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creatives-argentines · 2 months

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MASTERPOST OF ARGENTINEAN CREATIVES: COMMISSIONS OPEN

We called for argentinean artists, writers, animators, graphic designers and musicians to send us their work to boost them in the international market, and here we all are!

Because of our country's political decline in the hands of a fascist government we are in need of help.

We are in need of visibility and financial aid, so everyone that you see here is open for commissions, and the masterpieces you see are what you can look forward to.

We will update this post every month according to the entries we might get in the future, until the end of June. On the 15th of July there will be another masterpost, hopefully with more people!

Also, we will be reblogging their pieces so stick around and see what they'll do in the future, and please consider reblogging anything you like from us or from them directly, it goes a long way.

Lastly, we're trying to keep it bilingual, so if you see an image that has writing in just one language (or both!), check the ALT TEXT, it will have both spanish and english versions.

________________________

Convocamos a artistas, escritores, animadores, diseñadores gráficos y músiques argentines a que nos envíen sus trabajos para potenciarlos en el mercado internacional, ¡y aquí estamos todos!

Debido al declive político de nuestro país en manos de un gobierno fascista necesitamos ayuda.

Necesitamos visibilidad y ayuda financiera, así que todes los que ven aquí estamos abiertes a encargos, y las obras maestras que ven son lo que pueden esperar de nosotres.

Actualizaremos esta publicación todos los meses de acuerdo con la cantidad de fichas que podamos recibir en el futuro, hasta finales de junio. El 15 de julio habrá otro masterpost, ¡esperamos que con más gente!

Además, rebloguearemos sus obras así que quedate por acá para ver qué hacen en el futuro, y por favor considerá rebloguear cualquier cosa que te guste de nosotres o de elles directamente.

Por último, estamos tratando de mantenerlo bilingüe, así que si ves una imagen que tiene la escritura en un solo idioma (¡o ambas!), fijate en el ALT TEXT, tendrá las versiones en español e inglés.

Without further ado, enjoy~

Escritores / Writers:

@fatheriimaginedyoutaller (they/he - elle/él)

Escritor/e de 21 años. Especializado en relatos cortos y cuentos. Con pasión por el género realista y la fantasía. Inspirado en el estilo de George R.R Martin, Suzanne Collins, Liliana Heker y Kafka. Ofrezco servicios como ghostwriter y como escritor/e propiamente dicho. También puedo desempeñarme como escritor de blog y columnista de opinión en revistas online. Manejo bien el idioma inglés, con nivel bilingüe. Siendo capaz de traducir textos Trabajo en remoto. Mis tarifas oscilan entre $10 y $17 (EN PESOS) por palabra, dependiendo de la complejidad y longitud del texto comisionado. Mi obra más reciente "Pueblo Crepúsculo" fue publicada en la antología Purapalabra 2023. ________________________ 21 year old writer. Specialized in short stories and tales. With a passion for the realism and fantasy genres. Inspired by the style of George R.R Martin, Suzanne Collins, Liliana Heker and Kafka. I offer services as a ghostwriter and as a writer myself. I can also work as a blog writer and opinion columnist in online magazines. I am fluent in English, with a bilingual level. I am able to translate texts. I work remotely. My rates range from ARS$10 to $17 per word, depending on the complexity and length of the commissioned text. My most recent work "Pueblo Crepúsculo" was published in the anthology Purapalabra 2023. Contacts and relevant links / Contactos y links relevantes: Tumblr: @fatheriimaginedyoutaller Email: [email protected]

@mearpsdyke (she/her - ella)

Tengo 20 años, soy del NOA y me podés llamar Zee. Soy una escritora freelance, me especializo en narrativa aunque también incursiono en la poesía. Para proyectos pequeños (o sea: historias cortas) mi tarifa es de ARS$800 por cada mil (1000) palabras. Para proyectos grandes que involucren un conteo de palabras más alto, podemos charlar el precio por privado. Me especializo en el género de romance: las imágenes visuales y descripciones de emociones son lo que mejor se me da, pero también puedo escribir otros géneros como el misterio o historias más introspectivas con respecto a la psicología de los personajes. Tengo un blog de escritura bastante nuevo que empezar�� a usar como portafolio, el link está abajo. Estoy dispuesta a escribir de todo por el precio justo. ________________________ I'm 20 years old, I'm from NOA and you can call me Zee. I'm a freelance writer, I specialize in narrative although I also dabble in poetry. For small projects (i.e. short stories) my rate is ARS$800 per thousand (1000) words. For international clients, my rate is USD$1 per fifty (50) words. For larger projects involving a higher word count, we can discuss pricing privately in both cases. I specialize in the romance genre: visual imagery and descriptions of emotions are what I'm best at, but I can also write other genres such as mystery or more introspective stories regarding character psychology. I have a fairly new writing blog that I will start using as a portfolio, the link is below. I'm willing to write anything for the right price. Contacts and relevant links / Contactos y links relevantes: Blog: https://servilletaliteraria.blogspot.com/ Email: [email protected] Discord: mearpsdyke

Artistas gráfiques / Graphic artists:

@denwenai

(they/them - elle)

Denwenai (elle) es une artista y diseñadore multimedia que realiza ilustraciones digitales de personajes y entornos con distintos niveles de detalle. Su estilo es fluctuante: según el objeto a retratar oscila entre las terminaciones definidas o bocetadas, un aspecto tradicional o plano, la reminiscencia con un cómic o un concept art. En cuanto a diseño, se especializa en el armado de piezas editoriales y la creación de marca. Ofrece servicios de vectorizado (tanto piezas ya existentes como de diseño propio), edición de video y motion graphics. ________________________ Denwenai (they/them) is a multimedia artist and designer who creates digital illustrations of characters and environments with different levels of detail. Their style is fluctuating: depending on the object to be portrayed, they oscillate between defined or sketched finishes, a traditional or flat look, reminiscent of a comic book or concept art. In terms of design, they specialize in the creation of editorial pieces and branding. They offer vectorizing services (both existing pieces and their own design), video editing and motion graphics. Contacts and relevant links / Contactos y links relevantes: Tumblr: @denwenai Instagram: @denwenai Relevant links: https://linktr.ee/denwenai

@sunnysidesup1847

(any pronouns - cualquier pronombre)

Sunny es un artista cordobés, se especializa mayormente en la figura humana (retratos, fichas de personaje) o antropomórfica en general. Se destaca en entornos de fantasía y diseño de personaje. ________________________ Sunny is an artist from Córdoba, they specialize mostly in human figures (portraits, character tokens) or anthropomorphic in general. They excel in fantasy environments and character design. Contacts and relevant links / Contactos y links relevantes: Tumblr: @sunnysideup1847 Relevant links: https://www.atom.bio/sunny_sides_up/

@aifastic

(they/she/he - elle/ella/él)

Aifas vive en La Plata, Buenos Aires, Argentina. Dibuja en su mayoría fanart de franquicias que le gustan, ¡pero también le encanta hacer retratos de mascotas! Últimamente ha estado probando animación cuadro por cuadro y diseño con el OpenShot Video Editor e Inkscape, respectivamente. Se especializa en el arte pop. ________________________ Aifas lives in La Plata, Buenos Aires, Argentina. They draw mostly fanart of franchises they like, but also love doing portraits of everyone's pets! Lately, they have been trying their hand at frame-by-frame animation and design with OpenShot Video Editor and Inkscape, respectively. They specialize in pop art. Contacts and relevant links / Contactos y links relevantes: Tumblr: @aifastic Instagram: @aifastic

@localshoulderdevil

(he/him - él)

Dibujos en técnica tradicional desde lápices, marcadores o acuarelas. Con diferentes niveles de estilización y juego con las texturas. Hago dibujos e ilustraciones, diseño de personaje y mini cómics. Me inspira la gente, los detalles únicos y la versatilidad de lo morbo. Hace un par de años ya que hago arte por encargo, me dedico principalmente al diseño de personaje. Trabajo con texturas, buscando una representación un poco más única de cada uno. Dentro de ello, puedo trabajar a detalle, puedo utilizar gore, puedo retratar con más realismo o mayor estilización; se adapta a la esencia de cada obra. ________________________ Drawings in traditional technique, from pencil, markers or watercolors. With different levels of stylization and play with textures. I do drawings and illustrations, character design and mini comics. I'm inspired by people, unique details and the versatility of morbid things. It's been a couple years since I've started doing commissioned art, I mainly do character design. I work with textures, seeking a more unique representation of each one. Within this, I can do detailed work, I can utilize gore, I can portray with more realism or more stylization; it adapts to the essence of every piece. Contacts and relevant links / Contactos y links relevantes: Tumblr: @localshoulderdevil Discord: dm me for it

@orfeoarte

(he/they - él/elle)

Soy artista profesional, investigador y profesor. Me apasionan el horror y los mundos fantásticos. Mis fortalezas son el diseño de criaturas y personajes, obras emotivas, y arte conceptual en diversos estilos; tanto digital como traditional. Me enorgullezco de mi educación en grabado y arte impreso: soy excelente iterando y experimentando. Para mi trabajo digital utilizo Photoshop y Clip Studio Paint. En lo que respecta al arte tradicional, uso pinturas al óleo, gouache, acuarelas, lápices de colores y tintas de varios tipos. También hago grabado xilográfico y serigráfico. Ilustré dos libros, uno de ellos también escrito por mi. Trabajo en comunicación constante con mis clientes y permito pagos flexibles y en cuotas. ________________________ I’m a professional artist, researcher and professor with a passion for horror, and fantasy worlds. My strongest suits are creature and character design, emotional pieces, and concept art in diverse styles; both traditionally and digitally. My background as a printmaker is my pride: I excel at iteration and experimentation. For my digital artwork I use Photoshop and Clip Studio Paint. When it comes to traditional work, I use oil paint, gouache, watercolors, colored pencils and various forms of ink, as well as block and silkscreen printing. I’ve illustrated two books, one of which was written by me as well. I work in close communication with my clients and allow for flexible payment plans. Contacts and relevant links / Contactos y links relevantes: Tumblr: @orfeoarte Instagram: @orfeoarte Twitter : @orfeoarte Illustrated books: https://issuu.com/orfeoarte

@tomicaleto

(she/her - ella)

Soy una artista tanto tradicional como digital. Estoy estudiando Filosofía y Artes Visuales en la universidad. En mis pinturas, amo usar colores vivos y disfruto dibujar animales y personas (principalmente personajes ficticios). ________________________ I’m both a traditional and digital artist. I’m studying philosophy and visual arts at university. For my paintings, I love using vibrant colours and I enjoy drawing animals and people (mostly fictional characters). Contacts and relevant links / Contactos y links relevantes: Tumblr: @tomicaleto Buy me a coffee: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/tomicaleto?l=es Discord user: @tomicaleto

@ramadejazmin

(they/he - elle/él)

Ilustrador argentino de 23 años. Me gusta mucho el diseño de personajes y principalmente enfocarme en diseños de fantasía inspirados en D&D. Mis inspiraciones principales son cosas inspiradas en sueños, música de Vocaloid, caricaturas, anime y arte de otros artistas. ________________________ 23-year-old Argentinian illustrator. I love character design, mainly D&D-inspired fantasy designs. My main inspirations are things like dreams, Vocaloid music, cartoons, anime, and other artist's pieces. Contacts and relevant links / Contactos y links relevantes: Tumblr: @ramadejazmin BlueSky: momomottaro.bsky.social Gmail: [email protected] Toyhouse: https://toyhou.se/RamadeJazmin

@starrynightsoversunflowers

(she/her - ella)

Starrynightsoversunflowers es una artista argentina que se enfoca en los dibujos digitales, fanarts y retratos. Su estilo se basa en el uso de colores brillantes y en técnicas que emulan la pintura tradicional. ________________________ Starrynightsoversunflowers is an argentinian artist that focuses on digital drawings, fanarts and portraits. Her style is based on the use of bright colours and techniques that emulated traditional painting. Contacts and relevant links / Contactos y links relevantes: Instagram: @starrynightsoversunflowers Gmail: [email protected]

@bloodghoul

(they/he - él/elle)

Ilustrador argentino nacido en 1996. Trabajo principalmente mezclando los primeros pasos en tradicional para realizar y terminar en digital. Los programas que más uso son PT Sai, Photoshop y Krita. Aparte de hacer arte en digital también hago bordados y pintura en acuarela. Encuentro inspiración en dibujos y animaciones de los 90s y 00s. Aprendiendo a dibujar nsfw. ________________________ Argentinian ilustrator born in 1996. I mainly work with mixed media, combining traditional sketching and inking with digital painting. My preferred programs are Paint Tool Sai, Photoshop and Krita. Besides doing digital works, my favorite mediums are embroidery and watercolors. I take inspiration from cartoons and animes fom the 90s and 00s, fashion, and cute stuff in general. Im learning how to draw nsfw to add to the repertoire. Contacts and relevant links / Contactos y links relevantes: Instagram: @twiginthecreek

@palluniskillas

(she/he - ella/él)

Palluniskillas (ella/él) es una artista de 20 años que se especializa en dibujo e ilustración digital de personajes y personas, en un estilo de dibujo estilizado. En su mayoría trabaja temas como el amor, el cariño, la moda y la naturaleza. ________________________ Palluniskillas (she/he) is a 20 year old artist who specializes in digital drawing and illustration of characters and people, in a stylized drawing style. She mostly works on themes such as love, affection, fashion and nature. Contacts and relevant links / Contactos y links relevantes: Instagram: @pallunis_killas

@nitadraws

(she/her - ella)

Nita es una artista argentina que se enfoca en dibujos digitales de animales en un estilo “chibi”. ________________________ Nita is an argentinean artist that focuses on digital animal art in a “chibi” style. Contacts and relevant links / Contactos y links relevantes: Tumblr: @nitadraws Redbubble: NitaDraws.redbubble.com Ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/nitadraws

@artzover

(he/it - él/eso)

Arián es un ilustrador del norte argentino que saca inspiración de videojuegos y medios de terror. Estudió diseño gráfico por 3-4 años y es un artista autodidacta desde su adolescencia. El juego que lo envió a perseguir el sueño de convertirse en un artista conceptual para videojuegos es Journey, y los que lo impulsaron son Spiritfarer, la saga Uncharted y la trilogía de Dark Souls, especialmente su segunda instalación. Sus inspiraciones actuales son DnD, Vocaloid y Bleach. ________________________ Arián is an illustrator from northern Argentina that takes inspiration from videogames and horror media. He studied graphic design for 3-4 years and has been a self taught artist since his teenage years. The piece of media that sent him chasing the dream of becoming a concept artist for videogames is Journey, and the ones that pushed it further are Spiritfarer, the Uncharted saga and Dark Souls trilogy, especially the 2nd installment. His main current inspirations are DnD, Vocaloid and Bleach. Contacts and relevant links / Contactos y links relevantes: Email: [email protected] Instagram: @arian.v.art Relevant links: linktr.ee/azover Patreon: patreon.com/Azover

Image ID for writers under the cut / ID de impagenes para escritores debajo del corte

@fatheriimaginedyoutaller (En discord y Tumblr) They/he - Elle/él

ESPAÑOL:

Pueblo Crepúsculo Resumen: Un hombre afroamericano se encuentra varado en las sienas cordobesas cuando su auto le falla. Allí el es plagado por la visión fantasmagorica de su abuelo, quien fue asesinado por el Ku Klux Klan.

Devin no creía en las maldiciones, era un muchacho de ciencia, de las sociales, pero de la ciencia al final del día. Pero si, uno "podría" decir que todo había empezado con su abuelo. Si decidía darle crédito al poder de las coincidencias. A Devin JI lo habían colgado de un árbol miembros del Klan, y si, era porque se le había roto el auto en el pueblo equivocado. Pero si creía en el miedo. Y no en cualquier miedo. Pero ese que viene de tus antepasados, que parece transmitirse por una mera gota de sangre en el mar que son los seres humanos. Como el temor a nadar en una pileta profunda, no por el agua en sí. Si no porque alguien podría venir y verter ácido en ella en cualquier momento."

Caballito de Mar Resumen: Un hombre transgénero reflexiona sobre unas noticias inesperadas

"Cuando por fin te hayan atendido primero les preguntaras cómo estuvieron sus respectivos días, porque sí te quedó alguna de las cosas con las que te criaron seguro son esos modales católicos. Luna te hablara de su madre, Sam de su padre. Trataras de contener tu entusiasmo mientras aprendes de las experiencias de tus novias. Esas cosas únicas de ellas. Sus relaciones, sus manías, sus sueños … "

Diccionario Resumen: Un hombre hace dedo hasta su casa luego de la marcha por la vuelta de Perón

"Má siempre decía que había dos mundos, el de Uno y el del Otro. Nunca supe que quería decir hasta que se me rompieron la suelas de los zapatos entre Avenida Rivadavia y Callao. La mayoría de la gente ese día estaba en El del Otro, donde lo importante era el movimiento y que no había ningún sacrificio demasiado grande; mientras yo estaba en el Mio, donde lo único que me preocupaba era mi Tana que estaba en casa sola con el pibe. Cuando llegué a Balvanera ya se me había partido el alma en dos. Me paré en una esquina y extendí mi brazo con el pulgar arriba. No sabía para qué .La ciudad estaba vacía y no inspiraba confianza mi cara de indio. El simpático siempre fue Carlitas, mi medio hermano. Él sí parecía recién bajado de la parte de arriba del barco."

La Luna Resumen: Un cacique de Puerto Iguazú, desprotica contra la luna por haberse llevado a su hijo.

"Hola ¿Cómo estás.? Perdóname que te deje este recado por medio del dueño del almacén. Vos sabes que nuncafuí muy bueno con lo emocional, los sentimientos _ Soy el hijo de mi padre en ese sentido. Cuando ya hayamos llegado a la luna, será el momento de la verdad, sabremos por fin si un lobizón sobrevive allí en el espacio. Vos nunca entendiste porque me gustaba tanto la luna. Era una obsesión infantil, capaz todavía lo sea. La verdad es que: Siento que tengo un propósito, de devolverle algo a la humanidad, porque la amo demasiado. La amo con sus defectos, sus manías, y si, con sus personas.

ENGLISH:

Twilight Town

Summary: A man finds himself stranded in the Cordovan siennas when his car breaks down. There he is plagued by the ghostly vision of his grandfather, who was murdered by the Ku Klux Klan.

Devin did not believe in curses. He was a man of science, the social kind, but science at the end of the day. But yes, one "could" say it had all started with his grandfather. If he decided to give credence to the power of coincidences. Devin II had been hung from a tree by Klan members, and yes, he was Klan members, and yes, it was because his car had broken down in the wrong town. in the wrong town. But he did believe in fear. And not just any fear. But the kind that comes from your ancestors, that seems to be passed down through a mere drop of blood in the sea that is human beings. human beings . Like the fear of swimming in a deep pool, not because of the water itself. But because someone might come and pour acid into it at any moment."

Seahorse

Summary: A transgender man reflects on some unexpected news.

"When they've finally taken care of you first you'll ask them how their respective days were, because if you have any of the things left that they raised you with I'm sure it's those Catholic manners. Luna will tell you about her mother, Sam about his father. You'll try to contain your enthusiasm as you learn about your girlfriends' experiences. Those unique things about them. Their relationships, their quirks, their dreams…"

Dictionary

Summary: A man hitchhikes home after the march for Perón's return.

"Má always said there were two worlds, that of One and that of the Other. I never knew what he meant until the soles of my shoes broke between Avenida Rivadavia and Callao. Most people that day were in El del Otro, where the important thing was the movement and that there was no sacrifice too big; while I was in El Mio, where the only thing I was worried about was my Tana who was at home alone with the kid. When I arrived at Balvanera, my soul was already broken in two. I stopped at a corner and extended my arm with my thumb up. I didn't know why, the city was empty and my Indian face didn't inspire confidence. The nice one was always Carlitos, my half-brother. He did look like he just got off the top part of the boat."

The Moon

Summary: A cacique of Puerto Iguazú, reproaches the moon for having taken his son.

"Hello, how are you? Forgive me for leaving you this message through the owner of the store. You know I was never very good with emotions, feelings _ I am my father's son in that sense. When we have reached the moon, it will be the moment of truth, we will finally know if a werewolf survives out there in space. You never understood why I liked the moon so much. It was a childish obsession, maybe it still is. The truth is: I feel I have a purpose, to give something back to humanity, because I love it too much. I love it with its flaws, its quirks, and yes, with its people.

@mearpsdyke She/her - Ella

ESPAÑOL:

-La canción del mar

Le sostiene la mirada, preguntándose por las ciaturas que alberga, por los naufragios y cadáveres que reposan en el fondo de sus aguas. Se pregunta si, tal vez, el mar tiene consciencia y los humanos no lo saben, si la melodía de las olas que se estrellan contra las rocas son en realidad palabras que usa para llamar su nombre, diciéndole que se adentre en sus aguas, prometiendo unas rocas cómodas para que su cadáver pueda reposar. Los peces se remueven, peleando por una libertad que no llegará. Pronto se quedarán sin oxígeno y morirán lenta y dolorosamente. A Kika a veces le gusta jugar a que es un Dios y los peces son su creación agonizante, quienes esperan el dulce alivio de la muerte. Ve cómo la vida abandona sus ojos y dice una oración antes de guiar el cuchillo por sus entrañas.

-Cliffs Edge

Cuando la luna está llena y es la hora donde las penas y arrepentimientos te sofocan, tiene el impulso de tomar su auto, manejar hasta la casa de Gina y pedirle que se den una segunda oportunidad, que hará bien las cosas esta vez. Pero entonces recuerda el anillo que Gina porta en su dedo anular en cada partido, y se obliga a volver al presente y dejar el pasado en el pasado. Le parece cruel que su familia la quiera más que al nuevo prometido de Gina, que aún la inviten a la casa donde tienen fotos de las dos jugando partidos juntas, en reuniones familiares, en fiestas y hasta en Navidad. Nunca encuentra el coraje para decirles que se olviden de ella para poder pasar página; la casa Zelarayán es su casa lejos de su verdadero hogar, allá en Jujuy.

-Fragmentario

Buscas en el recoveco más profundo de tu alma, alguna pasión que salve tu gris existencia, pero solo encuentras eco y telarañas sin moscas. Y cuando entruentras algos a lo que aferrarte, no es lo suficientemente serio para el resto, ¿y realmente importan los insultos ya? ¿Qué le hace una cicatriz más al guerrero, un clavo más a Jesús en la cruz, otro volcán a Pompeya? Así que te envuelves en tu capa más roja, pelas los dientes cual animal acorralado y hieres a todo lo que oza cruzarte.

-La tierra del nunca

Persigo un atardecer que no existe, espero un día que nunca fue y escucho palabras que nunca pronunciarás en cada mirada tuya. Vivo el mismo día todos los días esperando que alguien se apiade, a que Te apiades, y las palabras salgan como balas. Porque es más piadoso morir por obra y mano tuya a que la incertidumbre me consuma.

ENGLISH:

-The Sea’s Song

She holds its gaze, wondering about the creatures it houses, about the shipwrecks and corpses that rest at the bottom of its waters. She wonders if, perhaps, the sea has consciousness and humans don't know it, if the melody of the waves crashing against the rocks are actually the words it uses to call her name, telling her to enter its waters, promising some comfortable rocks so that her corpse can rest. The fish stir, fighting for a freedom that won’t come. They will soon run out of oxygen and die slowly and painfully. Kika sometimes likes to pretend that she’s a God and the fish are her dying creation, waiting for the sweet relief of death. She watches the life leave their eyes and says a prayer before guiding the knife into their insides.

-Cliffs Edge

When the moon is full and it’s the time when sorrows and regrets suffocate you, Nerea has the impulse to take her car, drive to Gina's house and ask her to give each other a second chance, promising to do things right this time. But then she remembers the ring Gina wears on her ring finger to every game, and forces herself to return to the present and leave the past in the past. She finds it cruel that Gina’s family loves her more than Gina's new fiancé, that they still invite her to their house where they have photos of the two of them playing games together, at family gatherings, at parties and even Christmas. She never finds the courage to tell them to forget about her so she can move on from her; the Zelarayán household is her house far from her real home, back in Jujuy.

-Fragmented

You search in the deepest corners of your soul for some passion that saves your gray existence, but you only find echo and cobwebs without flies. And when you find something to hold on to, it's not serious enough for the rest, and do insults really matter anymore? What does one more scar do to a warrior? One more nail to Jesus on the cross? another volcano to Pompeii? So you wrap yourself in your reddest cloak, you bare your teeth like a cornered animal and you hurt everyone who dares to cross you.

-The land of Never Ever

I chase a sunset that doesn’t exist, I wait for a day that never was and I hear words that you’ll never say in every look of yours. I live the same day every day waiting for someone to have mercy, wait on you to take pity, and let the words come out like bullets. Because it is more pious to die by your work and hand before uncertainty consumes me.

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cevansbrat0007 · 15 days

Text

What's Eating You, Mr. Barber?

Summary: You decide to test your man's patience with a prank you saw on TikTok. CLICK HERE to check out Ari Levinson's reaction to the same prompt.

Warnings: Mature Themes, References to Smut, Andrew Barber Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, TikTok Hijinks, Bickering, Manhandling, Ass Slapping, Daddy Kink, Allusions to Oral Sex, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Prompt brought to you courtesy of a Reader Request. This fic features Andrew Barber from my Growing Pains Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

It’s hard for you to put into words just how much you love playing pranks on your unsuspecting husband. And after downloading TikTok, you’d discovered that the app was home to an online treasure trove of practical jokes designed to make your loved one’s head spin. While it had taken a few days for you to settle on the right prank, you were pretty confident that the one you’d chosen would earn you a fun reaction from Andy without you having to risk your ass in the process.

You find yourself grinning as you take your time prepping dinner, humming a little tune as you peel and press even more fresh garlic for your homemade tomato sauce. Tonight’s family dinner of spaghetti and meatballs promised to be very interesting. Which was why you’d also taken the liberty of setting up two hidden cameras – one in the dining room and one right here in your kitchen.

As of now, you had no plans to post this on your channel. But you also didn’t want to miss a minute of your man’s reaction. Until then all you had to do was play it cool for a couple more hours.

Later that Evening…

“Baby Girl, are you sure you don’t need any help?” Your husband asks after watching you make what easily had to be your third trip from the kitchen into the dining room.

Any other night you would’ve said yes, but not this one. Tonight you were flying solo. The cameras were already on and recording – you’d taken care of that before you’d started setting the table – and so far Andy hadn’t noticed a thing.

Hopefully you’d be able to keep it that way until it was time for the big reveal.

“No thanks, Big Man. This Mama only has to make one more trip and then we’ll be ready to eat.” You tell him before sitting two plates on the table in front of your two youngest children. You were down a kid tonight thanks to your oldest, Bianca, being away at a sleepover.

Andy nods before leaning over to adjust the small hand towel you’d previously tucked into the front of your three-year-old son’s t-shirt. Not that it really mattered all that much since you were positive he’d be swimming in sauce before the meal was over. But what kind of mother would you be if you didn’t at least try?

Biting your lip in anticipation, you scamper back into the kitchen to grab dinner for you and your husband. Andy’s plate was piled high with a generous serving of spaghetti and meatballs. Meanwhile, you give yourself hardly any.

And therein was the so-called prank. Earlier this week, you’d spent the better part of several hours gleefully watching as dozens of girlfriends and wives proceeded to serve their man impressive looking portions before sitting next to them with virtually empty plates for themselves. Many of the reactions had ranged from hilarious to heartwarming, with only a few dickish exceptions.

Glancing over your shoulder to ensure you weren’t being watched, you pick up various pans and quietly place them in your oven and out of sight. For this to actually work, Andy would have to believe that there wasn’t enough for seconds or leftovers. Once that’s done, you square your shoulders and confidently march back into the dining room with dishes in hand.

“I’m back.” You announce, placing a piping hot plate in front of Andy before taking your own seat at the table. “I tried something different with my sauce this time, so everybody dig in and tell me what you think.”

Andy absentmindedly rubs his palms together as he stares down at the fragrant heap of spaghetti before him. Silently, you will him to look over at what you’d served yourself, but you force yourself to remain quiet so as not to give yourself away.

“This smells amazing, sweetheart.” Your husband tells you, reaching for a piece of garlic bread. “I’ve been excited for this meal since you told me you texted me at 10:00am.”

“Glad to hear it, Daddy” You pick up the little bowl of parmesan you’d set out and hand it to your middle daughter, Katrina. “What does everybody else think?”

You take a brief glance around the table while you wait for feedback. And although you make a point of not looking at your husband, it’s impossible to miss the way he’s now staring at your nearly empty plate.

“Ooh.” You inwardly squeal, stopping just short of clapping your hands. “It’s starting!”

“What’s up with this?” His tone is rife with confusion, which only grows when you decide to ignore him in favor of dipping a small piece of bread into some sauce. “Hey – stop!”

“What?” When you finally deign to return his gaze. You have to choke back a laugh as you watch a bewildered Andy comically gesture between your two plates.

“What the fu–fudge,” he swiftly corrects, “is going on with your plate?”

“What do you mean?” You aim to keep your tone light and breezy.

Your husband lets out a frustrated sigh. “Where’s the rest of your food?” He jabs at your plate with his fork, holding up the half of a meatball you’d allowed yourself.

“This was all that was left.” You tell him with a shrug.

“What the hell are you talking about?” His confusion continues to mount even as pauses long enough to grab a napkin to wipe at his son’s increasingly messy fingers. “There was plenty of spaghetti left on the stove.” While he’s occupied you quickly check on little Rory, who appears to be faring slightly better.

“Not really.”

“Baby…” Andy pins you with a knowing look, one that you readily return.

“What? I…” You trail off, pretending to think. “After I realized BiBi wouldn’t be here tonight, I made some adjustments to the recipe. Turns out I didn’t make enough, so…” Another shrug. “This was all there was after I made everyone else’s plates.”

Andy is uncharacteristically quiet as leans back in his chair. Meanwhile, your children are busy staring at you, each of them sporting tiny, furrowed brows. Pursing your lips, you set your fork down on your plate and reach for your drink.

“You can have some of mine, Mama.” KitCat offers before sweetly pushing her plate towards you. The unexpected gesture touches your heart in more ways than one. Not to be outdone, your three-year-old twins also follow suit.

“That’s okay, babies. I’m perfectly fine.” You reassure them, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Besides, this is all I need and –”

“Thanks kiddos.” Your husband kindly interrupts as he places his napkin on the table. “That was very sweet of you, wanting to take care of your Mama like that.” His brilliant blue eyes beam with pride as he speaks. “But Daddy’s got this one.”

You’re momentarily taken aback when he stands, picking up his plate as he does. And you’re even more surprised when he motions for you to do the same.

“Can I see you in the kitchen for a moment?”

“Andrew, sweetheart, it’s okay. I promise.”

“Now, please.” It’s an order, that much you know. But at least your handsome ogre has enough sense to take on the word “please” at the end of it.

“Fine.” You huff before standing and following him out of the room, although not before encouraging your children to keep eating while you’re gone. Just because it was Friday doesn’t mean it was time to dispense their normal bedtime routines.

You were only playing a prank, not embracing total anarchy.

Once in the kitchen, you each take up residence in opposing corners. But of course, you’re careful enough to avoid blocking the view of the camera.

“Baby Girl.” Andy exhales, his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Do you really mean to tell me that there’s no food left? You really made all that pasta and there’s nothing?”

“Yes, Andrew.” You lie without missing a beat. “I already told you. I trimmed down the recipe because –”

“Because Bianca is gone. Yes, I heard you.” He sets his dish down on the counter, openly scrutinizing it.

“So then what’s the problem?” You rest your back against your pantry while you wait for him to respond.

“The problem – my problem –” Andy is quick to amend, shaking his head. “– is that you expect me to sit back and watch you starve while everyone else eats. And I don’t like it.” He scrubs a weary hand over his beard. “Hand me your plate, beautiful.”

“Why?” It’s impossible to keep the suspicion out of your voice.

“Because I don’t need all of this.” He grunts, taking the plate out of your hands when you don’t comply fast enough. “In fact, I don’t need any of it. You eat and I’ll order myself a pizza after we put the kids down.”

“Andy!” You scoff, which comes out on the heels of a laugh.

“What?” The man is clearly confused by your dismissal of his offer. “I am capable of handling myself, okay? My hands work just fine.” He grates out, making a show of holding up a large, lightly calloused palm.

“But I…I made that plate for you.” You were seconds away from caving and you both knew it.

“And I’m telling you, my wonderful wife, that I want you to have it.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to –” You begin, wrapping your arms around yourself. It was time to fess up.

“Fine.” Andy breathes, taking a second to roll his broad shoulders. “Then we’ll split it.” He reaches for your hand, pulling you into his warm embrace so that he can whisper in your ear. “And then, after we put the kids down, we’ll order ourselves a pizza. Maybe open up a bottle of wine while we wait.”

“Yeah?” You murmur, relaxing as you bury your face in his chest.

God, he always smelled so good.

“Mhm.” He continues, nuzzling his nose against your curls. “And then, once we’re all giggly and buzzed, I’ll convince you to let me make love to you in front of the fireplace. We can even set up a booby trap so that we pretend like the children don’t exist.”

“Wow.” You can’t stop the giggle that bubbles its way past your lps. “Andy Bear, that sounds amazing. But I’m afraid I can’t.”

“Why the fuck not?” He rumbles as his brawny arms tighten around your smaller frame. You were pushing your District Attorney beyond his breaking point.

“Because.” Squirming out of his hold, you dance your way towards the oven in preparation for the big reveal. Hopefully your husband would be a good sport about all of this.

“Because?”

“Because…” You draw out the word, even as you go to open the oven to show him what’s inside. “There’s actually plenty of dinner leftover. See?” You throw your arms wide, but force yourself to stop just short of adding spirit fingers because you suspected he wouldn’t appreciate it.

“Baby, I swear…” Andy sighs, his hands slowly sinking into the pockets of his charcoal-colored slacks as he rocks back on his heels. Most likely to keep himself from strangling you, his lovely wife. “Why–what would possess you to lie about something like this?”

“First off, sweetheart, it’s called a prank.” You bridge the gap between your bodies so that you can wrap your arms around his trim waist. “And secondly, I saw it on TikTok. Ever heard of it?”

He glares down at you, which has you instinctively clenching your thighs together. That’s part of the reason you loved riling up your Big Man.

Being a brat got your motor running.

“I take it you have.” You stand on your tiptoes to kiss away his frown. “Well, I fell down the rabbit hole the other day while the kids were napping. There’s this whole, like, subsection that’s just pranks. And the latest one involved these women pranking their guys by serving them a huge plate of food, and then pretending like there’s nothing left for them to eat. The reactions were super entertaining, so I figured I’d test it out, you know? Just for fun.”

You grace him with your most dazzling smile, but unfortunately, he’s still having none of it. His frown only deepens as he tilts his face up towards the ceiling in an effort to summon all of his remaining patience.

“Are you mad?” Your teeth sink into your bottom lip while you wait for his answer.

“Yep.”

“C’mon, Andy Bear!” You pout before placing your hands on his biceps to give him a light shake.”Where’s your sense of humor?”

“Pretty sure I lost it the day you decided torturing me was your new favorite pastime.” He grumbles, although there doesn’t appear to be any heat in his words. “In fact, I have a feeling you just gave me several new grays.”

“Oh, don’t you dare blame me for those.” You tell him, playfully rolling your eyes at his dramatics. “I’ll have you know that you came home with those. I spotted ‘em the moment you walked through the door.” Your sassy response earns you a sharp crack to your ass, making you wince.

“Ow!”

“Brat.” He grouses, even as he presses a sweet kiss to your nose.

“Guilty as charged.” You hum, weaving your arms around his neck. “Besides, I had a feeling you wouldn’t let me starve.”

“Not sure it’s even possible to fail that challenge, Baby Girl. I mean, you’re my wife. My partner in crime. Did you really expect me to just let you go hungry?”

“You’d be surprised.” You mutter, making a mental note to show him a few videos featuring some of the men who’d actually failed the test. “But thankfully you didn’t. And neither did the kiddos. Which is why I will graciously allow you all to sleep inside tonight.”

You let out a tiny yelp when Andy suddenly grabs your ass with both hands, squeezing hard as he lifts you up. Unsure of what else to do, you immediately lock your legs around his waist. Right now you were just going along for the ride.

“Now is that any way to talk to Daddy?” Andy lovingly captures your mouth, lightly stroking his along the seam of your lips. “Especially after you played such a mean trick?” His once clouded blue eyes are now filled with mischief.

“Oh, I’m not sorry. But if it helps, I am willing to delete the video.” Your husband’s eyes go wide, letting you know that he hadn’t even considered the prospect of being recorded. So you keep talking, hoping to distract him. “And I still wanna get you drunk and take advantage of you after we put the children down for the night.” You run your fingers through his neatly coiffed hair, lightly scratching at his scalp with your nail.

“I don’t know if I should trust you.” He eyes you warily, making clear that he still hasn’t quite recovered from your earlier betrayal.

“What if…” You lean in close, lightly nipping at his earlobe. “I could find it in my heart to apologize between then and now? How does that sound, Big Man?”

“I mean I might be interested.” Andy shrugs, gently setting you on the counter before bracing his muscled arms on either side of you. “Out of curiosity, just what kind of apology are we talking about?” He gazes at you with lust-filled eyes, eagerly anticipating your response.

“The kind that’s best offered while on my knees, wearing nothing but a flimsy pair of thigh highs and garters.” You know you’ve got him when you hear him groan low in his throat.

“Fucky, baby.” Your husband hisses, burying his face in the valley between your breasts as his imagination suddenly kicks into overdrive. “Can you be sorry enough to wear the heels too? You know the ones I’m talking about.”

Oh. You knew exactly which ones he was talking about.

“I think so.” You murmur, stroking a tender hand along his back as he struggles to regain his composure.

“Then we’ve got ourselves a deal.” He grips your hips before kindly helping you down. “Now let’s go get those kids fed and off to bed.” Andy grabs your hand, tugging you behind him as you head back to the dining room to see about your babies.

“Slow down, Andrew.” You laugh as your legs scramble to keep up.

“No can do, Baby Girl.” He grunts, picking up his pace. “Daddy’s really looking forward to that apology. So be sure to eat up because…” He trails off when he comes face-to-face with his sauce covered little ones. “...You’re gonna need all of your strength.”

“You can count on it.”

END

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jinnie-ret · 7 months

Note

chan getting a call from 9th member reader, its late and hes still in the studio. he hears readers quiet voice telling him that theres someone following her as she walks back to the dorms from a late night solo dance practice session. chan has that Protective streak that makes him Panic the moment he thought something was wrong with how they were speaking into the phone so to find out they were in genuine danger and not just scared because there was a spider?? i just know that man is Terrifying to anyone who puts his members in danger, especially their only female member knowing how dangerous the world is for women

night stalker

bang chan x ninth member!reader (platonic)

genre: angst

content warnings: stalking, violence

word count: 1.1k

summary: chan does his best to save you in time after you call him in a panic about someone following you late at night.

Hi! Sorry it's late but I hope that this fits the vibe you wanted! I ended up writing it as a platonic relationship but it is still a Chan focus x reader!

As always, like, reblog if you enjoyed, and my asks are open for any requests you may have. And let me know if you'd like to be tagged when I post :)

BANG CHAN'S MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Chan was a leader through and through. The leader of Stray Kids. A protector to his kids. Being the oldest member too, as well as being the eldest of his siblings, gave him these instinctual habits to always check up on his members. So when he got a call from you, at 1am, scared out of your mind, his brain went into overdrive. One, because the way your voice shook, and two, because he didn't know you were walking back to the dorms, alone and in the dark.

"Hey, Chan? I-I think there's someone following me..." you whispered into the phone, your hand shaking as you did your best to maintain your pace of walking.

Being the only female member of the group, and being the youngest, Chan couldn't help but look after you in a slightly different way to the other members. Of course, he loved all of you the same, but unfortunately there were differences in being a female idolised figure. The sexualising comments... he hated how it came with you being a girl. And he knew, that the fear of someone following you late at night, would have come true eventually. He just didn't prepare himself for how he'd feel when it happened.

"Y/Nnie? It's 1am... where are you? Talk to me," Chan rushed out his words, face frozen in horror as he pushed himself back in his desk chair and started grabbing his belongings to leave and find you.

To save you.

"They're definitely following me... shit. I'm near those 24 hour convenience shops," you did your best to inform Chan of your surroundings, despite the pounding of your own heartbeat overwhelming your senses when you realised your paranoia had struck gold this time because you were right to be scared.

One pair of footsteps followed yours.

"Ok, listen to me, Y/Nnie, stay there, I'll come and meet you and I'll take you home, yeah?" Chan rushed out of the company, speed walking his way along the route to where the road of convenience shops.

"No, no, I can't just stay where I am... what if something happens? I'm scared, Channie," your voice broke as you did your best to keep a hushed volume.

"I know you're scared sweetheart, but I'm on my way, just stay on the phone," Chan spoke through his slightly heavier breaths, doing his best to get to you ASAP.

"I'm going into a shop, I don't want to be outside anymore, I'm scared if something will happen to me," you rambled, the ding of the chimes on the door heard by Chan.

"Ok, tell me where you are, can you do that for me?" Chan reassuringly asked.

"I'm, in that blue shop, you know the one with the dodgy neon light?" you tried to calm yourself down, beginning your path of going up and down the aisles, but the chimes were heard once again, "they're here. They followed me in."

"I'm about 3 minutes away, just stay on the line, it's ok, it will all be ok, is there anyone else in the shop, Y/N?" Chan spoke firmly, wanting you to know he was close by.

"N-no, just an elderly cashier, but she wouldn't be able to help if-"

"There will be no if, Y/N, don't finish that sentence sweetheart, I'm nearly there," Chan cut you off, maybe because he didn't want you to take your mind to that place, or maybe because he didn't want to be in that place either.

"Ok, please hurry I'm - hey! Get off of me!" your whispers turned into shouts as you were grabbed and winded by the punch of your night time stalker.

"Y/N! Talk to me! What's happening?" Chan's fast footsteps pounding against the concrete roads would have been heard by you if it weren't for your phone's abandoned spot on the ground.

Your stalker said nothing, yet had clear intentions as he hauled you into a free standing shelf of jars of cooking sauces. And your body took it with you to the ground as several of them smashed.

"Ahhh!" your shout of pain was heard before your body went flying.

"Y/N?!? Shit, I'm nearly there, I can see the shop from here!" Chan's words speedily echoed into the night.

Your attacker fled. Like the true coward he was. Yet you were thankful for your saviour that entered the shop moments after.

"Y/N??"

It took you a moment to realise that it was his voice playing out in real life, and no longer over the phone.

You groaned as you sat up, crawling away from the smashed glass behind you.

"Y/N! It's ok I've got you, I'm here now sweetheart, I'm sorry, I should have got here sooner..." Chan fussed over you, lifting you into his arms and checking you over as you held your stomach and stood in wobbly feet.

"Home, want to go home," you cried out, but no tears left your eyes, you were just feeling overwhelmed and in so much pain.

"I know, I know, I texted our manager to meet near us in a car, we'll get you home," he hushed you, supporting your weight as you left the shop.

"Where? Are they here? Are they close?" you panicked, not wanting to be waiting around in the open any longer than you needed to be.

"It's ok, calm down, I've got you, yeah? The car is over there," he guided you into the back of the car and sat with you, dealing with explaining things to the manager as the drive home began.

"How badly are you hurt? Let me see," Chan pushed your hair back out of your face, looking for any trades of pain which were so clearly written amongst your features.

"My back and my stomach, it'll probably just bruise though..." you winced, head resting against the seat of the car.

"Do you think you'll need the hospital?" Chan worriedly asked.

"No, but... I think I'll need a break... maybe... I don't know I just need to get my head around this, oppa," you leant against him, reveling in the comfort that not only his presence brought you, but the soothing circles he rubbed into your shoulder.

"Ok, ok, we can do that, we'll take all the time you need. I'll get you straight to bed and I'll explain it all to the members, don't worry, ok, I've got you," Chan laid out his thoughts, his priority right now being you. Everything else that came later he would deal with. He didn't want to put you under anymore stress than the current experience you just had. It was only fair that way, he thought.

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @backintomykpopphaseagain @hannahhbahng @sakufilms

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facioleeknow · 2 months

Text

Always right ° Bang Chan

You and Chan are at a party and things get very steamy ;)

WC: 1263 Genre: College AU, smut 18+ ONLY

TW: drinking, partying, dry humping, talks of sex, tipsy chan and reader, chan cums in his pants and he is very hot, mention of masturbation, sort of public sex

A/N: this mf lifts 140kg, he's insane and he wants me dead. Also reblogs and comments are highly appreciated since I am running a little low on confidence and inspiration, thank you <3.

The party was officially over. Red solo cups laid on the floor, abandoned and crinkled. The music was faint and so were the lights, if you weren’t so close to Chan you wouldn’t have been able to see him clearly. You and him were the only ones left at his house, at least the only ones awake. One or two people were sprawled down on the pool chairs, fully passed out, last time you checked.

Chan gave off heat in waves, his warmth seeped into your bones, giving you a sense of tranquility and helping you with the chilly night air coming from the open window. A half empty bottle of soju was passed between you two, every sip made you more lightheaded and warm. Your cheeks shined a bright red and your eyes twinkled.

An invisible bubble wrapped around you, making the intimacy in the air even more pronounced. Rivers of words flew out of your mouth with ease; you could never stop talking when you were together, a gift from being friends for a decade.

“What would you do if you were a man for a day?” asked Chan with a giggle when you made a face.

“Ew, I would never want to be a man for a day, that’s nasty.”

“It’s just a what if situation,” he giggled even more at your antics.

“Honestly?” you looked at him, with your lips pursed.

“Honestly,” he was now facing you. His red cheeks matched yours, a wide grin on his face.

“I would beat my meat the whole day.”

Chan choked on the liquor, a loud laugh resonating in his chest.

“You’re a pervert.”

“I’m not,” you argued, “being a woman and cumming most of the time are not compatible things. And also, don’t pretend like you wouldn’t spend the whole day with a hand down your pants if you were a woman,” you quipped back.

“Alright you got me, but I would do it for science, so I could pleasure my hook ups more,” he stated matter of factly. Your face must have reflected how unimpressed you were because Chan giggled once more and sipped at the bottle of alcohol.

“What about communication, Christopher? Maybe if you want to know what a girl likes, you should ask her.”

“You’re right.”

“As always.”

Giggles escaped both of your lips. He was even closer to you now, his breath tickled your face; you swore you saw his eyes glance down at your lips and then up again at your eyes, but then again it could’ve been the liquor talking.

“Have you got any more silly questions or what ifs for me?” his eyes weren’t your main focus anymore, your eyes were glued to his lips. The plush flesh of his bottom lip was trapped between his teeth, a smile still present.

“Are you attracted to me?” You huffed at the boy’s question.

“That’s a dumb question, Christopher. You are a handsome and muscly man who is also very caring and kind, every girl in our college is attracted to you.”

His eyes twinkled, from the alcohol and in amusement. He put the bottle down next to him.

“Are you though?”

“As I said, every girl in our college is attracted to you, and I am a girl in college, so..” you trailed off. Chan’s warm hand found the expanse of your thigh, his thumb gently rubbed your skin. Your breath hitched in your throat but you contained yourself, skinship wasn’t unusual for you two, especially since he was a real cuddle bug.

“Then,” he face was so near yours that your noses almost touched, “are you sexually attracted to me?”

His words shocked you and you slightly widened your eyes. His wicked side only came out once in a while, but you have always enjoyed it. If Christopher wanted to play then you would do the same.

“Are you?” Your eyes fixed on each other’s faces, trying to see who would break first.

“Should we fuck?” you giggled loudly. Something shifted in Chan’s eyes after your question, they became dark and full of lust. You had never seen him like that, but you couldn't say that you minded.

“I thought you would never ask, baby.”

His big hands wrapped around your waist and carefully lifted you in his lap. The move felt effortless, your weight didn’t affect him at all, you were as light as a kitten. That made you incredibly wet, the gym had definitely paid off.

“You said communication is important, tell me what to do then baby,” his lips inched closer and closer to your ear. A delicate kiss was placed behind your earlobe and it made your pussy throb with need. You should’ve been ashamed at how fast you were getting worked up but it was Chris who was working you up and also you were way too horny to care.

“Kiss me please.”

The boy under you slowly reached for your lips and laid a chaste, soft kiss on your awaiting lips. His lips were soft and plump, they felt heavenly, you couldn’t help but wonder what they would feel like on your pussy, wrapped around your little clit,

The kiss was fast and sweet but soon after came a second and a third and soon your lips were molded together. His tongue peaked out of his lips and licked at your bottom lip. A series of huffs and whimpers came out of both of you, the air around you felt sticky and stuffy.

You didn’t realize that your hips had started to move until Chan held your hips in place.

“What do you want , baby? Communication, remember?” he sounded cocky. You whined at his words, there was no need to be a smartass.

“Please Channie, let me grind on you.” He finally slacked the bruising grip on your hips and let you move back and forth on his lap. A prominent and promising boner pressed against your hot clothed core. The stimulation wasn’t enough to let you see stars but it sent tingles of pleasure up and down your spine, besides Chan’s huffs and puffs were better than anything you had ever experienced in your life.

The boy threw his head back against the cushion of the couch, giving you free access to his tempting neck. Your lips latched onto his pulse point and started to suck gently, occasionally biting and then licking the area. Your hips sped up in their rhythm as wetness collected on your folds and soiled your panties.

“Oh god, baby, is it bad if I already want to cum?” he asked with a guttural moan. His ears and cheeks bright red, his eyes screwed shut.

“No Channie, go ahead:”

Your lips trailed a sensual path up and down his neck. Cold hands made their way up his shirt and trailed over his lower belly, abs and then landed on his pecs. Your fingers pushed and circled around his hardened nipples, a whine coming out of Chan’s mouth.

The moment you pinched his nipples, hard, the boy knew he was over. He scrunched up his face in pleasure and his muscles contracted. Hot spurts of cum came out of him quickly, coating and effectively ruining his favorite pair of pants and underwear. His breath was labored when he looked at you, face flushed and slightly sweaty. You looked like a goddess.

“You didn’t cum,” he stated, his voice strained.

“You did, though, so I think I deserve a reward for it.”

Chan giggled breathlessly and slapped your hip playfully.

“You’re right, as always.”

Taglist: @kflixnet @bahng-chrizz @hann1bee

#straykidsland #kpop #reader insert #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #stray kids college au #bang chan college au #bang chan au #chan x reader #chan smut #chan au

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jacesvelaryons · 2 months

Text

valentines

tom blyth x kpopidol!fem!reader

fc: jennie kim of blackpink

part two to english love affair

notes: and i’m back! you must’ve feared i’d never post again but i’m more inspired than ever. thank you for someone suggesting a valentines post, and for once im early. most posts will be coming from me soon!

please request, send me anons, talk to me, suggestions and what not. i do soc med aus and also written blurbs and have plans for stories about tom and his characters. ♥️

hope you enjoy! again please like, follow, share, and most especially reblog with your lovely comments to reach more and send me feedback/comments on anything.

divider by @cafekitsune

yourusername

liked by hunterschafer and 5,009,656 likes

happy valentines to my heart of heart, the soul of my soul, my best friend, the light of my life and more. my life has never been the same since you’ve been it, and i wouldn’t want it any other way. i love you @/tomblyth

user145 THEYRE SO CUTE

randomuser8 oh i’m so single 🤒

tomblyth i love you too, my sweet 🩷

↪️ yourusername i love you so much

↪️ tomholland2013 oh get a room guys 🙄

↪️ yourusername @/zendaya go get your man please

↪️ zendaya 🚶‍♀️🚶‍♀️🚶‍♀️i don’t know what you mean

↪️ tomholland2013 HEY! 😭😭

jessicalxander dream couple!

hallebailey you guys are so perfect together

tayrussell send the wedding invites please 🙏

↪️ user7 HUH?

↪️ ynfan she’s playing we know y/n and tom are so busy to even think of it lol

tomblyth

liked by alexademie and 2.8m others

my siren, my muse. as another valentines rolls in, i never wish to take this for granted as another milestone simply and enjoy everyday i’ve had with you, my angel. my brilliant, talented, gorgeous, intelligent girl. i love you @/yourusername

jenaissante treating my girl right as you should 😌

↪️ yourusername love youu girlie pop 🫂

↪️ ynfan6 tom found dead in a ditch who?

user197 aww him following her in the studios to watch her produce so cute

johnnyjsuh and when are we getting that solo song y/n? 🤨

↪️onyourm__ark yeah @/yourusername where’s all that studio time going

↪️ yourusername trust it’s coming soon 🙏🙏

↪️ user67 she said this last time i hate ___ entertainment 😭

username9 she’s so pretty i wish to be like her when i grew up

antifan8 get this ugly off tom’s profile

↪️ tomblyth you have no right to insult my girlfriend like that. get out my page otherwise.

↪️ randomuser5 tom defending his girl as he should

user77 nobody send a truck in front her company she ain’t leaving her man

liked by yourusername

yourusername

liked by tomblyth and others

oh how i love love.

usernamehere her apron is so cute does anyone know where it’s from?

↪️ random8 probably couture or something at this point or goop lol

↪️ user7 probably my mom made this

↪️ ynfan725 who’s momma?

↪️ user7 that’s the brand 😭

↪️ ynfan725 oh my bad ignore me lol 😅

user86 she’s so spoiled by him and he in turn manifesting this for me

random9 me next year

user7775 that cake must be so good and easy to make

↪️ fan721 i’m a pastry chef and make these and they ain’t easy lol

kpopfan421 ynnie what’s the name of your bear?

↪️ yourusername not sure 🤔 any suggestions?

↪️ user8 how about tommy!

↪️ yourusername lets go with that 😁

tomblyth

liked by mayahawke and 7.8m others

ynfan856 oh y/n you are so loved

random1002 the daily love notes in the mirror and countdown oh i’m sick

melissabarrera 🩷

oliviarodrigo how romantic!

rachelzegler putting in the effort blyth!

↪️ tomblyth anything for my girl

↪️ rachelzegler ofc because i’d steal her from you if you don’t 😝

austinbutler great job man

yourusername

liked by taylorswift and 10.5m likes

so grateful, i’m speechless.

alexconsani OKAY GIRLL GET THE BAG

↪️ yourusername learned from you sis 😍

user86 this has to be the most liked post on ig in a while

kpopfan454 do they have this on amazon lol

↪️ user1111 you checked craigslist or something i’ve given up 😭😭

random723 oh he has to be rich rich to give her that

↪️ user913 GOOD FOR HER!

hunterschafer you deserve this and more my angel

↪️ yourusername love you so much hunty im going to cry

#tom blyth x you #tom blyth fanfiction #tom blyth social media au #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #send me stuff #tom blyth smut #billy the kid x reader #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x reader #social media au #soc med aus #sm aus

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jupiter-letters · 3 months

Text

Dating Bruce Wayne would include:

Fem! or GN! Reader TW: None

A/N: I have a lot of thoughts about Bruce as you can see, he's a complicated guy. I wouldn't say he's super romantic like the other guys I've written, he's like a slow burn kinda guy. I can see why people like him but I'm still on the fence if I'd date him fr fr.

I won't sugarcoat it, it'll be a rocky road dating Bruce but it's not impossible. Unlike Clark, Batman is who he is and Bruce Wayne is what he can do. The mission always comes first, so him taking time to dedicate to you is special. It's a lot protecting the city and being the backbone of the league.

He is consistently booked and busy, nobody can do what he does so he always has do things himself. It can be difficult for him to ask for help or just allow people to do things for him. In and out of the costume he's got a lot of walls up. He may seem cold on the surface but he feels very deeply. The death of his parents really stunted him emotionally so it will take some time to soften him up.

In terms of a partner ideally he'd need someone with some softness to file down those hard edges he has. Even if his partner isn't soft he provide that comfort and warmth in his own way over time. He's spent most of his life keeping people at an telephone pole's length away(except Alfred of course).

Physical touch with a partner will feel foreign, all the batfam like to hug him and stuff but their the ones intiating most of the time. That will also be the case for you, you'd have to hug him first if you want to touch him. The longer your relationship goes you'll be able to tell when he wants to be hugged or kissed just from the lingering looks he gives you. The touches he does give you are long gentle caresses, he loves stroking your cheek with his thumb. Sometimes after a difficult patrol he'll just hold you in his arms and press his forehead against yours.

Staring!! He'll always be staring at you whether you're looking or not. He's kind of like a cat, blinking at you real slow is his way of blowing kisses. The way he looks at you is exclusive to you only! It's so much softer and adoring than his usual scary pokerface staring. In a JL meeting, before everyone knows you're dating they might think he can't stand you. Inside though he's like 💓💗💖💘💝.

You can translate his grumbles and sounds. Bruce isn't the most talkative guy and he's in his head alot. So when he's busy or distracted and you ask him a question you understand his tone. Barry: "So is Bruce gonna be at the Flash parade tomorrow?" Bruce: "Hmm..." You: "Yeah he'll be there!".

The rest of the batfamily notice the effect you've had on him, you managed to crack the coldness he's built over the years. In addition to already liking you they're grateful for you being there for him. They'll even tease you both when you have dinner together. Fake vomitting when Bruce kisses you on the cheek, calling you Mom/Dad/Parent.

If you are another superhero(yes he does have a contingency plan for you) You may butt heads from time to time he may come off as underestimating you but he just wants to protect you by getting ahead of the problem. When he knows your abilities/skills maybe exactly what he needs in a certain situation, he’ll hit you up. He does his best not to hover when you go on solo missions, he will check in over comms at the most random times though. When you do go on missions together, you never notice but he'll stay very close to you.

You've got maximum scary dog privilege when you two go out together but when he goes out as Bruce Wayne he's still gotta put up that raunchy facade. He won't get too frisky with you but he will take the opportunity to flirt a little. He'll whisper little compliments and pick-up lines in your ear when you slow dance together.

Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think. Please like or reblog if you like my stuff.

#~⋆｡°tales from the dreaming #reader insert #dcau x reader #dc comics x reader #dc animated imagine #dc comics headcanons #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne headcanons #dcamu x reader #dc x reader #bruce wayne x black!reader

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sugarnspice630 · 3 months

Text

Triple S - Jongho

Triple S: Solo Somno Session

(I thought the title was clever, please also like it :( )

•pairing: idol!jongho x gn!reader

•word count: 1.5k

•tags: mdni, reader has a wet dream, masturbation (male), slight somnophilia, Jongho tries to stay quiet, reader wakes up and teases Jongho ...did I miss anything? probably

Summary: You've been struggling to fall asleep and decide to video call Jongho to help you sleep, only your brain goes into overdrive causing you to have a wet dream and it certainly has an effect on Jongho.

A/N: Random thought that popped into my head at 2am before I went to sleep that I was inspired to write! Not much backstory on this one...Please be sure to drop a like, reblog if you enjoyed it, and comment your favorite part! Happy reading!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆───

Jongho had been away from you for too long. You were really starting to miss him and how he cuddled with you in bed late at night. Being in different time zones while he was touring made it hard to catch him in real time. You texted him that you missed him and wanted to know if you could video call to go to bed. You’ve been having some sleepless nights and thought seeing his face would help you get a good night’s rest. He responded fairly quickly and said he would be back at his hotel room soon and would call you. You just had to keep yourself awake for a little longer.

When Jongho got back to his hotel room for a day of rest, he settled into his bed and got everything set up to prop his phone up to give you a good view of him. He clicked on your contact and clicked the video call button. You were patiently waiting for his call, curled up in your bed with loads of blankets and the stuffed teddy bear he gave you before he left so you wouldn’t be too alone. Your heart jumped when you saw the phone screen change, and you quickly accepted the call. Smiling big when you saw his face on your screen, you were thankful you were able to spend this time with him. He smiled his gummy smile back at you, excited to see you all excited.

“Hi~.”

“Hi baby bear!” You replied from behind the blanket. Your mouth and nose were covered, but your eyes were visible. Jongho sat back and leaned on his elbow, still facing his phone, so he could stare at you. No words were shared, just big smiles and occasional soft giggles between the two of you that warmed both of your hearts. After a few minutes of staring lovingly at each other, you felt your eyes start to get heavy.

“Tired love?”

“Yeah..”

“You can go to sleep, love. That’s why I’m here—to help my darling sleep well.”

“Okie…” You groggily responded, but the truth was, you were already on the verge of falling asleep and had no idea what he was saying. Your eyes went fully shut, and you nuzzled your head into the pillow more to get comfy. Jongho watched and smiled as you got comfortable. He was happy to see you so cozy, even without him being there to cuddle you.

“Goodnight my sweet. I love you so much.” You just hummed in response.

He grabbed a pillow and set it behind him to prop himself up. Reaching for the remote to find something to entertain him. After all, he didn’t want to watch you sleep. You falling asleep that quickly with him on the phone reassured him how comfortable you are with him. Jongho would occasionally look over at the screen to check up on you. Smiling softly at your peacefully resting figure. The way the blanket softly lifted up and down, following your gentle breathing. Your bangs had gracefully fallen over your eyes. Okay, okay, maybe he did enjoy watching you sleep, but there was no creepy intent behind it! He just loved seeing you. You were his, and god did he love it. Jongho shortly turned his attention back to the TV, his brain filled with everything relating to you.

A few moments later, Jongho heard your breathing getting more rapid. He glanced over and saw you were still sleeping, but the blanket had moved from over your mouth. Your eyebrows are furrowed together, and your mouth is slightly hanging open. He frowned, assuming you were having a bad dream. You had been stressed, so it wasn’t unexpected. That was until he heard a soft whimper come out of you. His eyes got a little bit wider, and his face flushed a little. Were you having a wet dream? Surely that couldn’t be the case. He wiggled in the bed a little bit and softly cleared his throat, trying to distract himself from what he just heard. Not a few moments later, you let out another whimper, this time a little louder than the last. Jongho directed his attention to the video of you on his screen. Your eyebrows furrowed more, and you wiggled under the covers as well. Placing your face more into the pillow. Jongho couldn’t help but notice his dick twitched. The thought of you dreaming about something explicit while you were on the phone with him drove him crazy. We wanted to be there to help you, but he couldn’t.

“Jongho~.” You very softly muttered out. Fuck.

He bit his lip after hearing his name. He watched as you writhed around under the cover again, probably agitated that you were not getting the sensation you desired at that moment. His dick had become half-erect just watching you struggle in your dream. What exactly were you dreaming about? He wished he could transport himself into your brain just to see what was going on in that little mind of yours. You whimpered out again. You were driving Jongho crazy, and you weren’t even there physically. Jongho couldn’t help it, but he had to touch himself. He swore to never do anything while you were sleeping, but this was different, right? You were not actually there for him to touch and play with. He just had himself.

He gracefully reached his hand into his sweatpants and began to rub his hand over his cock. Watching your figure with careful eyes and taking in every detail of your face. Taking in the sweet sounds you were letting out. Knowing you were dreaming about him doing explicit things to you. Touching all over you and making you feel this good, only it was your imagination, but damn, if it had you feeling this way now, he was only more curious to hear what you’d actually sound like if he did those things to you. He tilted his head back as he continued to stroke himself. Trying to not make any noise, afraid he’d wake you up and take you out of your wonderful dream. You cried out his name again, and he started to stroke himself faster. He bit his lip to try to hide the soft whimpers that were starting to come out. Closing his eyes, he imagined it was you touching him like this. His hand was not doing the trick; he needed to trick himself into thinking it was you.

“Fuck…Y/N.” He softly called out. The pace he had set for himself was perfect for achieving his high. Unknowingly, his plea was louder than he intended and slightly woke you up from your sleep. You groaned as you softly opened your eyes. Your groan made him go more mad, and he started stroking himself faster. Unaware of what was just happening, except for the damp feeling between your legs, you were alarmed to see Jongho quickly rubbing himself out in the hotel room. You put your head back down on the pillow and watched him with one eye open. Your hair falling over your eyes and hiding the open one perfectly. He looked so beautiful, harshly biting his lip with his head tilted back and eyes closed. You decided to try to be sneaky and let out another whimper, intentionally. You saw Jongho open his mouth and groan softly.

“God dammit baby…so fucking good.” He said through gritted teeth. He was trying so hard to stay quiet to keep you asleep, but the only thing he was doing was making you even more horny. The wet feeling on your lower half started to make more sense. You were having a wet dream, Jongho heard you whimpering and groaning in your sleep, and his little pervert brain couldn’t help but get turned on and he had to jack off to it. You wiggled in your bed and let out another intentional moan. Jongho let out a few curses before he curled himself forward and tried to catch all of his cum in a tissue he had thankfully grabbed before. His heavy breathing and soft moans were like music to your ears, but you wanted to watch him secretly. You bit your lip and pushed yourself into the bed to try to stimulate yourself. Jongho took a few minutes to gather himself before he glanced over at the screen and saw you were still "asleep." He softly smiled at you before getting up to throw his dirtied tissue away. His smile warms your heart, and you pull the blanket back up to your face to further hide yourself. Feeling satisfied that you can make your boyfriend feel good even from thousands of miles away from each other. Jongho returned into frame and leaned back against the pillow, and took a deep breath, letting it out with a loud sigh. He turned his head back to his phone and saw you. The absolute love of his life. Thankful you did not just see the mess he had made from watching and hearing you have a wet dream.

“I saw that.” You muttered loudly and watched his face turn stone cold. His eyes grow wider than you’ve ever seen and his face goes pale. He quickly looks at you and you start chuckling. Something about watching your boyfriend get all shocked and embarrassed that he just masturbated to you was hilarious to you.

Tags: @abby-grace @pre1ttyies @isiloiale @moongoddess1982

#ateez #ateez x reader #kpop #ateez imagine #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez hard hours #ateez hard thoughts #choi jongho #jongho #choi jongho x reader #jongho smut #jongho imagines #jongho x reader #sugarnspice630 #ateez jongho #ateez choi jongho

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little-diable · 4 months

Text

New Year's Eve with a Stranger - Modern!Tommy Shelby (smut)

So, this is a bit of a self sufficient fic, since I am spending NYE alone in one of my fave countries, I simply had to write this. Nevertheless, please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves and a happy new year! xxx

Summary: The reader planned to spend NYE on her own in another country, but when she crosses paths with a handsome stranger she can't help but give into the way she feels towards him.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, age gap, choking, soft dom!Tommy, but mainly lots of fluff

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (2.8k words)

picture credit to So It Goes Magazine

She kept her eyes focused on the big window, sipping on her hot drink, barely sparing her surroundings any attention. It was still early in the morning, allowing (y/n) to watch the sun rise above the snow covered mountains, making a smile tug on her lips at the beautiful sight.

Yesterday she had found her way to this hotel, checking in with anticipation thumping through her veins, excited for a few days on her own, solo travelling a country she had always loved. And now, as she was eating breakfast in a quiet, cosy room, she felt all too comfortable, knowing that there were no meetings she’d have to attend, nothing but the plans she had made for herself.

“Is this seat taken?” A gruff voice ripped her out of her thoughts, forcing (y/n)’s eyes away from the big windows, focusing on the features of a handsome man. With a soft smile tugging on her lips, she murmured a quiet “No”, watching him sit down. “I hope you don’t mind the disturbance, but I didn’t want to miss out on this view.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I totally get it, it’s breathtaking.” She allowed herself to study the man for a few seconds as she took another sip. His piercingly bright eyes were hidden behind a pair of round glasses, his salt and pepper hair was slightly slicked to one side, exposing his side cut to her curious eyes. He was at least ten years older than her, but she couldn’t help but let her gaze flicker down to his hand, checking for a wedding ring, unable to find one.

“Have you been staying here for longer? I haven’t seen you at breakfast before.” (Y/n) tried to pinpoint his accent, wondering where he was from, and why he had found his way to this very place.

“No, I arrived yesterday. What about you, how long have you been staying here?” The man took a sip of his coffee, piercing eyes momentarily finding hers. A shudder ran down (y/n)’s spine at the intense gaze, wondering if he picked up on the attraction she oh so clearly felt for him, drawn closer without knowing a thing about the man.

“I come here every year, I enjoy the quietness this place offers. Is it your first time here?” An unfamiliar warmth flooded through her at the interest he seemed to find in their interaction, not used to being treated this kindly by a stranger.

“It is, but I am already in love with this place. Are there any things you’d recommend doing around here?” He pondered over her question for a few seconds, gaze focused on the pink and orange sky, painting a picture so beautiful (y/n) had to fight against the need to take a picture of it, holding onto the need to enjoy moments rather than pictures she took in these moments.

“Well, it depends on what you’re looking for, there are some museums you should visit, a few rather hidden book stores you’ll find in some alleys. If you want to, I can take you to some of my favourite ones.” (Y/n) couldn’t stop a surprised expression from tugging on her features, not expecting him to offer some of his time to her.

“I’d love that.”

……

Over the past hours (y/n) had learned that the handsome stranger is called Tommy, and that he lived in Birmingham, a city she had always wanted to visit. He had taken her to the history museum in the morning, followed by some coffee in a small store he seemed to frequent whenever he came to visit this town, already friends with the owner of the store.

He hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary, and yet he had won (y/n) over within the first few moments of meeting him. The way Tommy treated her was so unfamiliar to her, she wondered if he was real, filled with kindness, respect, and something glimmering in his eyes that filled her with excitement.

“Didn’t take you for a Dante fan, but I have to say, it fits.” Her whispers left Tommy laughing, thumping through the old copy of Dante’s Inferno he was currently holding in the hands (y/n) found herself staring at way too often. Even though (y/n) tried to focus on the endless rows of old books, her eyes were drawn back to Tommy’s frame at any given chance.

She tried to curse herself for being that interested in a stranger, and yet Tommy didn’t feel like a stranger, he had something familiar to him, something that left her wondering if they had crossed paths in another life. Whatever it was that left her feeling like that, (y/n) didn’t ever want to get rid of this feeling, clinging to it like it was her life vest, protecting her from drowning in uneasy waters she had been stuck in for the past weeks.

“Don’t tell this to anybody, but I can recite most parts of it by heart.” (Y/n) shook her head with a grin tugging on her lips, arms slowly crossing in front of her chest.

“Prove it.” A challenging look was thrown Tommy’s way, watching the man’s tongue kiss his teeth as he tried to stop a smirk from widening on his lips. He turned towards (y/n), leaning against the bookshelf with his hand still holding onto the old copy.

“Midway upon the journey of our life, I found myself within a forest dark, for the straightforward pathway had been lost. Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say, what was this forest savage, rough, and stern, which in the very thought renews the fear. So bitter is it, death is little more; But of the good to treat, which there I found, speak will I of the other things I saw there.” With another laugh bubbling out of (y/n), Tommy stopped reciting, letting go of a laugh himself.

“I have to say, I’m impressed. Do you have any other talents I should know of?” He took a step closer, almost touching her, eyes not daring to break contact with hers once. Both were clearly aware of the buzzing atmosphere that engulfed them, wrapping itself around them.

“Many, but I’d rather you find out about them yourself instead of telling you about them.”

……

The next morning (y/n) found herself in the same spot she had sat in the day before, once again watching the sun rise as she ate breakfast. This time Tommy had joined her at the entrance of the room, pulling her in for a hug, allowing (y/n) to inhale the scent of his expensive cologne.

Their day together had flown by all too quickly, ending with a quick dinner before they had parted ways, leaving (y/n) with a heavy heart. She didn’t know what it was, but yet she had instantly missed him the second Tommy had left her side, promising to meet her again for breakfast the next morning.

“I have some meetings I can’t miss out on today, but if you want to, we can try to catch some auroras tonight.” The smile playing on Tommy’s lips left (y/n)’s heart skipping beats, already filled with excitement at the mere thought of spending some more time with him.

“Absolutely, wait, let me give you my number, so you can just call or text whenever you’re ready.” She was too focused on reaching for her phone to pick up on the warm smile settling on Tommy’s lips, watching the young woman fumble with her phone. There was something swimming in his pupils that was all too unfamiliar, even to Tommy himself, she was doing something to him he hadn’t ever felt before, not wanting to leave her behind for even a minute.

(Y/n) reached her phone out to Tommy, watching him add his contact as she finished her drink. Their fingers touched as he pushed the phone back towards (y/n), making shudders run down her spine like bolts of lighting striking her body.

“If we’re lucky we can catch a few before midnight, so we can come back before the fireworks.” (Y/n) had almost forgotten that today was new year’s eve, a day she had always disliked, not one for drinking, partying, and staying up for endless hours. With a smile shot Tommy’s way she murmured a soft “Sounds good”, hoping that today would be another day she’d remember for months on end.

……

The cold wind teased their limbs, wrapping itself around the two as they were sitting on a bench, cuddled into their jackets with their eyes focused on the dark sky. For the longest time it had been (y/n)’s dream to see the auroras dance on the night sky, green and blue stripes of light that almost drew tears to her eyes.

“Worth the wait, right?” Tommy’s soft voice broke the silence, momentarily forcing her eyes away from the sky. He was sitting close to her, arm touching hers, leaving her feeling all too comfortable around the man.

“Definitely. Thank you for taking me here.” Since her eyes wandered back to the sky, (y/n) didn’t pick up on the way Tommy’s eyes flickered down to her cold hands, giving himself a few seconds to overthink his next move before he slowly interlaced his fingers with hers. Her heart skipped a few beats at the touch, making heat rise in her system, eyes momentarily finding his piercing ones.

Both couldn’t stop their smiles from widening, holding onto one another as the auroras kept dancing in the sky. (Y/n) silently prayed that whoever was listening would freeze the moment, not wanting it to end just there and then, not ready to part from Tommy just yet.

“Do you have any new year’s resolutions?” Once her eyes were drawn back to Tommy’s features, studying the man as she thought about his question, a question she had never spared much attention, not believing in resolutions most would forget about after a week or two.

“No, not really. Sometimes I want to be a bit braver, do a few more things to get me out of my shell, take a few more risks. But that’s about it, what about you?” Her breath hitched in her chest as she watched his gaze flicker down to her lips, for just a second, a second (y/n) undoubtedly picked up on.

“What kind of risks?” (Y/n) didn’t understand what was guiding her body, urged on by the unfamiliar tone of Tommy’s voice, moving closer with her gaze set on his lips. The seconds blurring by felt like minutes, hours even, with her heart racing and her breaths stuttering. Would he pull away? Would he stop her from pressing her lips against his?

But Tommy didn’t pull away, one of his hands found her cold cheek, encouraging (y/n) to close the distance between them, softly kissing Tommy. The touch left her panting, not expecting the kiss to make her feel like this. She had never believed in these cheesy descriptions of clashing teeth, fireworks going off in the distance, but now, as Tommy kissed her breathless, taking over the kiss before she could even try to lead, (y/n) couldn’t help but feel just like other people had always described to her.

They didn’t part as Tommy pulled her into his lap, kissing her beneath the colourful night sky, making them feel as if they were reliving a scene from a movie. Neither of them wanted this moment to end, wanting to stay connected till the end of their time. But with shaking heads and aching lungs they eventually had to part, staring at one another with excitement and anticipation laced in their gazes.

“Take me back to the hotel, Tommy.”

……

She had her back arched off the bed, eyes squeezed shut, hands tugging on Tommy’s hair. The man was settled between her thighs, grinning against her naked skin as he ate her out. Tommy touched her as if they had done this numerous times before, careful enough to pick up on the wordless signs her body was throwing his way, though rough enough to let (y/n) choke on her gasps.

“Fuck, Tommy, feels so good, don’t stop, please.” His chuckles vibrated on her skin, leaving (y/n) whining as she tried to hold on, not wanting to give into the sensation just yet. His fingers fucked her fast, curling against her swollen spot whenever he got the chance to. She was putty in his hand, unable to do anything but give into the pull she felt.

Tommy could tell that she was close, about to fall over the edge with his name burning in the tip of her tongue, with her hands balled into fists, and with her lungs struggling to hold onto any air. He held some kind of magic over her, (y/n) had never felt before.

“Look at me, doll, keep those pretty eyes open for me.” These were the last words (y/n) managed to pick up on before she came. Tommy’s tongue kept lapping at her folds, guiding her through her high with a satisfied smile tugging on his lips. A few praises were murmured against her soft skin, fingers lazily fucking into her for a few more moments before he let go of her.

Within seconds Tommy was towering over her once again, lips caught in a heated kiss. They didn’t part ways as she helped him out of his shirt, nails scratching at his skin as he undid his trousers, needing to feel her naked body pressed against his.

“Are you sure you want this? You can always tell me to stop.” He murmured the words against her skin as he kissed his way down her throat, groaning as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing her naked cunt against his dark boxer shorts.

“Fuck me, Tommy.” He didn’t need to be told twice, letting go of her to free his cock, grinning as he felt her wide eyes taking in the sight of his twitching length. (Y/n) watched him roll a condom down his cock, aligning himself with her heat before he wrapped his hand around her throat, keeping (y/n) pressed against the mattress.

The eye contact both held was intense, and yet it had something awfully intimate to it, forcing her heart to skip even more beats. Tommy fucked her rough, not holding back as he added more and more speed to his thrusts, fingers tightening their grip around her throat. Her senses were heightened, wondering how far he’d take it with her, and yet she felt awfully safe with him around, knowing that he wouldn’t hurt her in a way she wouldn’t enjoy.

“Such a desperate girl, begging to be fucked.” A whine left (y/n), a sound that made Tommy chuckle against her lips, feeling powerful with her buried underneath him. His lips met hers in an almost rushed kiss as he fucked her, hips meeting hers with every thrust. “You fit so perfectly around me, as if you were made for me.”

“Just for you, Tommy.” A moan left them in unison as her walls fluttered around him, wordlessly begging for more friction, needing to feel his fingers on her clit to give into the sensation threatening to claw through her. (Y/n) felt herself getting lost in his pupils, wide from the lust thumping through his veins, making them appear darker, more dangerous than the piercing colour she was used to.

Both were close to letting go, wordlessly communicating their every thought, knowing that there was no holding back. Tommy let go of her throat to sneak a hand between them, lifting himself to spit onto her pulsing bundle, rubbing her skin with his warm fingers.

With (y/n)’s fingernails clawed into his skin, she came, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut. Tommy kept fucking her, thrusts perfectly positioned to prolonge the intense sensation. He watched her fall apart with a grin, unable to stop himself from kissing her again before he came, groaning against her mouth.

The sound of fireworks going off ripped them out of their trance, unable to stop laughing as their eyes found the window. Wordlessly they watched the colourful lights alight the sky, still connected with their hearts beating in sync.

“Happy new year, Tommy.” His eyes flickered back down to hers, lips meeting (y/n)’s swollen ones before he repeated her words with a grin glued to his features.

#Tommy Shelby smut #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby imagine #Peaky Blinders smut #modern tommy shelby

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webslingingslasher · 4 months

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(yes, i reposted this. i needed to edit the dates. thank you to those who will re-reblog and re-like.)

it's finally here. a major quick thank you for all the love and patience everyone has shown me over this series. i hope it's worth the wait.

word count: 11k.

it's getting real now...

CHAPTER TWO: MASTERMIND

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 8TH, SIGMA NU CHAPTER HOUSE

Chistine Kiko just handed you an eighth of mushrooms and you weren’t one to disappoint. Even if it was your first time. “My fucking dad wouldn’t let me do anything in the Hamptons. I literally only had my dab pen and coke. Like, what kind of person does that?”

They taste like fucking shit, Christine licked her pudgy fingers dry while you were gagging between chews. “He sounds,” baby barf, “like a monster.” She doesn’t pick up on your sarcasm, “thank you! Everyone said I was being dramatic too, glad to know I can rely on you.”

You cough on the last swallow, Christine patted at your back, a red solo cup pushed in your hand. “Drink. I mean, he bossed me around all summer too. He thinks I wanna be like him, like, try that with your other kids?” You pull the cup down, “you’re an only child?”

Christine shrugs, “it’s never too late.” You hum while you finish the mixture, it was ultra sweet, you assume it was full of booze. “So, basically, you’re gonna have a super fun time and I will totally be here for you if you need me, but I have friends to see, ya know?”

It’s a nice way of saying she will absolutely not be around if you need her. You stop her with a hand on her wrist, “wait, how long until this hits? Will I know?” Christine smirks, “about an hour, give or take. Ride the wave and pick a bed to land in.”

You’re alone for an entire two minutes, just enough time to get your own cup of jungle juice, the same mixture as Christine’s, before an arm drops around your shoulders. The voice alone makes you want to eat sand, you just know he’s about to say something stupid.

With his girlfriend in tow, blonde hair whips towards you, a snotty smirk, “did you see Harvey yet?” It takes everything in you not to wack his arm. “No, not yet.”

“Well, I’m sure he’s going to love your top.” You huff at him, “this wasn’t even the shirt Ally wanted me to wear, so, fuck you!” Matt holds a hand to his chest, “I am in a committed relationship, and even if I wasn’t, ew.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, blondie. I’ve seen cuter rats.” He narrows his eyes, “I will pray for evil to find you.” Ally gasps, “Matty, no.”

Holding a middle finger up, your eyes wander around the room until you zone in on Harvey resting against the staircase, a gleam of light hits his wrist, silver dances in your eyes.

Harvey must have felt you, his chin rises in a poor excuse for a nod. You flash a four finger wave, raising your cup to your mouth when he starts laughing with a friend. Matt pokes your elbow at the interaction, “what kind of dress are you wearing to the wedding?”

You grin, “I’m not sure yet, I don’t wanna clash with Ally.” You turn to her, “we both can’t wear white, right?”

“Hey, hey, hey, if anyone’s going to marry Ally it’s me, and it’ll be in a church so you’ll either sit it out or burn.”

Checking your phone you nibble at your lip, thirty eight minutes. Trent’s nowhere to be found, you need to start looking. And subtly. You take a step back, pretending to be interested in a fake text. “Give me five minutes, I need to make a call.” Ally’s quick to give the go ahead, “okay, text me if you can’t find us!”

Thirty seven minutes. Your shoulder hits a freshman’s, jungle juice splashes on the hardwood; spilling out an apology you step over the puddle. A boy you haven’t seen before smiles at you, if you weren’t on a mission, you’d be saying hello.

You loop by the garage, heart stuttering when you capture Peter and Ethan playing a game of beer pong. Trent wasn’t there, your last hope and prayer was in the backyard.

Surrounded by rose bushes, the chapter president had his lips wrapped around a cigarette. The red glow lit his cheeks up on the inhale, two girls and another guy with him, you think you shared a class with one of the girls last year.

Trent catches your eyes, it’s clear you both don’t want anyone to know what’s going on. He directed his gaze towards your phone, a hand moved around in his pocket before he produced his own.

You stare at your home screen, expecting the message any second. It comes when you move back inside.

‘Use the backstairs, my room is on the left at the end of the hall.’

‘Give me five minutes.’

Thirty two minutes, you don’t have any time to waste. Your feet hit the stairs.

Trent’s room is messy and terribly decorated. Clothes covered the floor, empty bowls and plates scattered across his desk, a still sweating, sealed water bottle makes you smack your lips. How tempting.

A string of flags, a political one that doesn’t surprise you in the slightest, a ‘Saturdays are for the boys’ one, and a black and white american flag. The trio makes you roll your eyes, it seems very fitting for his personality. No shoe has a matching partner in the entire room, you’re scared to think of what might be under his bed.

You don’t feel safe or comfortable enough to sit on it either, it’s unmade and with a noticeable and questionable looking stain. He does have a couch though, and it looks very, very comfortable. It feels like you’d sink right in. It’s not enticing enough, you don’t trust it.

You check your phone again, it’s been five minutes and it could be the liquor, but you feel a slight wobble. Twenty three minutes until blast off Trent slides through a small crack in the door, your arms cross defensively. “I know you’re not fucking me, but you can at least pretend to care about my time.”

“Wrong. I wouldn’t care about you, even if you were fucking me.” He proudly takes a seat at his desk, he offers you nothing. A smug look rolls over, “you’ve built it up long enough, what do you need from me?”

The sooner it’s over, the better. “My friends and I have a bet on your potential new members, if the person I pick makes it through recruitment, I win. I need you to make sure I win.”

Trent’s facade slips, even just for a millisecond. “One more time, and I need you to be very clear on it, alright?”

Were you slurring your words? You try to speak clearer. “I know someone who’s going to pledge, and I promise you he has no involvement in this, but I need him to be recruited so I can win some money. All I need is for you to make sure I win and they don’t.”

A brief pause, Trent looks sympathetic. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you with that.” You cut him off, he accepted the terms last Friday, and again when you sent over copies of your- Noa’s hard discoveries.

“No, no, Trent, you did. You said anything I needed, and I need this.”

“If you would’ve told me what you needed, you would’ve known I couldn’t help you.”

“This is bullshit, I’ll start singing from the rooftops about your payoff.”

“No, you won’t. I’m the president, so I get final say on who we fully recruit-” You roll your eyes, “I know.”

“- but I don’t get to choose who makes it past rush, you need a member to bid on a pledge. You need someone to big brother him, I can’t do that. If I get involved it becomes dirty rushing, and that is the biggest ‘no no’ to exist.”

You slump, everything comes crashing down. “So… you can’t even pull rank here?” Trent shakes his head, “absolutely not.”

“So this was all for nothing?”

“If you can find a member to bid on him, you have my promise he’ll make it, and I’ll cut whoever you need so you can win. That’s it.”

You’re at a loss, you have no other member you could ask. Matt could never keep a secret, you didn’t know Ethan well enough and there was no way in hell you’d ask- “Want my advice? Parker is your best bet.”

You shake your head wildly, it takes a moment for your mind to click back into place. “You really want to involve someone else into this? You know what’s at stake, right?” You’re hinting at his secret, Trent shrugs.

“If anyone is going to know about it, I’d want it to be Parker. He can keep a secret and has no issue in playing dirty if he’s in on it.” You’re suddenly very thirsty, you keep licking your lips for moisture.

“He doesn’t know who I am.” Not a total lie.

“Then introduce yourself.”

You shouldn’t have to do anything, he’s the one not making good on his promise. You made good on your end and in return he’s barely lifting a finger. Maybe it had something to do with not wanting Peter involved due to fear of judgment. Or, maybe he’d be impressed like Trent.

If you wanted Peter to be a conquest, it couldn’t start by you asking for a favor. That was friend behavior, and you wanted to be anything but friends. This was Trent’s problem, not yours. He doesn’t understand that you can make things difficult for him if he backs out.

Your tongue is thick and you need water. You have no time for this.

“Listen, Trent. This is your problem. I held up my end of the bargain, and you have to do yours. I don’t care how you do it, but you’re going to pledge Isaac Barns. If you don’t, I’ll turn shit around and make this the dirty frat, the frat that cheated for first place.”

Trent held a clenched jaw, you saw nothing but fury in his eyes. “We’ll figure something out. No need to get mouthy.” If you had more time you’d entertain his comment, but it’s clear he’d figure something out.

You eye the plastic water bottle next to him, snatching it from the side. “And I’m taking this, talk to me when you have a plan, Simpson!” When his door slams shut, it rings in your ears.

You feel every muscle in your legs move while you walk, and within minutes it seemed like everything got brighter. A vibration washes down the back of your thigh, you slap around, it’s your phone. A single text.

‘friend?’

You’ve been missing too long, one way to stop the questions.

‘Finding Harvey…’ the response was a keyboard smash.

Blinking harsh, the room feels like it’s blending together. You’ve never felt this way, it’s like the entire house is moving underneath your feet. The floor waves you into the crowd, everything feels like it’s slow motion, yet sped up at the same time.

“Hey!” You don’t know who it is, it’s a stranger, his voice sounds distorted. You shake your head clear, and step right by him. You’re on a mission and can’t be sidetracked, things are hitting quickly and you need to find Harvey to explain plans have taken a very sharp left.

A spin of bodies, you find one that stands out. You catch her shoulders.

“Lindsey!” You fight for the words, they’re like butter. “Have you seen Harvey Guyn?”

She’s fucking plastered, a slur of letters string out. “... hall.. wine… yeah! haha…” A gasp when she sees a friend across the house, you’re forgotten in a second. Putting your faith in her, you take careful steps, slapping your hands on the wine closet and tugging it open.

“Harvey! You in here? Lindsey said you were-” there was no chance to finish, Harvey was busy doing it for you. His head was thrown back on the wall tiles, a guttural moan ripped from his throat. Wrapped around his fist was a tight hold of black hair, to help Christine Kiko keep his dick swallowed down.

“Oh shit,” you slam the door on them, standing in shock for a few seconds. It wasn’t about him hooking up with her, he could do what he wanted. But it wasn’t everyday you saw something like that in person, and you had to give credit to Christine, she was taking it like a champ.

It gave you an out for the night, you were too high for anything but breathing.

Thank god for Christine Kiko. And really bless her for catching up with you in record time spurting apologies while wiping her mouth clean. “I know, I know, you guys were hooking up, but-”

You stop her sorry, “how’d you know?” She rakes her long nails through her hair to untangle it, it comes out clean instantly. “My dad is super simping for his dad and we vacationed together this year so he had me try and make Harvey happy so he could tell his dad they should do business.”

Christine has no idea how fucked up that sounds, “what would he have done if you were his son?” She doesn’t miss a beat, “Harvey swings both ways, doesn’t he?”

Music shakes your feet, Christine’s hair looks soft. It’s black and pin-straight, you reach out, you comb your fingers through without a hint of struggle. “Wow, you take such good care of your hair.”

“Rice water, you’re welcome.” She looks back at the door, “I need some things to finish up, but um, you feeling alright? It looks like it’s settling in.” It is. You’re busy twisting the cap on your water bottle, the small ridges skate across your thumb to create a soothing repetition. “Yeah.”

It makes her smile, “yeah? You should go outside, the trees look fucking awesome, even when it’s dark.” You thank her for the idea, and stand still for a little too long after Christine retreats back to the wine closet. You think it’s your brain trying to remember how to walk, you blame the bass reverberating off the flooring.

The second you’re able to actually pick your feet up, you move three steps before noticing it feels like you have lead boots on. You clomp towards the couches, perched on the side, sitting pretty, was your best friend.

Making eye contact, you replay what just happened. You can’t stop it, it’s uncontrollable, bubbling from your throat, you laugh. Loudly. The longer you laugh, the more intense it gets. Ally has no idea what’s going on, but you assume the giggle is contagious.

“What! Tell me!” You’re trying, but you can’t catch your breath. Each time you try to push more than two words out, you’re back to laughing so hard your shoulders shake. There’s only one reason you’re finding this so funny, you try to collect yourself. “I…” Another round, Ally’s right with you; you think she’s just excited to see what’s got you so giddy.

“Okay, okay. Christine Kiko gave me some shrooms, and they, like, just hit. Also, I just caught her sucking Harvey’s dick.” Ally sputters, “what?!” A hand covers her mouth, the imagery catching up to her. “Oh my god!” You nod, she said it better than you could. “And you saw this?!” It’s like the idea is unbelievable to her. “Uh huh, right in front of me.”

Ally presses the hand covering her mouth, to her cheek. A moment of silence, until she starts to laugh just like you did. You almost copy, until she stops and gives you an ironclad look, “wait, did you say mushrooms?”

You pretend your mind is exploding. “I’m experiencing things I couldn’t explain right now.” Ally’s hair looks almost as soft as Christine’s. You grab a thick piece, breaking it into thirds and start to braid. It feels like rope, your fingers turn into a ball of yarn, fumbling into one useless clump.

“Are you okay? Matty and I were about to go upstairs.” Your eyes flash towards the stairs on instinct, then you're back at her. “Coming back down?” Ally grins and sends you a wink, “not if I give him a reason not to.” She drops her grin, “unless you need company, in that case, I’m here for you.”

Just because you chose to spend your night tripping, it doesn’t mean Ally has to ditch bedtime with her boyfriend. Wouldn’t that be an incredibly selfish thing to do? “I don’t need a trip sitter, I have myself. And Christine. Also, have you seen Prince?”

“Uh, no. He went off with Rocco the second we got here.” Rocco, the second you hear his name, you think of his hair, how does one achieve an afro? Would it be wrong to ask?

“Cool, cool, no doubt, no doubt.” Ally eyes you, she’s trying to make sure you’re fully okay before she pulls Matt upstairs. You flash a smile, it’s enough to have her drop her shoulders in relief. “You always have me, you know where I’ll be.”

“And I am so, so grateful for you, Ally Storm.” Because, you are. In your opinion, mushrooms make you emotional. You went from laughing to appreciative in one minute, suddenly you’re hugging your best friend while holding back tears. “You are so kind, and patient, and nice, and, like, so super supportive to me.”

Ally squeezes you right back, “you should do drugs more often, I’m loving the praise.” You pull back to wink at her, “it’s only cause you’re so great. Go do your boyfriend, since I can’t get any tonight.”

“You think sex on shrooms would be good?” The idea hadn’t occurred, but thinking about it makes you agree with her. “Sex on hallucinogens? That’s boyfriend behavior.” Ally pats your arm, “next time, invite me. I’ll let you know how it is.”

A twinkle in her eye appears, you dread what’s about to happen. “Sup, slugger?” The arm around you is entirely too heavy, but oddly comforting. Like a weighted blanket. “She took mushrooms.” You nod, Matt rubs your shoulder, you almost purr. “Having fun?” Normally, you have a love hate relationship with Matt. You both love to hate each other, but not seriously. Not that it’s been said, but you know Matt would protect you with anything in him if needed.

Tonight, right now, Matt is a solid force. “Permission to hug?” Ally’s eyes widen, she almost doubles down on the sentiment of doing drugs more often. “You wanna full on, front touch me?” Nevermind, Matt just ruined it, like he ruins everything. “Not anymore, you ruined it.”

“Oh, no, no, no. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.” Before you can try and dodge it, Matt’s got you in his hold. It’s very obvious he’s doing it for the pure enjoyment of annoying you, it’s almost endearing. Almost. You’d fight better at shoving him away but he’s got a warmth radiating from his chest and into yours.

Peter watches you bump hips across the room with Paul’s girlfriend, your fingers pull at her hair. A wild look crosses her face, two of you giggling.

“I didn’t know she was Ally’s friend.” Ethan scratches at his arm, Peter’s guard goes up. He knows why he’s surprised to know you were the friend in question, he doesn’t know why Ethan thinks so too.

Ethan shrugs and asks Peter about something, he can’t focus. “You know her?”

“Yeah, that’s my bio girl.”

Peter felt constricted, he doesn’t know why. “Wait, what? That’s my freshman.”

Ethan stares at the side of Peter’s head. “She’s not a freshman.” Peter sneers at his friend, “yeah, no shit.” Ethan kisses his teeth, “I invited her to the party.” He doesn’t know why, but Peter feels slightly challenged.

“So did I.” His arms cross over his chest, he mumbles the rest. “On the first day.”

“Funny. When I asked she said she had no plans.”

Peter can feel his jaw clench, he wants to kind of fucking punch him, if he’s being honest. And that makes him even more upset, because why is he so threatened? Ethan may have an inkling that his best friend wants you more than he does, but he also wants him to know he could have competition.

“Funny.” It’s clear Peter did not find it funny.

“She’s cool. You know, witty, kind, pretty…” Peter’s doing what he can to keep himself from walking away, he wants to scream that he had eyes on you first. But that’s an insane thought, only one that could be casted by a witch.

“She’s difficult and entitled.”

All Ethan hears is ‘she’s fucking perfect for me.’ And his mind was made up, you were no longer someone he’d pursue. You’re all Parker’s, because he wants you. Even if he won’t admit it, yet.

“So, you have no issue with me moving in on that?” Peter’s a little too quiet, choosing to nurse on his beer in hand. “Do what you want, man.” He finishes his drink, he looks back up at you, sharing a warm embrace with Paul.

“Cause, I don’t mind leaving it alone, if you want.” It takes a second, but Peter lightly shrugs. No words needed to be said, it told Ethan everything he needed to know. “You saw her first, it’s only fair.” It’s tiny, and it’s a microflash, but Peter grinned. What was understood, didn’t need to be explained.

Heavy steps found themselves at a familiar face.

“My roommate ditched me and this floor looks like a pirate ship.” You point down for good measure, Ethan’s a good sport and looks with you. “Is it moving?”

You nod quickly, glad he too can see the shifting boards. Ethan’s sweater catches your attention, it looks soft. By default he looks like a teddy bear, you can’t hold yourself back, latching yourself to the cashmere you run your hands over his back.

“It’s so soft.”

Ethan laughs, he has no issue returning the love. You melt under his touch, everything is so warm. “I can feel your hands.” Your lab partner knows exactly what’s going on, “yeah? What’d you take, X?”

You pull back to spread pixie dust from your fingertips, “magic mushrooms.” Lights flash in cohesion with the music, you’re awe at the sharp beauty. Swirls of color cloud your vision, loud bass rings your ears. Vibrations flow from your toes up to your knees, a circle of laughter around you is contagious.

You can’t stop the giggles, you weren’t sure who was laughing or why but it seemed so fitting.

You throw your head back, the room spins and you squeal when your waist is held tight.

“Ethan!” You hug him again, you can’t stop patting his sweater. “Wanna do some shots?” Ethan shakes his head, “no, you want some water.” You stop, “oh my god, yeah, that sounds so good.” Your lower back is nudged, you’re guided into the kitchen where you see a blur of motion.

Stumbling, your back collides into another body. You spin quickly, you can’t believe it’s taken this long to see him.

“Peter, hi!”

Your arms loop around his back, you pull him tight to you and sigh. He’s broader than Ethan, but his shirt can’t match Ethan’s sweater. Peter feels oddly frozen, you shuffle into him further, an awkward pat is granted to the middle of your back. “Hi.”

“No, no, like this.” You fix the placement, it’s like he’s never given a hug in his entire life. Peter’s offering no warmth, it feels like he’s just allowing you to have this moment. You give him an unsure glance when you pull back, “I’ll make you better, don’t worry.”

You’re stopped before you could try and teach Peter a proper hug. “Let’s not hug, Parker.” You blink wildly at your lab partner, before looking back at Peter, he has an unimpressed gaze on Ethan. “No hugs? You don’t like hugs?”

It’s unacceptable, you pull at Ethan’s arm. “Here, show him how it’s done.” Ethan tries to shake his head, you loop around his waist tightly. “See, Peter? This is how you hug.”

“I know how to hug.”

You smile and nudge away from the cashmere, your arms open wide. “Okay, show me.”

“No.”

A frown takes over, since he’s being mean, you can too.

“Fine. I don’t like your haircut, how about that?” Peter lacks the reaction you want him to give, “thank you.” You narrow your eyes at him, “Christine should’ve given you the mushrooms instead, you’re kinda grumpy.”

Ethan pushes you back, “okay, D.A.R.E. Water.” You took the bottle and looked between the two friends. “Be honest, did you guys know they were hooking up?”

Peter furrowed his eyebrows, you had the urge to rub it out. Ethan slapped your hand down. “Who?” You hold a finger up to pause the conversation, water has never tasted so clear.

“Mmm…” you blink awake. “Harvey and Christine. Did you think he wasn’t planning on me finding out? Was he fully prepared to try and bang me after he got head from another girl? Cause, I don’t think so.”

A song you haven’t heard before plays, it sends waves of warmth over your skin.

Ethan shrugs, “sounds like Harvey, yeah.”

You jeer around the plastic bottle, “boo.” Peter’s short circuiting in his brain. You were hooking up with Harvey? The pieces were muddling. His Harvey? That guy sucks. Peter reacts subconsciously, grabbing whatever you handed him. An empty water bottle, you smile, “thanks!” He grunts before tossing it in the kitchen sink.

“This party would be so much better if Taylor Swift was playing.”

It takes everything in Peter not to roll his eyes, Ethan one ups him in a second.

“Which album?”

You gasp, Peter swears he sees a sparkle in your eyes. For a split second he regrets not asking you the same thing. “Any of them! Do you like her too?”

Peter thought his best friend read between the lines from their earlier conversation. He assumes he didn’t.

“She’s alright, I have a few of her vinyls.” Record scratch, Peter just lost you. Your hand grabbed Ethan’s shoulder, you leaned in closer and gave him doe eyes. “No way, I don’t believe you. Which ones?”

Ethan laughs, “I have them in my room, swear to god. I like her sister albums.”

Peter watches your hand slide down his sleeve until you latch around his wrist, “show me.” Ethan shrugs, “alright, we can-” Peter steps in front of him, the path blocked.

“Keznek.” As in, you’re not doing what I think you’re doing, right?

“Parker.” As in, do you really think that low of me?

A third name is brought into the mix, Peter looks down, you’re smiling big at him and for a second he feels like he’s smiling back.

“Who’s that?”

You point at yourself, “me.”

He finally has your name, it’s fitting. He doesn’t think he’s ever thought a name could fit a person, until he heard yours. A weird urge to compliment it tugs at him, he buries it down. Witch.

Attention back on Ethan, “you swear you have them?” He’s almost offended you’d ask, “promise.” You look to Peter, “can you confirm?” Peter sucks in a breath through his teeth, he shakes his head slowly. “I can’t.”

The answer is obvious, “I have to verify, if you’re telling the truth you’ll win cool points forever.” Plan impeded, the chapter president just walked through the kitchen, a gleam in the wolves eye. His hand clapped Peter’s chest, the light abuse caused you to frown.

“Nice to see you’re making friends with Parker.”

You flip the script, a fake smile. “I’m sorry, who are you?” Ethan laughed behind you and was immediately silenced with a harsh glare from Trent. “Watch it, Keznek.” Peter’s face hardened at the tone.

“You’re taking my advice, I love to see it.”

Peter has his eyes on you, it takes strength to ignore it. “Wanna talk about advice? You should play some Taylor Swift.” Trent scoffs, “get fucked.” Peter speaks up before you have a chance, “hey, woah.” The head of the house wasn’t about to be talked to like he was a chapter officer, even if he was. His response was pushing Peter back and walking away.

“I understand why he’s the president,” you watch the room swirl together. “He’s super mature.” Smacking your lips, you blindly reach for Ethan. “Do you see these fucking lights right now?” Peter glances around, it’s the same party lighting they use each time.

“Are they dragging?” You focus in, when you move your head slow trails of light follow. “Yeah, woah.” Peter clears his throat, the sound cupped around your ears. “Your friend here, freshman?” You spin, “who’s friend?”

Peter looks at Ethan for a second, you’re busy trying to pull at a loose thread on Peter’s sleeve. “How are you getting home tonight?” You twirl the strand around your finger, the tension snaps it. When the blood returns to your fingertip, it warms your entire hand.

“Dunno yet. I’ll figure it out later.” You look down at your feet, they seem like they’re a million miles away from you. The floor shifts underneath you, it makes your knees shake, you clutch Ethan’s arm to balance yourself. “Pirate ship?” You nod, “ahoy, matey.”

Peter shifts when you take him in, more or less just focused on his face. He stands a little taller, then questions it, because why would he care about how tall you perceived him to be? “Peter,” he waits. Pointing behind you, “wanna do a shot? Ethan refused, like he hates me or something.” You can’t stop looking at him, the lights dance over his face, casting him in an angelic glow like no other.

“You think mixing shots with mushrooms is a good idea?” You move around, like your body couldn’t stand holding still. “Just one.” One wouldn’t hurt, and it’s not like he’s doing it for you or anything, he planned on having a shot anyways. You were just another person to pour for.

“Sure. Pick the poison.” You answer quickly, an honest response. “Rat.” Ethan starts to laugh and it’s contagious, you start giggling too. You don’t know why he’s laughing, but it feels good to have someone to laugh with. Peter tilts his head to the ceiling with a heavy sigh, “no, freshman. I meant booze.”

“Oh! Not vodka, I hate vodka, I can taste it in anything, even when Ally mixes it with Hawaiian Punch. So, please never give me vodka. I hate it.”

Peter smirks at Ethan, “so, vodka?” You sputter, you wonder if you confused love and hate in your speech. You shake your head quickly, “no, no, no, Peter. I hate vodka, please don’t give me any.”

Ethan slides a bottle down to Peter, it’s a party classic. Peter waits on you, “this good enough for you, princess?” It was sarcastic as all hell, but it still made you feel warm and fuzzy. “Yes, prince.” Peter just shook his head while he poured them up.

Raised glasses, you wait for the toast. “Here’s to A’s, C’s, and double D’s.” The words made you send a glare to Peter, it seemed like he was waiting for it. “You know, like grades?” It’s not what he meant, all three of you knew it, but you couldn’t fight him on it either. It still works, a cheer is a cheer.

Normally, you’d find Fireball warming, tonight, you find it burning. You almost choke on it, holding it in your mouth for longer than you should’ve, the instant sting had caught you off guard. “Jesus Christ, freshy. Swallow.” It’s like you need a reminder, you’re able to take it down; a shutter takes over your body.

You turn to your lab partner, a sour look on your face. “Why did you let me do that? You’re supposed to be smart.” Ethan holds his hands up, you’re not about to throw him under the bus. “Hey, I tried. You’re the one that only wanted Parker’s opinion.”

SATURDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 9TH. CATHEDRAL HALL.

Peter was dragged out of his bed a little too early for a saturday in his opinion. He woke up to Trent hanging over his bed, poking him harshly on his shoulder. “The fuck do you want, Simpson?” If Peter had to guess what time it was by the shadow in his room, it was pushing early morning.

“Get up. We need to go somewhere.” Peter blinked quickly, dragging a heavy hand up to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Now?” Trent started to stab, Peter slapped his hand away. “The fuck, man?” His president wasn’t playing around. “Get the fuck up, Parker.”

Only when Peter sat up did Trent back away, “don’t wake anyone up. I need you downstairs in five.” When his door was shut, Peter squeezed his eyes shut and allowed himself to taste the idea of sleep one more time. Then, he got up, tugged on sweatpants and a hoodie, and silently crept downstairs.

Peter tried to ask what was going on, and where they were going, but Trent just kept saying, ‘you’ll see,’ and ‘shut the fuck up and trust me.’ It wasn’t until he was walking up the steps to Cathedral hall, he had an odd feeling, a slight buzz in his stomach. It heightened when they took a turn for the girls section.

“Hey, Simpson, if this is a planned parenthood thing-”

“Shut the fuck up, Parker.” Out of nowhere he stopped, Peter almost ran into him. Trent banged on an decorated door, a whiteboard with Ally’s name, the other one had been swiped, the name unclear. “I thought Ally was at the house?” Trent beat the door harder, “she is.”

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed, he was about to ask, yet again, why they were there. The answer came when the door flew open, eyes squinting at the hallway lighting, stands you. “You’re not Ally.”

Peter’s slightly surprised you’re home, he had no idea when or how you left last night. He also doesn’t really care.

“No shit,” you lightly scoffed when Trent shoved his way in, your shoulder hitting the doorframe. “Good morning to you, too, dick.” Peter gently walked in, making sure not to bump against you. It made you smile lightly, “good morning, Peter.” He nodded back, “morning.” Trent bounced on Ally’s bed, it produced a loud creak. “No wonder she’s always at the house.”

You sat on the edge of your own bed, gesturing to the spot next to you or your desk chair for a seating option for Peter; he chose the chair. Peter looked over your face while you woke up, your eyes puffy from being rubbed at, you stretched with arms over your head, a peek of skin showed your stomach.

“You look sick.” It snapped you from your daze, you frowned at Trent. “Thanks, it’s my natural beauty.” Trent pulled a sour look, “that’s what girls look like without makeup?” Peter doesn’t really notice a difference, and that’s not a bad thing. “It’s too early for your shit, Simpson.” He looks towards you, you poke your tongue out at Trent, a childish moment to prove you had someone on your side and not his.

Peter watches you lean back, velvety thighs on display. A hand goes behind your back, a plush resurfaced. Spider-Man sits on your lap, arms wrapped tight around his waist. He thinks it’s a squishmellow of some sort, he remembers he hooked up with a girl last year with at least twenty on her bed. She didn’t have a Spider-Man one though.

“How are you feeling?” You look tired, maybe a little hungover. Little to no energy. Peter thinks it’s the comedown of your previous night's choices. You grin, holding Spider-Man a little tighter. “Like a champ, you?”

Trent scoffs, “enough bullshit, wench. You know why we’re here.” Peter feels the hair on his neck stand up, Trent can be a prick, but he really has a vendetta against you. “Jesus Christ, Simpson. She’s a human being.” It’s the bare minimum, but it still makes you feel warm and fuzzy. “It’s okay, Peter. He’s just mad he can’t satisfy women.”

Trent flies up, “fuck you! I’m doing you a fucking favor and-” Peter stands up just as quick, pushing Trent back down with a hand on his shoulder. “Sit down, Simpson.” With Peter as mediator, you don’t worry about standing up for yourself.

“You’re not doing me a favor, I’m doing you a favor! You’re the one that couldn’t hold up your end of the bargain, you asshole!” Trent fights against Peter’s hold, “you’re the one that came to me!” You throw your Spider-Man to the side and step up, Peter backs up against your chest, literally using his body as a barrier. “You’re the one that involved Peter!”

Peter shoves hard on Trent’s chest, it sends him flying back into Ally’s bed. You step back, Peter’s doing his best to look between the two of you. It’s exasperated, “involved me in what?” It goes silent, you weren’t going to say anything, you were the one who told Trent to fix it. Trent’s the one that brought in Peter, Trent’s the one to surprise you with a visit.

Trent’s breathing is harsh, he’s more worked up than you are. You don’t know if it’s the situation or your comments, but you’re not saying a word until he does. “Look, your friend here, she’s the one that got us the intel on the other frats.” Trent’s a lot more gentle this time around, you think it may have something with the way Peter’s looking at him, daring him to try and make a move.

Peter glances back at you, you look away, a poster more interesting. “She needs something in return and I can’t help her. I told her to ask you and I’d look the other way, but someone had to be difficult.”

“I held up my end, Simpson. You do the same.” Trent huffed, “I fucking told you-” he lowered his voice at Peter’s glare, “- that I couldn’t do anything. I told you to ask Parker and you were the one that stormed out all pissed. I brought him here, isn’t that good enough?”

Your arms cross, no, it wasn’t good enough. “I never wanted to involve Peter, I told you that last night. I just wanted you to figure out a way to fix it.” Trent throws his arm out at Peter, “I did! He’s fucking here! He’s gonna fucking fix it!”

Peter feels like he’s going crazy, “fix what?” His chapter president rubs at his forehead, a heavy sigh. “You need to pledge… Fuck, what was his name?” You roll your eyes, you have little to no hope. “Isaac Barns.” Trent nods, “yeah, him. Parker, all I need you to do is pledge him and this-” an allover gesture to your body, “-goes away.”

Peter takes a second to let it sink in, he almost laughs, but it seems a little too real to be a joke. “Dirty rushing, really? You do know what’s at stake if I say yes, right?” Trent’s jaw looks like it’s about to break into a thousand pieces with the tension it’s under. “Yes, Parker, I know what I’m asking.” Peter runs his tongue over his teeth, “right, so you understand why I have to say no.”

You jump in, your hand on Peter’s arm, pulling him to face you. He’s staring at the placement, it’s sending a burn up and down, radiating heat. You pull away before he can shake your hold off, “please?” Peter steps away from Trent with a final warning glance, “tell me, freshman. Are you in a sorority?” You frown, “no.” He nods, like he already knew the answer. “Right. And are you aware of what could happen to me if I agree?” You have an idea, and it tells you it wouldn’t be good. “That’s if you get caught, you have Trent’s go ahead.”

Peter laughs, he doesn’t give a shit Trent’s right there. “You think I trust him to have my back? He’d throw me under the bus in a second.” Peter doesn’t know what you know, you look in Trent’s eyes when you respond, making it clear that that would never happen. “Then trust me, and trust me when I say he won’t.”

Trent looks away from Peter, he makes the connection in a second.

“What do you have on Simpson?” You sputter, you feel a flush of warmth coat you. “I’m not like… some blackmailer or anything.” Trent shouts out from the bed, “ha!” Your eyes flash to the same poster from before, nothing has changed. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. President. Do you want to share with the peanut gallery?” Peter raises his hands, displeased, “don’t insult me and ask for a favor in the same breath.”

“Look, Parker, just fucking pledge the kid, alright? It stays between us. Don’t think I don’t have shit to lose by letting this happen. I have the same risk you do.” Peter disagrees, “you’re not the one pledging.” Trent stands up, “but I’m cutting whoever she tells me. We’re both playing dirty.”

Peter’s trying to think about it logically, he just doesn’t understand why. You have all the answers, they’re only there because of you. “Why?” You pause, “what, this guy your boyfriend or something?” You shake your head quickly, “no, no, no. Not at all. He doesn’t even know I’m doing this. He’s just a person I know who’s rushing, that’s it.”

Peter kisses his teeth and shakes his head in disbelief, “yeah, I don’t know about that.” Total defeat, you were at a loss. Your answer was Trent, if Peter wouldn’t do it, Trent needed to find someone who would. “Trent,” it comes out as a whine, a defiant toddler pointing at Peter.

“C’mon, Parker. Think about this. You’re smarter than your own good.” Peter sizes his president up, he really doesn’t like what he’s implying. “And I’m supposed to trust you?” You push on Peter’s arm, “no, you’re supposed to trust me. Trent won’t touch you, no matter your answer. Even though I really wish it was yes.”

Peter’s doing his best to push down all emotion, because if he wasn’t, he’d find out that he wanted to say yes. Just because you asked him. And that’s not who he is, or what he does. He’s known you for a week and he’s about to put his entire academic career at hand, it’s dehumanizing to himself. Witch.

“Fine.” You cheer, Peter’s whipped into a side hug. He claws your arms away from him, “I didn’t say yes. I’ll think about it, okay?” You nod, it’s enough for you, “thank you so much, Peter. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Trent throws his hands up, “hello? You’re welcome.” You sneer at him, “you did nothing but put it all on Peter.” Peter tilts his head, he didn’t think about it like that, but you’re right. “You’re insufferable and will never find a man to put up with that.” That was a blow, a harsh one at that. You’re pretty good at brushing things off, or firing back, but Trent went a little too far. He hit that deep down, hidden, insecurity.

You just really wanted to go back to sleep, the thought of Peter in your room no longer slightly excited you. You just wanted to be alone. “Jesus fucking Christ, Trent. Who the fuck says shit like that?” You shrug, “it’s obvious he was just giving me constructive criticism.” You try to joke, it doesn’t really work.

Peter looks down at you, it’s like you sunk down into the floor. Trent made you feel small. “It’s not funny, nothing about that was funny. That was fucked up, Simpson, the fuck is wrong with you?” There’s not an ounce of remorse on his face either, “sorry.” Peter wants to break his arm, instead he shoves him towards the door, nothing near gentle. “You’re a fucking dick.”

“Yeah, and you just wanna stick yours in her.” If he wouldn’t be at grounds of expulsion from the frat, Peter would’ve laid him the fuck out right then and there. “Shut the fuck up, Simpson. Just leave it alone.” He does, and throws the door open before parting you with a middle finger.

Peter pauses at the door, his eyes on your figure. It’s not like he cares about you or anything, Trent was a dick, an uncalled for amount of mean. “Don’t listen to him, he’s still reeling from that ‘can’t please a woman,’ comment.” You give a small smile, “thanks, Peter.”

Peter’s hand holds the door handle, a tight lipped grin. He doesn’t know why, but he feels like he just has to tell you. Clearing his throat, “hey, freshman?” You perk up, he finds himself looking down at your mouth, eyes trailing towards your collarbone. Peter stops himself, it’s not about that right now.

“You’re not… you’re not totally insufferable.”

Something about it makes you explode, you can’t stop the cheek hurting grin. For a second, Peter matches it. “Are you saying I’ll find a man to put up with me?” Peter shrugs a shoulder, “the world is pretty big, freshman. There’s gotta be at least one.”

At least Peter won’t think you’ll die alone, he might even be at your side. “Thanks, Peter. For everything. And for thinking about it, it means a lot to me.” Peter closing the door on himself, he briefly pauses, “just because I said I’d think about it, doesn’t mean I’ll do it.” You nod, “I know.”

“Good. I just didn’t want you to get disappointed.” Your eyes brighten, “you care about disappointing me?”

It goes unanswered, instead, Peter takes a deep inhale. “I’ll see you around.” With that, you were alone with Spider-Man once more.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 12TH, ESU DINING HALL.

The plastic chair next to Peter slides out, nickel legs scratch the tile underneath them.

“So, how are we feeling about a verdict?”

Peter doesn’t even flinch, he takes a bite of his sandwich. It was better before it was ruined by the presence of a demonic presence. Your hands drum on the table like you’re building yourself up for a yes, Peter thinks it’s funny you find him so easy.

“It’s been two days, freshman.” You huff dramatically, “not a freshman.”

“You act like one.”

This is the part where you question your attraction towards him, it’s proof to the saying ‘you can’t pick who you love.’ You lean closer, it’s not about semantics. Peter pulls back when you get too close, he must be scared of another hug.

“It’s a pretty easy answer, Peter. If you won’t do it, fine. But your president better figure out another way and quickly. We already have the PNM list, you make the choice sunday.”

It isn’t his problem but the more he knows about it, the more it becomes his. Peter can’t deny the curiosity, for a witch you have no real magic, beyond what you’ve casted on him.

Peter sighs, “alright, explain it to me. Sell it to me.” You sit straighter and fix your hair, clearing your throat you interlock your fingers on the table and begin to pitch. “I’m going on the ski trip this year, yay you.” You pout dramatically, “I needed money because my boyfriend isn’t a member of the frat and I wasn’t budgeted in.” Your words were a nod towards Ally, as if she couldn’t pay for it herself if she needed to.

Peter wants to bang his head against the table, there’s no fucking way he had to spend a week with you in a house. That’s constant communication. That’s hell.

“We bet every year on a member that makes it in, if we win, we get the money. I upped the stakes this year, and I know someone who signed up to rush.” You smile and poke at his arm, it’s solid. Peter looks down at your finger, you pull back and finish.

“That’s where you come in. You pick him.”

Peter crosses his arms over his chest while he tilts his chair back, he’s mulling it over in his mind. He looks over your face while he pokes at his cheek with his tongue, if that’s his concentration face, you hope to make him think a lot more.

“What do I get out of it?” In Peter’s mind, it’s a bit unfair. He’s putting his reputation, spot in the frat and possibly academic probation on the line. And he gets nothing out of it. He doesn’t even want anything in return, or nothing he can think of at the moment at least. It still feels like he has to bargain for something, he’d regret it later.

You try to hide the shock, you didn’t think Peter was that kind of guy. You didn’t know him, but you didn’t take him for a sexual favors type of person. You wanted to hook up with him, sure. But when he felt like it was owed to him, it felt icky.

“Oh,” you look around the room, your voice lowers. The deal took a dirty turn. “What, um…” You look back at him before escaping eye contact, you don’t feel as bold. “What did you have in mind?”

You didn’t hide the shock well, Peter’s chair is back on four legs with a slam. “No, god no.” Okay, he wasn’t asking for sex, but god no? Peter worded it wrong, you took it as a personal offense. “Not…” He’s not even going to try and explain that one out, he ditches the part where he would try to say ‘not that I wouldn’t have sex with you, because I would, but…’

“I’m not asking for you to fuck me, I just meant I’m putting a lot on the line for a girl who assaulted me and a guy I barley like.” Assault is a harsh word, you’d fight him on it but the last part mattered more. You could give him the dirt on Trent, he said if anyone knew he would prefer it to be Peter.

“Wanna know what I have on Trent?” You have his attention, suddenly Peter looks very interested in what you have to say. He nibbles on his bottom lip for a second before nodding, for this part, you really lean in.

“He failed out. The school sent him a letter saying he was dismissed, he had a fourteen average.” Peter’s trying to connect the dots, for once, he truly had no idea what was going on in the frat house. “His dad donated eighty-six grand, anonymously, and the next day? Bam. Reenlisted and all roles reinstated, like nothing ever happened.” Peter’s not surprised one bit, it’s very on brand for the Simpson family, to pay their way out of trouble. At least he can say you didn’t leave him empty handed, it’s good ammo to have in the back of his pocket.

“I’ll consider your request more seriously.” It’s something, and you’ll celebrate it, you pull him into a hug, just for a quick second to squeal in his ear. You’re shrugged off in a second, you don’t care. “Thank you! See, I just knew I picked the good one!”

The good one?

You’re up and pushing the seat in, your bag hung over a shoulder. “I’ll see you friday?” In relation to the weekly party, he nods slowly, like you’re an idiot. “I do live there, yes.” You’re unfazed, you’ve come to realize he’s just a mildly grumpy person. It’s mostly cute.

“Will you let me know then, is that enough time?” Peter will do anything to have you leave, he wants five minutes of peace with his lunch before he has thermodynamics. “Yeah, sure, whatever.” Your eyes sparkle, he has to look back at his plate. “Thank you, Peter. You’re the bestest.”

You really, truly are a witch. Because his sandwich tasted a whole lot sweeter when you walked away. It turned into sog the second you placed yourself at Ally and Paul’s table. Ally’s eyes flashing over to his, a grin when he was caught looking your way. He finished in record time, he needed to get out of the room, it was starting to get a little too warm for his comfort.

Ally started in the second you placed yourself across from her, eyes flashing to where you previously were. “Hanging out with Parker?” You shrug, if it helps getting her off your back, it helps. “He’s cute.” A squeal, she pulls at her boyfriend's arm. “Did you hear that? Matty, ask Parker if he’s into her.”

Matt crushes a coke can, a burp follows. “No.” Ally’s face scrunches up, “why not?” Matt’s swiping at his phone, you can’t tell what game he’s playing, the glare from the lights are too bad. “Cause it’s not my business, or yours.” Ally pulls away from him entirely, her arms crossed over her chest in a huff. Uh oh, she’s mad.

“Babe, can you get me a water? My wallet is in my backpack.” When she makes no move, he peeks over, “please? I can’t pause this level.” It’s a huff from his girlfriend, “what? You’re mad at me now? Look, I can’t even ask him if I wanted to, he’s leaving.” You look over your shoulder, Peter’s walking out with headphones stuffed in his ears, blind to the outside noise. How lucky.

“Yeah, good thing you don’t live together or anything, Matt.” It has his total attention, “no need for that hostility, honey. If you want me to ask, I’ll ask.” It’s the right move, and he played right into Ally’s hand. A cluster of kisses to his cheek, “thank you, Matty. Love you.” A smile’s back on his face, his reward was his request being honored.

The second Ally’s out of earshot you laugh at her boyfriend. “She plays you like a fool.”

Matt doesn’t care one bit. “Yeah, love makes you do that. You’ll find out, she-devil.”

You just hope you’re not the fool.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 13TH, QUEENS, NEW YORK.

A six car pileup on the bridge caught Spider-Man’s attention, adrenalin courses his veins, any traces of that six egg omelet from Linda weighing him down vanishes. A screech of his name, he clocks it instantly. A woman, barely fourty. Spider-Man knows who it is, it’s the reporter that called him a Spider-Menace last week. Oh, how the mighty fall.

A head tilt at the woman, she’s panicking. Thrashing in her seat, crumpled between glass and leather. She’s begging him for help, he watches for a moment before speaking over the screams. “Calm down, I’m gonna help you. Just felt like being a menace.” Tears, she speed runs apologies, tells him it’s just a job and her son loves him.

“Alright, alright, come here.’ A grown woman, clinging to his hip is almost comedic. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…” Spider-Man doesn’t need to hear it a million times, it doesn’t mean much to him after the first one. “You’re alright, just wait over here for the fire department, okay?”

There’s countless other shouts, he’s already running back up the freeway. Spider-Man has no plans to stay in the city after this, no, instead Peter is going to take the long train back and listen to a podcast. But right now, Spider-Man has a job to do.

CATHEDRAL HALL.

Three copies of the same page, everyone calls a name.

Ally starts, “I call Conner Frise.”

Prince next, “Sam Mason.”

Ally pokes your shoulder, “c’mon, what’s your pick?”

You pretend to think about it, two pairs of eyes waiting expectantly. You grin, “Isaac Barns.” Confidence spills, “and I’m gonna win.”

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 15TH, SIGMA NU CHAPTER HOUSE

Peter’s clouded in infatuation. If he was animated, he’d have hearts and stars swirling around his head. Maybe it was the booze that had him feeling so loose, for once dropping the urge to push you away, and to pull you closer. Or maybe it was you. All he could smell was your perfume, it choked him in the right ways. Something he’d be smelling long after you were gone, something that made him want to breathe in against your neck.

You haven’t left him alone all night, circling back over and over until all he could think about was you, you, you.

He didn’t know a neck could be so pretty, how he’d kiss over your pulse and hope it would race as much as his. And he never really noticed hair, until it framed your face. Peter was never much on picking up sounds, but now he’s heard your laugh, the one he pulled from you, he’d never be able to unhear it.

And your voice. It whispered a song into his ears, it sent him leaning in, begging for more of the inflections. Peter didn’t care what you were talking about, as long as you were speaking to him, he’d listen. He wasn’t one to notice clothes, only when they fit just right or left little to the imagination. But on you, everything was your color.

Peter can’t think of anything else but your lips, they’re puffed while you spin words. Velvet tumbles produced, hints of a smile around your ‘S’s. It’s like you don’t notice him getting closer, as he steps forward, you step back. You weren’t trying to escape, it was subconscious, you were making more room for him, you don't realize he doesn't want space.

“It was really kind of sad, because the whole time you were rooting for the main character,” he’d asked you about a book he saw in your room. He doesn’t really care about it.

“Right,” one step closer.

“But then it all comes down at the end and you realize he really wasn’t a good guy,” Peter takes another step, your back brushes the brick wall. Little pricks dig into your shirt, it doesn’t stop you.

“And then?”

You smile, “this is where it gets good,” Peter leans his hand on the wall next to your head, you make no notice. “It is.” It’s more of a statement than a question, he’s relaying it to his own situation.

“You find out he set up his friend,” it was the twist, you’d been setting it up, but Peter has no reaction. You wonder if he was even listening to you, maybe it would’ve been better if he had read it himself.

“Are you listening to me? Cause I just kind of just spoiled the whole thing.”

Peter can’t stop himself, he leans in. His head hangs low, you raise your chin to look in his eyes. How have you still not picked up on his hints? “Why’d he set him up?” You hum, a sparkle forms in your eyes, he was listening.

“Well, if we're talking about my personal analysis, I think it’s cause-”

Your lips are pillowy, puffed under his mouth as they’re wrapped around your words. Your skin is warm under his hands, he can feel your hips burning his palms over your clothes. Peter tugs you closer while simultaneously pushing you further into the brick, when you hum into his kiss, he licks your bottom lip.

Open mouth kisses, your hands tug at the curls on the back of his neck, he’s not one for girls playing with his hair. But you, he wants you to touch wherever you want. He can’t fucking breathe, but he doesn’t care, you’re enough of a breath of fresh air. Peter feels more alive in this moment than he has in a long time.

You pull from him, puffs of air tumble. Peter’s desperate for more, you’re just so sweet. Wet marks dot from your jaw to your neck, your hands tug at the lapels of his flannel. “Peter,” it’s breathless, he wonders if it’s the kiss or him.

Hands tuck under your thighs, you gasp as you’re pulled up to equal height on the wall. Your legs loosely straddle his waist, nails digging into his shoulder when he hums over the middle of your throat between gentle bites and smoothing his tongue over the attack. “Fuck,” it’s a whimper, you don’t mean to, but fuck.

Maybe he shouldn’t have cornered you like this, but what’d you expect looking at him like that?

Peter retraces his steps, all you can think is that he tastes as sweet as he feels. It was everything you’d been pining for, and more. You were screaming in color, each grip of his hands felt like water paint, soaking deep and spreading.

Would it be selfish if you wished he felt the same?

“Parker, you out here?”

You squeak, your feet hit the ground. Peter’s head is spinning, his instinct to get as far away as possible. “Yeah,” it’s airy. He clears his throat, you look over his face, he’s avoiding eye contact. “Peter,” you feel a jolt when he backs away. A stab when he steps around the corner, you try to follow, he’s quicker.

You feel everything crumble when you realize he doesn’t want anyone to know he was with you.

“Where you at? We’re mixing everclear for the PNM’s.”

“Peter,” it’s on deaf ears. He doesn’t even look at you, how could he kiss you like that and then act like it was nothing? Why would he kiss you like that if it meant nothing?

“Right here,” you watch his back disappear. “Tequila if we’re evil, beer to make them puke.” His frat brother laughs, “you’re a sick man, Parker.”

It really, really doesn’t feel nice to be left behind in the cold. Especially when he just made you feel so warm. And it really doesn’t feel right when you want to cry, and it feels humiliating when you give him a grace period, just so you didn’t follow him from the back of the house. Just so no one would see you, just so no one would know what just happened.

Just so you could keep it to yourself.

You feel nothing when a shoulder hits yours, your fingers feel hot from the contrast of the breezy outdoors to the crowded, humid room of bodies. Ally’s arm hangs over your neck, you want to scream.

Peter’s eyes catch your frown, he should’ve done more. But if he doesn’t understand anything, how would his frat brothers? He feels bad, and a little more sober than he should be, a little too sober to have done what he just did. A line of shots, Peter adds an two extra, but he doesn’t add everclear, he chooses Fireball.

A pink, plastic shot glass slid in front of you. You look up, Peter’s waiting and watching, he raises his own. “Cheers, freshman.” It’s something, he’s waiting on your call, you’re so close and you can’t blow it now. You plaster on a smile and shake Ally’s arm off, you raise it up.

“Cheers, Parker.”

Peter must’ve had more than he thinks, because wow, what a gross feeling.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 17TH, SIGMA NU CHAPTER HOUSE

Peter does his best to be a good person, part of that is knowing when you fuck up. And what he did at his party on friday, was a fuck up. It wasn’t that he particularly cared about you, or your feelings, but he could admit that he pulled a shitty move. So shitty he dodged you the rest of the night and left you high and dry with his answer about your favor.

You didn’t even have a way to try and contact him, other than beating down his door but even you knew that would be a bad idea. Which leads him to now, standing on the front lawn, with thirty two potential pledges.

Peter’s turn to bid. A terrible idea. But all he could think about was getting back in your good graces and how much it fucking annoyed him to want that. Peter can feel Trent’s eyes burning into him, he takes a step forward, boldness in his chest.

“I bid Isaac Barns.”

It would either be the worst or best decision of his life and for whatever reason, you’re worth the gamble.

CATHEDRAL HALL

its.parker requested to follow you.

Your eyes widened, suddenly you’re very awake. Peter’s the one that kissed you, Peter’s the one that walked away, Peter’s the one that ignored you. Peter’s the one that followed you. Mixed messages, but it proved something. It wasn’t his main with ten pictures, it was his personal, his finsta, the one full of his personality.

You nibble on your bottom lip, it shouldn’t be that easy for him. Tapping on his account you hit the request button, just because you follow him doesn’t mean he gets to follow you. Mind spinning, you replay friday night again.

The tension eased and multiplied in one action. Peter had made you feel butterflies in the deepest pits of your stomach, when he kissed down your neck, when he wrapped your legs around his waist, when he went in for more, when he kissed you first.

Even thinking about it makes your cheeks hurt from a grin, you squeal out and kick your feet in your bed. Peter Parker kissed you, and it meant something. It had to, something tells you that Peter doesn’t jump without thinking.

Peter’s holding his breath while refreshing his page, still no notifications. He’s worried he blew it that night, not that it matters, it was just a kiss. Everyone kisses, if you really think about it, kisses don’t mean much. At least that’s what he tells himself.

spider.luvr66 requested to follow you.

If he acts now, he’d be a bit crazy. You hadn’t responded to him, but he doesn’t care. He’ll wait a couple minutes, then respond. It feels like his brain is melting, he’s not supposed to, and doesn’t feel like this. It’s against who he is now.

But, fuck, you make it difficult for him to not think about you. Peter swears you’re a witch.

Accept. spider.luvr66 is now following you.

Follow request accepted, you are now following its.parker.

You sit up, it was quick, you wonder if he was waiting for the notification. It doesn’t matter, you have the Peter Parker bible in your hands, and you were about to do some research.

You finally had access to his posts, and you were about to scroll through every single one. But the most recent one was the most important of all. A picture of Peter, crossed arms back to back with a slightly familiar face. The caption told you everything you needed to know about Peter.

‘big brother season.’

You had your bid and he posted the proof.

Whatever he did friday was forgiven. That wasn’t who he was, but this, putting himself on the line for you, this was his true character and whether he wanted you to notice that or not, you did.

And it was a bold act for a guy who pretended he didn’t kiss you breathless.

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker blurb #tasm!peter x you #frat!peter parker #frat!peter #uni #my writing

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hoshologies · 10 months

Text

ALL GREEK LOVE, LEE H.

synopsis — you spent the entire summer telling your family that you weren't going to join a sorority. now not only are you an initiated member of delta eta sigma, but you've been elected to the social chair position for you chapter. that's all well and good until heeseung lee, the newly elected social chairman for lambda rho and well-known in the greek community, reaches out to you to start planning runouts between your respective chapters. and now you're spending a lot more time with the cutest boy you've ever met.

genres &&. warnings — romance, fluff, meet-cute, smut, strangers to friends to lovers!au, college!au, greek life!au &&. underage drinking, afab!reader, tipsy sex, dry humping, oral (f!receiving), fingering, overstimulation.

word count — 15.7k.

from the author — not to be totally sorority girl, but the way i see greek life depicted in college au fics is CRAZY. now that i'm back hardcore into my kpop stan era, i rewatched the drunk-dazed mv and was like hmm... so the ultimate plan here was to write heeseung filth but also portray greek life a little more accurately because even if i'm not a huge fan, one thing about me is i'm gonna make sure y'all KNOW that greek life isn't just parties every weekend.

jokes aside, i really hope you enjoy this fic and my first real return to writing. likes, reblogs, and feedback are always welcome. and honestly, if you have any questions about greek life that you just have to know the answer to, i'm an open book.

if you enjoyed it, feel free to buy me a ko-fi!

the entire summer before starting your freshman year of college, you had told your family that you weren’t going to join a sorority. in your mind, there was a specific mold that one needed to fit into to join a sorority and quite frankly, you checked none of the boxes of those stereotypes.

yet here you sit, months later, in your sorority’s chapter meeting. and you’ve just been elected to the social chair position of the chi nu chapter of delta eta sigma.

truthfully, you’re not quite sure how you ended up here. you hadn’t formally rushed the week before school, but a couple of drunk girls at a frat party at the beginning of the semester had told you that you should rush their sorority. maybe you’d been a little desperate to branch out or maybe you were just a little curious of what rushing looked like, but a few days later at the student organization fair, you’d found the booth for the sorority the girls had told you they belonged to, delta eta sigma, and signed up for their informal rush.

by the end of october, you had been extended a bid, assigned a big, and promptly initiated into the chapter in what you jokingly referred to as a cult ritual (how could you describe it any other way? all white outfit? candles? promises to not divulge secrets about rituals that happen behind closed doors?).

and now, just three weeks after officially joining the chapter, you’ve ended up on the programming board somehow. you’d gotten a call from the selection board while sitting in the drive-thru of mcdonalds, waiting impatiently for your order of fries and a sprite as a treat for doing well on your gen psych quiz. the girl who’d called you said you’d made “quite the impression” on the sorority since accepting the bid and that they (including the chapter advisor) thought you’d be the perfect fit for the social chair.

“it’s a solo position, so you won’t have a co-chair like community service does, but given your grades so far this semester and the impact you’ve made on the chapter already, we would really love to see what you can do in this position! would you be interested?”

so really, how could you say anything but yes? you still don’t think you fit all that perfectly into the chapter, but they were giving you an opportunity to get involved and to make yourself fit. your name is announced for the social chair, one of your senior pictures pasted up on the powerpoint, and the girls around you smile and snap their fingers. from the executive board seats up front, your big smiles at you, eyes sparkling with something akin to pride.

a few days later, as you’re getting lunch at the student union, your phone screen lights up with a notification from groupme. a name you vaguely recognize is paired with a message that gets cut off after a few words.

heeseung lee: hey! this is heeseung from lambda rho and…

as you sit down with your salad and dr. pepper, you click the notification and read it in full. at the very top of the new message thread is heeseung’s picture and it clicks where you recognize him from. he’s friends with your big and he’s involved in a few of the bigger student organizations on campus, namely the activities board, so you’ve seen him in the student union fairly often.

[1:36 pm] heeseung lee: hey! this is heeseung from lambda rho! i’m friends with liv and she told me that you just got elected as the new social chair for your sorority. i just got slated into the same position for my frat.

[1:36 pm] heeseung lee: i know we won’t start running things until next semester, but i just wanted to reach out and touch base with you. i’m really looking forward to planning runouts with you next year :]

[1:37 pm] heeseung lee: sorry. i hope that wasn’t too weird. i guess i’m just a little too excited and want to get a bit of a headstart on things. have a good day!

you laugh to yourself, shaking your head as you set the phone down to take a bite of salad. before getting involved in greek life, you always assumed sorority girls and frat guys were airheaded and mean, people who peaked in high school, trying desperately to drag those glory days out. obviously since then, you’ve come to realize that while it is true in some occasions, most times, greek life members are the opposite.

heeseung, who you’ve never spoken to before, is proving that.

[1:42 pm] hi heeseung! not weird at all, i promise. and i’m really excited to plan events with you next semester too :]

by the beginning of february, you haven’t done much with your position. granted, the semester has only really been in full swing for about a week and a half and you have two full semesters to do plenty of things, but you’re itching to start planning. the binder you were given after the officer transition ritual has so many good ideas, everything from runouts with frats and sororities to both formal and semiformal.

while you’re brainstorming ideas for potential social events late on a tuesday night, your phone lights up from its spot on your nightstand, the short bell sound ringing out. you reach for it absentmindedly as you finish writing down the idea you had (rent out skating rink??? check budget). since the beginning of the school year, you’ve become desensitized to the groupme icon when it appears in your notifications, so much so that you barely register heeseung’s name upon first glance. it takes a second look for you to realize who’s texted you.

[9:12 pm] heeseung lee: sorry for texting so late. i just wanted to see if you wanted to meet up some time and start on some ideas for a runout?

[9:12 pm] heeseung lee: obviously not now!! but if you’re free some time this week, we could meet somewhere and talk. i spent all of winter break brainstorming stuff, so i’d really like to run it by you if that’s ok.

[9:14 pm] hi again heeseung. i was actually planning on getting lunch tomorrow at the student union after i’m done with class at 11 if you’re free then?

the second you press send, you immediately start second guessing yourself. does it come off like you’re asking him to have lunch with you? because that wasn’t your intention. really, you just meant that you’re going to be on campus proper for a little bit and wanted to offer to meet before you got lunch. not that it would be a bad thing if he asked if you could get lunch together; liv likes heeseung well enough and you’ve seen him around, and he really does seem nothing but nice, so lunch really couldn’t hurt— okay, take a breath. it is not that serious.

you take a deep breath and then let your muscles go lax as you exhale. better.

it feels like ages pass before he texts back. you’re worried you’ve scared him off, but it really shouldn’t be that stressful. it’s just a text and he’s the one who wanted to meet up in the first place anyways; you just offered a time and location. but finally, your phone dings again and his name lights up your screen.

[9:21 pm] heeseung lee: actually that works perfect!! i get out of class at the same time and usually grab lunch at the u before heading to the activities board office. wanna meet by the dining area next to the office?

[9:21 pm] sounds like a plan!! i’ll see you then!

heeseung, you realize as you set your phone down and put away your binder for the night, is the only social chair of any of the greek organizations who has reached out to you to start getting the ball rolling. he seems to be just as anxious as you are about doing this job well, which makes you feel at least a little validated. nervous and jittery though you may be about meeting him for the first time tomorrow after only having chatted with him over text twice, the idea of him feeling the same as you brings a strange form of comfort. with enough of it, you actually start looking forward to seeing him tomorrow as you lay down to sleep, mind running a mile a minute with what it’ll be like to meet him after all of the things you’ve heard about him from liv. by the time you slip into the embrace of sleep, anxiety has boiled down into anticipation.

at 11:02 the next morning, heeseung nearly scares the hell out of you when he shows up at the designated meeting spot. you’re so invested in your twitter scroll that you don’t notice when he walks up. it’s not until he says a soft “hi” that you jump and almost drop your phone in the process. when you look up, there’s a worried look on his face.

“sorry! i didn’t mean to scare you!”

after a moment to catch your breath, you shake your head and wave his worry off, though the gesture doesn’t do much to make that worried look on his (undeniably pretty) face. “it’s okay, heeseung. really.”

to really seal the deal, you shoot him a gentle smile, trying to prove that your heart isn’t about ready to give out anymore. you feel blessed when he returns it, all quirked up at the corners and smile lines and soft, plush cheeks. silence falls, the two of you smiling and staring at each other like idiots until heeseung shakes himself out of his stupor.

“anyways…” he clears his throat and moves his gaze towards the food court. “what did you want to get to eat? my treat.”

you look up at him, at the way he’s pointedly not looking at you and instead examining the restaurants just beyond the dining areas. you know, the restaurants that have been the same for the last five years probably and will be here for another five, the ones he’s grabbed food from at least a couple of times since the semester started and even more since the beginning of the school year.

“you don’t have to buy me lunch, heeseung. it’s-”

he finally turns to look at you again, that same easy smile still pulling his features into a soft form of happiness. “it’s no problem, really. just an act of good faith. all greek love and whatnot, you know?”

you laugh a little at that, conceding but allowing him to choose where he wants to get lunch from since he’s the one paying and you don’t really have a preference. by the time you’re sat opposite each other at a table with meals from the burger stall, your stomach is rumbling. you’re about half of the way through your burger when heeseung looks up from his fries, clearing his throat to get your attention.

“so…” he starts. it’s clear he hadn’t planned what he wanted to say before catching your focus, so an awkward silence settles over him, eyes on you but focused somewhere off behind you like he’s looking through you instead. you tilt your head, lean in close, which snaps him out of the trance and he restarts. “right, ideas for events. i have a binder from the last social chair of my frat with a bunch of things he did during his time.”

“oh! i do, too!” you interject. “there’s a bunch of stuff that the last girl did and then things some of the girls before her did too.”

heeseung’s grin breaks back across his face, bright and warm; you swear, a smile from this boy alone could break up the threatening winter storm currently hanging over campus. “there’s a bunch of good ideas in mine. but i’m not quite sure how well they’d work right now because of the weather.”

“are most of the ideas outside?” you inquire, taking a sip of your soda while he confirms your suspicions. when you put the cup back down, you wave off his concern. “no worries then. almost all of mine are ones that can be inside, so we could go through those if you want!”

heeseung nods and smiles that morning sunlight smile of his, and you can’t move quick enough to pull the thin pink binder out of your tote bag. he clears away some of the trash from the table so you can lay out the binder, intro page on full display. for the next five minutes, the pair of you pore over the pages upon pages of ideas, sleek white cut through with black ink that lists the idea, the locations, how much it costs.

you’re so invested in going over everything with him that you hardly acknowledge when heeseung stands and moves into the open seat beside you so neither one of you is craning your neck. you simply adjust the binder so you can read through the pages comfortably. it isn’t until heeseung points one out excitedly and you look up in startle that you finally notice that he isn’t a foot away but inches, noses just centimeters apart.

right now, this is the most compromising position you could possibly be in with a boy you hardly know and you find yourself praying that nobody from either of your chapters decides to walk by. of course, neither of you have anything to hide – this is a simple brainstorming session, of course, absolutely nothing more – but liv and your small group of friends would never let you live this down if they saw it.

heeseung clears his throat after seconds that stretch into years and you break your gaze from his painfully (how can you be blamed for staring? he’s that soft kind of pretty that hypnotizes). “um… so i think rollerskating could be fun…”

it is a good event that your sorority has done with the other frats and sororities in the past, one that you were playing around with as a potential plan to pitch to him. the fact that he picked it out on his own accord makes you bristle with something akin to pride, a feeling so warm and comforting it has you leaning just a little closer to him.

let the girls see me, you think as your sweater-clad shoulder brushes against his own. there are worse things they could catch me doing.

“actually… this was one of the ones i was going to suggest if you didn’t find any that you were really interested in…” you say quietly, voice nearly lost in the din of the dining area of the student union.

heeseung looks at you, blinking slow and round and soft, as if each flutter of his eyelids is a moment of his brain processing your words. “really… maybe it’s a sign…?”

his voice is just as soft, matching your energy in one swift go. you wonder if he’s thinking the same thing as you, if he’s feeling that it seems like you’ve known one another forever despite only knowing each other for fifteen minutes max; it seems like your souls themselves are in complete synergy, so why would it be so farfetched to wonder if maybe you knew each other in a different life to have caused that synchrony?

you laugh a little and shrug, shoulder brushing against his softly; the movement is short and sweet, but your heart rises in you like the high tide, washing through your veins with foam and salt and the kind of breeze only the ocean can bring, chill and warm all at once. “maybe so.”

silence settles over the table like sand stirred on the ocean floor, the both of you lost in your own worlds. heeseung has dragged his soda to this side of the table and sips absentmindedly, gaze focused miles beyond the horizon of the hallway. he’s completely checked out when your consciousness wanders back into your body and you take the moment to study him a little: the even slope of his nose, high cheekbones paired with plush skin, long eyelashes that brush the apex of his cheeks when he blinks, a flutter of dark against light.

there are worse boys you could be caught staring at.

you’re still thinking about your lunch with heeseung hours later, even when you’re out getting your weekly tuesday night ice cream with your big. liv is going on about how her professor for her linguistics class pissed her off during lecture today, but you’re not absorbing a single word of any of it. you remember vaguely that he openly disagreed with her during the lecture and they got into a debate in front of the whole class, but beyond that, you don’t know much else.

“god, he’s just the worst. i can’t believe– alright, you’re in the stratosphere right now. what’s going on?”

you snap back to reality, eyes wide and goosebumps prickling up under the sleeves of your sweater. you shake your head, trying to brush away the conversation she’s trying to prompt, even though it’ll be futile because liv can’t let things go for the life of her. “nothing! everything’s fine, i swear.”

liv’s eyes narrow and a single dark eyebrow quirks up. “yeah, i’m not buying it.”

you glare playfully at her, eating a spoonful of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. when you swallow, you answer with a pointed, “when do you buy anything i say? really, liv. it’s nothing.”

“did someone say something to you? i’m part of panhellenic and on the all-greek council. if someone did something, i can handle it.”

you shake your head earnestly and wave a hand for extra emphasis. “olivia. seriously. nothing happened.”

your big is silent for a few moments, studying you intently. her shady blue eyes, usually wistful and giving the impression of being miles away herself, cut right down to your very bone, as if she’ll find the answer she’s looking for written into your skin or soul, carved into your heart. eventually, she sighs and slumps back against the booth.

“alright, fine. i’ll believe you this time,” she says in a voice that hints at disappointment. “but you’d tell me if someone did say something to you, right? i’m serious about getting things taken care of if someone does something like that to you.”

you smile, reach across the table, rest your hand over her. “yes, liv. i would tell you if somebody treated me badly. you’re the only friend i have who would be willing to go to jail if needed. but i promise the situation doesn’t call for that right now.”

she perks up a little at your words and takes a deep breath, nodding. she’s back to her bubbly self, resuming her rant about her asshole linguistics professor who definitely shouldn’t have tenure. the whiplash her behavior gives you definitely just secured her an award for “most melodramatic” at formal in april (which, fuck you have to start planning that soon too).

you remain checked into liv’s rant, assenting when she asks you for your opinions on this professor who you’ve never met and never plan on meeting, and offering advice when she wants it. but you still find yourself wandering off at times, mind focused on heeseung.

you’re not sure why you don’t want to tell her about meeting with the boy earlier; she’s one of his friends and she’s always spoken so highly about him, so you shouldn’t feel embarrassed. in fact, she’s mentioned in passing a couple of times (mostly when she’s undeniably hammered) that she thinks you and heeseung would make a cute couple, even though she’s never seen the two of you interact, let alone exist in the same room.

but there’s something special about the thirty minutes you shared with heeseung. you met in a public place, sure, but something about it felt and still feels so sacred to you. it’s something you want to keep a secret for at least a little while. that soft sunshine smile and the low tide brushes of shoulders are things that, for now, belong solely to you and heeseung. it won’t kill liv to be left out of the loop for a while.

“do you think we should have it closer to midterms?” heeseung’s voice is pure static, like he’s going through a tunnel, even though there’s only half a campus worth of distance between you.

the two of you have graduated from groupme dms to phone calls over the course of three days. heeseung is saved affectionately in your phone as sseung with the deer emoji, one that you picked out as he sat across from you after you’d exchanged numbers; he doesn’t know about it, but he reminds you often of a deer caught in headlights with the way he stares at you all wide-eyed when you try to catch his attention.

“maybe? but people have to study. i’m not sure how often your guys are in the library, but i see at least thirty girls at the library every single night, so i’m not sure how willing they’d be to give up a night of studying, even if it is only for an hour, that close to midterms.”

heeseung’s small, thoughtful hmm is audible over the speaker and you smile to yourself over a basket of clean laundry. you’ve spent maybe three hours max with him over the last couple of days and already you have a pretty decent grasp on his personality and habits. right now, you can picture the way he likely looks up from his phone or planner and stares off past the beige cinderblock wall of his dorm room, turning possibilities over in his head.

“no, you’re right about that. i didn’t even consider it.”

you shrug as though he can see you, folding a pair of sweats and setting them to the side. “i’d definitely like for it to be soonish though. it doesn’t have to be planned super far in advance, you know what i mean? we’ve still got… what? a month until midterms?”

“i think so, yeah.”

you nod to yourself, hanging up one of your shirts. “okay, so what about two weeks from now? that lands us right in between now and midterms, so it’d be a happy medium.”

he’s silent on the other end of the line and you pause in your hanging of another shirt, worried that he’s thinking you’re stupid. of course, heeseung would never think anything like that about anyone because he’s the sweetheart to end all sweethearts. still, you worry because what this boy thinks of you is ridiculously imperative to your day to day functions.

three days, you remind yourself. you’ve known him for three days. there’s no reason for his opinions to hold this much weight.

you wonder if heeseung knows just how easy it is to like him, to be around him; if he knows just how much you want to see him all the time because he’s completely taken over your every waking thought. liv’s comments about him made in passing never could have truly captured just how amazing he is, nice and caring and so so pretty. you’re almost embarrassed to be this head over heels for him, but when he laughs over the phone or focuses all of his attention on you over a table in the food court, that mortification burns away into something soft and sweet and slow.

“i think that’s a great idea. not too soon, so we can make sure our chapters know it’s happening, but not too late that it disrupts any midterm studying.”

you breathe a sigh of relief and smile to yourself, resting your hands against the lip of the laundry basket. the rational part of your brain knew he was going to agree, but the part of you that so desperately craves his approval was disgustingly terrified that you wouldn’t receive it. now that you have, though, a heat rushes through you, pride warm and bright because you offered a good solution to the minuscule obstacle.

“yeah, exactly!”

you can just imagine the grin on heeseung’s face right now, delicate like freshly fallen snow. the image fills you with the giddiness of a high school girl, glad to be the one to have caused such a beautiful sight. “okay, cool. i’ll talk about it with the executive board, get it approved and whatnot, but i think we should be set, besides who’s paying for what.”

“what do you mean?” you question, brows furrowing as you finish up the last of your laundry.

“what do you mean?” there’s a playful, teasing edge in his voice. “someone has to pay to book the rink and the shoes, and don’t you think there should be snacks?”

“oh… yeah, i guess so.”

“so i was thinking we’d cover the booking and you could cover the food… but only if you’re cool with that! obviously, it’s not a big deal or anything, but i figured we should get that in order too so we can a specific date set and everything.”

“no, no! that works fine for me! i honestly hadn’t thought that far ahead, so it’s a good thing you did.” the line falls silent for a few moments, static crackling softly between you. there’s just something about the idea that you’re so close yet so far from each other, physically distant but holding each other close like this over a quiet cellphone line. it’s comforting to have him like this, you find.

“but yeah…” you break the stillness with your voice soft so as to not completely shatter the tranquility you’ve cultivated here. “that’s… that’s good thinking, heeseung.”

“hanks…” his own words mimic the same volume, nearly lost in the haze of the phone. “so… i’ll run it by the exec board and let you know?”

you hum a quick mhmm and tell him that you’ll do the same. there should be no reason that you’ll be denied, but the fact that liv, seeing as she’s vice president of programming, is part of the exec board and will find out that you’ve been, at the very least, talking to heeseung on a semi-regular basis (see: every day this week since tuesday afternoon) is a little nerve wracking, mostly because you’re ninety-nine percent sure she’s been hinting at trying to set the two of you up.

and when you say hinting, you mean pointing him out on campus or at parties and saying something like “really, i think you two would get along so well! you should go and talk to him.”

she was right about that, but the last thing you need right now is her finding out that you are catching feelings, all without her meddling. but you’ll make peace with the fact because you have to.

liv sidles up to you two weeks later on a thursday night, knit-clad arms crossed over her chest. you don’t even have to look at her to know she’s wearing a smug expression right now. “so…”

you don’t even physically react to her presence, instead choosing to gaze out over the rollerskating rink in your little college town. “so… what, liv?”

she nudges you with her shoulder and leans with her back against the wall separating the rink floor from the carpet of the sitting area. “you and heeseung, huh? i’ve been telling you for ages that the two of you would get along!”

you scoff playfully and roll your eyes, finally turning your head to look at her. “can you not start sentences like that?”

“like what?” she asks innocently.

“like heeseung and i have something going on. all we did was plan one runout together. we’ve only met, like, one time in person.”

you regret the words almost as soon as they leave the tip of your tongue because the second she hears the phrase “in person,” she’s already causing a scene. even though her voice is somewhat drowned out by the music blasting over the speakers, the absolute tenacity with which she gestures with her entire body draws more attention than it should. melodramatic as per usual.

“in person? when was this? and why was i not informed?” the questions liv asks a million times come out more like exclamations than anything else, too caught up in melodramatic distress to adjust the tone of her voice correctly.

you shrug absently, turning your head back towards the rink. heeseung is standing on the opposite side, talking to a few of the guys from his frat. he looks nice in his blue and green sweater and loose jeans, brown hair tousled from the winter breeze outside. “a couple weeks ago. and i didn’t tell you because it just wasn’t that important. we literally only had lunch just to talk about ideas for this.”

liv whines your name and stomps a foot like a child throwing a tantrum. “yeah, but i’m your big. i wanna know these things! and i’ve also been trying to set you two up forever! you didn’t think i’d want to know that you’d finally met him, even if it wasn’t because of anything i’d plan? my feelings are hurt.”

“first, this is exactly why one of the awards for formal this semester is going to be most over dramatic and exactly why you’re going to win,” you start, shaking your head and rolling your eyes. “second, i knew you would want to know, but i also knew this is how you’d react. i didn’t think you’d want to know about us setting up an event together, like… there’s no tea to spill or whatever. it’s just boring stuff. i don’t even know him that well.”

a bold-faced lie if you’ve ever told one; you know heeseung down to the cologne he puts on every morning. and maybe there was a little more to the event planning sessions. at least five times over the past two weeks, heeseung has approached you either in the food court or at the library, and taken the seat opposite of you to chat and study a bit. not to mention, you’ve texted every single day since the two of you officially met for the first time.

but again: nothing liv needs to know. heeseung, for now, is just your little secret. the conversations you’ve shared, the little details you know about him, the sweater he’d given you a few days ago when you’d gotten cold at the library and your own sweater had gotten soaking wet due to rain and your lack of an umbrella, those are your things, special and personal and entirely yours.

“ugh. the two of you are so boring,” liv moans dramatically, tipping her head back. “i hope you hang out more after this, but only if you tell me about it.”

you shrug and glance back across the rink. heeseung has shifted positions, his arms crossed over the railing and by some stroke of luck, he’s looking at you, looking otherworldly under the shifting blue and purple lights. he smiles softly, just a quick phantom of a grin, and the only think you can do is return it with that same gentleness and warmth.

“maybe,” you say, glancing over at liv and then back at heeseung. “i guess we’ll just have to see.”

a week later, you’re sitting in your dorm room on a friday night, finalizing edits for a midterm paper, when there’s a banging at your door fifteen minutes before ten.

“heyyy! let me innn!” liv’s voice is airy and slurred through the door, so you can already guess what she’s here for.

with a heavy sigh, you stand and make your way to the door, opening it and finding your big leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. she’s dressed in her usual party attire: ripped jeans, black tank top, dirty shoes reserved specifically for the sticky basement floors of frat houses. she’s holding a metal water bottle in her hands; you can only guess what she’s mixed in it tonight.

“what’s up, liv?” you ask, leaning your shoulder against the doorframe, even though you don’t need an answer. you hadn’t anticipated her being here, so you’re already decked out in your comfy night clothes, prepared for a night in only.

“lambda is throwing a party and you’re going with me,” she says peppily, practically jumping up and throwing herself into your room.

“liv-“

she whips around on her heels to face you, eyes glowing in the soft gold of your fairy lights. “no fighting me on this. you’ve been working hard and you need a break. so you’re going to dress like the hot bitch you are and then we’re going to lambda.”

liv is rooted to the spot, though she sways a little on her feet, and makes it known without words that she is not moving until you get ready for this dumb frat party. eager to get her drunken glare off of you, you sigh and nod, closing the door behind you, shutting off your desk light, and moving towards your wardrobe, rifling through the hangers to find a proper outfit.

you’ve been to lambda rho’s house before and it is nothing to write home about… unless, of course, you’re talking about how absolutely filthy the basement is; they have the best sized basement out of all of the frats on campus, but you swear they have never done anything to clean the floor. the first time you went, you’d been having a great time drinking well-mixed jungle juice and dancing to the best songs of the 2010s when you noticed that every step you took sounded like velcro. the floor was so sticky that you were literally having to put pressure behind pulling your shoes from the concrete. it totally killed the vibe.

but the jungle juice and occasional jello shots are great, so you persevere. besides, lambda throws the best parties on campus and you’re clearly the person to trust on party hot takes since you only go back to frats you have a good time at (sorry, sigma pi).

plus, heeseung is in lambda rho and he has to be there since he’s the social chair and all, so… you note that out of the maybe five parties you’ve been to there since the beginning of the school year, you’ve never once seen him. granted, he’s only required to be at any parties hosted while he’s the social chairman, so maybe he just didn’t go to any last semester. or maybe he’s a wallflower like you, choosing to stand on the outskirts instead of in the center of attention.

lost in your haze of heeseung thoughts, you don’t really register that you’ve finished dressing and that liv has sat you down at your desk to fix your hair. somehow, while very much drunk, your big has an easy time styling it. she’s focused intensely on the task at hand, but also manages to carry on a one-sided conversation, not realizing that you’re not responding to her. but when she moves her hands from your head and sets them on the back of your chair, you’re amazed; she’s always been good at styling and fashion (hence why she’s been in charge of the homecoming student org dance and cheer competition every fall for the last two years), but you weren’t expecting her skills to be up to par while buzzed to hell and back.

“there we go, ready to wow heeseung,” liv says matter-of-factly, a proud look on her face. when you glare at her through the mirror, she smiles and shrugs lazily, reaching to grab her water bottle and phone from your desk. “what? he’ll be there tonight and i’ve heard through the grape vine that he might have a little crush on you, so…”

you whip around at her words, hands braced against the back of your chair. something like liquid anxiety prickles under your skin, sending goosebumps across your arms. liv is friends with just about everyone in greek life, so “the grape vine” could quite literally mean anybody, but who did she find that out from anyways? when did heeseung say anything like that? did he even actually say that or is she just deadset on shipping the two of you together until it either happens or falls through?

“what?”

she looks back at you over her shoulder, one hand resting on the doorknob and your dorm keys in the other. there’s a mischievous glint in her dark eyes and your heart drops; how did you get such a schemer as a big? “oh, yeah. i was hanging out at the lambda house the other night with yeonjun. you know? heeseung’s big? and he maybe mentioned something about it. why do you wanna know?”

she sidles back up to you, pulling you out of the chair by your shoulders. “do you maybe… i don’t know… like him back? why are you so nervous?”

you shake your head, trying to will the goosebumps on your arms and lightning in your veins away. you’ve claimed a million times over the last few weeks that there is nothing more going on between you and that boy, no matter how pretty or sweet you might think he is. heeseung is just a friend, someone you just so happened to click really well with and just so happened to plan a really fun event with. there’s nothing else to say about it or the way you get excited when his name shows up on your phone or how your day immediately gets better when he walks up to you at the library without texting you first, your favorite snack and coffee in hand and a smile on his face.

there’s nothing there to unpack. you think.

“i’m not nervous. and i bet yeonjun just misheard heeseung. the two of us are just friends. i’ve told you that a million times and i’m sure he’s said the same thing.”

liv just laughs and ushers you towards the door. “okay, okay… sure, sweetheart. let’s get over there before they run out of alcohol.”

jay, the self-appointed dj for every lambda rho party, is blasting year 3000 by the jonas brothers when you and liv arrive in the basement. there’s already a large group of bodies on the dance floor, but the bar area is still pretty crowded and getting worse. liv links her arm with yours so that you won’t get separated, even though there’s no chance of you getting lost or anything.

the two of you make your way towards the bar where yeonjun is “bartending,” a term he insists on using despite the fact that all he does is pour cups of vibrant red jungle juice. blonde hair hangs over his forehead and his skin is glistening with sweat already, looking weirdly ethereal under the colorful lights that fill the room. when he sets eyes on you and liv, he smiles brightly and leans against the bartop.

“hey, you two! glad you finally showed up!” he shouts over the music. “jungle juice?”

liv nods enthusiastically, mimicking his posture and crossing her arms on top of the counter. “yes please! any chances you have jello shots tonight too?”

the boy looks around before he leans in closer to answer. “don’t tell anyone else, but i made some just for you two since you’re my favorite customers.”

liv rolls her eyes and swats at his bicep, but she’s smiling anyways. “we’re not customers, jun. you’re not even getting paid to do this. when are you gonna stop acting like you’re a real bartender, huh?”

he clenches his hand over his heart and stumbles backwards, feigning pain. “you wound me so, liv. i did something nice for you and this is how you repay me. i can’t believe this!”

but in the midst of his monologue, he bends over to open a mini fridge behind the bar and returns with a couple of jello shots. he tells you to take them here while he gets your drinks and hide them the best you can so nobody gets up in arms that he’s providing something outside of the night’s menu. he’s always been especially nice to you, mostly because of liv and his undying love for her (though platonic or romantic, you’ve never been exactly sure about), so it’s all you can do to thank him and listen to his pleads for secrecy regarding the contraband jello shots. when he’s back above bar, you switch off, him discreetly tossing the small cups in the trash.

liv, finally armed with her precious red solo cup, turns to talk to some other friends, leaving you and yeonjun alone. the music is so loud you can hardly keep your thoughts straight, which is great for keeping your mind off of what liv said earlier, but doesn’t last long when yeonjun leans in ever closer, his cologne enveloping you entirely.

“you should thank heeseung for the jello shots, by the way. i honestly hadn’t even thought to make some for you and liv because i was busy with other stuff, but he asked about making some since he knows they’re your favorite.”

your heart clenches a little at the idea that heeseung wanted to make sure that you had things you liked at his frat’s party. it’s nice to have someone looking out for small things like that, even if it means breaking a rule or two. yeonjun rests his hand on top of your head and pats gently, a knowing look in his eyes.

“listen, i know that you swear up and down the wall that you and him are just friends, but for what it’s worth, he likes you a lot. he just won’t say it. you know him. he’s kinda bad with words. it’s not really my place to make his confession for him, but just… you know. give him a chance.”

you nod dumbly and give him a half-baked smile when he pulls his hand off your head. a few girls walk up, vying for their own drinks, so you take that as your cue to walk away, red solo cup cradled in your hands. any hope of not thinking about heeseung lee has been completely undone by both liv and yeonjun.

suddenly, you are far too sober.

two hours later, you’re five drinks in, only kept track of by the cups you have in your hand, and you’re feeling pleasantly buzzed. the lights are a little brighter, the music a little louder, liv’s arm hot and grounding around your shoulders. she’s completely gone, despite the fact that she’s only had three cups of jungle juice. she’s serenading you with dancing queen by abba, somehow getting every single word wrong.

“fuck, i’m way too drunk for this,” she says, breaking off a line in the middle of the second verse. “i’ll sing for you next time. promise.”

you laugh and lean against her, shaking your head. “okay, livvie. sounds good.” you’re content to end your sentence there, but you have an increasing awareness of how hot it’s gotten. the amount of people packed into the basement, especially in the center of the dancefloor like this, has contributed greatly to the heat and you need some time to cool down before it makes you sick. “listen, ‘m gonna get some air. ‘t’s getting really hot.”

liv nods and hugs you to her, voice chipper but slurred heavily. “‘kay! i’ll see you in a few.” she lets you go and breaks out into the next song, somehow worse than dancing queen.

you slip out of the crowd, already feeling a little cooler now that you’ve escaped from the hot press of bodies. standing on the outskirts of the dancefloor, you consider your options. there’s the open window that a cool breeze passes through or the door by yeonjun’s bar, which you know leads directly outside with a staircase up to the back deck. while you initially planned to be within arm’s reach for liv’s sake, your ears are starting to ring from the loud music and the choice is made for you.

you wave to yeonjun as you make your way towards the door. he pauses and leans over to ask you if you’re leaving, looking a little concerned, but you shake your head and tell him what you told liv. and then you tack on the information that she’s incredibly drunk, so he should watch out for her because knowing her, she’ll be tapping out sooner rather than later. he nods in understanding and lets you go, turning back to the two frat guys, jake and chan, that are standing at the bar.

the temperature difference between the basement and outside right now is jarring, but welcomed nonetheless. you carefully traverse the stairs, not quite confident in yourself to take them confidently, seeing as your sight is currently swimming a little and your head is light. getting to the top is a feat and you feel immediately better once you’re on the back deck.

you’re so out of it that you don’t realize you aren’t alone as you lean against the railing, reveling in the way the wood digs into your forearms and the chill bites at you through the sheer long sleeves of your black shirt. you’re still very much buzzed, but you feel a little more clear-headed now that you can hear yourself think.

the sound of your name startles you and you swear you jump ten feet in the air before you whip around, hand against your heart. heeseung is halfway out the back door, a cup in his hand and that deer caught in the headlights expression you’ve come to know well over the last month or so.

“jesus, heeseung. you scared the shit out of me!” you say, catching your breath and leaning back against the railing.

“i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to!” he finishes stepping out of the house and onto the deck with you, the door swinging shut behind him. he’s so earnest in his apology that you can’t help but smile, dropping your hand and instead taking a sip from your drink that you carried out here with you.

“you have a habit of sneaking up on me, huh?”

he joins you at the railing, leaning against it the way you are, and raises his own cup to his lips (perfect and plush and pink… enough of that). he shrugs as he drinks, wincing when it goes down rougher than he expected. the liquid that sloshes against the side is not the same color as yours, so you can only assume that one of the guys gave him something a little stronger than whatever they threw together for the jungle juice.

“i guess so,” he says through a small cough. “i don’t mean to, if that makes it any better.”

you laugh a little, nudging him with your shoulder. “it’s not a big deal, if that makes you feel better. i think it’s kinda funny.”

heeseung smiles at that and nods, keeping his eyes trained on the drink in his cup. it’s only when you’re committing his side profile to drunken memory that you realize the blush that’s crept up the back of his neck onto his cheeks and the tip of his ears. except, that sober voice inside your head argues it could just be from the cold.

but neither of you have been out long enough for that to be the case. it’s not even that cold out here, just a little bit chilly. drunk you is having sneaking suspicions, ones that sober you would never entertain, and this is the first time you’re seeing heeseung at one of his frat’s parties, so you might as well take advantage of it all as much as you can.

“yeonjun told me what you did… the jello shots for me and liv, i mean,” you clarify the second you realize how the first sentence sounds without context. “thanks. i didn’t think you were really paying attention to that kind of stuff.”

heeseung turns his head to look at you, eyes a little wide but that soft, perfect smile offsets it nicely. he looks a little surprised that you found out about it, but not upset that yeonjun mentioned it.

“well… i mean, of course i do. that’s kinda… what i do, you know?”

he’s beating around the bush. yeonjun was right; heeseung never talks about his feelings and he sure as hell won’t offer you the words you’re waiting to hear right now. so, drunk you reasons, why is the only way to confess through words? he’s shown you how much he cares, he’s been doing it for weeks now. maybe you were suppressing your own feelings to keep liv off your back about it all, but in doing so, you’ve been diminishing heeseung’s own attempts at telling you.

this whole thing with him has never been simply friends. love at first sight feels a little much, but you certainly have something between you and you have for weeks on end at this point. maybe it’s time to reward this beautiful boy for being so patient with you.

just as he’s beginning to turn his head away to look back towards the house, you set your cup on the railing and capture his face in your hands. there’s no moment for either of you to process what’s happening, just that one minute there’s a platonic amount of distance between you and the next, your lips are on his and it is warm and unpracticed and still unbelievably perfect. heeseung goes pliant and soft under your touch, his free hand resting gently on the small of your back. his fingers curl gently into your shirt, tethering himself to you. his other hand is still grasping his solo cup and you find yourself wishing he’d just drop the damn thing, even if it means the both of your shoes get soaked in whatever he’d been served (whiskey, you’d guess, from the smokey taste on his tongue).

he’s the first to pull away, eyes still closed for moments after. his breaths come shallow and his cheeks have gone impossibly red, his hand still against your back. you study him from this angle, closer than you’ve ever been, and somehow, you’re finding him prettier than ever before. maybe it’s the alcohol talking or the sudden lovesickness for him, but you don’t care because you finally kissed heeseung lee and left him breathless.

“what- um… what was that for?” he asks quietly, eyes fluttering open. his pupils are blown wide and awestruck (you think that’s the right word in your jungle juice induced haze).

you shrug, inching yourself a little closer towards him. he turns to meet you so your bodies run parallel to each other and finally sets his offending cup on the railing next to yours. “got tired waiting for you t’make a move.”

he makes a sound in the back of his throat and turns his head to look elsewhere, as if looking at you might make him drop dead. any doubt you had from earlier in the night that he’d told yeonjun that he liked you is swept away in a single moment; he can deny it all he wants now, but you already know the truth, so what’s the point?

“liv told me that she heard through the grape vine that you liked me…” you say softly, voice trailing off into the muffled sounds of a kesha song blasting in the basement. “is that… true?”

you watch as he draws a deep breath, squeezes his eyes closed, steels himself for whatever answer he’s about to give. with all your liquid courage now, confessing might not have been a big deal, but you know that if you’d been sober, it would be just as hard as this. but you swear you saw him drinking jungle juice down in the basement an hour and a half ago, and now he’s drinking something stronger, so he must be so naturally shy that not even alcohol can wipe it out.

finally, he lets his breath out and focuses his attention on you again, his eyes soft and pleading. don’t break my heart. please.

“yeah… yeah, i got a little drunk last weekend and told yeonjun that i thought i had feelings for you when he got me back to my dorm. i’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable or if it ruins our friendship. i j–”

you kiss him again, hot and heavy and full of longing and words you don’t dare voice because you’ve liked him for a long time too; you were just too afraid to admit it to yourself. but now he’s spilling his heart out and you’d rather walk barefoot through broken glass before you let him go on thinking for a second longer that his feelings aren’t reciprocated tenfold.

you step impossibly closer, your bodies pressed tight and heavy, the seam unbreakable. heeseung’s hands (both thank god) rest on your waist, holding you close. he bristles under your touch as you leave one hand on his shoulder and the other sneaks around to the nape of his neck, fingers curling into the fine, soft hair there. your nails scratch lightly against his scalp and his chest shudders against yours, some small, refined gasp of approval passing from his mouth to yours as he takes his turn to kiss the breath out of you.

it’s a tiny noise, barely noticeable, barely passing as a soft breathy moan. but you hear it and it’s embarrassingly enough to have your knees going a little weak. well, it’s not just that minuscule noise; it’s everything, it’s the way heeseung’s lips move against your own with an uncharacteristic amount of surety, the way his fingers have slipped under your shimmery black top (a “donation” from liv’s closet last homecoming), the way you can feel his body coming alive under your attention. if this is going where you think it’s going, the dreams you’ve been having about him at least once a week since you first met are about to come true.

heeseung is the first to break away again, but he looks less nervous than the first time. no, this time he looks flushed and tousled and so attractive it should be illegal. when he shifts his weight from his left to right foot, his body brushes against you and the heat of him is unmistakable. even if you couldn’t feel it, you can see the way his eyelids flutter and feel the way his chest shudders against yours. you can’t help yourself; you need him.

“come back to my dorm,” you whisper breathlessly, words manifesting physically in a cloud of fog. “please.”

the boy squeezes his eyes shut again, looks up towards the sky, draws that deep breath he’s so fond of right now. you almost back out, almost say it was a joke; he just confessed his feelings and you kissed twice, so maybe it’s all a little much for him. you really like him and you don’t want to scare him off; besides, what you’re feeling right now is nothing you can’t take care of on your own back in your dorm room. just as you’re about to tell him that he can say no, he’s seemingly talked himself up enough because he looks down at you, smiles, kisses you on his own accord, and then takes your hand.

“lead the way,” he says.

you and heeseung stop at least five times on the way back to your dorm room to makeout, giggling into each other’s mouths as he presses you against a tree on the greens or as you pull him into the pools of darkness between streetlamps. every moment has him growing more confident, more certain that this isn’t just a hookup or a dream.

somewhere along the way, you text liv and tell her that you’re heading home because you’re not feeling well. it’s not farfetched, seeing as you’d broken away from her in the first place because you were feeling too hot. what happened between your departure and when the text is sent is entirely irrelevant right now. what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her and she’ll hear about it sooner rather than later anyways.

it takes you maybe a full twenty minutes to reach your building, a feat considering how drunk you are and how obsessed you’ve been with heeseung for the last half hour. you fully expected it to take longer, but now, you stand under the golden glow of the entry to your dorm building, heeseung unlocking the door for you because you’re a little too gone right now and unwilling to take your hands off him,standing next to him, your arms hugging his free one while you lean your cheek against his shoulder. he fumbles with the key, muttering about how they should change to a keycard system instead, but he gets it eventually and you’re in.

after that, it’s practically a mad dash up to your dorm room on the third floor. your hand is twined tight around heeseung’s as you lead him up the stairs, too impatient to take the elevator right now. somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re glad that you took the time to clean your room today after class; heeseung will see a polished side of you, one that puts laundry away as soon as they’re out of the dryer, one that has glowing golden fairy lights above the window that gild your room in warmth, one that leaves books and binders stacked neatly in the shelf on your desk. not that he’ll be paying attention to any of it anyways, what with the way you can feel his cock pressing incessantly against you as you unlock your bedroom door, hot and straining.

agonizing seconds stretch into what feels like even more agonizing hours, but eventually, you get the door unlocked and guide him inside, stepping into the glow of your string lights that you’d left on before you left. you don’t even have to turn yourself around to look at him because he does it for you, turning you by your waist, pressing you fast against the back of the now-closed door.

his mouth is on yours in an instant, tongue swiping over your bottom lip, no doubt tasting the fruit punch yeonjun had added to tonight’s jungle juice recipe concoction. his hands are on your waist, curling hot into your skin, black mesh of your shirt scratching against you. it’s nice, how respectful he’s being right now, still ever the gentleman he’s been for the last month, but you don’t want nice and respectful right now. you’ve had literal dreams about this since you met him, driving your attraction to him higher with every one; you want mean and messy and rough, and that’s what you’ll get if it’s the last thing you do.

so in a bid to urge him towards where you’re really hoping this night goes, you grab at one of his wrists and drag his hand up to your chest, pressing his palm against your breast. you can feel his breath hitch against you and you smile into the kiss because how can he still be so shy when he’s kissed the breath out of you at least five times in the last forty-five minutes? either way, he gives a tentative squeeze and it feels mind blowingly good; you’ve never been one to really care much about attention focused on your tits, but heeseung makes it feel like maybe you should.

you get lost in the feeling of his lips on yours, one of his hands kneading at your chest, the other slowly slipping under your top, rough fingertips drawing up and down the skin of your stomach, so far gone that you don’t notice the thigh he’s slotted between your legs until he grinds it up against you. it’s sudden and so well-earned, some much needed friction that you’ve been craving since that second kiss on the deck in lambda rho’s backyard. he does it a second time, the hard plane of his thigh coming up hard against your clit, and your knees buckle a little, dropping you further onto him. you moan sweetly into his mouth, tilting your head back against the door as the hand on your waist works your hips against him with a scary but uncharacteristic practiced certainty. he takes the absence of your mouth against his to trail kisses on your neck, his teeth dragging along the sensitive skin, nipping and leaving love bites in his wake.

a well aimed grind of your hips, guided singularly by the boy in front of you, has you falling forward against his chest, your forehead pressed into the junction between his shoulder and neck. you keen against him in frustration, the crest rising but not breaking, no matter how hard to try to get it to.

“seung,” you cry against his skin, fingers curling tight into his sweater. “need more please.”

you almost sob in relief when you feel him nod against your neck, more so when you notice his own hips are stuttering against your leg that is bracketed by his. it’s enough to make you moan, the idea of him needing it just as much as you that he’s trying to hold himself back from getting off on your thigh too.

pressing your palms flat against his chest, you guide heeseung backwards in the direction of your bed (which you’re very suddenly glad you haven’t lofted). when the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress, he makes quick work of kicking his shoes off and then scrambling up so that his back rests against the wall. you follow suit, toeing off your party shoes and crawling onto his lap where he’s waiting patiently, his eyes wide and the browns of his eyes drowned out by his pupils. he’s breathing hard, chest heaving.

he looks up at you as you situate yourself, his hands coming to rest on your waist again. the expression on his face is nothing short of worshipful, like you’re a deity here to wrench your well-earned respect from his hands. and he is clearly ready to hand it over without a single fight. he guides you down onto him and you follow his hands willingly, your thighs straddling his and your clothed cunt just barely grazing against his hard-on until you settle down completely in his lap, not a centimeter of distance between you. the friction and pressure have both of you gasping wordlessly and heeseung tugs desperately at your hips. you fall into him, arms around his neck and pulling him to meet you halfway, lips locked once more. you give a tentative roll of your hips and heeseung moans into your mouth, just the reaction you were anticipating.

“fuck,” he moans the second time you do it. “you’re so good.”

you’re already hot, seared through to the bone, but you feel yourself go even warmer under heeseung’s praise. you’ve imagined this a million times over the last few weeks, but nothing could ever compare to the real thing. you kiss him harder, breathe him in deep to prove to yourself that this is real, that heeseung lee is under you right now, bucking his hips up into you and matching your movements, about to make you come just from a little bit of dry humping. it would be embarrassing if you weren’t both half-gone and ridiculously desperate.

you continue to rut against him, panting hot and heavy into his mouth as he swallows every single moan and whimper you let out just to return them tenfold, his hands working you over him with a rushed ease. every roll of your hips is met with his own presses upwards. he’s working you higher and higher with each move, closer to the precipice, and while you’ve never before thought you’d find yourself in a position like this, if heeseung makes you come without taking a single item of clothing off either of you, then so be it.

as if he’s read your thoughts, he presses you back and away from him. you open your eyes for the first time in minutes and take him in: messy hair, flushed cheeks, bruised lips. no wet dream could have ever prepared you for how beautiful he looks right now.

but no matter how pretty you think he is in this moment, the sudden absence of friction has you whining loudly, pitched high and tight. when you speak, your voice trembles out of frustration. “heeseung, why’d you stop?”

he sucks in a breath and moves to push at your shoulders some more. “don’t- fuck- don’t wanna come yet, not like this.”

if you weren’t already so fucked out, you would have giggled, but right now, you just feel exasperated. he’s right; you don’t want to come like this either, but you’d also come to terms with it because it would mean that you would at least be getting the release you’re so desperately craving. and that’s been ripped away from you, at least for the moment. but when he looks up at you again, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes still wide with need, you fold immediately.

“tell me what you want.” he’s practically begging you and it sends a thrill through you, liquid lightning straight to your heart. “please.”

and how can you deny him when he’s asked you so sweetly or when you’re just as needy as he is? at this point, whatever he’d offer, you would take gladly. he’s gazing at you now, waiting anxiously for an answer, not that you have a set one; you want him in any way he wants you, nothing else matters more than that. but you take in his swollen lips and lithe fingers and your mind is off to the races.

“i-” you start, but stumble over your words. you’d been incredibly forward when you’d kissed him first, but you’ve lost all of that fire now. you can’t bring yourself to ask for what you want, even though you’re certain he’d do anything you’d ask of him.

“c’mon,” he coaxes, fingers kneading into your shoulders to ground you. “whatever you want.”

the sound of his voice is earnest, nothing short of honest, and it makes you want to trust him more than anything. so you do. you draw in a steadying breath and curl your hands into his sweater as you work yourself up to it.

“will you-” another breath. “would you eat me ou-”

“yes,” he immediately answers. you don’t even get a chance to finish the question. “fuck. i thought you’d never ask.”

he moves his hands to cup your face and pulls you into him, kissing you sweetly, his nose bumping against yours. the minuscule break in sexual tension, while in most situations would be a mood killer, is nice because it just further cements that this isn’t some random one night stand; you want to see him every day for the rest of your life after this, if he’ll let you.

somewhere between the kiss and when he breaks away from you, he’s maneuvered you so that you’re laying back against your pillows. you’ve also managed to discard your shirt (thank god, the glitter and mesh combo was starting to irritate your skin something fierce) and he’s working to get your pants off, fingers fumbling with the button; it’s as frustrating as it is adorable and he swats your hands out of the way when you reach down to help him, deadset on doing it himself, which he does manage (eventually, after a few incredibly long moments). you help him shimmy down your jeans and panties by lifting your hips a little and then you are inarguably bare in front of him, a position you’d never imagined you would be in.

and maybe heeseung is a little wonderstruck too because for a few long seconds, he sits there and stares at you in all your naked glory (or nearly naked glory, seeing as you haven’t taken your bra off yet, but he doesn’t seem to mind). you’re starting to get a little bashful and have to nudge him with a bent knee to pull him out of his stupor. he’s impossibly red at the tips of his ears as he murmurs a sweet apology that comes accompanied by a “you’re just so pretty.”

before you can muster a reply, he’s situating himself between your legs, hands pressing softly against your inner thighs to draw them apart, set eyes on his real destination. you lift your head just a little bit, watching as his eyes widen as he takes all of you in, his breath hot against your folds. his fingers curl tight into the soft skin of your thighs and you whimper at the sting, equally painful as it is exhilarating. he makes an indistinguishable groan in the back of his throat before he’s completely devouring you.

plenty of your wet dreams about the boy between your legs right now have included this very scenario: his nose bumping carelessly against your clit, a suddenly confident tongue making a show of licking up all of your arousal, your thighs already trembling. but they never could have prepared you for the actual thing because he’s giving you what is quite possibly the best head you’ve ever had.

heeseung is eating you out like a man starved, it’s absolutely obscene. his tongue works you up fast, every little moan he lets out only contributing. somewhere in the midst, he says something that sounds like “you taste s’good,” but his words are drowned out by your own moans and the sound of his mouth working you over. every pass of his tongue over your folds is as close as you’ve ever gotten to heaven, but you’re lacking something to really shove you over that precipice; and now you know heeseung is so whipped he’ll do anything you ask him to.

“seung,” you gasp out breathlessly, untangling one hand from your comforter so you can wind your fingers into his hair. he looks up at you, doe eyes big and wide and glimmering with his eyebrows drawn together, a questioning look without pulling away to speak. you’re about to ask him when his nose bumps hard against your terribly sensitive clit and your word breaks off before the first syllable can even leave your lips. “fuck— seung, can you— can you add your fingers?”

you’re not quite used to asking for what you want, at least verbally; maybe it’s because any previous partners weren’t keen on getting you to verbalize, maybe it’s because they never particularly cared and just did what they thought was good. but heeseung is pliant and willing to please in any way he can, so you feel less embarrassed this time around because he’s made it entirely clear that your pleasure is his main priority.

he doesn’t nod, doesn’t say anything, just closes his eyes again and goes back to work. you almost think he either didn’t hear you or is straight up ignoring you before you feel it. he pulls his hand from your right thigh slowly, letting his fingertips drag lightly against your skin; the menace is teasing you, where did that come from? but you don’t even have much time to internally complain about him holding out on you because he’s suddenly slipping two fingers into you, long, deft limbs that expertly seek out that spot inside you. he presses against it once, twice, three times, each one drawing out a whine from you.

it’s just what you need, the extra friction pushing you up that incline, closer and closer to the dropoff. when your back arches off the bed and your thighs close around his head, boxing him in against your pussy, heeseung knows he’s got you right where you want to be and then he doesn’t let up. it’s an onslaught of pressure, four different points of sensation, and you’re on the verge of tears. he’s making a complete mess of you, utilizing all he can to get you over that edge. you’re whining his name like it’s the only word you know, “yes” and “fuck” and “oh my god” getting lost in your slurred speech; he’d be evil incarnate if he denied you what you’re so beautifully begging for.

he presses incessantly at that spongy place inside you, nose bumping against your little bundle of nerves, moans growing more frequent, all while his tongue tries to catch every single drop of arousal. and then there you go, ecstasy taking over like liquid heat in your veins. his name sounds like pure euphoria on your tongue, mixed with your moans and whines. he thinks he could come just from this alone, your cum in his mouth and your thighs pressed tight around him, but he holds off because there’s only one place he wants to leave his release (if you’ll let him, that is).

“shit.”

you sound fucked out, completely gone and heeseung swears he’s never heard anything sexier. you tug at his hair a little bit, feeling completely overstimulated but still so good, a shock to your system as he pulls his fingers out of you and lets his tongue work over you just a little bit longer (to make sure you’re clean, he reasons to himself).

eventually, he does pull away and you have to fight the urge to whine again. his eyes are unfocused and glossed over, his chin practically dripping in your arousal. hell, his tongue darts out to get the last little bit of your cum at the corner of his lips and you nearly orgasm all over again.

“was it good?” he asks softly and you barely hold yourself back from laughing. he just made you come harder than any previous partner ever has, given you the best head in the world, and he’s asking you if it was good? he’s insane for thinking it was anything short of perfect.

but you don’t say that. you reach for his sweater, fingers curling tight into the cotton and tugging him down towards you. he catches himself by his hands, his arms bracketing you easily, before he completely crashes into you. there’s a long moment where he just stares down at you, lovestruck and pretty, before he lowers himself to kiss you. you can taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, and you moan a little bit, feeling a little embarrassed, but one of his hands moves from its place on the mattress to cradle your cheek and that alone drives it away.

one of your arms sneaks over his shoulder, your fingers tangling into the damp hair at the nape of his neck, while the other sneaks under his sweater, the shirt he wears underneath until the tips of your fingers brush the soft, pliant skin of his stomach. you can feel the gentle ridges of abs and a small piece of you shivers with giddiness. regardless, you enjoy a few seconds of running your fingers over his stomach before you push a little more incessantly at the offending pieces of material. he takes it for what it is: a plea to get rid of the clothes. after all, it’s not fair that you’re almost entirely undressed and he hasn’t taken a single article off.

you watch dazedly as heeseung sits back onto his heels, your eyes following his arms as he crosses them over himself, grasps at the hems, pulling them over his torso, his arms, his head before they land haphazardly on the floor next to your bed. every inch revealed to you makes your mouth water, his skin taut and soft and glowing in your fairy lights. you can’t help but remind yourself that dreams and an overactive imagination could never live up to the real thing because he’s very much the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen.

you’re entirely prepared to continue your makeout session, but heeseung seems to have other ideas because once his tops are discarded, he begins making work of his jeans. you make a soft noise in the back of your throat when you realize what he’s doing and he looks up at you, fingers stilling at his belt, his eyes wide.

“is something wrong?”

he sounds so sincere, it kind of makes you want to cry. but you shake your head earnestly, propping yourself up on your elbows so you can look at him better. “no, no! everything is fine. i guess i just wasn’t expecting you to take your pants off so soon.”

he quirks an eyebrow at you and dons that pretty little smile of his, teasing but not really. “well, you’re almost completely undressed. figured it was only right that i do the same, y’know?”

and you laugh a little because it’s true and because he’s just so cute, he laughs too, soft and quiet. you generally think sleeping with someone is fun, but you’ve never had as much fun as you are right now. maybe it’s because it’s with heeseung and you like him so much already, so the playfulness comes easy; it doesn’t feel tense the way it has with others.

so you watch him handle his belt, the button on his jeans, the zipper. you watch, mouth watering once more, as he slips out of them, leaving his boxers, which have a dark wet patch on them. the sight alone would make you groan, but you can see the outline of his cock and you almost lose it completely. so you decide to resume the impatient act because you are still very much so; as cute as the playful routine is, you haven’t forgotten the exhilarating rush of trying to get to your dorm as fast as possible and the unpracticed fumbling that’s followed since then.

you reach for him and he doesn’t hesitate, letting you pull him on top of you by his shoulders, fitting your mouths together in a messy kiss, all teeth and tongues. your hands are in his hair again, his own slide underneath you to make work of your bra, unclasping it and then pulling the straps away from your shoulders, down your arms, making you let go of him for a quick few seconds so that he can pull it off completely and toss it god knows where in your room.

you’re distantly aware that you’re entirely bare to him now, but his mouth is working at your throat, dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin of your neck (he is strangely good at distracting you, you’re learning), so you don’t feel as shy as you did just a handful of minutes ago. either way, he’s sucking hickies into your shoulders, your collarbones, any skin that has a little bit of give to it that lets him leave love bites in his wake. so lost in the haze, you realize a little too late that he’s working his way towards your chest, but it doesn’t even matter, not when he has one hand kneading at one and his mouth at the other, tracing lines over your skin to quell the sting of each pinch, each little nip of teeth. your nipples pebble under his attention and while this never usually does much for you, you still find yourself getting antsy because it’s heeseung. everything he’s done for weeks has gotten you worked up, why would that stop now?

it doesn’t help that he’s grinding against you, his hips canting against your own for any semblance of friction. your arousal is no doubt contributing to the wet patch on his boxers and the idea of it almost has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. his cock feels hot and heavy against your folds, the head bumping against your clit, and all of it feels so delicious that you let out a crisp, high whine, twining your fingers into heeseung’s soft hair and tugging gently.

he pulls himself away from your chest and when you look at him, you almost moan. his lips are swollen, slick with spit, and his gaze has gone misty. he looks at you expectantly, blinking slow and lips pouted as he waits. you’re not even sure what you want from him right now, at least nothing specific because you want everything from him. you’re about to tell him to go back to doing what he was originally because it did feel good, but then he lands a particularly well-timed grind against you and you’re gasping.

“fuck,” you whimper, tossing your head back a little. your fingers tighten in his hair and from somewhere south of you, he laughs a little, light and easy and airy.

“that what you want from me?” he questions, pulling himself up over you, catching your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. in any other situation, it might come off as intimidating and teasing, but heeseung is all doe-eyed and halfway to heaven right now, so it comes off more desperate to please than anything. either way, you nod. “all you had to do was ask. you know that.”

you nod and pull him down to kiss you by the fingers you have twisted in his hair. he groans against you, moving his hand from your chin to your jaw, angling you just so. somewhere in the kiss, you murmur a soft, “seung, i want you,” and he groans a little, nodding against you. he pulls away and you chase after him, but he’s sitting up, moving lightning quick to get his boxers off, abandoned somewhere on the linoleum floor with everything else.

and then it hits you that you’re both completely bare. you lean back on your elbows, looking him over once more, though your focus lingers mostly on the skin newly revealed to you. his thighs are toned and sturdy, the skin plush, and while you’d love to stare at them a little bit more, your attention is quickly drawn to his dick. it’s big, the head an agitated red and leaking precum, and your mouth is watering at the thought of getting him in your position and giving him the best head of his life.

you actually start to move to do so, but heeseung anticipates it and moves quick, pressing you back into your mattress. his dark doe eyes are drowning in desire and you shudder under his gaze. he’s on you again instead, hips melded to yours in your nth kiss tonight. he’s got his weight rested on one elbow beside your head while his other arm is free to move around, his hand tracing from your shoulder, your chest, smoothing across your stomach.

his fingers eventually land on your thigh, curling into the soft inner flesh, and he hikes it up around his waist before dropping his hand to his cock. his lips trail from your lips to your neck and shoulders, nipping at the skin as he jerks himself off. you toss your head back against your pillows, whimpering at every little graze of his teeth against your skin.

but what’s really driving you crazy is the heat of him against you. the head of his cock bumps against your clit, this time with no fabric barrier separating them, and you’re not sure if heeseung is even meaning for the touch, but it has you feeling hot all over again, slick leaking out of you again. you’re getting impatient, heel pressing hard into his lower back and your fingernails biting into the flesh of his biceps.

“heeseung,” you whine out, canting your hips up against his; you hear him suck in a breath through clenched teeth, a hiss of air. “need you.”

he shivers against you, a teary whimper of “need you too” granted in return as he pulls his face from your neck so that he can watch you as he finally gets to what you’ve wanted since this whole thing started. on a short teasing streak, he taps the head of his cock against your clit and you whine, turning your head into your pillow and curling your fingers into his arms, which earns a laugh.

“stop playing,” you tell him, rolling your hips upwards and into him.

he hisses again and bites at his bottom lip, nodding. he slips from your clit to your entrance and even just the little shred of pressure you get has you wanting to moan out for him. but then he starts pressing in all the way, slipping into your cunt with ease and you are not prepared for just how full you feel. your back arches and he lets off a tempered moan, stifled through a lip bite. when he bottoms out, his hips flush with your own, you release a breath as you adjust to the size of him, which doesn’t take long.

“seung,” you drawl, grabbing his attention. “move please.”

and he does as you bid, pulling out before he thrusts back in. it takes a few moments for him to find a pace that works, but when he does, it’s perfect. his hips roll against yours delectably, the sounds of skin meeting skin and your shared moans filling the small dorm room. he’s shored up over you, one elbow pressed deep into the thin mattress holding him up, and when your eyes aren’t squeezed tight in ecstasy, you watch the way he bites his lip, furrows his eyebrows, shudders as you clench around him.

“god, you’re s’tight. feels so good,” he whimpers at one point, his head hanging over your own as he tries to keep a steady pace. his words are shattered, breaking off in the middle or slurred together, a verbal manifestation of how you physically feel.

one thrust hits that just right spot inside you and you can’t hold but moan loudly, back arching off the mattress and your head pressing into your pillows. heeseung inhales sharply above you as you clench tight around him and then, with you still keening, you feel him sit up, taking his warmth with him. his hands are on your hips seconds later and he’s angling you, doing everything in his power to replicate it again and again.

“fuck, i’ve wanted this for so long,” he says, one hand on your thigh and the other working deft fingers on your clit. he’s a quick learner it seems because all of it is coming together to whisk your orgasm closer, a wave of white heat washing over you. “saw you at my frat’s halloween party ‘nd thought you were so pretty. woulda come up t’you that night if i knew you felt this good.”

your breath hitches more than it has all night and you cant your hips upwards in an attempt to meet his thrusts. somewhere in the midst of your pleasure, you tell him you’re going to come and he nods fast, fingers going into overtime to get you there. that knot inside you winds up tight and then snaps like a rubber band stretched too thin, hot and fast. your pussy locks around his cock and then he’s there above you, bracing himself with his hand, to swallow the particularly sharp whine of his name you let out and any stray too-loud moans that might slip away and wake the neighbors (as if you haven’t already).

when your vision finally clears and your thighs stop trembling, his hips are still snapping into yours to seek his own release, pushing you into the territory of overstimulation, but any pain you have bleeds into pleasure until you can’t tell which is which; the only thoughts you can manage are that heeseung feels heavenly inside you that it’s almost blinding and you don’t know if you even really want him to stop.

but his hips begin to stutter, his cock twitching against your fluttering walls, and you faintly register that he’s about to pull out of you. blindly, your hand searches for any part of him to pull him back over you, legs locking around his waist. he protests, some flurry of words about how he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable (not a single one intelligible), while you whine and pull him towards you by his shoulder.

“wanna feel you, seung,” you say, a limp arm winding around him and inching him closer until your noses are brushing and you can feel his breath fanning across you, still smelling faintly of his alcohol from earlier. “don’t worry about it, ‘kay? y’said you’d do anything, so please. i wanna feel you s’bad.”

that seems to be enough to egg him on because he nods and you catch him in a messy kiss before he groans against your lips as he finally comes. he lands a few more sharp thrusts that have you whining, fucking his cum into you, before he finally falls still. his breath is hot on your shoulder as he recovers.

usually, once you’re done, your select partner of the night pulls out, maybe cleans you up, and then leaves. it’s been a while since you’ve had someone who wants to stay (at least, you hope heeseung wants to stay) and you’re not quite sure where to go from here. there hadn’t really been much discussion about where your relationship was going to lead after this, even with all of the lingering glances on campus and your impromptu study sessions at the library, so you’re worrying a little about what comes after.

stuck in your own head, you don’t even notice that heeseung has pulled his head from your shoulder and is looking at you until his thumb works your bottom lip out from beneath your teeth and then wipes away some of the sweat at your hairline. the furrow of his eyebrows carve deep lines into the space between them as he studies you, looking like an angel with the way the fairy lights strung up above him give him a faint golden halo.

“what’re you thinking about?” he asks softly, brushing his fingers across your cheek. it’s a wholly different energy than just a few minutes ago, but the change isn’t unwelcome.

you shrug, blinking up at him and reaching to push some of his hair out of his eyes, the strands matted to his forehead with sweat. “just wondering what we do now, i guess.”

heeseung’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles a little, his shoulders shaking with a breathy little laugh. you almost punch at his shoulder for laughing at you when he cranes his head down to kiss you gently, the first that isn’t rushed in some way. he nudges your nose with his when he pulls back just a little bit.

“can we worry about all the big stuff later?” he questions; you feel the words as much as you hear them, his lips barely brushing your own as he says them. “for now, how about we clean up first and then… i’m hungry. are you?”

it’s your turn to laugh, but you nod. you’re still a little drunk, your however many cups of jungle juice compared to his measly one whiskey.

“so we clean up and then go get taco bell? it’s, like, the only fast food place still open at this hour.”

“you do know that the line is gonna be insane, right? like, half of campus goes there after getting drunk.”

heeseung lets another quiet laugh loose and sits up, pulling you up with him and then into his lap, his dick still snug inside you. the feel of it doesn’t wind you up again like you thought it might, but it’s a nice reminder that he’s here, that this all actually happened. he rests a hand on your thigh and lets his thumb trace lines into the skin there absently.

“then i guess we’ll have time to talk about what you wanna do now,” he says sincerely, the smile on his face soft.

you have so many words you want to say, a million sentences tornadoing in your head right now, all jumbled up and lacking any sense of coherency. so instead, you cup his cheeks in your hands and return the kiss from just a few moments ago. he meets you halfway, all soft and pliant and giving, everything you could have dreamed up.

“wanna shower?” you ask when you pull away, giggling when he chases after you for another kiss. “feel like it might be a little more effective than a rag.”

the boy raises an eyebrow and eyes you suspiciously. “you tryin’ to go for a round two? because that’s what it sounds like right now.”

you push at his shoulders and laugh when he catches your wrists in his hands, pulling you into a third kiss. “wasn’t my intention, but i won’t turn down the idea.”

“i’ll think about it,” he responds as he taps at your hips and lifts you off of him. his seed starts to leak out with his cock no longer there to hold it in and you feel incomplete without him, but when he stands and offers you a hand to help you out of bed, suddenly the feeling of emptiness isn’t as oppressive.

you teeter across your room, opening the wardrobe to pull out the two towels you have and your shower caddy. heeseung accepts the towel you extend to him graciously, wrapping it around his waist. when you’re done securing your own towel, he’s already waiting for you by the door, one hand on the knob and the other reaching out towards you once you get close enough to him. and then you’re two people walking down the hall hand in hand, wrapped in matching pink towels towards the unisex bathroom. it’s a little unconventional, maybe, but you don’t think you’d have it any other way.

liv probably would though, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. heeseung’s your little secret after all.

#heeseung x reader #lee heeseung smut #heeseung smut #enhypen smut #kpop smut #writing.fic #smut.fic #stories.fic #heeseung.fic #enha.fic

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corrodedcoffinfest · 1 month

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Welcome to Corroded Coffin Fest!

This is a fanworks challenge/event that is all about Corroded Coffin. It will take place from July 1st thru July 31st.

Thanks so much for showing interest in this event during this post! If you have friends that you think would like to participate, please considering reblogging this announcement!

The calendar of prompts is located here:

Since there are so many events going on (and we love to see it!) we've decided to set a word count range for this event, so the love can be spread around to more events.

GUIDELINES:

Ideas for works include: fic, art, gifsets, fanvids, moodboards, edits, playlists, or anything else you can think of to celebrate Corroded Coffin!

For fics, there is a word count minimum/maximum of between 300-1000 words per drabble. We'll use wordcounter.net to check the word counts before reblogging, so make sure you stick to that range!

Do one prompt, do them all. Hell, do them all twice! It's totally up to you. You can pick and choose what you're interested in. And we're not going to police how you interpret the prompt. Just use them as a jumping off point to be inspired by the boys of Corroded Coffin, and then share that inspiration with us! (Not everything has to be band related, we encourage you to explore other parts of their lives, too!)

Submissions can absolutely be connected to other prompts from the event, or even past works, but should still be able to stand alone each day.

Every morning a new prompt card will go up, reminding everyone of what that day's prompt will be.

All submissions should include any pairings featured, content rating and any content warnings (CW) or tags that you think are appropriate. Please put the prompt you are fulfilling as well, just to keep things straightforward. A sample could look something like this:

Prompt Day 9: The Hideout, Word Count: 666, Rating: M, Pairing: None, CW: Underage Drinking, Recreational Drug Use, Tags: Corroded Coffin, First Gig, Partying, Eddie, Gareth, Jeff, Freak, The Hideout

Also, please consider putting any explicit material under a read more cut, because anything rated E that's not hidden under a cut will not be reblogged.

For the artists! Your art submission must be posted on the same day as the current prompt in order to be reblogged by this blog. Your piece of art (or other creation) must be Corroded Coffin focused, using any combination of the guys, together or solo. Of course, other characters can be included, too! But you need to have at least one of the CC band members in it for it to count for this event. Thank you!

All ships are welcome, as long as they include at least one member of Corroded Coffin: Eddie, Jeff, Gareth & Freak. (Who I look forward to learning the name of from you all, time and time again!)

Please tag us here @corrodedcoffinfest when you post your work for the day so we can reblog it!

Be respectful of your fellow participants and readers. We're all here to have fun and share the love of all parts of Corroded Coffin.

Definitely feel free to ask me anything if the rules weren't clear in places, or if I straight up forgot something (or if you just have anything else you'd like to ask). You can send an ask/message to this blog or reach out to @thisapplepielife.

Please submit your post by 11:59 PM EDT on the day of the prompt in order to not be missed for reblogging.

If posting on AO3, please feel free to use the collection associated with this event: Corroded Coffin Fest AO3 Collection after your submission has been reblogged by this account.

Most importantly, have fun! We can't wait to see what Corroded Coffin fanworks come out of this new event!

More info below, including full prompt list with jumping off suggestions, the warm-up rounds for April, May & June, and a spreadsheet you're free to use:

PROMPTS:

JULY 1ST - FIRSTS

First gig, first check, first award, first...anything.

JULY 2ND - IN THE BEGINNING

How did Corroded Coffin come to be?

JULY 3RD - BEST FRIENDS

Who are the best friends in the band in your head? Let's find out.

JULY 4TH - EDDIE

We all know Eddie. Let's hear some more about him today.

JULY 5TH - ON THE ROAD AGAIN

Get them out on the road, in any way you see fit.

JULY 6TH - HEARD IT IN A LOVE SONG

Let's have some romance. Any pairing(s) that tickle your fancy.

JULY 7TH - CELEBRATE GOOD TIMES, C'MON

Let them celebrate! Maybe that's a birthday/holiday/celebration show. Maybe it's a wedding, etc.

JULY 8TH - BAND POLITICS

Fight! Fight! Fight! Not everything goes smoothly all the time.

JULY 9TH - THE HIDEOUT

Catch them there, every Tuesday, playing for five drunks.

JULY 10TH - PRIDE

Let's see them celebrate Pride! Or let's see them be proud, etc.

JULY 11TH - JEFF

Let's spend some time with the guitarist of Corroded Coffin.

JULY 12TH - OW!

Injuries happen. Tell me more.

JULY 13TH - SEX, DRUGS & ROCK N ROLL

Tell us about the seedier parts of being in a band! 18+ for adult content, please!

JULY 14TH - AND THE WINNER IS...

It's time for awards season. Do they win? Lose? Let us know.

JULY 15TH - LET'S TALK ABOUT THAT

Press Tour/Interviews. Sometimes they need to promote themselves.

JULY 16TH - STRUGGLING

They're working their asses off, grinding it out, but they haven't hit the big time yet. Or they're struggling in other ways...

JULY 17TH - "THIS ONE'S FOR YOU"

Dedicate a song to someone special.

JULY 18TH - FREAK (GRANT, FRANK, GOODIE, ETC.)

Whatever name you given him, let's all focus on the bassist of Corroded Coffin.

JULY 19TH - IN THE GARAGE

Get them in the garage. Band practice, fixing the van, etc.

JULY 20TH - UNDER THE COVERS

Let them cover some real songs. Or, you know, get under the covers in another way...

JULY 21ST - HATE THIS TOWN

Hawkins. How was it dragging them down? Or, maybe they hate LA...

JULY 22ND - ALTERNATE UNIVERSE (AU)

Use your imaginations and put them into a whole new world!

JULY 23RD - UP AND COMING

They're finally gaining a little traction. Or maybe they're up...and coming. *wink wink, nudge nudge*

JULY 24TH - BEHIND THE SCENES

What's it take to get this show on the road? Or, what are they really like, off-stage? Let's get a peek behind the curtain.

JULY 25TH - GARETH

Bang them sticks! Let's catch up with the drummer of Corroded Coffin.

JULY 26TH - TOUR DATE

Let's focus on a specific show.

JULY 27TH - YOU'LL BE IN MY HEART

Navigating love while on the road.

JULY 28TH - BACK TO INDIANA

Let's go back to Hawkins and/or Indiana. Send these boys home.

JULY 29TH - BEHIND THE MUSIC

You know there's drama. A story. Probably enough for VH1 to come knocking.

JULY 30TH - FAME & FORTUNE

They've made it big! Now what?

JULY 31ST - YOUR SONG

A Corroded Coffin song? A work inspired by a song? A song that makes you think of Corroded Coffin?

WARM-UP ROUNDS:

Let's get a little practice before the full event in July!

Here's a prompt each month leading up to the event to work out the kinks and get in the rhythm of it all!

APRIL 15TH - TAXED

It's tax day. Do they need to pay their taxes? Is this a write-off? Or, are they just taxed from being on the road? Tax them.

MAY 15TH - GET A JOB

Put 'em to work. First jobs, side hustles, etc. Surely they've had some other jobs besides being in the band. Tell us about them.

JUNE 15TH - BAND ON THE RUN

Are they late for a gig? Running from monsters in the Upside Down? On a tour from hell?

Same guidelines as the full event will apply.

SPREADSHEET:

If you'd like a spreadsheet to help you keep track of the prompts and your progress, here's the one I personally use for other events, and will be using myself for this event. If you'd like to use it yourself, just go to File>Make a Copy and you'll get a version you can edit in your own Google Sheets.

Thanks for showing interest in having a Corroded Coffin event this year! ❤️🦇🖤 - @thisapplepielife (and thanks for the help and adding to the prompt list, @wormdebut!)

#corrodedcoffinfest #corroded coffin #mod post #rules #guidelines #eddie munson #gareth stranger things #jeff stranger things #freak stranger things #fanworks event #event rules

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

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make my heart surrender | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter three: thursday

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings: lots of swearing, angst, use of she/her pronouns, allusions to sex, eventual smut, no use of y/n, second person pov, mentions of death/mikey's suicide

word count: 3.4k

summary: you and carmy finally find some time to catch up and carmy begins to realize that you're more similar than he thinks.

a/n: thank you to all who are reading, reblogging, and commenting omg. i'm so grateful that someone wanted to read this story. i wrote it in a week because i couldn't get these two out of my head. they were begging to be put on the page. i also have a companion playlist that i'll release when the story is done because i don't want to spoil anything! comment below if you'd like to be added to this story's taglist. i did presumptuously add a few of you i've interacted with, so please let me know if you'd also like to be taken off of it.

read: part two | masterlist

Thursday

You’re grateful that by day three, you’d been able to smooth over some of the tension between you and Carmy. You even looked forward to catching up with him, if the two of you can swing it. Instead of going home early, you had jumped on the line this evening. Ebra was out for the night and Marcus had asked to fly solo on prep so that you could give him some feedback before lunch service tomorrow morning.

It was an easy decision, to fill in and jump on the line. After all, you had checked your bag on the plane so that you could bring your knife roll with you, just in case. There was something about this kitchen – the energy and the people – that you wanted to stick around for. And it didn’t hurt that you got to spend a little extra time with Carmy. When he was in his element, expediting and leading this kitchen… he was… breathtaking.

“Damn, nice knife, Jeff” Tina comments, checking out the santoku you’re running through some parsley. She can hear the crisp, clean cuts you're making, which is what caught her attention in the first place.

“Jeff?” you question, shooting her a look.

“Long story, but trust me. It’s a term of endearment,” Sydney interjects, from her side of the prep station.

You chuckle, “She’s a beauty alright. My first fully Japanese knife. Though the steel is a bitch to take care of. That’s for sure.”

“What do you mean?” Tina questions further.

“Well, it’s just a kind of metal alloy that’s super prone to-,” you start, completing your sentence at the same time as Sydney chimes in.

“Rusting,” you both say in unison, sharing a look.

“Huh,” Tina sounds, suddenly losing interest. “I don’t get it. It’s more work to take care of? Our shit’s part-plastic and does the job just fine.”

“Oh but she’s so smooth,” you playfully swoon, referring to how beautifully the knife performs for you.

“It’s all about the performance, T,” Sydney adds.

Tina hums in response, still unconvinced by you and Sydney’s admiration for the fancy tools.

“So you and Carmy. How’d you meet Jeff?” Tina inquires further geturing her knife towards Carmy’s expediting station, and eliciting another laugh from you and Sydney.

“Uhhhh… we both worked at the same restaurant in New York. I came in to stage and the competitive jerk tried to smoke me. Thought he could show me it was his territory.”

“Like a little bitch,” Tina teases, the shade evident in her voice.

“And you kicked his ass obviously,” Sydney suggests, hopefully.

“Mhm,” Tina adds in agreement.

“Oh absolutely,” you answer, deviously. “I walked out with a job that night. Carmy and I are the classic kitchen staff case of… enemies turned good friends.”

You look up from your station, noticing an exchanged look between Sydney and Tina.

It’s the kind of look that says, Just friends, huh?

“Alright, alright. Enough with the girl talk, gossip girls. News flash: no one gives a shit about fuckin’ Tom Colicchio and Padma Whatserface over here,” Richie interrupts, referring to the you and Carmy, as he passes by with a few empty storage containers on the way to the dishwashing station.

“Asshole / Fuck off, Richie,” Sydney and Tina shout back at the same time.

“Hey! Listen up, everyone! Fire two spaghettis, two short ribs, one chicken,” Carmy calls out to the kitchen. You listen attentively, hearing the chorus of the entire kitchen repeat the order back to him, punctuating the order with a ‘heard.’

You smile to yourself, as you enjoy the feeling of falling into such a familiar rhythm.

You’ve missed working in the kitchen, and you’ve missed working in the kitchen with Carmy. This was so different than any of the bullshit you’ve been through together – even when he is arguing or yelling at someone. It’s not some sterile environment that looks more like a science lab or an operation room than it does a kitchen.

No, this place has soul.

Between the crass kitchen banter, the less than flattering nicknames, and its wild cast of characters, it’s only day three and you feel right at home. Dinner service flies by and you’re eager to check in with Marcus by the end of the shift. Before taking your apron off, you head over to his corner of the kitchen.

“Hey, how’s everything going, chef?” you ask, curiously.

“Good, chef,” he answers proudly. “I got the brioche covered and ready to rise overnight and I prepped the cake donuts so we’re ready to roll tomorrow morning. I went with a blueberry cake donut this time around.”

“Sounds great. I can’t wait to try it, chef,” you reply. “Need anything from me before I head out for the night?”

“Oh no, uh, I’m almost done here,” Marcus answers, inspiring confidence in his ability. “Just workin’ on a curd for the filling, chef. Just like you taught me.”

“Alright,” you chuckle, tickled by how excited he is. “Have a good night, chef.” You pause, wondering if your words will be totally lost on him. “And make sure you get some rest tonight, okay?”

He responds with a nod, as you leave his station.

You make your way to the locker area, hanging your apron up, and slipping off your kitchen sneakers, before taking a seat on the bench. It looks like most of the kitchen staff got a head start on you and have already left, or are out of their kitchen clothes and ready to head home. There’s a strange feeling in your heart. You haven’t felt this kind of… community… in a professional kitchen in a long time and you try your best to name what it is you’ve felt was missing.

“Hey,” you hear a voice say, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Hey,” you say to Carmy.

He removes his apron, folding it over his forearm. It sits further down his arm, right near his tattooed hand, you notice, as he leans his side against the lockers.

“Thanks for jumpin’ in… you know… on the line tonight,” he starts his gaze practically piercing through your soul.

“Yeah, it’s uh, no problem,” you reply, placing your knife roll and kitchen shoes back into your locker. “I had fun.”

“You uh, you still want to go for that drink?” he asks, shyly.

You smile.

“Yeah.”

“It’s fucked up,” Carmy shakes his head in disbelief.

“Oh please. What?” you groan, shooting him a look.

“You’ve been in my city for… what three days now and you already have a hookup at one of the hardest to get into bars here,” Carmy replies, eliciting a laugh from you.

“Oh my god,” you sigh with a playful eye roll. “I’m a New Yorker, asshole. You know that’s how we do it.”

He shakes his head again, before locking eyes with you, “You were always better at it than me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you, Carmen Berzatto, finally admitting that I’m better at something than you? Can you say it again, and I’m just going to-.” you tease, playfully, pulling out your phone as if you’re going to film him saying it.

“Oh shut up…” he shoots back, gently pushing your phone away from his face.

“I mean, you could always make friends with anyone. The bodega guy downstairs. The fuckin’ bodega cat. Our favorite butcher? ‘S why we always got the good cuts of meat when we cooked together on our days off.”

“Which is exactly why I do it,” you point out.

You had always been so magnetic to him. It’s something that he’s always admired about you – something that always reminded him of Mikey.

“No, I-, I used to be a regular at this bar when I was working at Gramercy Tavern – actually, I think it closed right before you came to New York. Anyways, found out my favorite bartender moved to Chicago and I sent him a message letting him know I’d be in town. Said he’d get us in even if they were booked up, and,” you gesture towards where the two of you are sitting together, “Et voila!”

Carmy takes a look around. He hasn’t been in a fine dining establishment since he left New York. It’s as if all the fancy awards and all the dues he’s paid cooking in the best restaurants in the entire world don’t matter anymore. He feels so out of place: the people, the over-the-top cocktails, the overpriced bowls of food called something fancy to justify the high price point.

“From the kitchen” your bartender had said curtly, a mere few minutes ago. He had placed a few plates in front of the two of you to share that you most certainly didn’t order.

You both had thanked the bartender, before digging into the large bowl of soup, stracciatella, and focaccia bread on the plate. You rip off pieces of bread, dipping them into the salty broth, popping them into your mouth. Carmy’s much more of a gentleman about it, using his spoon to try the soup first. You had only planned on drinking here, but your friend at The Aviary had really come through. You’re sure it doesn’t hurt that you’re here with Carmy, and that these guys definitely know who Carmy is.

“So…” you start, taking a sip of whatever fizzy strawberry gin thing you’d ordered earlier. “I feel like there are a lot of long stories I’d like to hear.”

Carmy makes a sound in agreement before taking a sip of his drink. It’s just bourbon on the rocks, and you wonder when he started drinking bourbon like this.

“I mean… we could start here. How the hell are ya?” you ask.

“I…” he starts, before trailing off. He buries his face in his hands, dragging his fingertips across his forehead. “It’s uh, it’s been a long couple of months. Christ. The restaurant was a goddamn mess, everyone hated my fuckin’ guts. And then Syd showed up and, well, she’s been a big help.”

You wait a beat before saying, “As much as I want to hear about the restaurant, Carm, I mean how are you doing?”

Your words stop him, and he looks up at you with those baby blue eyes. He takes his time thinking about it, shrugging before muttering something along the lines of, “I’m okay, I guess.”

He’s searching for the right words to explain how the hell he’s even supposed to answer that question.

“I don’t know. Guess I thought if I fixed the restaurant, if I could fix it-. Maybe I could fix him,” he drags out.

He waits a few beats before finally admitting:

“I miss him. Mikey. And I found out all kinds of shit about him that I-, well, shit I didn’t know. I think-, I think it’s why he kept me away. Why he shut me out.”

You listen as he begins to fill you in: about Mikey, the drugs, the debt he inherited that he now owes to Cicero, how hard it was to win over the kitchen staff that, come hell or high water, weren’t interested in changing their ways. And then he tells you about the meetings he's been going to -- the al-anon meetings. And you begin to understand. While he’s the same old Carmy, this isn’t the exact same Carmy that you knew in New York. The Carmy you knew in New York never would’ve gone to those meetings. He would’ve brushed it off and pretended there wasn’t a problem and taken as much punishment as he could in the kitchen instead of dealing with what he was feeling.

Mikey’s death, and coming home, and this restaurant, it’s all changed him.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s part of the reason why, after months of no contact, he reached out to you now, but he’s not sure if he should tell you that yet.

You’ve got to give it to him. If anything, he’s exceptionally talented at cutting people out of his life. It’s his M.O – the only thing that’s been consistent in his life – even when those people didn’t deserve it. It’s what he knows to do. It’s something he’s learned… from Mikey, from his dad…

But this… what he’s telling you, these are stories of connection and community.

“And Syd’s really helped me pull this shit together. She's kinda like... the glue, y'know? I- I don’t know where we’d be without her,” Carmy concludes.

You agree. Syd is brilliant. You can see just from having been in that kitchen that she’s been the biggest catalyst for the changes — even his.

“I know you only asked me to come for pastry but I’m glad you let me jump in on the line tonight,” you say. “It’s cool to see what you’re doing now and… I don’t know. I know it was a rocky start, but you’ve got something here. Something that could be really, really good, Carm. You’re making real fucking food. Like your mom’s chicken. I haven’t forgotten about that.”

“How can you remember that?” Carmy asks, a little surprised, his eyes lighting up. He’d almost forgotten that he’d once made it for you while you were both still in New York.

You nod, “Best chicken piccata I’ve had in my life.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Hands down.”

“You know,” you start, a mischievous tone in your voice. “If I recall correctly, you made me some pretty bomb meals back in New York. And didn’t I say something along the lines of you really shining when-?”

“Oh no,” he groans. “Not this again.”

“I’m just saying!” you justify, innocently. “When you cook the food you grew up with, Carm, you’re at your very best. And don’t get me wrong. You’re an exceptional chef, regardless of what you do but-.”

“So what? You’re gonna say ‘I told you so?’” he questions, shooting you a look.

You shrug, playfully, “I can’t help it if I’m right all the time,” earning an eye roll from him.

“Especially when it comes to you.”

He’s quiet for a moment, because you do know him. You’ve seen sides of him he’s barely let anyone else see. It feels good and terrifying all at once to be seen this clearly.

“Yeah, well, you always were a little more Mozza than French Laundry, huh?” he shoots back, referencing your difference in preference. While Mozza was more family style, The French Laundry, a restaurant Carmy had worked at once upon a time, was anything but.

“Yeah. Who knew one day we’d switch places?” you reply, a sadness in your voice. Were you… envious of what Carmy had? Was this what you were looking for?

“So uh, you gonna tell me what the hell happened with the restaurant?” Carmy asked, changing the subject – changing the subject to you.

You sigh, you raise your drink to your lips, finishing the rest of what’s in the glass in one go.

“That bad, huh?”

“No!” you’re quick to reply. “Well, yes. But no. But yeah….”

Carmy flags the bartender down, ordering another round for the two of you.

You’re not even sure where to begin in regards to the existential crisis of sorts that you’ve been having, so you just tell him what happened.

“I was juicing blood oranges one day. And-, you know we were going to take the juice and do all that fancy gastronomy shit with it… turn it into like, the same consistency of ‘dew in the early morning’…” you began to explain, quoting what your head pastry chef had said that day.

“And I’m sitting there thinking… what the hell am I doing? I mean, who eats food like this?! Who wants to eat a drop of blood orange juice that’s been turned into the consistency of dew in the early mornings? Like, why the fuck can’t I just make the best blood orange olive oil cake anyone’s ever had, and that be enough, you know?”

“And. I don’t know. It got me thinking a lot about the kind of food I want to make, and what that would mean, and what does any of this shit even mean? Fast forward to a week later, and I don’t feel like I have a fuckin’ clue about what I want to do with my life and I’m quitting the restaurant.”

You pause, noticing that he’s just been listening attentively this whole time.

“I’m tired, Carm,” you admit. “I mean. I’m burnt the hell out. I just. I don’t want to work this hard for something that- something that I’m not even sure I believe in anymore.”

Another beat.

“I know it sounds totally insane but-.”

“No! No, it doesn’t,” Carmy interrupts, quick to reassure you, as he reaches for your hand. Your eyes flicker from his hand on yours, the small tattoo above his wrist, then back to him, feeling the loss of body heat as he pulls his hand back only a moment later.

“I feel like I’ve been thinkin’ about a lot of the same shit,” he admits, empathizing with you.

“I just feel… kind of lost,” you say, and it’s the first time you’ve said it out loud. “I do. I-, I’ve been feeling really lost lately.”

In all the time he’s known you, never could he have expected you to feel lost. He wondered if he’d just put you on a pedestal. You had always been this stunningly charismatic, charming person that could walk into any room and in minutes, have everyone wrapped around your finger. For so long he denied any feelings for you because he knew you were unattainable – that someone like you could ever want someone like him felt impossible. Wouldn’t you be better off with one of those Wall Street assholes that came into the restaurant all the time – wining and dining their clients with their expensive wristwatches and fancy town cars?

But hearing you say it – that you feel lost – it reminds him that you’re only human too.

He waits another beat, guilt filling up his throat, before he speaks again.

“I should’ve been there for you. I’m sorry.”

There’s an earnestness in his voice that makes you want to trust him. Sure, it seems like he’s been apologizing to you for three days straight, but you want to listen.

You take another sip of your drink.

“I started volunteering at a Brooklyn community garden so I could like, pull my head out of my ass,” you share with him.

“Did it help?”

You shrug, “Yeah, a little bit.”

It helped, but it hadn’t fixed anything. You feel like you can confide in him, especially since he told you that he was going to meetings.

“My therapist actually encouraged me to come here,” you confess, gauging his reaction as the words flow from your mouth. “Get out of dodge. Get a change of scenery… give myself some time to think.”

“We both know you do a little too much of that,” he teases gently, and you chuckle.

Between Carmy’s avoidance, and your neuroses, you’re quite the pairing.

“Yeah.”

Carmy pauses, not sure if he has the words to give you the explanation you deserve, but he’s going to try.

“I had… a lot goin’ on. When I got back. And I didn’t know….” He pauses before continuing. “I didn’t know how to do it all at once. How to handle, you know… everything at the same time.”

And it’s just easier to avoid everything – to avoid you, to avoid the way I feel about you, he thinks to himself.

And it’s exactly what he did, he pushed you away, and pushed any and all feelings or thoughts about you into a dark hole, never to be acknowledged ever again.

Until you quit your job. Until his phone call with Tim. Until his phone call with you.

“I know, Carm. I know you’re sorry and I appreciate the apology,” you start, taking a breath. “It’s just that-. I need you to know...”

You pause, suddenly feeling like you’re in the middle of an anxiety dream where you realize you’re not wearing any pants.

“I need you to know that it hurt. It… it really hurt. Not hearing from you. Being cut out like that.”

“I know,” he admits, remorsefully. “I’m gonna be better. At least I’m trying to be.”

“I really want to believe that,” you say, softly.

But I don’t want to get hurt again, you think to yourself.

He looks at you, a soft, shy smile on his face, and it makes you want to take a chance on him.

Who are you kidding? You’d jump off of a bridge with him if he asked, even if it meant getting hurt all over again.

“Okay?” he asks, hopefully.

You’re not sure if he’s asking if it’s okay, if you’re okay, if everything is okay between the two of you, and you wonder if he means all three.

“Okay,” you answer, quietly.

“Okay.”

read: part four

taglist: @lazypeachsoul @bookwormvoyageuse @allthefandomstogether

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #the bear marcus #sydney adamu #the bear tina #richie jerimovich

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