this all-powerful boogeyman that's impossible to beat. Worse yet, it leaves people giving and receiving advice that is completely ineffective because people often don't realize they're talking about entirely different issues.

In my experience, the key to beating writer's block is figuring out what the block even is, so I put together a list of Actual Reasons why you may be struggling to write:

(note that any case of writer's block is usually a mix of two or more)

Perfectionism (most common)

What it looks like:

You write one sentence and spend the next hour googling "synonyms for ___"

Write. Erase. Write. Rewrite. Erase.

Should I even start writing this scene when I haven't figured out this one specific detail yet?

I hate everything I write

Cringing while writing

My first draft must be perfect, or else I'm a terrible writer

Things that can help:

Give yourself permission to suck

Keep in mind that nothing you write is going to be perfect, especially your first draft

Think of writing your first/early drafts not as writing, but sketching out a loose foundation to build upon later

People write multiple drafts for a reason: write now, edit later

Stop googling synonyms and save that for editing

Write with a pen to reduce temptation to erase

Embrace leaving blank spaces in your writing when you can't think of the right word, name, or detail

It's okay if your writing sucks. We all suck at some point. Embrace the growth mindset, and focus on getting words on a page

Lack of inspiration (easiest to fix)

What it looks like:

Head empty, no ideas

What do I even write about???

I don't have a plot, I just have an image

Want to write but no story to write

Things that can help:

Google writing prompts

If writing prompts aren't your thing, instead try thinking about what kind of tropes/genres/story elements you would like to try out

Instead of thinking about the story you would like to write, think about the story you would like to read, and write that

It's okay if you don't have a fully fleshed out story idea. Even if it's just an image or a line of dialogue, it's okay to write that. A story may or may not come out of it, but at least you got the creative juices flowing

Stop writing. Step away from your desk and let yourself naturally get inspired. Go for a walk, read a book, travel, play video games, research history, etc. Don't force ideas, but do open up your mind to them

If you're like me, world-building may come more naturally than plotting. Design the world first and let the story come later

Boredom/Understimulation (lost the flow)

What it looks like:

I know I should be writing but uugggghhhh I just can'tttttt

Writing words feels like pulling teeth

I started writing, but then I got bored/distracted

I enjoy the idea of writing, but the actual process makes me want to throw my laptop out the window

Things that can help:

Introduce stimulation: snacks, beverages, gum, music such as lo-fi, blankets, decorate your writing space, get a clickity-clackity keyboard, etc.

Add variety: write in a new location, try a new idea/different story for a day or so, switch up how you write (pen and paper vs. computer) or try voice recording or speech-to-text

Gamify writing: create an arbitrary challenge, such as trying to see how many words you can write in a set time and try to beat your high score

Find a writing buddy or join a writer's group

Give yourself a reward for every writing milestone, even if it's just writing a paragraph

Ask yourself whether this project you're working on is something you really want to be doing, and be honest with your answer

Intimidation/Procrastination (often related to perfectionism, but not always)

What it looks like:

I was feeling really motivated to write, but then I opened my laptop

I don't even know where to start

I love writing, but I can never seem to get started

I'll write tomorrow. I mean next week. Next month? Next month, I swear (doesn't write next month)

Can't find the time or energy

Unreasonable expectations (I should be able to write 10,000 words a day, right????)

Feeling discouraged and wondering why I'm even trying

Things that can help:

Follow the 2 min rule (or the 1 paragraph rule, which works better for me): whenever you sit down to write, tell yourself that you are only going to write for 2 minutes. If you feel like continuing once the 2 mins are up, go for it! Otherwise, stop. Force yourself to start but DO NOT force yourself to continue unless you feel like it. The more often you do this, the easier it will be to get started

Make getting started as easy as possible (i.e. minimize barriers: if getting up to get a notebook is stopping you from getting started, then write in the notes app of your phone)

Commit to a routine that will work for you. Baby steps are important here. Go with something that feels reasonable: every day, every other day, once a week, twice a week, and use cues to help you remember to start. If you chose a set time to write, just make sure that it's a time that feels natural to you- i.e. don't force yourself to writing at 9am every morning if you're not a morning person

Find a friend or a writing buddy you can trust and talk it out or share a piece of work you're proud of. Sometimes we just get a bit bogged down by criticism- either internal or external- and need a few words of encouragement

The Problem's Not You, It's Your Story (or Outline (or Process))

What it looks like:

I have no problems writing other scenes, it's just this scene

I started writing, but now I have no idea where I'm going

I don't think I'm doing this right

What's an outline?

Drowning in documents

This. Doesn't. Make. Sense. How do I get from this plot point to this one?!?!?! (this ColeyDoesThings quote lives in my head rent free cause BOY have I been there)

Things That Can Help:

Go back to the drawing board. Really try to get at the root of why a scene or story isn't working

A part of growing as a writer is learning when to kill your darlings. Sometimes you're trying to force an idea or scene that just doesn't work and you need to let it go

If you don't have an outline, write one

If you have an outline and it isn't working, rewrite it, or look up different ways to structure it

You may be trying to write as a pantser when you're really a plotter or vice versa. Experiment with different writing processes and see what feels most natural

Study story structures, starting with the three act structure. Even if you don't use them, you should know them

Check out Ellen Brock on YouTube. She's a professional novel editor who has a lot of advice on writing strategies for different types of writers

Also check out Savage Books on YouTube (another professional story editor) for advice on story structure and dialogue. Seriously, I cannot recommend this guy enough

Executive Dysfunction, Usually From ADHD/Autism

What it looks like:

Everything in boredom/understimulation

Everything in intimidation/procrastination

You have been diagnosed with and/or have symptoms of ADHD/Autism

Things that can help:

If you haven't already, seek a diagnosis or professional treatment

Hire an ADHD coach or other specialist that can help you work with your brain (I use Shimmer; feel free to DM me for a referral)

Seek out neurodiverse communities for advice and support

Try body doubling! There's lot's of free online body doubling websites out there for you to try. If social anxiety is a barrier, start out with writing streams such as katecavanaughwrites on Twitch

Be aware of any sensory barriers that may be getting in the way of you writing (such as an uncomfortable desk chair, harsh lighting, bad sounds)

And Lastly, Burnout, Depression, or Other Mental Illness

What it looks like:

You have symptoms of burnout or depression

Struggling with all things, not just writing

It's more than a lack of inspiration- the spark is just dead

Things that can help:

Forget writing for now. Focus on healing first.

Seek professional help

If you feel like it, use writing as a way to explore your feelings. It can take the form of journaling, poetry, an abstract reflection of your thoughts, narrative essays, or exploring what you're feeling through your fictional characters. The last two helped me rediscover my love of writing after I thought years of depression had killed it for good. Just don't force yourself to do so, and stop if it takes you to a darker place instead of feeling cathartic

#writing #creative writing #writer problems #writing advice #writing community #writing a book #writing problems #novel writing #on writing #writing tips #writing help #writers on tumblr #writers block #female writers #writers of tumblr #writers blog #adhd writer

18K notes · View notes

mariamlovesyou · 6 months

Text

tuned into Plestia's live with Rahma Zein's second account (she got shadowbanned). key moments:

plestia talked about her adjustment to living in australia. "it's 1:30am now and it's normal for me and many palestinians who live abroad to be awake hours into the morning. i am scared of sleeping. because of the time difference, i'm scared if i sleep i will wake up to bad news. in gaza i was scared of the sound of the bombs, here i am scared of the quiet."

contacting family and friends in gaza is near impossible. "sometimes i feel like a crazy person, calling 20 times in a row hoping that on the 21st time the call might go through."

on the destruction of entire communities and neighbourhoods: "i'm scared when i go back to gaza i won't recognise it anymore. someone sent me a picture of my neighbourhood, and i couldn't tell it was mine at first. all my favourite places, cafes where the aunties used to give me extra food and ask about my day, have been destroyed. i dread looking at my gallery or seeing snapchat memories because most of these people in the pictures are no longer alive."

rahma asked plestia to talk about one story that stuck with her. plestia said "i remember walking one time on the 'safe corridor', that's what they called it anyway, and i saw an older woman clutching onto a donkey cart where her son's body was, refusing to let go of it. i asked my colleague what the smell was, he said it's dead bodies under the rubble. it was the first time i familiarised myself with the smell. the son's body was decaying and the woman told me about cats and animals eating away at it. i've had children talk to me about birds eating away at their parents' decomposing bodies and not being able to chase them away."

"it seems so silly to go to hospitals for minor sicknesses now. i can't even think about how many palestinian children are going to be terrified of hospitals now. there was a girl who was taken to the hospital to get treatment for injuries by one of the bombs, and while she was in the bathroom another bomb landed nearby. the impact from that sent the ceiling crashing down on her.. she got another injury while getting treated for her first one."

"i hate how people talk about our resilience - as if it's okay that this is happening to us. we are only surviving because we have to, because we have no other choice."

rahma brought up the way family homes are set up in palestine and asked plestia to elaborate. "basically, there are floors. someone will live on the ground floor, and then their married son lives with his children on the floor above them, and then their successors above them and so on. so when family homes are targeted, they wipe out entire families. many families officially no longer exist."

"i used to wear my journalist helmet and vest all the time, felt naked without it, even slept with the vest on sometimes until i realised it only made me more of a target. they didn't give me any protection, only headaches and back pain."

"i am an optimistic person, i loved covering sweet sentimental things, like at my graduation asking parents of top graduates how they feel about their children graduating. that's what i love reporting on. i wanted to cover things like that when i came back to gaza, show the beautiful side of gaza that the media didn't really show, but i didn't have the chance." "do you think they'll give you right of return?" "i can only hope."

plestia mentioned how hard it was being a journalist with limited access to the internet, charging facilities, no mics, lack of equipment and how difficult it was uploading things. rahma asked her what's one story that wasn't really recorded or posted due to these constraints; plestia said "the evacuations. sometimes they informed us about them, sometimes they didn't. you have no idea how hard it was, everyone looking for their family members, making sure every one was there, taking to the streets in 5 minutes and not knowing which way to go. i remember i went to my friend's house for shelter for 30 minutes before the first evacuation was announced and we ran to another family's house, stayed there for 2 days before another evacuation was announced. me, my friend, and that family all evacuated together to another family's house. there were already so many people there seeking shelter, it wasn't just one family staying there. none of us knew how long we had in any place."

before october 7th, palestinians were used to limitations on electricity. plestia used to plan her day's tasks around when the electricity was working. "for example when the electricity was on from 12 to 4, i would say i will do my laundry and charge the phones during this time. life wasn't exactly 'normal', but all of us pray to have those days back in comparison to what we are experiencing now." plestia also said that cars are running on cooking oil now because there is no fuel.

on hygiene: "many pregnant women have to give birth without any pain medication or medical attention. once we ran out of medicine, that was it. women who had to get C-sections couldn't stay to recover or get followup treatments because someone else needed the bed. we have no water, no tissues, no pads, barely any bathrooms. in the shelter schools you have to wait an hour before even getting to use the bathroom because of how many people are there."

"something you don't hear about is how many people die because of sadness. there's so many ways to die in gaza, because of the bombardment, because of starvation, the lack of resources, but i also know many elderly people who died because their hearts couldn't take it anymore. i have been in gaza before and lived through 4 aggressions, but nothing compared to this one."

a recurring sentiment that was echoed in the video: "sometimes i thought to myself: who am i recording this for? because we've already shown everything, we've already talked about everything. everything has already been said, the proof is everywhere, nothing i talked about today is new." rahma said the first video posted about what's happening in palestine should've been enough.

she is 22 today. plestia's closing words: don't stop talking about us, don't stop boycotting, don't stop protesting, please don't get bored of fighting for palestine.

#this is all off the top of my head if i remember other key points i will add them

8K notes · View notes

wonryllis · 1 month

Text

the hot dad next door (m) | park sunghoon.

﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ぃ ────𝗶𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝘁 𝗱𝗮𝗱 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁 𝗱𝗼𝗼𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂?

preview. the ever quintessential first time dad moves in next door with his five year old and finds it impossible not to fall for you, the pretty girl who gives his daughter cookies and him; the doll eyes. obsessed with your entire being, unable to keep his hands off you, park sunghoon questions if he's just crazy or he's crazy over you.

or where, he notices the way you look at his hands a little too long for it to be innocent.

meet the cast. single dad!park sunghoon with his pretty neighbour fem!reader.

genre. DILFF AUU !!, SMUT MDNI, fluff, neighbours to lovers, sunghoon is quite literally yes insanely crazed over you and for the sake of god can't keep his dick soft, domestic a little bit i guess, i want to make her my wife trope EEEKKK, slight age gap (hoon in late twenties and reader in early twenties) more to be added.

word count. est around 10k or more

warnings. inaccuracies about parenting cause i aint a parent, i got no idea. more will be mentioned in the actual post.

releasing. very soon!! .. progress update tag

park sunghoon was hot, he was a walking greek god. was single and wore these fitted suits that had you weak in the knees. if that wasn't hot enough, park sunghoon also had the cutest baby girl you had ever come across and it just made him hotter than he could ever have been.

"hey, um .. is ji—" sunghoon stands at the threshold of your open apartment door, one hand holding his creased blazer and the other rubbing at the back of his neck. embarrassed and shy at having to show up at yours looking like a mess after work because his daughter ran off while he was busy on a call and taking out her school bag from the backseat. and because everytime his daughter ran off, it was to the pretty girl next door who gives away sweet cookies all the time.

"is jia here? yeah she's in the kitchen," you answer, smiling soft and knowingly at the worried guy who barely looked like a dad. he worked in a corporate editorial, out before eight in the morning just as you prepared ingredients for your bakery. taking his daughter along to school, her excited voice resonating through the halls talking about how they were going to play with clay in class. around seven in the evening you'd hear her again, this time alone as she would skip over to your door because dada was too slow.

on weekends it'd be impossible to ignore the ruckus they made playing around, sometimes inviting you over for lunch because sunghoon apparently made too much and jia wanted to share her dada's delicious food. on some occasional weekends when he'd be called in to work for a few hours, jia would promise him to stay home and behave only to call you through the landline the moment he'd step out the door. and you would text sunghoon to come over to yours after work, his daughter munching on the new flavored cupcakes you made, unbothered about her dad and his scoldings.

"come on in, i made some almond lime tart, you could give me some feedbacks along with jia. you know she always says it's good and i can never know if it's actually good," sunghoon can't help but chuckle at that, slipping off his shoes by the front and walking inside. his eyes following your figure with a fond look as you tend to his daughter delicately, and might he admit— even more so than him.

you're sweet, you know how to handle kids; cue that one time jia was crying her eyes out after school and he had no idea what to do to comfort her, knocking at your door frantically and having his mind blown at how quickly you figured things out and calmed her down.

you're sweet, you know how to handle kids, you treat them both so well, always ready to help him out with jia, giving them sweet treats every other day and most of all— you're fucking pretty. way too pretty for him to handle.

FIRST TAGLIST (open.) @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @shawnyle @enhastolemyheart @belowbun @aaa-sia @niniissus @tobiosbbyghorl @imjakes-wifeofc1 @youresolivlie @eun-cherry @kimsunoops @aiden2001 @brownsugarbaybee @pockettwinzz @bangtancultsposts @diorikis @heelvsted @crimnalseung @iselltulips @yzzyhee @woniebae @river-demon-slayer @lovingvoidgoatee @antonsgirlfriend @kpopslover @bugcattie @slut4hee @yunjinswifee @woniefull @nanaheex @soobs-things @dammit-jjk @starlvcieszsq @mnxnii @skylaly @mintdsunoo @uyuchoco @anittamaxwynnn @rikiwaify-blog @kill4jl @ggparkjh @sstephenzz @judeduartewannabe @jungwoneez @aye2611-blog @hybeboyenthusisast @minjaexvz

#enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #enhypen sunghoon smut #enhypen sunghoon imagines #sunghoon smut

4K notes · View notes

its44intheehouse · 5 months

Text

IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH THE F1 DRIVERS

Wondering what it would be like to date the f1 drivers? 😏

___________________________________________

warnings: not much, fluff?, implied smut, (smut?), dirty thoughts, mentions of breeding kink, cursing.

Max Verstappen

-he's your biggest fan. in every way possible. he loves to support you, to admire you, to see you happy.

-you're his biggest love. he didn't think he could fall for someone that hard. he's completely whipped and everyone knows it.

-gets jealous a lot, but doesn't always show it, although you know better. he doesn't like it when other men look at what's his.

-that's why he has decided that from now on every man will know who you belong to. either by covering your soft neck in bruises or making you walk out of the bathroom with your cunt stuffed of his cum. he absolutely enjoys seeing you squirm all night and try not to make it obvious to everyone in the room that his seed is dripping down your bare legs.

-he loves how submissive you are for him. of course you love being a spoiled brat sometimes just for the fun of it, because then he gets feral. and you always know it’s gonna end in a lot of orgasms.

“I thought you wanted to be a brat? What happened, schat? Fucked your tiny brain out?” his thrusts hit a spot inside your pussy that makes you see stars. He slaps your cheek to get your attention, knowing you’re going dumb already.

All you can do is cry out and shake your head. You can’t talk. You can’t even think. You’re too busy trying to jerk away from his harsh thrusts.

You know he doesn’t like it when you don’t answer him.

“Talk.” he snaps, squeezing your cheeks tightly then slapping you again.

“YES daddy. Sorry for b-being a brat. Please, please! Make me cum!”

Lewis Hamilton

-spoils you all the time; expensive jewelry, cars, clothes, lingerie, vacations… whatever you need or want. also, his card is always on your phone. he insists you use it anytime you want.

“Get yourself something nice, baby… I want to see you dripping with my wealth. You are my beautiful little wife.”

-will always have a hand on you. in the car while he's driving, on your b*tt when you're walking, on your thigh when you're having dinner with your parents and his fingers successfully rub a spot on your clit through your panties that makes you twitch and moan every time. thankfully, your parents were oblivious.

-kisses the ground you walk on. he's a grown man and isn't afraid to show you how a real man loves his woman.

-especially when he's between your legs, showing you how you deserve to be treated.

“Come on, princess… gimme one more. You’d do anything for daddy, isn’t that right princess?” he softly rubs your cheek with his finger, thrusting a little bit more inside your tight and overstimulated cunt.

“D-daddy… too much. I don’t think I can…” you whimper stupidly, still slightly shaking with the intensity of the last orgasm you just had about 2 minutes ago.

He smirks. “Of course you can, baby. Don’t you want daddy’s babies? Hm?”

He loves how pathetic you get after a few good orgasms. He knows he’s the best you ever had. He can make you cum anywhere, anytime. You let him do whatever he wants to you.

Carlos Sainz

-can be possessive at times, but loves to show you off. you are his most prized possession.

when he met you, he knew he wanted to date to get married, not like the relationships he had before.

-takes you everywhere with him; vacations, races. he can't stand being away from you.

-he secretly fantasizes about you carrying his children. until one night after a baby shower when he confesses to you.

“Mi amor… You don’t know how beautiful you looked today with my niece in your arms. I can’t wait to get you pregnant. Make you my precious wife.”

His touch on your thigh gives you goosebumps, and you suddenly feel impossibly aroused by his confession. He didn’t even need to ask. You’d give him as many kids as he wants.

He recognizes the look in your eyes. The craving, the lust. He knows you like the back of his hand. “You’d like that, no? To walk around all round and heavy with my child. To make these tiny tits swell and burst with the sweetest milk…” he grabs at your breasts and squeezes, making you moan in response.

“Yes, papi. I want to have your babies… please touch me…”

Lando Norris

-you're his best friend. his rock, the girl of his dreams.

-datind lando is the most intense experience of your life. he is a fierce lover. but loves to be soft for you sometimes

-he loses his mind when you're being bossy with him, showing off your bold attitude.

-especially when you're making him beg for you.

“What did you say?” You smirk, hovering on top of him, teasing him sometimes with a swift rub of your wet pussy on his erect and red cock.

Poor baby, you edged him for too long and he couldn’t take it anymore. His cock twitches every few seconds and you know he isn’t going to last too long.

“Please, baby… fuck, please.” His voice is hoarse when he talks, probably from all the moans you pulled out of him already. “Let me fuck you, I need it. I have so much cum for you baby… Please.”

You moan at his words and decide to stop the torture. You needed him too. Nothing compares to the way he stretches your sweet little pussy. Quickly, you align yourself with his cock and sink in, making the both of you moan loudly.

Charles Leclerc

-you're eye candy for this man. ever since he saw you he couldn't take his eyes off you.

-he loves to have you at the races. he's constantly trying to show off and be the best, because he loves the look on your face when he wins or he's doing good.

-he's going to be the most romantic man you've ever had. he's always touching you, always tells you what an angel you are, how beautiful you look, what a good girl you always are for him…

-ESPECIALLY if you’re bent over his lap while he’s driving and you’re sloppily sucking on his cock.

“Mm, fuck. That’s is, mon ange, suck my cock. You’re such a naughty girl.” he mocks you almost, and it makes you even more eager to show him who’s in charge. for once.

Gagging a little, you take more of his length in your mouth, forcing your throat open. Suddenly, you feel his hand slap your ass hard and you can’t control the loud moan that threatened to escape you. Your throat squeezes his head perfectly then, and he lifts his hips up a little, hissing at the sensation.

“Gonna make me cum, baby, fuck.”

Your efforts double when you hear that, and you wrap your small hand around his cock, starting to pump his hard, heavy shaft. Your swollen lips are still wrapped around his head, licking and sucking on it desperately, waiting for his hot, salty cum.

The car stops abruptly and you assume he just pulled over. His hand then snatches your hair in a messily done ponytail and forces your head down his cock, making you cry and gag uncontrollably.

“Take it. You greedy girl. Take my fucking cum. Fuck.”

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #formula 1 #f1 #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz imagine #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen smut

5K notes · View notes

eilidh-eternal · 6 months

Text

“Single mom x Johnny” this, “single mom x Simon” that.

I want single dad Johnny/Simon and the single reader next door who is helplessly in love with them and their kid.

18+ MDNI

You never wanted kids. You’re convinced you would turn out to be just like your parents. That’s probably why you don’t have a ring on your finger or any sort of boyfriend or partner to speak of.

You never wanted kids.

Until Johnny goddamn MacTavish.

You’re in love with the man who always walks his little girl to school every morning, crooked pigtails flouncing with each too-big step she takes to keep stride with his long legs.

Madly in love with the way he smiles down at the tiny girl, even tinier hand held firmly in his as she dodges cracks in the pavement, and the shriek of her laughter when he lifts her by the arm, swinging her through the air to the next chunk of concrete.

Hopelessly in love with the broad shoulders he hoists her up on, little legs swinging with arms wrapped tightly around his neck and her chin resting on top of his head, blowing stray hairs of an overgrown mohawk out of her face.

Dangerously in love with the way he lets her cling to his front when it rains, like a little koala wrapped around this tree of a man who holds an umbrella in one hand and has a firm hold on her with the other.

Happy. He looks so happy with her. Like she’s the sun he orbits; the star that lights up his world.

You’re just a comet who occasionally passes them by.

——

Johnny never thought he would be doing this alone.

He’s so far out of his depth. Never even had the chance to dip his toe in the water before he was shoved into the churning ocean.

He still remembers every life-altering detail of that day. The phone call after the 16 hour flight back to base. The frantic drive to the hospital. The impossibly tiny, wailing little girl, all alone in the social workers office.

She’s all he has left of her. Of them.

His best friend. His partner in crime, for more years than he can remember. The person who understood better than anyone who he is, saw him through his darkest moments, and loved him with her whole heart.

Gone.

But he smiles for her. Because of her. Isobel is the light in the abysmal darkness that he’s drowning in. The buoy he clings to when he can no longer hold his head above the surface. She’s everything. His past, his present, and his future. And she’s sitting at the table refusing to eat her dinner.

“’s not right.” Her little nose scrunches, turns up at the meal, and she pushes the bright green plastic away, matching miniature fork sent skittering across the table by the force of it

Johnny lowers his own fork and swallows his frustration with a sigh. “‘s yer favorite. Wha’s wrong with it? ”

Her brows knit together as she studies the tray, little creases forming between them and she slumps in her booster seat. “Mommy didn’t make it.”

No. She didn’t.

Johnny was never the cook in the family. That was all her. She’d chased him out of the kitchen after he’d burnt one of her expensive pans and he was thus forth relegated to chopping, and occasionally peeling, duties.

“I know.” His chair scrapes against the floor when he pushes back from the table, moving to crouch down where she sits beside him so that he’s at eye level with her, and he pulls the fork and tray back towards her. “But mommy wouldnae want ye to go to bed hungry, aye?”

“I wan’ somethin’ else.” He watches her little bottom lip jut out, brows still pinched and face twisting into a stubborn pout.

“Wha’d’ye want?”

“Quesadilla.” She drags out the ‘ee’ sound, emphasizing her clumsy command of the foreign language in her already thick Scot’s accent.

He enjoys Mexican food. Loved the tacos Alejandro and Rudy shared with him and his team during his time in Mexico. She’d learned how to make them for his birthday.

Nowhere in Glasgow made anything like it. Not then, and not now.

“I cannae make a quesadilla, leannan.” Her little lip wobbles, eyes turn glassy, tears already welling up in the corners and threatening to spill down chubby cheeks. She sniffles, drags the backs of her hands across her eyes, and Johnny feels what’s left of his heart splinter, another little piece of it withering away to nothing with each fat tear that rolls down and collects at her chin. He unbuckles her from the booster and gathers her into his arms as he stands up, taking her with him to sit in his own chair at the table.

Her little shoulders shake, hiccuping with each muffled sob against his shoulder and tiny fingers fist the material of his shirt. “Miss ‘er,” she warbles, and his arms tighten around her small frame.

“Ah know, leannan.” More hiccups. More tears that seep through his shirt and brand his skin.

You should be here. You’re supposed to be here. With her. With him. With them.

“How ‘bout we go down to the shops? Ye can pick whatever ye want for dinner. Dinnae think they’ll have quesadillas, but I’m sure we can find somethin’ ye like.” She lifts her head from his shoulder, tips it back to peer up at him with bleary eyes and sniffles. Wipes her hand across her eyes again.

“Cheesy noodles?” It’s thin and reedy, poor little throat still tight and full of grief that he knows feels impossible to speak around.

“Aye, we can get cheesy noodles.” He brushes an errant strand of hair away from her face, tucking the unruly curl behind an ear where it probably won’t stay. Just like her mum’s. So much like her mum. She considers him, his offer, and toys with his shirt.

“And sticky pudding?”

“Whatever ye want, leannan.” She really shouldn’t have something so sugary right before bed but he doesn’t have it in him to deny her. Is just glad the tears have stopped. That she’s willing to eat, even if he has to bribe her with junk food and sweets. He sends her to put her shoes on while he cleans up in the kitchen and grabs his own shoes and keys.

——

He’s there.

He’s standing in the pasta aisle with his little girl in the buggy, smiling at the way she makes grabby hands at the dismal selection of boxed macaroni, and he pulls one down from the shelf to hand to her. She inspects it, turning it this way and that way, pointing to something on the packaging and saying something that makes him laugh.

You’re frozen in place, jar of pasta sauce halfway to the basket in your other hand, and you can’t move because the sound of his laughter causes something in your brain to misfire. Causes the electrical signals between neurons and synapses to jumble together and sets your nerves alight. You think you might really be frozen, body unwilling to move an inch away from where you stand now, by your beautiful neighbor in the middle of a goddamned Tesco, until a little voice is addressing you.

“Hi miss neighbor!” Johnny’s head whips around and when his gaze lands on you it feels like your stomach’s turned to lead. “We’re havin’ cheesy noodles f’r dinner!” She holds up the box in her hand and kicks her feet excitedly.

You’re currently kicking yourself for making what you’re sure is an expression closely resembling that of a fish out of water. Mouth agape, brows raised and eyes slightly widened in surprise. When your mouth finally remembers how to move you smile at the little girl waving her box of noodles and powdered cheese in the air. “Hello, Isobel. That sounds like a lovely dinner.”

His brows knit together, one of them quirked at a curious angle. “And how d’ the two of ye know each other?”

Isobel’s foot connects with his thigh and his head jerks back around. “She’s our neighbor. She gave me the tablet,” she whispers a little too loud, cupping a small hand in front of her mouth. He turns back to you with the same jaunty brows and a quirk to his lips.

“So ye’re the one responsible for the wee heathens late night sugar-induced marathon.”

“M-marathon?”

“Aye, she was bouncin’ round the house all night, the little devil.” He ruffles her hair and she swats at his hand.

“I- I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…” You don’t really know what you’d been thinking when you’d given her the Tupperware full of sugary confections to take home after she’d spent the morning helping you root around in the flowerbeds in front of your home. She’d been watching out the window for hours until she was suddenly right next to you, asking what you were digging for.

“‘s alright. Ye’ll just have to make up f’r it.”

It’s your turn to pinch your brows and tilt your head in confusion. “Make up for it?”

His lips part in a full, genuine smile, like the ones he gives Isobel, and your leaden stomach suddenly feels like it’s lodged in your chest, full of butterflies and other fluttering things you don’t dare to name.

“Oh aye. Reckon ye owe us a dinner since ye’ve skipped right to dessert.”

Next>>>

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

5K notes · View notes

rose-pearls · 4 months

Text

The perils of love

Summary: being in love with Luke seemed to be a bad idea as you realise that he doesn't seem to be interested. But as you get ready to move on from love entirely your father decides to appear and two people fall for you.

Main Taglist : @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989 (open)

Part 2

Luke Castellan, everyone knew him at camp either for his sword skills or just his kind smiles for every camper that walked into the Hermes cabin. You had fallen for him the moment you met him, sweet brown eyes and a kind smile had you into a puddle.

You had been twelve, wandering around the Hermes cabin, waiting desperately for your parent to claim you but the days went by, and you still were there. The little girls crush however didn’t went by but grew stronger every day you saw the boy who slowly turned into a man that had all the girls going crazy over him.

He had been kind to you but there was always a look that you couldn’t decipher, until today that was.

“So, where is your number one fan Luke?”, you hear Chris say in a teasing tone and after a moment you hear Chris say your name, as if to make it clear it was you.

“I don’t know and frankly I don’t have the time to care right now,” Luke says after letting out a sigh, but you felt your chest tighten at the words. Chris snorts at the words and you don’t expect what he says next.

“You know that there is a betting pool as to when the both of you are going to date,” you don’t know how Luke reacts, as you are practically one with the wall, but you hear him snort.

“Please, she is a sweet girl, but I would never date her. I don’t know how to explain it but sometimes she can just be a little-”, he seems to be trying to find his words and as you wait for it you feel tears brimming in your eyes at his previous statement.

“Clingy? I mean she is practically everywhere you are.”, the words are like a bullet to your heart, particularly when you hear Luke agree.

“I know right, I mean I know that she is still part of the Hermes cabin as she hasn’t been claimed yet but still,” you try to blink the tears away, not willing to cry as you hear the words being said by the man you had always looked up to.

“Maybe she will never be claimed, I mean after three years,” Chris says, and you can hear the grimace in his voice, he says it with such carelessness as if you haven’t been thinking about the same thing every night for the past three years, wondering what was wrong with you.

“We’ll see what happens I guess, but maybe it would be good for her to be in another cabin,” Luke says, he looks like he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore, but Chris adds one last phrase to their conversation.

“Or better for you,” there is a quiet hum of agreement and that is the only thing you need before leaving the cabin quietly, the book that you had come for quickly forgotten.

You knew it was pitiful, the fact that they all seemed to know that you liked the Hermes boy and that they all pitied you for it. Because in the end the boy would never go for you, he had a hundred girls waiting for him and yet here you were hoping for the impossible.

Tears are brimming in your eyes, but you quickly brush them away, not wanting to cry after what had happened, you needed to be strong now. It was time for you to get over that stupid crush and get on with your life, maybe if you trained more your godly parent would finally recognize you and claim you.

“What are you doing here all alone?”, you suddenly hear someone say behind you and you turn around to find Annabeth looking at you with worried eyes.

“Thinking, the lake always seems to sooth me,” you say, the words coming a bit weaker than you intended them too. The girl simply nods at your words before sitting down next to you.

“What about you?”, you quietly ask her, and she lets out a sigh.

“Needed to get out a little bit, I can only strategise so much before going crazy,” she says with a small smile, and you can’t help but smile at her words.

“I’m sure your strategy will be incredible, as always,” you tell her and she simply nods, looking too far into her thoughts.

“Chiron is thinking of splitting up the Hermes cabin,” she suddenly says, and you turn to look at her in surprise.

“Really? How so?”, you can’t help but ask, wondering if this is maybe your chance to get a bit away from a certain Hermes boy.

“He thinks that the unclaimed children and children of minor gods should get the chance to chose in which team they want to be,” she looks conflicted, and you can understand why, this could mean less people for the blue team, her team.

“It seems like a kind gesture,” you can’t help but say and Annabeth nods in agreement.

“It is, although he could’ve said it sooner, now we all need to find a different strategy and we are going crazy with figuring out who will be on our team,” she seems overwhelmed, and you can’t help but put your hand on her shoulder trying to calm her down.

“Hey, calm down it will all be alright,” you tell her, and she takes a deep breath before slowly nodding in agreement.

“I know, I just don’t want to lose,” she says with a pout, and you can finally see the twelve-year-old she really is, that childlike excitement at the thought of capture the flag.

The both of you are deep in thought before her voice breaks the silence, her voice small as she talks.

“Which team are you choosing?”, it was probably a valid question to ask, you were unclaimed so you could technically choose which team to be on, but you just couldn’t get the previous conversation you had heard out of your head.

“The fact that you aren’t saying anything makes me think that you are going to go on the red team,” it seems like she is trying to tease you but there is some sort of hurt woven into her words.

“Don’t take it personally,” you can’t help but say, as much as you would’ve liked staying on the blue team you just couldn’t bear to be that close to Luke after what you had heard. You didn’t know what you would be doing tonight as you were sleeping in the same cabin as always, but he wouldn’t pay attention to you not unless you went to him.

“Did something happened with Luke?”, the carefully asked question makes you look at Annabeth with wide eyes, she had an understanding look in her eyes and you couldn’t help but curse the fact that she was Athena’s daughter.

“Nothing happened, I just realised that maybe I should get to know other people and that maybe it would get me out of my comfort zone,” there are a lot of things unsaid, Annabeth knows it too. Luckily, she doesn’t know of the conversation you had heard, or the fact that the words had cut you deeper than you could’ve ever thought they would.

“You should probably tell Chiron and the red team, I heard that they were planning a strategy evening to talk about what they were going to do tomorrow,” you try to find anger in Annabeth’s eyes but there is only understanding and a lingering sadness that seems to disappear as you get up.

“Good idea, I will be doing that right now. Good luck on the strategy and don’t drive yourself crazy Annabeth you will do great,” you tell her, and a sweet smile appears on her lips as she nods slowly making you smile at her.

“Don’t be a stranger!”, she yells as you are about to leave, and you turn around to smile at her.

“I won’t!”, she looks reassured at the words before turning back to the water, leaving you to go towards Chiron office.

“A little birdie told me you were on the red team,” you hear someone say and turn around to find Clarisse smirking at you.

“Would that little birdie be Chiron?”, you ask, feeling breathless after trying to stab the dummy about a hundredth time with your sword.

“I don’t reveal my sources princess,” she says with a smirk while you feel your cheeks heat up, you tell yourself it’s because of the work out you just did.

“We have a meeting tonight, after dinner at the Ares cabin,” she says while looking around the rink before picking up a sword.

“I’ll be there,” you tell her, expecting the girl to leave you alone but she just comes closer to you.

“After that there is a movie night and a sleepover, one of the Aphrodite kids managed to convince Chiron to allow it,” the words leave you confused for a moment, how would you even have a movie night with all these people.

“Only a few people are invited for that part,” she clarifies, and you feel breathless at the sight of her warm brown eyes, seemingly forgetting about other brown eyes.

“How come I am invited?”, you can’t help but ask, wondering why the Ares girl suddenly seemed sweet to you when she was practically attacking anyone else.

“Don’t ask too many questions or you’ll be uninvited princess,” the nickname rolls of her tongue in a way that makes your cheeks go red, once again.

“Fine I’ll stop asking questions and just come with my pajama’s,” you tell her, and a satisfied grin makes his way on her lips.

“Good, now back to serious stuff you were holding your sword the wrong way,” she says like it’s a fact, as if she was pointing out that the sky was blue.

“No, I wasn’t!”, you can’t help but say looking at her with wide eyes.

“Yes, it is, let me help you fix it. I need the best people on my team after all,” you get ready to object but as you feel her get behind you putting her hand over yours on the sword to put your hand correctly you find yourself speechless.

The next hour is spent fighting against each other, but you can’t stop laughing as Clarisse tells you stories of her siblings to try and distract you, which ultimately works as you often end up on your ass. You don’t even seem to notice another pair of brown eyes looking at you, farther away, brows furrowed as he looks at the scene in front of him.

“Welcome to the exclusive sleepover,” you hear a soft voice say and you turn around to find Silena smiling kindly at you, two glasses in her hands before giving one to you.

“Thank you, guess they really were exclusive as I had never heard of them before,” you say, feeling a bit nervous as you look around the room only to find Clarisse in a heated discussion with another Aphrodite girl.

“Clarisse only invites people that she trusts or likes, which isn’t many, but she does cares for them,” Silena smiles at the Ares girl in front of you and you can’t help but do the same, Clarisse always seemed to be angry but in that moment, she seemed far more softer.

“I’m glad she trusts me,” you say, somehow missing the look Silena gives you, a look of confusion as you seem to have missed her clue on Clarisse liking you.

Clarisse had always been discrete about it, but Silena had caught her looking at you far too often to not know about it. Her fingers always seemed to itch when you were sword fighting, as if she was itching to get your posture right and to be able to touch you even for just a few seconds. You only had eyes for the Castellan boy, or it seemed that way until yesterday when Chiron told them that you would be on their team. Silena didn’t ask much of her mother but in that moment, she couldn’t help but ask her mother for help to get the both of you together. Clarisse deserved her happy ending and you deserved someone who would love you for who you were.

She gets woken from her thoughts as she hears Clarisse talking to you, there is a nervousness in her gestures as she pushes her hair behind her ear, but you don’t seem to realize it as you recount a story. Silena quietly gets up from her spot, and sends and encouraging look towards Clarisse, who seems a bit more at ease now.

Capture the flag is a mess, more than the last time but you try not to let your mind wander too long. A boy that you think is from the Hephaestus cabin runs towards you and you sigh in annoyance before starting to fight against him, quickly ‘killing’ him and making him surrender.

You had been tasked with trying to find the blue flag, but it seemed as if Annabeth had found a really good spot this time, and she had put more people in defense. After a while you wondered if you had the wrong hunch until you saw something blue flickering in the reflection of your sword. As you turned to look behind you, you saw the blue flag but weirdly there was no one around it.

“This feels like a trap,” you can’t help but whisper under your breath as you try to hide behind the bushes but a blade against your neck makes you stop in your steps.

“Sorry, but I need to do this,” you hear someone say and you turn around to find a sheepish Percy looking at you.

“Hi Percy,” you say with a kind smile and the boy smiles back, looking reassured that you aren’t mad or swinging your sword at him.

“How are you doing?”, you can’t help but ask, you hadn’t seen him since he had been claimed by Poseidon, but the boy seemed healthy.

“Good, well as good as you can when you learn that your father is one of the big three’s and that your life will be a hellhole,” he says with a roll of his eyes, and you can’t help but snort.

“Still as sarcastic I see,” you can’t help but say while laughing and a sheepish grin forms itself on his lips.

“Can’t help it,” he says while shrugging his shoulders.

“It’s a shame you aren’t on our team,” he says quietly, and you smile softly, the two of you had talked a lot when he had arrived, and you felt close to him.

“Maybe next time,” you tell him and the boy smiles at the answer before asking you a question and the two of you talk for a moment before you hear a battle cry and see the red team suddenly making their way in the clearing, the blue team also appearing.

Percy and you look at each other with wide eyes before you take out your sword.

“If you don’t say anything about this, I won’t say anything,” Percy nods quickly and the both of you break away from the tree you were behind before joining your team as Percy joins his.

An Apollo girl comes running towards you, but you quickly manage to disarm her, others following behind her, but you are in such a haze that you don’t realize how close you are getting to the flag. That is until you are met with a familiar blade, Luke’s.

The boy is looking at you, slightly out of breath from the fighting just like you.

“You can always abandon now sweetheart,” he says and can’t help but blush slightly at the familiar nickname.

“No chance Castellan, give me your worst,” this seems to make the boy laugh before he quickly wields his swords, yours clashing against his in familiar movements. You had fought many times against Luke as he had taught you how to fight but you had a new trick up your sleeve that Clarisse had taught you. She had told you that his left leg was his weakness, a bruise that had never really fully recovered.

So, when the opportunity presents itself, you wield your sword against his left leg, making sure not to hurt him too much. But as you hit the spot Luke winces in pain and his sword leaves his hand. You don’t think at that point and simply continue straight to the flag, whispering a soft ‘sorry’ as you go to the Hermes boy.

You manage to take the flag before seeing Percy coming towards you with his sword, you expect the hit, but he seems transfixed, looking at something above you. There is a loud silence, on a battlefield that was filled with battle cries just a second ago.

Chiron’s voice suddenly comes up, suddenly saying your name.

“Daughter of Zeus, king of the gods,” the rest of his words are lost as you look up, only to see the symbol of Zeus above your head, your father’s symbol.

You didn’t know how to feel, you had been waiting for so long but now that it was happening you just felt lost. Why was he claiming you right now?

“Congratulations! Seems like we are cousins now,” you suddenly hear Percy say, he has a bright smile on his lips, but there is also sadness in his eyes. It takes you a few seconds to understand why, you were now a child of the big three, which meant your life was about to be a hellhole as Percy had said.

“Always though there was something familiar between the two of us,” you try to say in a teasing tone, but it falls flat, Percy nodding in understanding.

As you turn around to look at the rest of the camp you see Luke looking at you with wide brown eyes, as if he was seeing you for the first time. You turn your gaze towards Clarisse who is looking at you with a proud smile and something else that you can’t quite understand.

There was surely a lot of trouble coming but not the one you were expecting, it would be far more complicated than monsters or a father that decided to appear after fifteen years. Matters of the heart were after all the most complicated of all, particularly between a daughter of Zeus, a daughter of Ares and a son of Hermes.

#percy jackson x reader #percy series #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse pjo #clarrise la rue #clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue fluff #clarisse la rue x fem reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #luke castellan fluff

3K notes · View notes

exhaslo · 8 months

Text

Kinktober Day 18- Master!Miguel x Maid!Reader

"Did you hear? Another maid got fired for trying to flirt with the master." One of the head maids whispered. Another sighed,

"That's five this month. When are these young girls going to learn?"

"What about (Y/n)? She's been here for a while, has she made any comments about our master?"

"Thank goodness no. She is so focused on work that the poor girl might never get a boyfriend!"

You frowned as you listened to the head maids chatter. You moved away from the wall you were hiding behind. You had no choice but to focus on work because of your bills. It would be a lie if you said you were not interest in the master of his household. Your master, Miguel O'Hara, was a wealthy man who always disappeared for business work. No one questioned anything. You were all hired to keep his mansion clean and tidy.

Your job was to clean the main dining room. Due to other young maids, no one but the head maids were allowed to clean the master's bedroom. It was too dangerous. It was obvious as to why. The master was tall, toned and handsome. The only time you truly got to see him was when he returned home. Everyone in the mansion greeted him. You always tried to glance at him any other time, but you were afraid of getting caught and fired.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you thought about what the head maids said. You wanted a boyfriend, but it felt impossible. Every time you went on a date, something would happen to the person you were seeing. You started to wonder if it was you. As you walked down the hall, you heard a low grunt. Confused, you followed the strange noise and stopped in front of your master's room. You were told to stay as far away from here.

"Um, M-Master, are you okay?" You hesitantly asked, more worried about getting fired.

It went silent. Taking a step back, you looked around to make sure no one saw you. Perhaps now would be best to leave? Right as you were about to turn your heel, the door opened.

"(Y/n)?" Miguel groaned lowly, leaning against the doorframe. You gulped, staring at him since he looked like he was in pain,

"Are you okay, master?" You asked.

God, he looked so sexy. His shirt was undone, exposing his toned chest. Miguel was panting for air and sweat was rolling down his forehead. Realizing that your master was in pain, you immediately panicked.

"Master, shall I fetch you some medication? You don't look well,"

"It's just a headache," Miguel told you before sighing, "How are you with head massages?"

"Excuse me?" You were caught off guard by the question. Miguel faced you,

"Medicine won't work, but I'll be better with a head massage."

"Oh, um, I can try. If not, I'm sure one of the head maids ca-"

"I'm asking you. Not them."

You flinched towards his demand. Agreeing to his request, you followed your master into his bedroom. The one place that all those other maids had failed to enter. You hesitantly followed him, taking in every little detail. The room smelled so good. Hopefully, this won't get you fired. You watched as Miguel laid against the couch, patting the space above his head.

You were nervous. What if you did a horrible job? Sitting down, you scooted closer and gulped as your master placed his head on your lap. He was so close! You inhaled softly before starting to rub your fingers against his forehead. You're watched enough videos, so hopefully you could copy what you saw. Hearing his rumbling groan, you bit your lower lip. God, he was so hot.

Miguel groaned lowly as he relaxed to your touch. His headaches have been getting worse with his workload lately. That and the fact that you kept trying to date men who weren't good enough for you. With all the drama with other maids trying ti flirt with him, Miguel never had a chance to talk to you. You, the most beautiful women he had ever laid eyes on. You, the determined worker. You, the woman he wanted. Miguel was thankful that you passed by his door. This was pleasant.

"Is this alright, master? Am I doing okay?" You asked.

Master.

That word rolled so nicely off your lips. Miguel lowered his hand to hide his growing erection. Oh how he wanted to hear you cry for him. To drill you with his dick as you called him, master.

"Si. I'm feeling better already," He lowered his voice.

Miguel was just happy to have his head on your lap. Like a soft cushion. He needed you to keep visiting him. He may be the master of this mansion, but he was still a man. Closing his eyes, Miguel relaxed under your touch. He was going to get used to this.

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

You tried to hide your smile as you hurried to Miguel's room with his dinner. Ever since he had you massage his head, Miguel had requested you to do for stuff for him. It made your heart flutter that you were getting close to him. All of the head maids shook their heads towards ypu getting cozy with the master, but hell! He requested you!

"Master! I've brought your dinner!" You chirped, knocking befoer entering. Miguel was sitting on his couch,

"(Y/N), you look awfully cheerful today." He said, adoring your smile. You placed his meal in front of him, "Do tell," Miguel loved to hear you ramble about your day.

"Well, I finally paid off one of my bills!" You chirped before hesitating, "That and...my last date asked me for another date. I was kind of wor-"

"Que?" Miguel stopped you in your tracks, "He asked for a second date?"

You could hear Miguel's angry tone, "Um...Yes?" You flinched as Miguel stood and approached you.

"You're not going out with him," He said firmly and stroked your cheek, "You're too good for him."

That and Miguel was mad that the fucker dared to contact you again after he paid him. Miguel made sure to keep you single so that he could have you to himself.

"M-Master?"

You glanced up at Miguel, leaning your head into the palm of his hand. They were so big and warm. You could feel your heart race as Miguel moved his hand to your waist. You could feel the tension. Miguel pulled you towards his bed and sat down. His grip still tight against your waist, your uniform blocking his touch.

"(Y/N), tell me what I am to you." Miguel's tone was needy. It made you melt.

"My Master."

"Mhm, you do as I say, right?" He started to draw circles around your waist, "You're not going to date anyone because you're going to be mine. Understood?"

"Y-Yes, Master," You bit your lower lip as he lowered you to his lap.

"I want you to take care of, (Y/N)." Miguel whispered in your ear, "Let me hear your voice."

You started to tremble as Miguel stroked the outline of your dress. He leaned forward to kiss your neck, removing your collar with his teeth. You let out a small whimper as Miguel sucked on your neck. Heat started to form between your legs as you felt his erection grind against your panties. Tingles shot up your spine as your head flung back from pleasure. Miguel hummed, enjoying your body riding against his hips. Your damp panties starting to stain his pants.

It was still not enough. You moaned lowly as Miguel brought his hand to your cunt, moving your panties aside to rub your folds. You moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck as you began to ride his hand. His long fingers teasing your entrance, making you clench nothing but air. His hot breathe against your ear as you whimpered from his teasing.

"You have to ask for it." He said with a smirk.

"P-Please, Master."

"That's right, keep begging me." You moaned as Miguel entered two fingers into your pussy, pumping them against your tight gummy walls, "Look at you, about to cum on your master's hand."

"Master~" You tensed as his fingers curled against your pussy, causing you to orgasm, "Hah, Master!"

"Good girl, (Y/N). Always a hard worker," He praised, removing his hand to undo his pants, "Will you continue to work hard for me?"

"Yes, Master."

You took a moment to catch your breathe as you positioned yourself above him. You moved his hand away from his cock, grabbing it instead. You were hesitant, but after seeing the lust in his eyes, you folded. Pumping his dick a few times, you cried out as he started to stretch your pussy. You were slow, but you kept going down on him, shaking from the intense feeling. Your hands rested against Miguel's chest, trying to finish putting his dick inside you.

Miguel let out a grunt as he helped. He thrusted upward, causing you to cry loudly. His cock shoved so deep inside you that it made your vision blur for a second. He demanded that you move, to which to listened. Your cries became loud moans as you bounced on his dick. Your body leaned back as you rode him, pleasure overtaking you. Miguel held your waist, one of his thumbs rubbing your clit in the process. This made you cum again.

"Master!"

"Don't stop until your work is done," Miguel gave you an order.

You whined, slowing down from your high. Miguel gripped your waist, rubbing your clit harder as he started to thrust. Your moans were music to his ears. No other man was going to have you. Not when you worked for him. Not when he was fucking your pussy this good. Changing positions, Miguel had your stomach against the bed, drilling you from behind. The strings of your maid uniform giving him even more of a high.

"Fuck, look at you taking your master's dick so well. Does it feel good? Being fucked by your master?"

"Yes, Master~! Please give me more, Master~!" You begged, gripping onto the bedsheets. Miguel pounded your pussy, making sure to fill you with his cum,

"You'll listen to your master's orders then, right? No dating anyone. This pussy is mine."

"Yes, Master!" You trembled as he kept slapping his dick into you.

"You're my personal maid. I'll take care of all your bills and you. You deserve everything, mi amor (my love)." He groaned, watching your pussy suck his dick more, "Fuck, you look so good with my dick in you. My perfect girl."

"Master!"

Miguel had you working hard throughout the night. He made sure to take care of you and your issues. You were his personal maid, making sure to take care of all of his 'issues'. Eventually, you graduated from his maid to his wife.

"C'mon, baby. Say it for me." Miguel groaned as he had you on your back, his dick pounding your pussy, "Just once more."

"Master~" You purred, arching your back as you orgasmed. Miguel moaned in response, giving you his fill,

"That's right, baby. I'm your Master."

#kinktober #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel

5K notes · View notes

scarletlizzard · 3 months

Text

Inked Desires

Pairing: g!p Natasha x fem! Reader

Tags Minors DNI: smut, Natasha has a dick, also covered in tattoos w/ piercings, buff out of this world, she's hot okay, cunnilingus, handjobish, unprotected sex, breeding yup, alcohol at the beginning

A/N: I'm cheating and putting these two requests together, oops! This is my first time writing something like this, so please be gentle. Also, would really love some feedback on this so I know for the future to either write more like this or just tell me to stop now. Thanks so much for reading and thanks for the requests!! 🩵

Masterlist

~~~

"Here, take this!" Your friend says over the loud music, handing you another cup half filled with a mixture of liquor.

You don't question her and take the cup from her, drinking it down in only two gulps. Kate laughs and cheers as you do, doing the same with the cup she held.

By now, you were a few drinks in, and the house Kate had dragged you to was full of people. This definitely wasn't your type of scene, but as you danced among the bodies in the lowlit living room, you couldn't help but feel grateful she had.

As your hips move against your friend, she leans over to your ear. "She's staring at you again," Kate laughs, and your eyes move to the corner of the room.

There was the stranger of the night, a tall woman who stood out, whose green eyes had been watching your every move since you walked in the door. Her muscular arms were covered with art of all kinds, disappearing up into the sleeves of her shirt. She brought her red cup to her lips again, her face mostly hidden from the light.

Instead of replying, you only continue to dance, this time keeping eye contact with your stranger. The woman watches as your hips sway, your hands traveling your own body as you move to the music. It doesn't take long after that before she's finally striding across the room, standing a head taller than most of the crowd.

When she reaches you, you can finally see the rest of her gorgeous face. Above her sprightly green eyes, you noticed a piercing on her eyebrow, a few on her nose, and one on the bottom lip of the smirk she gave you. As she stands in front of you, you literally have to look up at her, and you realize she was much more toned up close.

"I'm just gonna grab another drink!" Kate raises her voice above the music for the two of you to hear.

"I'll catch up with you later!" You shout back to which she only laughs and shoots you a "Yeah, right," before walking off.

You turn your attention back to the stranger.

"Hi," she smiles.

"Hi," you reply curiously.

"I haven't seen you here before. What's your name?" She asks. Her eyes shamelessly roam the soft features of your face and the curves of your body.

"Y/N... this is my first time here. What's yours?" You ask with a blush on your cheeks. She tucks back her red hair behind one of her ears, revealing to you even more piercings.

You don't know if it's the alcohol or the feeling the stranger ignited in your chest, but you feel compelled to step forward and rest your hand on her muscular bicep. Your finger traces the tattoos that littered the skin there.

"Natasha," she says with a smile. "Wanna go upstairs?" A cock of her eyebrow with the piercing sticking out is enough to get you wet.

***

As soon as the door closes, the two of you are on each other, kissing feverishly. Her hands are under your shirt, touching your skin as she lifts you against the door. Your legs wrap around her hips, and you smile against her lips at how easily she lifted you. She was strong. You could feel her muscles under her tight shirt, squeezing you impossibly close.

But when her tongue slips past your lips, you gasp and pull away, a string of saliva pulling between your mouths.

"What's wrong? Do you need to stop?" She asks with a concerned expression. You look at her with wide eyes.

"No - no, I'm fine, it's just. Is your tongue...?" You didn't know how to ask. She chuckles and ducks her head before looking back at you. Natasha lets her tongue slide across her top lip, and it's then your suspicions are confirmed.

"Split, and yes... it will feel better," Natasha says in a cocky tone, her lips attaching to your neck as she carries you to the bed. You feel your back hit the soft mattress, and she lets go of you to remove your shirt.

"I want to see them all," you breathe out and run your finger over the skin on her arm. She smiles and pulls back, taking off her shirt to reveal she was completely covered. "They're beautiful..." You let your eyes take in the sight of the art, your hands tracing the dark lines and over the grooves of her abs. Natasha is a God.

As she continues to undress you, she kisses as much skin as she can, her lips soft and wet with every touch. When she gets to your breasts, you feel her tongue spread, taking your nipple between the two halves and sucking it.

"Oh- oh fuck," you moan out, suprised at the unfamiliar feeling and how good it felt. Natasha hums and lays you back, kissing down your stomach. When she spreads your legs she looks at you with hungry eyes, seeing how wet you already were.

"All this for me, baby?" She asks, letting a finger move up and down your wet folds. Your body shivers with anticipation. The way she looked at you, the way she looked, you were willing to let this stranger do absolutely anything to you.

"All for you.." You husk back, watching her split tongue wet her lips again.

Natasha kneels down at the edge of the bed and puts your legs over her shoulders, her hands grip your thighs tightly.

"How fucking lucky am I then?" She smirks up at you before placing soft, teasing kisses on your thighs.

You feel her mouth attach to your clit, and the heat in your stomach burns hotter. She licks up your slit, groaning as she tastes you.

"Fuck you taste so good," Natasha moans and let's her tongue lick up to your clit. She let's the two halves spread and rub against you. The new feeling makes you arch your back, your head thrown against the comforter.

"G-God Nat, that feels so good!" You moan and try to squeeze your thighs, but her grip kept your legs spread as she continued to eat you out. The sounds of her mouth against your wet pussy were the most sinful sounds you had ever heard, and the moans leaving your mouth were sounds nobody had ever elicited from you before.

She groans against you, the vibrations causing even more pleasure. "That's it baby," she says in between licks, "Want you to cum all over my face." Natashas tongue moves in two different ways, the coil in your lower stomach twisting up.

Your hands grip the comforter as she moves quicker, and the coil begins to unravel as you come undone

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," your back arches again and your legs tremble around her head as you let out a pornographic moan. Natasha hums agaisnt you as you come, her hands not flinching to hold your thighs apart.

She licks every drop, her tongue swirling around your sensative clit one more time before she lets go and stands up. "Come here," Natasha commands, and with a dizzy mind you sit up, trying to catch your breath. She bends down to take your jaw, kissing you rough and sloppily. You forces you to taste yourself, and her tongue pushes in your mouth, wrapping around your own tongue.

You can smell your own arousal on her face, feeling it wet your nose and lips. You blush, almost embarrassed with how wet this stranger made you.

"Now lets see how well you can ride my cock," Natasha chuckles and pulls back to remove her remaining clothes. Your eyes are settled on her breasts, unable to remove them from the piercings on her nipples. When you can pull yourself away from the sight of the silver metal against pink, you look down to see her remove her underwear. She was hard, painfully hard just from eating you out.

She tosses the boxers in the corner where other random clothes lay, and you gave her a curious look. "It's my room, don't worry. Didn't even know you were in my house, did you, love?" Natasha strides back to the bed and sits with her back against the headboard, pulling you closer to her.

"No, I didn't. I'm sorry... my friend kind of dragged me out tonight," you say with red cheeks, and she kisses you desperately.

"Thank God she did," Nat mumbles against your lips. She lets out a groan as your hand reaches between the two of you to lightly grip her cock, and you could feel how she was already throbbing for you. You begin to move your hand up and down slowly as the kiss turns sloppy, her tongue sliding yours between hers. Natasha revels in the feeling of her in your soft hand, your delicate fingers moving along the veins of erection.

"Shit - that feels so good," she moans into the kiss as your hand movements speed up. Your thumb swipes across the tip, precum dripping out already. You smile at the low moan that leaves her lips and continue to jerk her as you kiss. "I need you, please. Fuck I need to be inside you," she begs, and the sound of her begging was something you wanted to hear again. You take her lower lip between your teeth, sucking on the piercing before letting go with a 'pop'.

"I wanna ride you so bad, Nat.. I'm so wet for you," you whisper and let your kisses trail down to her sharp jaw. You feel her cock twitch in your hand as you speak and she grabs your wrist to stop your hand movements, panting as she does.

Natasha turns you around quickly, groaning at the sight of your ass as you straddle her lap and let her hands guide you onto her thick cock. You slide down slowly, letting out a moan when you feel her filling you up.

"Just relax baby, you're so fucking tight," she mumbles as she watches herself slowly disappear inside of you. She let's out a low moan as she feels your hot cunt swallow her, the back of head hitting the headboard when she feels your walls squeezing her. The feeling alone was enough for her mind to sever ties with reality, the only thought was you.

The sensation has that coil tightening inside of you again. You rest your hands on her toned thighs for support, relishing in the way her muscles flexed underneath your fingertips.

Natashas' hands continue to guide you, and after you had adjusted to her large size, you begin to grind yourself down on her lap.

"Just like that baby, fuck... feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock. You were just made to take me," she groans, her words only driving you to move your hips faster.

Her large hands move to your sides and up your body, groping your skin as she starts to move her hips up to meet yours. The two of you find a rythem together, and soon you find yourself willingly bouncing on her cock. Her hands moved to gather your hair, wrapping it into a fist in her right hand. She tugs on it and pulls your head back, a loud moan leaves your lips at the feeling.

"You like it when I'm rough with you, don't you?" She smirks, tugging your hair again.

"Yes - god, yes, Nat!" You whine as her lips find your neck. She bites down hard on your pulse point, surely leaving a mark, and leaves hot open-mouthed kisses along your skin.

"I know you do, you little slut. Fucking dripping on my cock. You feel how easy I slide in and out of you?" She says and with her left hand she grabs your jaw. "Answer me."

"I'm so wet, you make me so wet," you whine again, feeling her fingers move between your teeth. You suck hard as you look in her eyes, your tongue swirling around spit dripping down your chin. When you bite down, it surprises her, but she only chuckles darkly.

In a second, Natasha had let go of your hair and pushed you down face first onto the mattress. You gasp at the sudden emptiness, but soon after, she's lifting your hips and sliding into you again. Both of you moan at the feeling of how deep she goes.

"Christ, it doesn't matter how long I fuck you. You're just - so - fucking tight," she grunts in between words, her cock drilling you into oblivion. With every thrust you can hear the bedframe hitting the wall, and you can't help the pitiful noises that leave your mouth.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum," You rasp out. A sharp slap on your ass makes you whimper as you feel it begin to sting.

"No, shit, hold it in," Natasha warns. You feel the pressure of her body move on top of you. The piercings on her breasts rub against your back with each powerful thrust, and her arm moves underneath your neck to hold you tightly.

Natasha grunts in your ear as she pounds into you, letting out a moan when she feels your slick cunt tighten around her length. "I'm almost there, baby. Are you gonna be a good girl and come all over my cock?"

You nod the best you can in her tight grip, only able to get out a "Yes," in between gasps.

"You feel so good, Y/N. You want me to cum inside you? Fuck- I wanna fill up your tight little pussy so bad..." She groans against you and her words send you over the edge.

"Oh god, Nat! Please fill me up, please," you beg her, and just the thought of it is enough to let go. Your orgasm ripples through your body, sending shockwaves of pleasure to your core.

Natasha moans loudly as she feels you coating her cock with your cum, and she can no longer hold back. "Fuck- Y/N!" She groans and you whine as you feel her hot load spurting inside of you, her cock twitching as she slows her movements. "Take every.. last.. drop.." She pants as she thrusts a few more times.

The two of you stay like that for a while, her cock inside you as she stills above you. Your head rests against her arm as you attempt to catch your breath. When she removes herself slowly, and you wince at the soreness and empty feeling. Natasha lays next to you and you turn on your side to face her.

"Hi," she chuckles at the exhausted features on your face.

"You just fucked the life out of me and you're going to say... 'hi' ?" You laugh, suprised to see a blush on the strong womans cheeks as she laughs along with you. Your hand reaches out, resting on her stomach and tracing the lines of her tattoos again.

After the two of you clean yourselves up, you begin to dress yourself, feeling her eyes on you as you pull your shirt over your head.

"You don't have to go, you know. I'm not like that," she says gently, and you look up to see her pulling on a pair of jeans. You smile at her kind demeanor and walk over to her.

"I have to take my friend home," you say and lean up on your toes to kiss her cheek. She has to bend down for you to reach her lips, but she doesn't complain.

"Well, maybe I can take you out sometime," Natasha smirks and rests her hands on your waist. You nod as you look up to her.

"I would love that.." You reply honestly, wanting nothing more than to get to know her and count the endless tattoos that cover her body.

#marvel #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x you #natasha x reader #g!p natasha #g!p natasha x reader #natasha x fem!reader #buff natasha

3K notes · View notes

saetoru · 10 months

Text

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。TANGLED — GETO SUGURU.

contents. just suguru needing his hair brushed for him bc he’s def so me and gets mad over the knots lol—alternative title: princess suguru and his frog <3

suguru huffs in front of your mirror—and it’s quite the frustrated huff, too—before he slams the hair brush down.

you raise a brow, “you okay over there?”

“no. ‘s knotted,” he mutters, referring to his hair. there’s a quiet grumbling of something unintelligible under his breath before he glares at himself in the mirror.

suguru loves his hair—anyone would know that just by looking at him. most guys use two-in-one shampoo (like satoru) but suguru? he practically hogs your shower space with all of the products he owns. his hair is well maintained and perfectly neat every time you see him. but sometimes, like now, it’s also a pain to brush once it’s knotted. and, well, he doesn’t handle it very well.

“you’ve been brushing for—” you pretend to check your bare wrist for the time, “—like ten minutes,” you giggle.

“very funny,” he grunts bitterly. and then, more petulantly this time, “i’m cutting it off for real this time.”

“you said that last time,” you remind him, eyes glinting with amusement.

“this time i mean it.”

“no you don’t, sugu.”

“i do,” he insists, glaring at you through the mirror, “it’s getting too long, and i don’t have the time to brush all these damn knots every two hours. so, it’s getting cut.”

“okay,” you nod casually—anyone can tell you don’t believe him.

his expression sours. suguru gets in very bad moods when his hair doesn’t cooperate, it’s evident in the way he flares his nostrils and scowls.

“you still don’t believe me? i’m being serious.”

“okay, baby,” you snort, finally deciding to take matters into your own hands as you rise from your bed and walk over. you stand behind him, reaching around him for the hair brush before gently pulling him back to stand closer. “i’ll get it for you, don’t worry. wouldn’t want your princess hair gone.”

“stop calling it that,” he groans, but the tension leaves his shoulders as soon as you gently brush through his strands, starting at the bottom and working your way up. it’s quiet for a bit—nothing but the soft sound of your humming as you work through the tangles in his long (perfect) hair.

“you could’ve just asked if you wanted me to brush it,” you tease after a few moments, “no need to throw a tantrum.”

“glad to see you’re enjoying this,” he rolls his eyes. and then, when you’ve finished and set the brush down, he turns to face you, wrapping his arms around your waist as his face finds the crook of your neck.

you hum, pecking the side of his head before threading your fingers into his dark locks, stroking through the soft strands and silently marveling at the length.

“you’re so pretty, suguru,” you murmur, “did’ya know that?”

“oh yeah?” he chuckles into your skin, lips curling into a loose smile. his arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly closer.

“yeah,” you nod, “like a princess. my prettiest princess.”

“i thought i told you to quit with that,” he says exasperatedly—you can feel the heat from his cheeks, and you grin to yourself knowing he’s blushing as he hides his face deeper into your shoulder.

“it’s true,” you insist, “i’m no liar. i’m a truther.”

“debatable,” he mumbles. you smack his shoulder playfully, and he squeezes your hips in response. “aren’t you going to tie it for me too?” he finally asks, and you’re sure there’s a pout curled on those lips of his. you ache to kiss them—and you will, just not right now.

right now, you’ll stay like this a bit longer.

“this is real princess treatment,” you sigh dramatically, “yes your highness. i’ll tie it too.”

“thank you,” he says, thoroughly satisfied. and then, quieter, like it’s a secret only you’re supposed to know, “i love you.”

“i love you too,” you happily murmur, “but that might change if you cut your hair.”

“are you only dating me for my hair?”

“yes,” you snicker playfully, “it’s the main appeal. the princess appeal.”

“you know what,” suguru says thoughtfully, “i’ll be your princess.”

“really?” you gasp in excitement, making him nod into your neck as he presses a delicate kiss to your skin.

“sure,” he grins slyly, “and you can be the frog.”

the moment is officially ruined—and for a second, you think you might just have to cut his hair off in his sleep after that one.

come join me in the most self indulgent drabble once again. also the title being tangled even tho the reference is the princess and the frog is a tad bit funny to me jdjsjd i did giggle i can’t lie

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto x you #geto fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff

7K notes · View notes

wavesmp3 · 17 days

Text

young & stupid

yoon jeonghan x reader (gender neutral)

you think yoon jeonghan is crazy when he asks if you'll pretend to date him, but luckily for him you're just young and dumb enough to agree.

genre: university + fake dating au word count: 14k warnings: alcohol, profanity, some explicit content, mentions of sex, and a very american writer who says soccer instead of football a/n: posted an unfinished version of this like 4 years ago and randomly decided one day a couple weeks ago to finish it. this is the most indulgent fic i have ever written. pls enjoy my birthday gift to myself lolol

Music bursts from every corner of the run-down frat house, chasing after you no matter where you run to escape it. Bodies endlessly spill in from the patio and front entrance, a never ending revolving door of college kids just like yourself looking for some kind of release after a long week of… well, college. But unlike most times you’ve paid a visit to Soonyoung’s frat house on a Friday night, tonight you’ve already decided that you are not going to be having fun at this party.

Soonyoung begged you to come, bribing your appearance with a promise to study with you for the next math quiz. Of course the first thing he does after walking into the house with you is ditch you. But even that, you deal with. You find some friends among the crowd, acquaint yourself with some beer, and almost start to have fun egging on a brewing dance battle. But all that ends the second you turn a corner too fast and are met with a full cup of bright red jungle juice all over your white shirt.

So now, upstairs in a bathroom Soonyoung let you in to, desperately trying to wash out the stains, you make a stubborn decision to not make another appearance at a frat party for the rest of the semester which you’re positive you’ll break by the time midterms are up.

But for now, helplessly staring at your reflection in the dirty mirror, you arrive to the conclusion that this damn jungle juice stain is not coming out. You exit the bathroom into the adjoining room and start grabbing your stuff to walk home.

“Who the fuck are you?” You jump at the voice that’s joined you in the room. You hadn’t even noticed anyone entering. You stare at the figure, mouth open. “How’d you get into my room?”

“Oh my gosh, so sorry,” you apologize in a hurried voice, packing your things up impossibly faster. “Soonyoung let me in. It was just supposed to be a quick thing–Wait no, that makes it sound like we were hooking up. Which we definitely were not. I can promise you that much, lol, not Soonyoung. But no, I just needed the bathroom. Cause this dude and his jungle juice, and…” you look down at your shirt. “Anyways, I was about to go home. I didn’t even–”

“Okay, wait, slow down.” The guy cuts you off. “You know Soonyoung.”

You nod. “Uh, yeah, we’re friends.”

He steps closer, narrowing his eyes at you, and for a moment you think the guy looks a little bit familiar. “And you’re not a stalker?”

This time you squint, jutting your head forward. “A stalker?” He stares at you unwavering. You scoff. “Um. No. Of course not.”

“Oh, okay, good.” He exhales, his previous demeanor falling entirely. “Well, in that case, let me help.” He walks towards one of the dressers, pulling the drawer open to rummage through it.

“No. That’s okay. You don’t have to–”

“Let me. Plus,” he gestures towards the general direction of your shirt without looking up from the drawer, “that can’t be comfortable. And it definitely isn’t flattering.”

You’re too stunned to say anything back. You’re not sure how you’d respond anyways to what you think counts as an insult from the dude who’s also helping you. You study him instead. You’ve definitely seen him around before, but you’re not entirely sure where or when because you probably would’ve remembered someone as attractive as him. He’s tall, soft-faced with longer hair that cuts off right under his ears, and damn is he attractive. In an obvious—in your face, weak in the knees, god this man is beautiful—kind of way. Not that you notice.

“Here.” He throws a tshirt your way, and you catch it between your arms. You both stare at each for a long moment, until he jumps on his heels a little as if he’s suddenly remembered something. “My bad, I’ll turn around.”

You stare unamused at his backside. He really doesn’t think you’re going to change with him in the room does he?

And almost as if he’s reading your mind, he says: “Don’t worry, I won’t peek.” He looks over his shoulder with a crooked, mischievous smile. “I mean unless you want me to.” Your stomach throws itself out the window.

You scoff. “I’ll just change in the bathroom.” You fully expect the guy to be gone by the time you exit the bathroom, but instead he’s still there, sitting at the edge of the bed on his phone.

You clear your throat. “Thanks for the shirt.”

“Oh, yeah,” he looks up from his phone and takes you in. You swear his mouth twitches into a half smile. “It’s no big deal.

You let out an awkward half laugh, half sigh. “So, I’ll get this shirt back to you somehow. Thanks again.”

He nods, still staring at the air around your body with that sickeningly charming half smile. You turn for the door.

“Wait!” You pause, facing the boy again who is now standing up, arm stretched out towards you. He drops it at once like it was never supposed to be there. “Are you going back to the party?”

You actually laugh at that. “God, no. I’m going home.”

“Oh.” He tilts his head, and then opens and closes his mouth as if the words keep getting lost in the back of his throat. You try not to think too hard about how endearing the action is. “I can give you a ride if you want.”

You shake your head quickly. “No, that’s alright. I don’t live that far.” You live on the opposite side of campus.

He grabs a set of keys off his desk. “Let me. I wanna get out of this party too. But sadly,” he motions to the room you’re both standing in, then leans towards you a little, “I live here.”

And you know you should refuse. You know there is nothing sensical about letting this stranger, whose name you don’t even know, take you home. But there’s something about his smile and the tufts of hair falling over his forehead, something about the way he gave you his shirt that makes you say yes against your better judgment.

It turns out, leaving the party with the mysteriously nice guy, who’s conveniently hot (again, not that you’re looking), is much harder than it looks. The only plus side to getting bombarded with people wanting to talk to him, is that you learn his name: Jeonghan. And it hits you then, of course you’ve seen him around before. Well, maybe not him, but you’ve definitely seen his picture. His face is plastered over all of the university’s promotional material. Half the school has a crush on Jeonghan, the star soccer player. Unfortunately for you and your apparently impossible wish to go home, it also appears that half the school is at this party and fueled with liquid confidence.

“Hey Jeonghan,” one person in particular slurs, appearing in front of you and him magically. Yeah, you think, if I were him I’d want to get out of this party too. Then as if the stranger has come to their senses, they jump back and clasp their hands over their mouth. A blush paints itself all over their face. “So sorry. I must’ve tripped or something…” they laugh awkwardly. Jeonghan does too. You look over at him and find that he looks incredibly uncomfortable.

“It’s fine,” he tells them, holding his hands up, “I gotta go. See you around though.” And Jeonghan’s turning on his heel ready to dash for the door.

“Wait a second!” The person calls, grabbing Jeonghan’s arm before he can slip out of the house. He turns back around begrudgingly. “I was uh I was sort of wondering if you’d like to maybe go out or something—“

You watch them ask out Jeonghan on a date, and well, it’s sort of cute. The stranger clearly harbors a massive crush on Jeonghan. They’re not being rude or pushy, and honestly, even after accounting for the alcohol, they’re more confident and bold than you’d be. You find yourself wanting to congratulate them. But then, with another look at Jeonghan’s face, you feel a burst of pity. You know that look. Jeonghan is going to turn them down.

“I, uh, I’m really flattered but I…” Jeonghan stutters through his words, shooting you a glance asking for help. You just shrug. Suddenly his smirk reappears. He grabs your hand, pulling you to his slide and lifting your joined hands up like a trophy. “I’m actually with them.”

Your teeth clench immediately to keep your mouth from falling open. You stare at Jeonghan, eyes screaming.

“Oh sorry,” the person looks between the two of you, “I didn’t know.”

You stare at Jeonghan, waiting for him to say something and failing to find any words for yourself. But instead of continuing his lie verbally, he decides to act it out even further, bringing your hands up to his lips and pressing the faintest kiss to your knuckle.

That fucker.

“Yeah,” you sigh, grasping at straws for something to say that sounds convincing with your one free hand. “It’s new.” You squeeze Jeonghan’s hand hard enough to know it has to have hurt and promptly drag him out of the house.

Once you’re in his car, safe from all his suitors. You round on him. “You couldn’t have just said no?”

“That was their third time asking me out.”

“And?”

“Turning down people is hard.” He whines, pushing the keys in the car and starting the ignition. “It was just easier to say we’re dating. Plus, you’re in my shirt so it already looks like we just had sex.”

“Or,” you gasp, exasperated, “it looks like I got jungle juice on my shirt, and you just gave me one to wear!”

He gives you a look. “Now, who would believe that?”

You have the sudden desire to dissolve into the seat.

“Anyways,” he says, putting the car in reverse, “where to?”

“East campus. The Austin Complex.”

He makes a triumphant noise while stopping at a red light. “It appears I’m not the only one that’s been telling lies tonight. Not that far you said.”

You gape at him. “My lie is not comparable to yours.”

“Actually I think it is.” He taps a finger to his chin. “In fact, I think it even makes us equal.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

He holds out his pinky as a peace offering. “I’m not moving until you agree.”

“Jeonghan, the light’s green.”

He glances at the green traffic light and proceeds to turn his hazards on in the middle of the fucking road all while keeping his pinky in the exact same spot.

“Are you crazy?”

“Most people don’t think so.”

“People will honk.”

“It’s 1 am.”

You say his name. He says yours. The light turns yellow, and you feel a rush of warmth.

“Fine.” You huff, joining your pinky with his. “We’re equal.”

He passes the light just as it turns red.

—

You haven’t seen Jeonghan since the entire incident. In truth, you’ve been so busy studying for your math quiz with Soonyoung that you almost hadn’t even thought about that night again. Emphasis on almost. However, when you get your score back the following week, the hours you spent studying appear to have been wasted. You slump into a bench outside the lecture hall, holding another barely passing grade to your chest.

And in the midst of your public wallowing, you feel a flick to your forehead.

You yelp and snap your eyes open to Jeonghan who stands before you snickering. “What was that for?”

“Payback.”

You say holding out your pinky as a reminder. “I thought we were even.” He shrugs, sporting a smirk that makes your stomach churn. It should be illegal for someone to look that good with a smirk.

“Excuse me?”

Fuck. Did you say that outloud?

“Nothing.” You quickly mutter, shaking your head. He invites himself to sit down next to you.

“Anyway, what’s wrong with you?”

You groan at the reminder. “Multi.”

“Multivariable calculus?” He asks to which you nod. “Who do you have?”

“Lubinsky.”

Defying all laws of reason and physics, Jeonghan perks up a bit. “Oh, I loved him.”

“His quizzes are impossible.”

“Yeah, but he’s funny.”

You scrunch your noise. “When did you even take multi? Aren’t you a business major?”

He tilts his head at you. “How do you know my major?” You might’ve asked Soonyoung about Jeonghan during one of your study sessions, but you definitely weren’t about to admit that now. Luckily for you, he continues without an answer. “I switched majors last year.”

“Then you must know how much I despise sketching in three axes.” You complain, throwing your head back against the wall.

“Just wait until you get to finding extrema.” Jeonghan hums. You want to shove your head through the damn wall just from the sound of it.

“May my grade rest in peace in that case,” you mutter, fishing through your bag. “Here’s your shirt back.”

He takes it. “So people kind of think we’re dating after the party.”

You can’t help it. You laugh at the look on his face. “Yeah, what did you expect when you said we were together?” He doesn’t say anything. “Don’t worry. I’ll clear the air.”

He furrows his brows at you. “What? No. That’s not what I mean. I…” he hesitates, scratching an area behind his neck. “Well, this past week has been surprisingly calm for me. Not a ton of confessions.” (“Oh, poor Jeonghan,” you murmur.) He looks at you hopefully, “So, I was thinking we keep up the charade.”

You make a noise. “Like fake dating?”

“Yes.”

“Haha, very funny.”

“No, seriously.” He says earnestly. You don’t say anything for a moment just staring at him flabbergasted. He softens, giving you a very soft, “please,” paired with big, brown, pleading eyes.

Goddamn it–those eyes.

You turn your body towards him. “What do I get out of it?”

“I’ll tutor you.” He says, pointing to your quiz grade. You flip the paper upside down. “I got an A in multi.”

“No one makes an A with Lubinsky.”

“Which is exactly why you want me as your tutor.”

You think about it for a moment longer, and, well…

Fake dating Yoon Jeonghan can’t be the worst thing in the world.

—

As you find out during your first session, Jeonghan is not what you’d call a ‘chill’ tutor. You’re both sitting in a far corner of the library, notes splayed out all over the table.

“Do it again.”

“Jeonghan please, we’ve been finding directional derivatives and unit normal vectors for so long now. Let’s take a break.”

He points to your worksheet. “One more.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

“I thought you wanted an A.”

“You know, a C isn’t sounding so bad right now.”

“Just do it.”

You groan and set up another integral.

To your complete and utter shock, you’re able to solve the problem all on your own. No clarifying questions to Jeonghan. No flipping through your lecture notes. Just you and the answer.

Jeonghan checks it over, eyes darting between your notebook and his laptop. He pauses for a minute, finger lingering by your boxed, final answer, before very quietly saying, “look at that.” He looks up to you, eyes widened and lips pursed together in a pleasant surprise.

You can barely contain yourself. “It’s right?”

“Well,” he draws out the word, sitting back in his chair and erasing his previous expression. “You still rounded wrong at this step—“

You throw your pencil down. “I’M RIGHT!”

Which unsurprisingly earns you a couple dirty looks from others.

He snickers at your excitement, offering you silent applause at the achievement.

“So can we take a break now?”

He looks at you for a long moment. You stare at him back, shaking your shoulders as if that would convince him of a break. He smiles. “Okay, fine, but only for ten minutes.”

You end up taking it on the roof of the library building, eating an assortment of snacks that you bought from the vending machine and Jeonghan brought from home.

“So, tell me,” you start, grabbing a chip from the bag, “the confessions can’t really be that bad, can they?”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean,” you sit up in your chair, stretching out your back, “enough for you to spend your Thursday afternoon doing all this?”

“Ah.” He exhales, sitting down further in his seat and popping a grape in his mouth. “Well, I like to teach.”

“And what about the whole fake dating ruse?”

He shrugs. “It’s easier than being the asshole that says no.”

You lean forward, squinting at him. “I don’t believe that.”

He cocks his head. “No?”

You shake yours. “No.”

“What about you then?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “How come I know nothing about you?”

“How come you haven’t asked?”

He swipes his tongue over his lips briefly, sizing your question up. Quietly, he says, “Touche.” Then leads forward in his seat and asks if you have an ex.

You steal a grape. “Not an official one.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that there was this guy before university, and we were…” you push the grape in your mouth, letting the burst of it give you time to find the right words. They never come. “We were something,” you settle on, “but he just ended up being more trouble than he was worth. Ask Soonyoung. He’s always hated the guy’s guts.”

“I can’t imagine Soonyoung hating anyone.” Jeonghan muses, pushing the tupperware of grapes towards you.

“Yeah, well, Soonyoung hated people who treated others like they were disposable.”

“So why’d you date him then?”

For a moment, you’re taken aback by the question. Replaying the words over and over in your mind looking for a hint of mockery or judgment. You don’t find any. Instead, you find his brows knitted together, and his lips pushed to the side of this mouth. The question is genuine. A wholehearted curiosity that feels so misplaced coming from the guy who has suitors falling at his feet at least once a day. It’s an innocent kind of curiosity that isn’t trying to pry; it’s only trying to understand. And that thought, the very idea that Jeonghan might actually be trying to get to know you, makes your entire body inexplicably shiver.

The curiosity in his voice bends over and touches yours. “What? You’ve never been young and stupid before?”

He shakes his head. “I was so focused on school and soccer when I was younger. I feel like I never gave myself the chance to just do dumb things, date shitty people, etc. etc.”

Gravely, you say. “It’s really not that exciting.”

He laughs. “I know.” His voice dips. “I just wish I had figured that out myself.”

Jeonghan doesn’t meet your eyes when he says it, but he makes this face, this sad-eyed, forced smile face that makes him look so suddenly vulnerable. Like you could tap his shoulder and watch him unravel from head to toe. You feel a rush of pity in the middle of your chest, a quiet urge to reach over and give him all the teenage regrets he never got to have. Instead, you lean towards him and say, “You’re still young. You can still do dumb things. Date shitty people.”

His eyes flit up to you. You notice what a beautiful shade of brown they are. How big they are. How sincerely sad they look. (And you know, somewhere, in a very far corner of your mind, that those eyes will be the ultimate death of you.)

“Well, I don’t know about that last part.” He starts, rubbing his hands against his jeans. “Technically, I’m dating you.”

You place your palm on your chest. “And I swear to be the shittiest fake partner you’ll ever have.”

He smiles. The sun emerges from behind a cloud. And his eyes–you swear to god–they glimmer.

—

You and Jeonghan’s first outing as an official fake couple is back at the frat house. To your surprise Jeonghan stays by your side the entire time. He takes you around the house, gets you a drink, and introduces you to his friends, but you’re quick to shoot down any shock because what else would a fake boyfriend be doing at a party. Although it’s not as easy to calm down the beating of your heart when Jeonghan’s hand finds its way into yours at some point in the night. By the time the party is in full swing, people bursting from every open door and window in the house, you’re already a little tipsy.

You’re getting a refill for your nearly done drink when another girl appears in front of Jeonghan. From the way she’s twirling her hair between her fingers and leaning into one hip, you can tell that, at least from her end, it’s more than just a friendly conversation. But even that doesn’t really explain what makes you act the way you do. Maybe it’s the alcohol, you reason. Or maybe the fact that Jeonghan’s popularity is just as contagious as the rest of him. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s that you’ve gotten a little too invested in this whole fake dating act. Either way, you swallow reason with the last of your drink, strut up to the both of them, and latch yourself to Jeonghan’s side, letting your arm wrap around his. You give the girl a snotty ‘sorry, he’s taken’ before dragging Jeonghan away, giggling into your palm with no intention to return. When you look back at Jeonghan, you find him looking quite amused as well.

“That was good!” He tells you by the time you’re both in the hallway. “But you know what would really seal the deal?”

You’re excited. Fake dating is fun. “What?”

“If we kissed?”

“Oh, please.” Your eyes do a drunken loop de loop. “I’m gonna go get my refill.”

“No, seriously.” He says with a look you can’t quite comprehend. “Look. She’s still watching.”

You look beyond his shoulder and sure enough, the girl is still watching you and him in the hallway. And she looks pissed. Maybe Jeonghan wasn’t that far off with the stalker accusation.

“You see what I have to deal with. Just one kiss. We probably won’t even have to do it again after this.”

“Probably?” You echo.

“Well, yeah, I can’t make any promises.” He shrugs except that you barely hear the words because you’re too focused on taking a tiny step back each time he takes a tiny step towards you. Eventually, the charade ends. Your heel and head meet the wall. His knee meets yours.

You’re painfully aware of your own breathing when you say, “When I said to be young and stupid this is not what I meant.”

He giggles in your face. You can smell the vodka on his breath. Is he drunk? Are you?

“Who’s going to believe we’re dating if we never kiss?”

And well, you can’t really argue with that logic. “Fine, but keep it short.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Do I look like the kind of guy to keep a kiss short?” You snort at that, and when he takes yet another step closer to you, your hands instinctively fly up against his chest. He tangles his fingers between yours and pulls your hands down, resting his forehead against yours. “Hey,” he says except that he’s so close it’s more like he exhales the word and inhales you, “can I kiss you now?”

He lets go of your hands, as if he’s making sure you know you have an out. Your eyes flit up to his, only to find that he’s watching your lips.

“Oh, fuck it,” is what you say before you fist his shirt and pull him in so that his lips meet yours.

And the moment you do all of your previous precautions are thrown out the window because—dang how long has it been since you’ve kissed someone?

Somewhere along the kiss, you lose yourself in the sensation of it, tugging on Jeonghan’s shirt. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in until your bodies are flush against each other. And when he slips his tongue into your mouth you tell yourself you allow it to happen because you’re tipsy or touch starved or both. Although none of those excuses explain why your arms snake around his neck and why your entire body turns to jelly when he moans in your mouth.

“Hey lovebirds,” you hear Soonyoung yell from somewhere thousands and thousands lightyears away, somewhere so far away you barely hear it, “get a room.” You both pull away from the kiss, faces only moving a tiny bit apart. Neither of you try to remove yourselves from the other's arms. He smiles, wide enough that his cheek brushes up against your nose, and it makes you forget where you are. Your ears betray you. You let yourself think he’s talking about the kiss and not the charade when he says, “Thanks for that.”

You throw caution to the window, laughing freely against his face. “Asshole. You knew I wouldn’t say no.”

He steps back, pulling away from your embrace. “Yeah,” he mutters, looking back to the main room, “that should do it.” You follow his eyes to see the girl from earlier whispering to a friend while sneaking glances at you two. You’re reminded of the whole reason you and Jeonghan were kissing in the first place.

He points to your cup. “Shot?”

You laugh—or well at least you try to—but it gets caught in your throat and distorted into a small cough. You swallow. “Yes.”

—

Thankfully, things aren’t awkward between you and Jeonghan after the party, although there’s no real reason for there to be other than the fact that you agreed to fake date him without really thinking about what else it would implicate. In fact, things are sort of easy with Jeonghan. He finds you around campus more often, and you find him too, walking each other to class and grabbing coffee when you both have a spare moment. In the midst of getting a fake boyfriend, you also get a new friend. With Jeonghan’s help, you actually start understanding math enough to complete the homework without having to flip back to the textbook every question. And it’s not too long after the party that you’re planning your next outing as a couple.

—

The stands of the field are absolutely packed with people. You had no idea soccer games rallied this much interest at your school.

“We’re playing a top ranked school apparently,” Soonyoung reads off a sign as you both make your way towards the student section. Luckily, he knows as little about the sport as you do. “So, why exactly did you agree to fake date Jeonghan?”

“He’s tutoring me in multi.” You explain to him, scanning the stands. While walking over to the game, you had told Soonyoung about the whole act, confirming what he already started to suspect when you first suggested going to the soccer game together. (“Drunken makeout I get.” Soonyoung had said. “But going to his games seemed like a stretch.” You shoved him off the sidewalk.)

“At least you’re getting something out of it.” He snorts. “Who are we looking for?”

You show him the text from Jeonghan, telling you to sit with his friend. “Do you know him?”

Soonyoung looks into the crowd. “Him?” He asks, pointing to a guy waving you and him over. You inhale sharply, waving back. “So if it’s fake, why is Jeonghan having you meet his friends?” Soonyoung asks as you head over.

“He has his reasons.” You offer, having asked a similar question yourself. You reach the stand where his friend is seated, crossing past the others in the row and gently apologizing as you bump into dozens of knees.

“Hi, I’m Joshua.” Jeonghan’s friend introduces himself as you and Soonyoung take your seats. You return the greeting, introducing yourself to him. Looking around the student section, you notice everyone else dressed in school merchandise. “Was I supposed to wear school colors for this?”

Soonyoung gives you a long look. Then just laughs in your face.

“Asshole.” You grumble quietly. “Could’ve said something.”

Joshua laughs as well, although much less in-your-face than Soonyoung’s. “I’m surprised Jeonghan didn’t give you like a jersey to wear or something.”

You had meant the asshole in question to be Soonyoung, not Jeonghan, but you don’t really have the heart to correct him. Instead, while waiting for the game to start, you ask, “How do you know Jeonghan?”

“Oh, we met freshman year. We both rushed the frat together, but I dropped after one semester.” Soonyoung pops in then, telling Joshua about when he rushed, and the two boys talk about other people they both mutually know. As one does.

They run out of people after a person named Jihoon. Joshua turns back to you. “How did you and Jeonghan meet? I haven’t even gotten the full story yet.”

“We met through Soonyoung, technically, I guess. At the house during a party. Soonyoung let me into his bathroom.”

Joshua nods, and with a playful lilt adds, “not a stalker, are you?”

You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth and turn back to Soonyoung on the other side of you. “I hope you know I’m never beating the stalker allegations because of you.”

Soonyoung smiles smugly at you.

“No, I’m kidding,” Joshua says through a laugh hidden behind his palm. “I just know how paranoid Jeonghan is about that stuff now.”

The wording pokes at a corner of your mind. “Now?”

Joshua nods, solemnly almost. “He actually had one last year. Didn’t end up being anything seriously endangering luckily. But he barely left his dorm for the rest of the semester after all was said and done.”

You think back to your conversation with Jeonghan on the roof of the library. You feel a familiar pang of pity bloom in your chest. He never got to just be young. Outloud, you hear yourself saying, “stupid.”

Joshua leans towards you. “What?”

You wave it off, and the crowd erupts into cheer. Everybody starts standing up, yelling and jumping and whooping. You hesitate for too long obviously. Soonyoung pulls you up by your arm. You see the team rush the field and the crowd gets impossibly louder. You look for Jeonghan among the players scanning each of them until you find him towards the left side of the field, warming up or something. You’re not really sure. Either way, you hear yourself start cheering when you find him, hands cupping around your mouth. The game starts soon enough with Joshua explaining to you and Soonyoung which position Jeonghan plays and what the hell is happening each time a player receives a card. After the first 15 minutes, you actually get a pretty good understanding of the whole thing.

The first half comes to a close with the opposing team up by one goal and Jeonghan’s team looking exhausted and dispirited.

“Hey, I gotta head out.” Soonyoung tells you once everything has settled down for halftime. “Still have to finish that chem lab due tonight.”

You grimace at the reminder of the report. “Good luck. It took me 5 hours.”

He gives you a miserable thumbs up. Then, turns his attention to Joshua. “It was nice to meet you.”

Joshua returns the sentiment. “I’ll see you at Tim’s once you’re done with the report though, right?”

Soonyoung’s lips turn to a fine line. “I, well, it’s a funny story but uh…”

“He’s banned from Tim’s.” You finish for him.

Joshua does not hide his shock. Soonyoung just shrugs and walks off. Joshua turns to you, exasperated. “But it’s the only bar in town.”

You inhale, “And Soonyoung is the type to get impulsively banned from it for the rest of college.” The answer doesn’t seem to do much of anything for Joshua’s profound confusion. “What’s at Tim’s tonight?”

“Oh, the team always goes there after games. They normally invite some friends too. Whoever can make it out basically.” You nod at his explanation, watching as people leave the stands then return, holding steaming, paper cartons of food. God, that smells good. You crane your neck to see. Are those corn dogs? “Did Jeonghan not tell you about it?”

“What?” He pulls you out of a trance of your own. “Oh, yeah, yeah. I think he mentioned it. I probably just forgot.”

Joshua chuckles politely. “So are you coming?”

Oh crap. “Uh, well…” A million lies run through your mind, chasing past one another, zigzagging in your brain. You have homework. You have other plans. You and Jeonghan aren’t even actually dating. Well—a million lies and one truth you guess. Either way, they all fizzle to nothing. Jeonghan didn’t tell you about the tradition at Tim’s. He probably doesn’t even want you there. So what the hell are you supposed to tell his best friend?

Luckily, you never have to figure that out. Fanfare erupts through the crowd, the announcer sounds throughout the entire field. “Oh the game’s restarting,” you mutter. Joshua is either genuinely disinterested in your response or just polite enough to not ask about it again. You have a crummy feeling it’s the latter.

The second half of the game is much more intense than the first. Your school’s team comes out blazing, scoring a goal in the first ten minutes in an insane effort led by the player with a 7 on his back. And the crowd, you included, absolutely lose their shit. You’re jumping up and down on the stands, screaming at the top of your lungs, voice lost among the rest. The team rushes to the right corner of the field closest to the student section, colliding in hugs and jumps and screaming maybe even louder than the hundreds of you in the stands. You watch Jeonghan in the celebration, hair matted down with sweat, mouth ajar in a soundless cheer, embracing a teammate before ditching him to literally jump on top of another. Your yells turn to laughs. And before you know it, the game is back on, all players racing across the field in a mad dash. The ball goes flying. Penalty cards flying to nearly every player at least once. The entire student section is at the edge of their seats. Time seems to fly by with unified chants filling your ears and throat. There’s only 10 minutes left. The game is still in a tie, and you really don’t feel like sitting here for the extra time. Then, someone starts singing the school’s fight song. Eventually, the whole section is singing it. You included. It ignites something in the team.

The opposing team has the ball, dribbling it across the field and passing it back and forth. Out of nowhere, one of your school’s players appears right next to the opponent with the ball. He kicks the ball out from under the other player, taking him and the rest of the stands by surprise. The ball rolls from under his knees to another of your school’s players. Jeonghan’s teammate is in action immediately, sprinting away with the ball to the opposite side of the field, feet flying faster than your mind can even comprehend. And just as one of the opposing team’s members closes in on him, he punts the ball in the air and it flies and flies and flies. Your heart lurches. There’s no mistaking it–the ball is aimed for Jeonghan. 7 minutes left. Jeonghan receives the ball perfectly, immediately racing away with it towards the goal. An opponent chases after him, forcing him to head nearer and nearer to the touchlines. It all happens so fast. The other player kicks his feet out to steal the ball. Jeonghan crosses the ball over to another teammate. The teammate receives it with his head. He dribbles it forward for half a second and then shoots. Time nearly stops when he does. The goalie throws their entire body to block the ball, and every present body watches, stupefied, as the ball blows right past the goalie’s head and lands squarely within the goal.

And if you thought the previous goal’s celebration was loud, this one’s is deafening. The entire stadium roars in pride. Your school won. Jeonghan won. And you can’t stop fucking smiling.

—

Joshua convinces you to wait for Jeonghan and the rest of the team at Tim’s with him. You do. For matters of fake dating but also because you could really use a beer. Conversation with Joshua is fun and light. By the time you’re both on your second round, his politeness dims to tease you for your drink of choice. You see now why he’s one of Jeonghan’s closest friends.

There’s commotion towards the entrance. You turn your heads towards it and watch Jeonghan’s team rumble through the tiny door, yelling at god knows what and rushing to the bar.

Joshua stands to go say hi. You follow him, walking slightly behind. Jeonghan finds you before you both find him. He tackles Joshua first, hugging him from the side, and literally ‘whooping’ into his ear. Joshua smacks at his face at first, but eventually joins him in the repeated ‘whooping’ jumping up and down in celebration. Then Jeonghan sees you. The whooping fades. He stares.

You swallow.

“Yah!” He exclaims, releasing Joshua and pointing a finger at your shirt. “I thought I told you to wear the jersey I gave you.”

Your face drops. Whatever happened to ‘hi’, ‘hello’, ‘how are you’?

Joshua says something about the bathroom and walks to the back of the bar.

You shake your head at the remaining boy. “It’s a little bit concerning how good you are at lying, you know.”

“Well, we can’t have people suspecting us.” He retorts, stepping closer to you as someone passes behind him.

“Is it okay that I’m here?” You ask, quiet enough for no one else to hear, face scrunching. “I didn’t know what to say to Joshua earlier, but I can definitely make up a lie if you want to just–”

“Are you kidding?” He grabs you by the shoulders, shaking you back and forth. “I want you here! We have to celebrate. This was the biggest game of the season, and we won it!” Then, with that same crooked smile you noticed upon first meeting, he adds, “Plus, you’re not very good at lying.”

You scoff. “Even now, you have the capacity for assholery.”

His eyebrows zip together. “I don’t think that’s a word.”

“It could be.”

Someone pats Jeonghan on the back, handing him a drink. Jeonghan asks what it is. The other person tells him to just drink it. Jeonghan does so begrudgingly. You recognize the person to be player number 7.

“Hi, I’m Seungcheol,” number 7 says to you, holding out his hand. You shake it, introducing yourself and congratulating him on the game.

“Hey, is assholery a word?” Jeonghan asks his teammate, watching your face contort through a thousand different variations of annoyance and disbelief.

Seungcheol looks between the two of you. “Uh, no. Don’t think so.”

“Ha!” Jeonghan wags a finger in your face. “You owe me a drink.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but you head towards the bar with Jeonghan anyways, where you find Joshua again ordering the three of you a round of shots. “No, no,” he insists, when you try to tell him that you’re already buying drinks, “I owe Jeonghan a drink anyways.”

And as you find out throughout the course of the night, apparently every other patron at Tim’s owes Jeonghan a drink. You lose count of how many times you’ve heard him say so after your third beer. Joshua makes his exit soon after that and conveniently right before the team starts singing the fight song again. You start dreaming of bed when a guy you recognize as number 3 gets on a chair and starts leading the crowd.

Your phone buzzes.

Soonyoung [1:23 AM]: finished the report :0

Soonyoung [1:23 AM]: finally

Soonyoung [1:24 AM]: how’s tim’s

You [1:24 AM]: did you know they had a karaoke machine?

Soonyoung [1:25 AM]: do you not remember how i got banned in the first place

You [1:25 AM]: sore subject mb

You [1:27 AM]: damn how’d you finish the report so fast

You [1:27 AM]: you only started it after the game right

Soonyoung [1:28 AM]: u know me xD

An odd feeling settles in your stomach as they start the last stanza of the fight song. You shove your phone in your pocket and ask for the check.

By 2 am, the celebration is finally winding down, and the entire team is collectively too drunk to stand. “Come on, Jeonghan,” you pull him away as he says goodbye to his friends for the millionth time. “Let’s go home.”

He finally relents, turning away from his friends and throwing both his arms over your shoulders, hugging you from the back. “Let’s go to yours.”

“Mine? Why?”

“It’s closer.” Then after a moment, he bumps his chin against your shoulder and adds, “Plus, I wanna see your room.”

“Fine,” you huff and start walking. Jeonghan releases himself from your back, electing to walk on his own until you realize he’s too much of a wanderer to be unattached, drifting off to the edge of the sidewalk or in the wrong direction every chance he gets. He asks you to carry him. You settle for holding his hand. The two of you walk quietly back to your dorm. That is until Jeonghan starts humming the fight song again. You snap. “Is that the only song you guys know tonight?”

He stops humming and apologizes. You don’t say anything back. Then, very quietly, sounding so infuriatingly innocent, he says, “I didn’t mean to get this drunk.”

You’re an asshole. “No. It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m just a little… upset right now.”

He burps. “Because of me?”

The look on his face when he says it pulls a laugh from between your lips. “No. Not because of you.” You make a right onto your street, dragging Jeonghan along as he tries to take a left. “Anyway, I thought student athletes weren’t supposed to drink.”

“No, we’re not supposed to get caught drinking.” Jeonghan holds out his hand in front of him, as if to say ‘stop’ to something invisible to you. “Very different.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Either way, I don’t drink that much.”

You scoff, stopping in front of the door to your building. “What do you mean? You drank last weekend.”

He shakes his head. “That was a special occasion.”

“And the occasion was…?”

He looks you dead in the eye.

“You make me nervous.”

Then, he turns around and vomits into the bushes behind him.

Once you get him to your apartment and in your bathroom, you leave him to vomit out the alcohol. Returning after the retching sounds recede and you’ve changed into pjs. He’s seated on the floor beside the toilet, eyes closed and head resting against the wall. You sit on the other side. Thank god, you cleaned this bathroom yesterday. “How do you feel?” You ask him.

He inhales. “Much better now that I…” He gestures to the toilet.

“Here.” You hand him a glass of water.

He opens his eyes and takes it, drinking from it slowly. “Sorry I got so drunk.”

“You already apologized 30 times on the way up here.” You remind him.

“But I’m really sorry.”

“And I really don’t mind.”

He considers that for a long moment. “You sure?”

You lean forward. “I’m sure. More water?”

He shakes his head, wordlessly eyeing your pajama pants. You look down at your snoopy pants. You hadn’t thought too hard about your choice of bottoms when you changed. “Cute.” He mutters, smiling at them.

You mumble back a ‘thanks’.

“So, what’d you think of the game?”

You tell him honestly how much fun you had watching them play, giving him every reaction you had to every move made and all your unfiltered opinions on the refs. He listens intently, filling you in on all the thoughts that ran through his head while they were playing and every conversation that happened on the sidelines.

“Thanks for coming.” He tells you once you’ve both exhausted all opinions relating to the game itself. “And for meeting Joshua and coming out to Tim’s afterwards and then getting me out of Tim’s too.”

“Jeonghan, it’s really not that big of a deal. And Joshua was a lot of fun to hang out with.”

“Hey, don’t get too attached.” He warns. “I’m the one you’re fake dating.”

“Trust me, I know.”

“So, then, as your fake boyfriend,” he gulps down the last of the water, “are you going to tell me what you were so upset about?”

You exhale, flexing your fingers. “It’s stupid.”

“And here I was thinking we had made a pact to be young and dumb.” You run your tongue over your top row of teeth, holding back a smile. “So, what happened?”

“I just got this text from Soonyoung that he finished this one assignment. And, I don’t know, I just felt so ridiculous because it took me so much longer than him to do.”

“Which assignment? The chem lab?”

You don’t remember telling Jeonghan about it. “Uh, yeah. How did you–”

“Man, who cares if it took you longer? I know Soonyoung, and I know you, and I bet yours is a million times better than his. No offense to Soonyoung, but I’m pretty sure he’d agree anyways.”

“Okay, you’re drunk.”

“That may be true, but it has nothing to do with the fact that you’re brilliant.”

Something about the way he says it, how steady his voice is maybe or the way he refuses to look away, forces you to see how much he believes it. But even that, doesn’t do much to change what you think.

“What are you talking about? I wouldn’t even be passing multi if it weren’t for you.” Your voice cracks as you say the words, making it all come out sounding much sadder than you had intended it to. You hope he doesn’t notice.

“That’s really not true.” You can’t even trust yourself to respond to him. He pouts. “Are you upset again?”

“A little.”

“I’m sorry. Let’s drop it.”

“Gladly.” Then, after a moment, you laugh at how silly it all is.

“First fight of the relationship.” He gives you your second half smile of the night. “I think we should hug it out.”

Your body reacts to the words before you do. “I disagree–”

“Did you just cringe?”

“–you smell like vomit.”

“Well, do you have clothes for me?”

“No, but I have a couch.”

He holds his index finger up. “I’ll take it.”

—

(When you wake up the next morning, Jeonghan’s gone. You open your phone and find 2 more apologies and 3 more thank you’s from him.

You try to ignore the twinge of disappointment.)

—

When the third weekend of fake dating rolls around, you admittedly are a bit tired of going to parties and getting drunk. So when Jeonghan asks what the plans are, you suggest he say that he’s taking you out on a date instead.

As such, you’ve spent nearly the entire day in bed. You’re heating up some water on the stove to make ramen when you get a text from Jeonghan saying he’s five minutes away. You stare at the text. The fuck does that mean?

Unsurprisingly, it ends up meaning that he was literally five minutes away. You open the door when he knocks and stare at him standing in the doorway.

“What are you wearing?” Is the first thing he says. You look down at your outfit. “You should’ve told me this was going to be a sweats kind of date before I put real clothes on.”

“Date?”

“Don’t look so surprised, it was your idea.” Jeonghan reminds you, strutting into your kitchen.

“No, no.” You say, returning to your boiling water. “My idea was to tell people we’re going on a date. Like as a cover.”

“Oh.” He falls down onto your couch. “Well I’m here so get dressed there’s this new ramen place I wanna try.”

You sigh, turning the stovetop off before trudging to your room to change.

The ‘date’ ends up being quite nice. You discuss a study plan to prepare for your math midterm over a much yummier bowl of ramen than you had planned on consuming today. Afterwards, you walk the streets of downtown, only intending to window shop. However, now, standing in a small boutique, Jeonghan tries to convince you to buy matching necklaces.

“Come on, they’re so cute.”

“We don’t need matching necklaces, Jeonghan.”

“A real couple would definitely have matching necklaces.”

“Good thing we’re not one.”

“Fine then. Guess I’ll just stop tutoring you in math too. You know Lubinsky’s midterms are almost as hard as his finals, right?”

You grab two of the necklaces and turn to the cashier. “How much?” You swear you hear Jeonghan whoop from behind you.

—

“Hey,” Jeonghan whispers, “we’re here.” You open your eyes slowly, not even registering that you fell asleep on the ride back to campus after the date-but-not-date. “You drool when you sleep by the way.”

And that wakes you up. You wipe whatever drool is left on your mouth, muttering a small and embarrassed ‘shut up’.

“What are you doing for the rest of your day?” He asks as you gather your things from his car.

“Absolutely nothing. Today’s the last day to rot before midterm prep starts.” You tell him, looking for your wallet. “What about you?”

“Avoiding a mixer at the house tonight.” He reaches into the center console and hands you the leather slip.

You take the wallet gratefully. “Wanna join me? We can make some tea. Watch a movie.”

He puts the car in park. “I know just what we should watch.”

And that’s how you end up on your couch with Jeonghan, two emptied mugs sitting on the coffee table, blanket draped over your legs, and the worst movie you’ve seen to date playing in the background.

“Wow, this movie sucks ass.”

“This,” Jeonghan gestures passionately to the screen, “is cinema.” You clasp your hands together as if in prayer. He takes a double take at the motion. “What are you doing?”

“I’m thanking god that your major is business and not film.” He immediately smacks apart your hands. “Don’t lie.” You say gasping for air between laughs. “This movie is objectively not good.”

His tongue peeks out between his lips, you practically see the smiling begging to emerge on his face. “Okay, so it might not be all that it was hyped up to be, but–”

“Ha!” You point a finger in his face. “I knew you hated it.” He slumps into the couch, pulling the blanket up to his chin. “Do you want more tea?” You ask. He soundlessly nods, refusing to move his eyes from the tv screen.

You stand to make some, grabbing both mugs from the table. “So, do you not have a roommate?” Jeonghan questions, as you pour water from the kettle into the mugs.

You look to the second, empty room of your apartment style dorm. “Actually, no. There was supposed to be someone there, but they moved or dropped out at the start of the year and the school never filled the room.”

“Ah.” Jeonghan clicks, nodding as if finally putting together the last piece of a puzzle “So, that’s why you’re so friendless.”

You return to the couch with full mugs. “I am not friendless.” He makes a face. “Really. I have friends.”

“Other than Soonyoung?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, name them.” You kick him under the blanket. “Fine. You have friends.” (“I have friends.”) “But how come you never talk about hanging out with them?”

You exhale slowly, sinking further into the couch. “I just didn’t do too well in school last semester, so I promised myself I would focus on classes this time around. And, I don’t know, I guess I just got so caught up in that and haven’t really been making the time or effort for hangouts.”

He tilts his head. “You know, I feel like there’s a world where you can do well in school while also maintaining your friendships. I mean we see each other regularly.”

“That’s because half of the time we’re studying.”

He gives you a look. “You know what I mean.”

You sigh, considering his point. Maybe at one point you would have thought the same. Last semester you even tried to have it all–the friends, the social life, the grades. But in the end, you dropped the ball. You can’t afford to make those same mistakes. “I just don’t think that world exists for me.”

He finally looks away from the tv and gives his full attention to you. His eyes seem to linger on every turn in your face. Quietly, he says, “So that’s what it is.” He doesn’t offer an explanation immediately. Instead, his chest deflates in one long exhale, and you smother the voice in your head that’s begging you to ask for one. And there’s this conviction in his voice, this breathtaking finality, when he says, “When are you going to believe me when I say that you’re one of the smartest people I know?” that scares the living shit out of you.

He looks at you again, and you swear to god, his eyes fall right through your frame. You swallow. “What about you?”

His eyebrows raise. “What about me?”

“Who are your friends? How do you spend all your time apart from classes, soccer, the frat, tutoring me and–oh my god, nevermind, new question. Do you even sleep?”

He takes a sip from the tea. “Don’t forget the business honor society. I’ll be the treasurer next fall.”

You squint at him. “Why?”

And like it’s the simplest, most obvious thing in the world he says, “oh, well, they asked.”

Suddenly, you’re reminded of all the times you’ve seen him get asked out on dates followed by every time he’s failed to say no. “Jeonghan,” you turn to him, setting down your mug. (“oh, this is serious, okay.”) You ignore him. “Can you not say no to people?”

He blows a raspberry. “I can say no. Ask me something.”

“Uhhhh,” you rack your brain, “how about–let’s go to the beach next weekend.”

The closest beach is 5 hours away, and yet he has the audacity to say, “Wait, that sounds like fun though.”

“I thought you hated the ocean.”

“Yeah, but maybe it’d be fun with you.”

You shake your head, muttering how impossible he is. The end credits of the movie finally plays.

“I should head out.” Jeonghan says, removing himself from under the blanket. You nod, grabbing the mugs of tea and bringing them to the kitchen. He follows you to the door. You both exchange the usual ‘this was fun’, ‘let’s do it again’, ‘I’ll see you later’ that ends every hangout you’ve had in college. But then, unlike every other person you’ve held the door open for as they leave, after Jeonghan says his final goodbye, he gives you a peck on the lips.

Did that just happen?

Your fingers touch against your lips. Oh my god, it did.

He blinks. “Sorry. I, uh, I don’t know why I just,” he points to your lips, swallowing, “lol. We’re always pretending and then now. And you. Okay, well, anyways, I’ll leave.”

He turns and doesn’t look back. You hear a ‘bye’ sound from the hallway.

And it’s only by the time he’s probably halfway home that it hits: You’ve never seen Jeonghan flustered like that.

—

The first day of midterm prep is brutal. You spend the entire night in the library, studying for hours on end. And once an hour, on the dot it seems, you hear Jeonghan’s voice in your head. There’s a world where you can do well in school while also maintaining your friendships. That very night you text your friends, asking if they want to join you in one of the library study rooms you have booked every evening this week. They do, excited to hear from you again and for the gentle encouragement to get a head start on studying. You hate to admit that Jeonghan was right, but goddammit he was. You have a blast with your friends. You had barely even realized how long you’d gone without seeing them and how much you missed them. By the time your Thursday afternoon tutoring with Jeonghan comes back around, you’re still on track with the study plan you created over ramen, and you have exciting news for him.

“A birthday party?” Jeonghan says, voice carefully devoid of the disdain you must know he feels.

“Yeah, they heard through whoever that we’re dating, and now they all want you to come.”

“But a birthday party?” He repeats. This time not trying to hide anything.

“Oh come on. I went to the game for you.”

“Yeah, but the game was fun.”

“This will be fun too!” You say in what you hope is an encouraging way.

“Fine. But promise you won’t ditch me for your friends.”

“You’re so dramatic.” You mutter. “But yes, I promise.”

That Friday night Jeonghan meets you at your apartment and the two of you head over to the party together.

Halfway down the hallway to your friend’s apartment, Jeonghan suddenly halts. “Shit, should I have brought something?”

“Like what?”

“A gift? Wine? I don’t know.”

“Jeonghan, it’s a party. Don’t overthink it.” You tell him, opening the door to your friend’s apartment.

You step into her entryway and immediately feel like you’ve been transported into another world. The lights are all off save for some LED lights wrapped around the living room ceiling. An assortment of stacked red solo cups, yak-worthy bottles of vodka, and seltzers take over all available kitchen counter space. Some old pop song from an artist you know your friend loves plays loudly from the tv, reverberating through every pair of ears shoved into this tiny apartment. You inhale. The air reeks distinctly of college. You love it.

“Oh my god, there’s even people on the balcony.” Jeonghan whispers in your ears. You pivot your head around to look at him. He looks back at you, unassuming. “What?”

This entire scene is one you’re quite familiar with, having spent many nights just like this in previous semesters. But as you watch Jeonghan gape at the amount of people fitted into the kitchen alone, you figure he might not be as acquainted with this. “Yoon Jeonghan, is this your first apartment party?”

He cocks his head to the side. “Is it not yours?”

But before you can tell him all about the life you used to live before him, your friends find you attacking you with hugs and introducing themselves to Jeonghan.

Jenny, the birthday girl in question, sloppily points at both of you and says, “I’ve been drinking since noon. You need to catch up.”

After a minute of half-hearted protest, you oblige, heading over to the kitchen area. You grab two cups, handing Jeonghan one. “There’s soda over there if you’re not drinking tonight,” you tell him, pointing to the area beside the sink where a line of mixers await.

He looks over at the bottles, then looks back at you. “Are you drinking?”

“Yes!” Your friend Daniel yells from over the music. You just shrug, reaching for one of the handles. “I guess so.”

Jeonghan inhales sharply, holding out his cup for you to pour. “I’ll have what you’re having then.”

You hesitate, open bottle hovering over the lip of his cup. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Why?”

You frown. “I was thinking about what you said after the game about how you don’t drink that much, and I don’t want you to drink just because I am. I can not drink too.”

He pushes his cup up. “What was it you said earlier? It’s a party. Don’t overthink it.”

Then he gives you that crooked half smile that you’ve come to know so well. You pour him a drink and pour yourself one too. You turn back to your friends, holding up your cup for a cheers.

“Wait, wait, what are we cheersing to?” Daniel asks, grabbing his cup from behind him and holding it up, tapping on Jenny’s shoulder for her to do the same.

It’s Jeonghan who answers. Looking straight at you, he holds his cup up high and says, “To friends.”

You bring the drink up to your lips smiling, watching him watching you. All four of you down your drinks. The drink is absolutely terrible, burning a path down your throat all the way down. Jeonghan hands you another cup, whispering ‘it’s coke’ with an equally pained expression on his face. You take it gratefully.

“God,” Jenny says, placing a hand on her chest while watching the exchange between you and Jeonghan, “they’re like an old married couple already. How have we missed all this?”

“I know.” Daniel says, shaking his head. “I can still barely believe it.”

You glare at him. “Hey, what’s so hard to believe?”

They both ignore you, turning their attention to Jeonghan instead.

“So, we’ve heard all the boring–how you guys met, first date–sort of stuff, but we want to know the juicy details–”

“Jenny, don’t you have other guests to attend to or–”

“Yeah,” Daniel joins in, “like what’s your favorite thing about them?”

You turn to Jeonghan immediately. “You don’t have to answer that.”

“My favorite part,” Jeonghan starts, ignoring your plea to not humor them and tapping a finger on his chin in thought. He must find it after a moment, pausing the tapping and stealing a glance your way. “Probably how much fun I have with them.” He says to your friends. “I feel like we’re always laughing together or just having a good time. I’ve never been able to talk to someone as easily as I do with them. Like you know how when you get towards the end of a really good book, and you just can’t put it down, pushing everything else to the side to keep reading. Hanging out with them is like that.” Turning back to look at you, he adds, “I never want it to end.”

You hold his gaze while Jenny and Daniel erupt into a series of awes and exclamations. Deep in your gut, you know that you should be focusing on the kind smile on his face or the sudden rapidity in your heartbeat, but instead, more cruelly, you wonder how much of that was a lie he made up to appease the role of your fake boyfriend.

You turn to pour yourself another drink. He holds his cup out as well. You pour for two.

“You okay?” He asks, pouring some fruit punch into both your cups as well.

You nod. You have no reason to be upset. So taking a sip of the drink, you decide you’re not. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“We should play a game,” he says, taking a sniff of your jointly made concoction.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, like…” He looks around the apartment. “We have to drink every time we see someone kissing.”

“What kind of rule is that?”

“No. It’ll be fun.” He says, scanning the apartment again. He sucks in air between his teeth. “Damn, I thought there’d be more kissing than this for some reason.”

You laugh at his cluelessness, and then lean in to kiss his cheek. “There.” You say, clinking your cup against his. “Now, we can drink.”

He taps a finger to the tip of his nose twice, then points it at you, before taking two large gulps of his drink.

The game actually does a good job of getting you and Jeonghan drunk once Jenny catches wind if it and starts giving out birthday kisses to whoever will take one. After a while, you make the executive decision that you need a break and escape to the bathroom to piss. When you exit back into the hallway off the living room, Jeonghan is there, leaning against the opposite wall, waiting for you. He hands you your cup back. “Your friends are terrible, terrible enablers,” he says, motioning for you to drink up while taking a drink himself. You whimper, leaning against the wall beside him and readmitting the dreaded liquid to your body.

“So,” you bump your shoulder against his, “are you having fun?”

He shifts his entire body to face you, shoulder resting against the wall, back turned to the entire party. He puts his face right in front of yours, narrows his eyes at you playfully, and says, “did you even listen to what I said?”

You put a hand on his shoulder. Just to have something between his body and yours. “What?”

He grins cheekily, letting out a puff of air that smells like cherry. “I always have fun with you.”

You laugh. Then in a voice sober you would be embarrassed of, you say, “And you never want it to end?”

He sticks his tongue out just barely, laughing into your neck. “And I never want it to end.”

You kiss him.

You don’t stop to think about what it might mean tomorrow or even in the next hour. You don’t stop to think about the fact that you’re too drunk to be initiating kisses or the possibility that he is. You don’t stop to think about anything, other than how much you love the sound of his laugh and how badly you want to feel his lips on yours again.

The kiss starts slowly, a shy orchestration of lips and breath. Your nose bumps against his, and he pulls away. He looks at you with those damn eyes, like it’s the first time all over again. And for some reason you can’t explain you bitterly think that it was always going to end like this.

He cups his free hand against your cheek and pulls you back in. Your lips meet in an open-mouthed kiss that has nothing slow and shy about it. No. It’s sloppy, hurried, and hungry. It’s tongue and teeth, crashing and colliding over and over again. It’s your body against his, every rise of your chest battling against his You wrap your free hand against his torso, pulling him impossibly closer. His hand moves from where it was holding your face to travel over the back of your head and your neck, sliding halfway down your back before pulling forward to run from your waist down to your hip. It lingers there for a moment before continuing further to grip the back of your thigh, pulling your knee up the side of his leg and holding it there against his hip.

A commotion sounds from the living room. “Oh shit.” You say breathlessly, pulling away from him. “I think she’s going to pop the champagne.”

“Okay.” He breathes, before kissing you again. You laugh in his mouth, whispering his name and pushing a hand against his chest. Finally, he lets go of your leg. You lead him back to the rest of the party where everyone is crowding around the balcony entrance. You and Jeonghan stand in the living room, watching from the window as Jenny struggles to pop the cork. She gets it after a moment, yelping at the sudden burst and spraying it over the edge of the balcony. Once the champagne dies down enough to not be overflowing, she brings the bottle to her lips and chugs. Everyone counts.

1! Jeonghan steps closer to you, wrapping his arms around your torso and hugging you from the back. You have to remind yourself to catch your breath.

2! He rests his chin on your shoulder. Without even thinking about it, you rest your head against his. His voice is a warm breath on your neck.

3! You recall what he said to your friends at the start of the party and again to you right before the kiss. Did he mean it? Does he really not want this to end?

4! Your eyes glance over at his. He looks happy. He looks like he’s finally given himself the chance to be young and stupid, which from the start, is all you ever wanted for him. So then why does it make you feel so suddenly grief-stricken?

5! “Why didn’t you tell Joshua about us?” You ask him quietly, voice drowned out by the counting for everyone other than him.

6! He angles his chin towards you. “What do you mean? He knows we’re dating.”

7! “No, I mean why didn’t you tell him that it’s fake.”

8! He stands up straight. Fuck the counting. You turn to look at him. “He’s your best friend, isn’t he?”

9! He looks at you carefully. “Did you tell Soonyoung that it’s all been fake?”

10! You haven’t even answered him yet, but somehow, he already knows what you’re going to say.

11! “Yes.” And even alcohol couldn’t have hidden the distinct look of betrayal painted all over his face.

12! He looks down into his cup and chuckles darkly. “Why did we just kiss?”

13! You swallow. Shit. “Someone was looking at you, like–well, you know what like.”

14! He doesn’t say anything. You recount his words back to him. “Sealing the deal, remember.”

15! His eyes bore into yours. How could you have been so stupid?

16! Please, you want to beg, say something.

17! He shakes his head, smiling emptily. “Tell your friends it was nice to meet them.”

18! He doesn’t wait to hear if you have anything left to say. He turns, and you watch him disappear from the party.

The rest of the numbers blur in your head.

—

(That night you had called Soonyoung, sobbing over the phone, feeling more drunk then, in your apartment than you had at any other point that night.

“What’s wrong?” Alarm was flush in his voice. “What happened? Are you okay?”

The only thing Soonyoung could even make out was a very sad, very quiet, “I ruined it.”)

—

You haven’t talked to Jeonghan since Jenny’s party. He hasn’t texted you either. Staring at your upcoming midterm on Thursday and the extra study session with Jeonghan scheduled for Wednesday, you feel, quite lamely, mocked by your own calendar. But more than anything, you’re mad that he’s left you to study all alone the week of your midterm. You’re mad that you’re so busy replaying that night in your head, you can barely pay attention to the practice tests. You’re mad that, right now, sitting at the spot you guys always sat at in the library, you don’t have him. And you’re terrified of the creeping thought that you never really did.

By the time the midterm does come around, you’re exhausted. Not from studying or lack of sleep, but just from the sheer willpower it’s taken all week to not think about Jeonghan. You feel oddly calm going into the exam, the usual anxious chatter of students around you and rattling of chairs and pencils, not freaking you out as much as it normally would. You take the midterm, one question at a time, just as Jeonghan instructed you to do with every homework and every quiz. And then, 40 minutes in, you finish. Astonishingly, you even have enough time left to check over your work. So you do, fixing minor rounding and calculation errors, until you’re faced again with a completed exam and 15 minutes left.

You get to do something you haven’t done since high school: you turn it in early.

—

You spend the rest of that day in between your bed and your couch, struggling even more now than before to ignore thoughts of Jeonghan and your last conversation with him. For the past several weeks, Thursday afternoons were monopolized by Jeonghan, but today, watching the sun set outside your window, you’ve spent it all alone. The finality of what happened last weekend finally hits you: you might never speak to Jeonghan again. You really did ruin it. Suddenly, the urge to weep overcomes you. You turn on the tv instead, looking for a movie to watch. And of course it must be fate's petty joke on you that the first movie that pops up is the one you watched with Jeonghan after your date. You groan into your pillow before switching to something else.

By the time the movie is almost over and the sun has fully set, your phone rings. You had been checking it obsessively earlier and had therefore set it a bit farther away from where you were sitting. But at the sound of the ring, you’re ashamed to admit that you literally leapt for it. Your mind reads the caller id and is instantly flooded with an odd mix of relief and anxiety. Jeonghan is calling. Holy shit, Jeonghan is calling.

Your voice is shaky when you answer. “Hello?”

“Hey, this is Jeonghan’s partner right?” Your mouth parts at the voice that most definitely does not belong to Jeonghan. Who is this man? Why does he have Jeonghan’s phone? Why does it hurt your heart so much when he calls you Jeonghan’s partner? You must sit in your shock for too long because the mystery caller speaks again, sounding somewhat annoyed. “This is Seungcheol from the team. This is who I think it is, right? Because your number was saved as ‘my cutie’ with like a million heart emojis, so if not, this is about to get really awkward.” You have no idea how to respond to that. Finally, Seungcheol says your name. “This is you, right?”

You inhale sharply. “Yeah, uhm, sorry yes. Is everything alright? Aren’t you guys at practice right now?”

“Yeah, well we’re about to end, but here’s the thing…” Seungcheol then explains how terribly Jeonghan’s been playing this week, overly aggressive, missing every pass, fucking up every cross. And today, halfway through practice he hurt his shoulder and the coach sat him out entirely, forcing him to sit on the sidelines and just watch. Safe to say, this did not go over well with him, and he’s been laying down on the bench head buried in his arms, snapping at everyone who approaches him ever since. Seungcheol had to use a fake emergency bathroom break as a chance to run away to the locker room and make this call. “Do you know what’s going on with him?”

Of course you know, and it’s all your fault. You really did ruin everything with one kiss. “I–”

“Fuck, I’m running out of time. Never mind that.” Seungcheol says, cutting you off. “Can you just come down and be here, when we get off practice? Jeonghan drove over so you both can take his car back, but I think he just really needs someone here with him today.”

You wince. “Seungcheol, actually, I–”

“No, no, please. You don’t understand. I think I saw him crying on the bench. He needs you. Come.” Then after a slight hesitation he adds, “If you can. Please.”

You don’t even know what to say, but it doesn’t matter because just then the call ends. You stare at your phone, considering the options. Stay here and wallow. Or go, and try to salvage everything you’ve broken. And while you are a very accomplished wallower, you know which one you have to do. You drag your feet all the way over to your room to change.

You pace outside the field waiting for them, running through every possible scenario in your head. It does nothing, only worsening the condition of your already ailing heart. You drop down onto the curb, holding your head in your hands. Maybe he won’t even see you like this. You can’t tell if you prefer or hate that possibility.

Something bumps into your back. You look up and find Jeonghan staring down at you. You stand up so quickly your head starts to spin. Looking at him, you realize that this is the longest you’ve gone without seeing or talking to each other since meeting. You hated every second of it. But you think you might hate the look on his face right now more.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, words devoid of all the little quirks that make him him.

“Seungcheol called me.”

His face twitches. “Why?”

“He said that you–” you halt, selfishly wondering if it’s too late to abandon this ship. “How’s your shoulder?”

He looks at it, rolling it out once. He shrugs. “It’s fine now.”

You nod.

He then surprises you by asking: “How was your midterm?” Your eyes widen, searching his face for… you’re not even sure what. You don’t find it anyways.

You shift your weight uncomfortably. “It went well actually.”

He nods.

“Do you want a ride back?

He scoffs quietly. You flinch. “Can you even drive?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“How would you get back to yours?”

“I don’t know. Walk. Or maybe a bus. Or I could even–”

He doesn’t even let you finish. Voice raising when he asks again, “Why are you here?”

The words come out before you can stop them, tone matching his. “Because I’m sorry!”

“For what?”

“For kissing you!” He drops his duffle bag on the floor. “I don’t know!”

He parts his lips, inhaling as if to speak, but then he looks straight in your eyes and loses every word he might’ve wanted to say. He picks up his duffle and walks over to his car. “Jeonghan, please say something. I miss you, and I hate this. I just want to at least talk about what happened before we never speak again.”

He shoves his bag into the backseat and slams the door shut. He points to the car. “You coming?”

“Where?”

“I’ll drop you home.”

You don’t even know why you let him, but you do, sliding in the passenger seat and waiting until the car is started and moving to say something.

Or at least, that was the plan. But then you lose all the nerves you built up on your walk over and keep quiet the entire drive back to your place. It’s only when he stops in front of yours, ignition shutting off, that they build back enough for you to say, “Jeonghan, I–”

“I’m not mad because of the kiss.” He finally says, voice much softer than before. His eyes stay trained on the dashboard. “The kiss was…” He chokes on the word while the tiniest of smiles breaks like light after a storm on his face. “The kiss was perfect.” Your stomach momentarily turns into a gymnast. “I’m not even mad at all. I’m just,” You lean in after the words, as if waiting to catch them in your hands. He shakes his head once and then turns to look at you fully. “I’m upset because you think this has all been fake when, if I’m being brutally honest, I haven’t been faking anything since that first party.”

Oh.

Holy fucking shit.

He chuckles darkly, hitting his head lightly against the steering wheel. “Now, I know what it feels like to be on the opposite end of this.”

You can’t help yourself. “How is it?”

He groans. “It’s like a thousand stomach aches throughout your entire body.”

You want to take him out of his misery, but, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything.”

“I don’t think–”

“No, I’m serious.” He mutters. He looks pained. “Remember when you said that I can’t say no to people? This is it. I’m saying no.” He smiles at you, but you know his eyes too well and you know when there’s nothing in them. His breath catches. “I’m really happy about your midterm. I always knew you didn’t need me.”

He looks away after that, turning the car back on, an obvious signal for you to get out. Selfishly, you don’t. You take two more seconds to stare at his face, his eyes, his hair, his hands. Then you unbuckle your seatbelt and step out of the car.

He doesn’t wait long before he drives away.

You walk back up to your dorm in a stupor of sorts. You unlock the door, step through the kitchen, walk like a zombie to your room, and stare at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes travel over your whole frame, and for some reason they fall to rest at your neck. More specifically, your necklace.

You’re out of the door, running before you even know it. Breathlessly, turning onto the road that leads to the opposite side of campus. 30 minutes away. This of course turns out to be a terrible, terrible idea. You do not run. But you get there eventually. Speed walking up to the door of Jeonghan’s frat house and knocking vigorously.

Soonyoung happens to be the one that opens it. “Oh, hey! How was your–Why can’t you breathe?”

You ignore him. “Is Jeonghan here?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think he’s back from practice yet. Why? What happened? Did you guys make up yet?”

“No, but, Soonyoung, I’ve been so stupid. This whole time I kept gabbing on and on, but I was blind. It was him. It was always–”

You hear a familiar voice say your name. Not just familiar. Your favorite voice. You turn to face him.

And you can’t help it, you grin.

You’re distantly aware of Soonyoung closing the door behind you.

“How did you get here?”

“I ran.” He makes a face. “Well, partly.”

“I told you to–”

“I know what you said.”

“Fine.” He sighs. “I didn’t–well, not like this, but listen. It’s okay if you don’t care–”

“But the thing is Jeonghan,” you say, the sentences and words you had prepared on the way over blurring together all in a rush to get out of your head and into his, “I do. There was no one looking at you at Jenny’s party. I kissed you because I wanted to. Because I wanted it. I hate sports. Really, ask Soonyoung, but I went and watched your game and had fun because you asked me to and because I don’t have the capacity to actually say no to your face. I thought I hated that smirk you do, but really I just hate how flustered it makes me feel. And I’m sorry that I took the whole young and stupid thing too close to heart, but,” you pull the matching necklace out from under your shirt. “If I didn’t care, would I still be wearing this? Would I be able to stand here and tell you and I haven’t taken it off since we bought it? And that that date was the best date I’ve ever been on.” You let go of the necklace, inhaling sharply. “I care, Jeonghan.” Then, as if it needs to be clarified, you add, “about you.”

You stare at him, waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

He turns around, takes two steps away from you, and then immediately plops his ass on the ground. You hear a whimper. “I thought I was going to lose you.” You approach him slowly, like a cat you’re trying like hell not to scare. You kneel down on the pavement beside him. He wipes his tears. “Don’t laugh.” He cries, already sensing the one bubbling in your throat. You shake your head as a swear not to. Which you break a second after the fact, turning your head to the side, desperately trying to hide it behind your hand. “Bully!” He exclaims.

“No. No.” You say, composing yourself and turning back to him. His tears are wiped, but a pout remains on his face. You cup your hands against his cheeks. “It’s just really cute.”

“It’s embarrassing.” He huffs.

You shake your head. “I love it.” Then you kiss him. It’s a slow and sweet kiss. You relish in it. There’s no rush anymore. No deadline. He isn’t going anywhere. Neither are you. You have all the time in the world with him.

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan fanfic #jeonghan x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen smut #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan angst #svt scenarios #mine #young & stupid

1K notes · View notes

nervousimposter · 1 year

Text

Eddie started finding notes in his locker his sophomore year. The first couple of them, he just tossed without reading. He didn’t need to read what those asshole bullies wanted to say about him. But curiosity won out after two weeks of constant notes and he finally opened one. It was the single most impactful thing he’d ever read.

I think you’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.

He kept that note. And every other note he got from that point on. If anyone were to ask Eddie what he regretted most in his life, it would be those two weeks of notes he tossed without reading. Ten slips of paper with unknown writing that he wishes he could get back. Add them to his ‘mystery boys notes’ box. And he was a mystery, the note writer. Anonymous. Unknown. Impossible to catch.

Eddie held out for a month. A whole month before he decided to stage a stake out. He watched his locker like a hawk. In between classes, during classes, lunch, after school and even one absolutely horrible day where he came in an hour before school started. But the mystery boy had to be invisible. He never saw anyone approach his locker but his daily note was always there. And Eddie; poor, unfortunate, infatuated Eddie dealt with mystery boys’ notes from ‘82 to ‘85. Four agonizing years of the most heart-warming, loving notes.

I wish I was as brave as you.

Did you change your shampoo? Your hair looked so soft today.

God, your eyes have to be the biggest fucking eyes I’ve ever seen. So pretty.

I like how long your hair is getting.

Saw you walking down the hall today and I’ve never wanted to kiss someone more.

They started cute. Compliments here and there, even a doodle every once in a while. Hearts and smiley faces. But as the months and years went by, the mystery boy got deeper. Confessions and secrets.

I think if I had a different dad, we would’ve been best friends.

Can you fall in love with someone you’ve never talked to?

I dream about us.

I’m a boy. I’m sorry.

I want to hold your hand. Those rings are something else.

I saw you trying to catch me. Adorable.

I wish I could take you on a date. Not give a shit what my dad would say or what people would think.

I wish I could be brave enough to talk to you.

You’re still the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.

I’m graduating this year. I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you. I think I’m going to try to figure out a way to keep dropping these off next year. I don’t want you to forget about me.

The notes didn’t continue when the school year started. Eddie was embarrassed to admit he cried that first night. He wasn’t sure how the mystery boy was going to be able to get the notes to him but he fully believed it was going to happen. He went five weeks with no daily note in his locker. And then, it showed up on a Monday. He almost missed it, the tiny slip of paper.

Sorry this took so long. Had to figure out how I was going to sneak these in here. I don’t think I’ll be able to call you pretty every day of the week this time around but I’m going to try my best!

And mystery boy was right. The notes were always there on Monday. Just Monday. But Eddie didn’t complain. One note a week after five weeks of nothing almost had his heart bursting from his chest. It also narrowed down his search. Sort of. Mystery boy was either coming in on those Mondays to drop off the note, sneaking in on the weekends when the school was empty OR after school on Fridays. And look, he’s failed to graduate high school two times in a row now but he wasn’t stupid. Did it take him three months after the notes to start again for him to realize who it was? Yes but to be fair, for two of those months it was Eddie wallowing in denial.

Five weeks into school was when he restarted Hellfire. Three weeks before that was when he brought in those new little freshman sheepies. The same freshman sheepies that got picked up by Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington who graduated last year. Steve Harrington who he catches staring at him from his beemer in the parking lot every Friday night before he takes the kiddies home. Steve who he categorizes as someone who is so far out of his league that it just couldn’t be him. But it’s been three months and there isn’t any other former Hawkins high student running around in or near the school. And now that Eddie’s almost certain Steve has been mystery boy these past few years, he can’t wait. He’s been in love with a figure made out of slips of paper for four years and his nonexistent patience has truly run thin.

He calls for a break 15 minutes before they normally end their sessions. Tells the boys he needs to run to the bathroom and almost sprints out the door. His locker sits in the hallway just around the corner of the drama room. The door closing shut echos through the empty hallways, alongside the squeaks coming from his shoes as he hustles towards his locker. He freezes as soon as he turns the corner.

Steve probably only had 30 seconds after hearing the door open and shut to process what he was going to do. He could’ve run or hid, maybe pretend like he just needed the bathroom while he waited. But Eddie watched him pause as they made eye contact instead. Watched as Steve looked him up and down. Watched him relax and lean back against the lockers behind him with a lazy smirk. His arm slowly moved up and Eddie could see a slip of paper held between his fingers. Steve didn’t break eye contact with him at all as he proceeded to shove the paper between the vents of his locker. They stayed like that for what felt like hours. Staring. Broken when Steve pushed himself off the wall and walked towards him. He didn’t stop. Side stepped around Eddie before they could collide. A faint brush of his fingers along the back of his hand as he walked past him. And Eddie just watched him pass. Just like he watched him slip that note in his locker, he watched Steve walk back down the hall and out the front doors.

He waited only five seconds after the doors closed behind Steve before he jogged over to his locker. Grabbed the note and shoved it into his pocket before running back over to the drama room. Told the guys that they stopped at a decent spot and would meet again next Friday. Walked with them to the parking lot to head home. To catch a glimpse of Steve. And there he was, sitting in his beemer, staring again. This time though, Eddie smiled at him. He smiled at him and pulled the note out of his pocket. Opened it right there in the parking lot while he stared back at Steve. It only took him a few seconds to glance down to read. And as soon as he did, he threw his head back and laughed. Cackled really. He looked back at the beemer and saw Steve with the widest grin. Watched him lift his fingers off the steering wheel and wiggle them at him before he started pulling out of the lot. He looked back down at the note in his hand and chuckled again. Who knew Steve Harrington knew DnD well enough to draw a perfect rendition of an eight sided dice?

Wanna go on a d8? - Steve Harrington xxx-xxx-xxxx

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steddie fic

7K notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

selfrem1nd

Mustika Muliana

zeze-dailys

#ZEZEDAILYS

zeze-dailys

#ZEZEDAILYS

idkscrewit

Untitled

cyberundie

Cyberundie