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hanibalistic · 10 months

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#6F417E | EARTH-42 MILES MORALES.

genre | fluff, faint angst / reader is gn

synopsis | miles found you fainted in an alleyway one day, except you died two years ago.

word count | 2861

warning | brief mention of bullying / mentions of death (reader from earth-42 has passed) / everything i know about e-42 miles morales is from the movie

note | i had to write something :'( it's been on my mind!

parts | one, two, three, four

Against his better judgment, Miles felt restless, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the miraculous event of you coming back from the dead or that seeing your face again made him realize how deeply he has deluded himself into thinking he had changed.

The truth was that he hadn't changed. He merely made the decision to completely push his identity away after your death, as it was the only way to shield his fragile mind from unraveling into a pit of suicidal doom, where all he could ever think about was to follow you wherever you go, be it heaven or hell. He put his face into a mask unseen by all, not even himself, and the mask ripped itself aggressively when he saw you fainted in the dead end of an alleyway at night. You were supposed to be six feet underground—he watched you fall off a skyscraper! He watched you get put six feet underground! How were you alive?

"Shit."

Miles cursed through a frustrated groan as he pushed the covers off his body. The clock in his room enunciated each tick of a second, reminding him how long it had been since he plopped himself on the bed and tried to get some shut-eye. The ticking noise irritated his ears like chalk scraping against a blackboard, and he would have thrown something at it if you and his mother weren't around to hear the damage. Staring at the dim ceiling, he heaved a deep sigh and closed his eyes, not to get some sleep but to piece together everything that happened so far.

First, he found you fainted in an alleyway. He brought you home and decided to hide you in his room. A person who has been dead for nearly two years coming back to life was not the easiest news to break to anybody. He managed not a whole day of concealing your existence before his mother found out when she was tidying up the dirty clothes in his room. Baffled and even a little creeped out, she helped nurse you after you woke up, which was only later that night. Second, Miles called Uncle Aaron to help make sense of this situation, which led to him finding out that you weren't from this world at all—Miles clenched his fist as his train of thought shattered.

He always forgot you were not the same [Name] he knew; not the childhood best friend, and not the person he harbored secret romantic feelings for. He wanted so badly for you to be them, for him to be able to turn away from the guilt of not saving you years ago. For the most part, he did. The immense joy of spending these past few days with you, albeit with a few stuttered words and clumsy movements because you were both getting used to each other, was an experience very familiar to how it used to be like with the ‘you’ he knew of.

Miles took you everywhere upon your request, and his mother encouraged him to go out. He took you to play in the arcade, eat at the local sandwich place, and stand atop a massive neon sign advertising for a corporate brand. The only place he refused to bring you to was the skyscraper where ‘you’ died, and you didn’t push him to do so after the first time he refused. He kept himself relatively guarded these days, much like he has always been. But during the times with you, he has never felt more childish and happy. Chasing you down a crowded street and being forced to hold your hand like a leash was normalcy he forgot he deeply yearned for, and it made him happy.

The cause of his insomnia was simple: you. More specifically, the fact that you gave him something to think about, to worry about, and to lose.

Miles exhaled with exhaustion as he got off the bed. He thought a cup of water would do him good. It could clear his head. Pushing open his room door quietly to not wake his mother, flashes of colors on the television screen greeted him immediately, accompanied by the rhythmic tilts of your head as you watched the commercials on silent. He raised a brow. You were humming a song in your head; he wondered what it sounded like. Also, you should be sleeping so you can get some rest.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Why aren’t you?”

“Fair ‘nuff,” Miles muttered as he walked past the couch to the kitchen. He grabbed a glass and poured himself some water when you sheepishly trailed into the area to watch him. Your stare made him uncomfortable, so he turned away from you and quickly chucked the whole cup of water down. He almost slammed the cup near the sink, stopping just before the glass could make a noise against the kitchen counter. “What?”

“I thought you have something to do tomorrow,” you said, ignoring his impatient tone.

“Yeah? What of it?” He shrugged, focusing on cleaning the glass with tap water.

“You should get some rest, then.”

“Thanks, my insomnia is gone now.” He rolled his eyes and wiped his hands on the towel hung on a magnet stuck to the side of the fridge.

The sound of your pitter-patter footsteps followed him as he made his way out of the kitchen. You hovered around him, watching him with squinted eyes as if trying to access him. He ignored you; he found the only way to keep his emotional walls up and guarded was to ignore you as best as possible. He had missed ‘you’ so dearly that even bickering with you was an activity left to be desired, and he could not afford to want more of you than he already did. He set himself a limit, and he planned to stick with it.

“Insomnia!” you whispered with a beaming face as if he didn’t just straightforwardly tell you his problem was his inability to fall asleep. You clapped your hands and held them in front of your chest in an intertwined position. “Let me help you. I know a good way to fall asleep!”

“Being around you is not one of them,” Miles muttered.

"Don't be mean," you said through a huffed-out giggle before you made a beeline to his open room.

He closed his eyes to hold down the pit of quiet rage burning in his chest. Your spontaneity was challenging to handle. His body could keep up with you weaving in and out of crowds. If anything, he was much faster than you could ever be. But his heart could not keep up with having to follow you around constantly, his eyes trailing your back, his legs picking up their pace to go where you go, and his voice talking whenever you talk. He set himself a limit for how much he would let you into his life—

Miles returned to his room to find you sitting cross-legged on his bed, grinning at his arrival.

—and you punched past it with ease.

"By the way, I'm sorry I have to keep wearing your clothes," you mentioned as you extended your arms, letting his sweater sleeve fall over your hands. "Your uncle's clothes are too big for me, and I don't like wearing sleep gowns."

He didn't mind. "I'll take you to get something when I'm free," he said. He planned to veto anything you wanted to keep you rummaging through his closet.

"You're taking me shopping?" you pursed your lips into a playful smile before you smacked your face with your hands, your torso squirming about to make an even bigger mockery of the situation. "How sweet, Miles!"

Too much ease—his walls crumbled like sandcastles under a gust of wind when he turned away from you to allow himself a chuckle. Then he caught himself. He rubbed the tip of his nose and fixed his jaw before returning to you; his less-than-menacing glare became dull and soft once his eyes filled with your reflection. He leisurely pointed at the bedroom door and almost laughed again when he demanded, "Go back to your room."

You pulled a face. He doesn’t get to tell you to do that. “No.”

"Get off my bed, then."

You thought about it for a little before you agreed. Scrambling off, you kept your arms on the edge of his bed, and your legs slumped onto the floor with the bed's support. Miles furrowed his brows when you tapped the empty spot on his bed twice, and he begrudgingly filled the space when he realized you didn't plan on leaving.

"I got you. You're gonna fall asleep in no time!" you exclaimed quietly, touching his chest. "This helped me a lot when I have trouble sleeping."

"Pattin' your chest helps you fall asleep?" he questioned in disbelief. Then, a beat later, he fired a question with a bitter taste, "Who's touching you like this?"

“Just me,” you replied, laying your cheek on your forearm. “Patting my chest helps me regulate my breathing, which is good for after I cry.”

He shifted his head slightly to eye you. “You cry a lot?”

“Hmm… no,” you mused. “Just when bad things happen.”

“Like what?”

“Like these.”

You lifted your head and raised your arm upward. Taking a break from the beat you rested on his chest, you pulled down the sleeve and flipped your forearm to his direction, showing him a short, bulging scar decorated just below your inner elbow. Miles lifted his body from the pillow and raised a brow curiously at the nasty scar, but he kept his opinion to himself. He watched as you pulled the sleeve down to cover it, and he deduced that there must be more of those injuries scattered across your body. Relaxing back onto his bed, he shrugged.

“One hell of a fall,” he commented.

“No, someone cut me,” you clarified as you leaned back onto your arm and pressed your hand to his chest again, “someone from school.”

It took him a moment to register your words and then another short moment to register the unfamiliar rage traveling through his body. This was unlike himself, unlike what he felt as the prowler. The signature thrill and trigger-happy sensation didn’t exist in this version of his anger. His fingers twitched with each jump of his thoughts, his hooded eyes scratching out an empty figure on the ceiling as if replaying the pain you must have gone through to receive that scar, and he recognized his anger as slow and steady, brooding and demonic.

There was no use holding a grudge against someone from a universe away, but Miles thought he would kill whoever hurt you. With the right technology, he may even erase their existence forever. Never mind killing; dying, in some sense, was a blessing. What if those people were never even born? Their existence wiped off the face of Earth, reduced to nothingness, with no pictures, no songs, and no memories to preserve even a trace of their livelihood.

“Hey, you can’t fall asleep like this.” Your voice snapped him out of his trance. “You’re being really tense, Miles.”

“That’s 'cause you’re terrible at helping people fall asleep,” he retorted as the muffling in his ears began to scatter.

You scoffed but didn’t cease the rhythmic pat on his chest. Instead, you turned your focus elsewhere. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“No.”

“What was I like?”

He sighed. “I’m not talking about it.”

“Fresh wound. Got it,” you said with a nod. But he knew better than to let his guard down. The smacking of your teeth was an indication of your mind gears turning—unbeknownst to him, he had your habits memorized in a span of a few days. A frown increasingly widened on your face until your mind map ended, and you hummed at the distaste in your mouth. “Were you in with love them? It feels like you were.”

He glared at you pointedly, but the intimidation passed your head as you leveled him with a curious gaze. Miles choked on his thoughts. Nothing he could do here would stop you from believing in his denial. He could turn away, ignore you, or even verbally deny your question! Nothing would have gotten you to let go of your correct assumption that he was in love with ‘you,’ and by extension, him being in love with you too.

“What made you think I was?” he asked, flipping the attention to you.

You let out a curt giggle and sheepishly shrunk into yourself. “You’re really nice to me.”

“Because we were friends.”

“Yeah,” you mused with a grimace before you smiled. “But it’s much more interesting to think you were in love, isn’t it?”

He slapped a hand over his eyes and rubbed his face in exhaustion. “Can I sleep?”

“Of course! I’m sorry, it must be tough to have the love of your life watch you while you sleep,” you snickered with a few nods of approval directed at yourself.

You rested one side of your cheek against the bedsheet, finally deciding to heed his plea to be quiet. Miles took your silence as a chance to close his eyes and finally relax into his headspace. The consistent pat of your palm on his chest served as a hypnotic device to lure you to sleep more than it was for him. The real lure of peace for him was more from your presence in his room and the soft humming that trailed out of your shut lips. That must have been the song you were thinking of when you watched the television on silent; Miles got it memorized after a few loops of it.

You shifted sleepily on the floor and looked at him. You thought he didn’t look so hateful asleep as he always did. He looked at everything with such coldness, distant enough to be out of reach but close enough to justify hating everything. With you, his eyes held a sense of unwilling defeat, like he was grounding himself on the spot to keep from running to you, and he hated every minute of it even though he thought it was for his own good to shut himself out. He always looked like someone refrained from holding a loved one as they stood before him with open arms.

Your suspicion that he was in love with you from this world didn’t spawn out of nowhere. You merely knew he wasn’t ready to be confronted with his feelings, so you made a humorous joke out of it instead. But you would tell. You could always tell because nobody had ever looked at you like that before, and for once, someone’s unfamiliar eyes made you feel a centuries' worth of romance rather than torture.

“It’s nice to know a version of me is likable,” you muttered to yourself, and you laughed. "And I thought nobody would ever fall in love with me.”

Miles laid still on his bed for a little longer, listening to the clock tick by. When your humming ceased and your hand stopped patting a beat on his chest, he opened his eyes and carefully turned his body toward your direction. He took a good look at you; his eyes brushed past those identical pair of eyes, your recognizable nose, your soft lips, the curve of your jaw, and your ears made small over his hands. A shivering breath latched at the tip of his tongue, and he had to huff through his nose to remind himself to breathe.

You didn’t wake when he carefully hooked his arm under your legs and pulled you onto his bed. He made space for you on his bed, and he made space for you in his concealed heart that once only belonged to him.

Despite the illusion, his mind knew who you were, but his heart couldn’t pick apart the differences. Except it wasn’t as easy as it seemed. This wasn’t about how you both looked and sounded the same. This was about him and his feelings. This was about him having fallen in love with you before, and now, as he felt his shattered heart piecing itself together through the mere sight of your sleeping face, he was about to do it again. His heart knew you were different, and it did not care. He was ready to fall in love with you again, and he was ready to fall in love with you anywhere.

Because the moon never stops orbiting around the sun. Because Miles chose to let go of himself instead of letting go of the love he has for you. Because he would fall in love with you every time, and he would choose you over himself every time.

“What do you even know,” he touched your cheek with the back of his knuckles, “about people falling in love with you?” What do you even know about Miles Morales falling in love with you?

He hugged you close and shut his eyes—you knew absolutely nothing.

#miles morales imagine #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #miles morales x reader #miles morales fanfiction #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader

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literallyjusttoa · 7 months

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A redraw of the timeline of Apollo's life I made half a year ago! Sadly for some reason CSP decided to completely delete poor Post-First Punishment Apollo (the fifth one), but luckily I took a picture of it before hand so y'all can see it, even if it's lower quality ;-;. If you want the story behind these designs I dumped like 2000 words about it in my og post, which you can see here!

Some quick addendums I forgot to put in last time + fun design details:

Apollo replaces Helios as the god of the sun after the Trojan War, around 900 B.C.E-ish.

Baby Apollo has horns now! This is a trait he inherited from his titan side and then quickly lost during his battle with Python. It's a nod to his first domain being shepherding as well.

Just to clarify, post-first punishment Apollo goes before post-Daphne Apollo, it's just I couldn't place them in the right order bc csp sucks

The symbol I used on Main Apollo's fabric is called a delphic epsilon! It was used as a symbol for Apollo's temple at Delphi in Ancient Greece and represented a worshiper's initiation into light.

The blue-ish silver ribbon Fall of Greece Apollo has belonged to Artemis. As I stated in my first post, Apollo spends a large amount of time away from Olympus between the fall of greece and his time in Rome, so he kept the ribbon to have something of his sister's in the meantime.

Also for Fall of Greece Apollo, his cloak is fading for two reasons. One, he's spending a lot more time performing his duties as the god of burials, making his role as one of the first bridges between the living and dead much more prominent. The underworld is pulling at him just as much as it is pulling at the casulties of Greece. Two, Apollo is not spending time on Olympus, nor is he actively speaking with any of his worshipers. This is causing belief in him to diminish, so this is the closest he has ever gotten to fading. I swear I will write a whole thing about the period at some point I have so many ideas.

The sheep 2nd punishment Apollo has is a Chios sheep! They are actually native to Greece, and also adorable I love them.

I think that's all for now, I hope you guys like the art!!!

#trials of apollo #toa apollo #lester papadopoulos #sunny speaks #long post #apollart #timeline #this is why you guys can't let me talk about this stuff I can not shut up /j #i'm ngl you can see me get messier with each piece but it's fiiiiiine everything's fiiiiiiinnne

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strawberryya · 7 months

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notice me!

pairing: jihoon x reader

synopsis: Your boyfriend has a hectic life, but he usually has at least a little time to spare for his girlfriend. Now it has been two months since he last spent some alone time with you and you're losing your mind just a little over it... luckily, angry make-up sex can solve any problem!

word count: 2.1k

genre/cw: smut, angry sex, also make-up sex, established relationship, feeling neglected in relationship and bad ways of handling said feeling, unprotected sex, manhandling, light choking, fem reader, musician/producer! woozi.

rating: 18+

a/n: I had a moment a couple weeks ago where I wrote this whole thing in one hour in the middle of the night, and then I forgot about it and now I'm in shock just a little bit... anyhow, yay angry sex with wooziiii

network tagging: @svthub @cultofdionysusnet @k-labels @kvanity-main

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You watched your boyfriend of two years looking at his phone, scrolling mindlessly across whatever app he found more interesting than his girlfriend sitting on the other end of the couch. You were barely wearing anything, a large t-shirt barely covering the sexy lingerie you had put on for tonight.

“Jihoon, it’s been two months.”

You wanted him to notice you. He had barely been home at your shared apartment for weeks. You knew his work was demanding, and that he gave it his all no matter what. But you have been feeling neglected lately. He had been coming home late, crashing on the couch instead of sleeping in your bed. Only giving you a chaste kiss before running off to work the next morning with a groggy “Sorry I missed dinner last night,” as a greeting.

He hadn’t touched you in two months. You had counted the days, and after three weeks you were wondering if he wasn’t stressing too much about the latest album. After six weeks you had been feeling too horny for your own good, and your toys weren’t fulfilling your needs anymore. You wanted to feel him again. It didn’t matter how many times you came. It didn’t hit the spot. After two entire months of him being abstinent, you had begun getting snarky at the smallest things he did wrong.

Jihoon looked up from his phone at your statement. He carelessly scratched his chin, making your pussy clench at the memory of those perfect hands being all over your body once upon a time. “Two months? Of what?”

“Of you acting like a damn nun,” you said, dead serious.

“A nun?!” He gasped out.

“Yes! A nun!” You shouted back at him.

He looked you over, sitting at the other end of the couch, dolled up more than usual and staring at him as if he had offended yuo great grandmother by existing. Then it seemed to click in his mind. “Oh,” was all he said.

Two months? Had it been that long? He knew very well that he had been resisting his urges, but he had managed for two entire months? He had been so busy with the new album, he had been staying late at the studio every day and waking up rushing back to the studio to put the new ideas he got during the night into reality. Two months without sex, and a pissed off girlfriend because of it.

“I’m sorry?”

You looked at him like he was an equation, mouth open just a bit as you stared at him in shock. “You’re sorry? What the fuck does that mean?” He was so clueless, you thought as you watched the dumb face he was making. (You still wanted that stupid handsome face of his to eat you out until you cried, but that was besides the point.)

Jihoon knew he had fucked up, you were pissed off and picking a fight, and he hadn’t made it better by not even knowing that he hadn’t slept with you in two whole months.

“Do you even care? Because you don’t seem to care one bit about it since you didn’t even know! Do you not like me anymore? Are you not attracted to me anymore? Are you in love with someone else? Why the fuck would you go and cheat on me?!”

He stared at you in complete surprise. Cheating? “Hold up- hold up! What are you talking about?!” He said, flabbergasted at the way you seemed to have drawn the most far-fetched conclusions to this problem you could’ve possibly thought of. “I’ve been busy with the comeback! Please, baby, why are you acting crazy?”

He shouldn’t have said that, he knew it the second the word left his perfectly plump lips.

“Crazy? Did you just call me crazy? You haven’t seen crazy, you fucking asshole!” You shouted as you stormed out of the room. You were packing your bags, if he didn’t want to be with you anymore you wouldn’t be the one to stop him from moving on and sleeping with whoever else he wanted. Because it sure as hell wouldn’t be you after he had just called you crazy for noticing that he wasn’t interested in you anymore.

“What are you doing?? Why are you messing up the apartment? Are you leaving?” he shouted, seemingly surprised that you didn’t feel like staying in an apartment that he was hellbent on making a girlfriend-free zone.

“Yeah, I’m fucking leaving,” you grunt, shoving some shirts into your bag. You wouldn’t be able to grab it all but at least you could make it with the stuff you were throwing into it for a while. Y9ou could always borrow your friends’ stuff until you could get back all your clothes. “You’re pissing me off and I don’t wanna hate you.”

Jihoon was by the bedroom door now, hands pushing his hair out of his face as he watched you angrily packing your bags. How had he fucked up so badly that his girlfriend wanted to leave him like this?

“Hate me? Baby, I really don’t know what I did to mess up this bad…”

Of course, he didn’t understand, because apparently, your boyfriend was a freaking master at staying “pure”. He hadn’t even spent a single thought on you and what he could do with you. He only cared about his music. And you wouldn’t be the one to stand in his way if thats how he truly felt.

“You don’t know?! Look at me Jihoon!” You threw the t-shirt off your body in an angry fit, making your boyfriend’s eyes widen. “I’ve been waiting for you to notice me, to care even a bit about me- about us- for months!! And tonight, I just can’t do this anymore. I’m losing my mind because you won’t fuck me, how stupid is that?” You nearly sobbed as you made it clear that you were frustrated in more than one way. You were so mad at him, and still, you couldn’t help but admire the way he looked so hot even now, his long black hair falling in pretty curls around his face and his lips shiny and pink. He looked so kissable it was like he was teasing you just by existing.

“You got me all addicted to your cock and then you fucking left me to go through some kind of twisted withdrawal.”

He gulped, his adam's apple moving in his throat, you didn’t even care to look at him anymore, you were angrily throwing your shit into the bag on the bed yet again, bent over and flaunting the tiny piece of fabric that tried it’s best to cover your ass. “You don’t even care,” you rumbled as you stuffed more things into the bag. He took in the way the lace set hugged your curves deliciously, he had been so busy with everything he hadn’t even noticed his own cravings. He had ignored it all for so long.

“Shut up.”

His voice was deep, and commanding. Your breath caught in your throat, surprise and need mixing in an arousing blend that went straight to your head. “Excuse me?” Your movements paused completely. When you heard his footsteps approaching you hastily you looked at him, his gaze was darkened, and your core clenched around nothing as he pulled the bag from your grasp. Throwing it on the ground before he pushed your barely clothed body into the bed.

“You think I don’t fucking care anymore just because you haven’t gotten dick in a couple weeks? Are you that desperate to be stretched like a little whore?” He growled in your ear, his bulge evident in the way he pressed against your ass. “I care, and I see you. So shut up.”

You gasped at his harsh movements, neediness soaking your panties in record time. God, you were pathetic.

“I haven’t eaten, I haven’t slept, and I sure as hell haven’t let myself even think about this sweet pussy of yours. I’ve been denying myself it all. But you’re right…” his hand pressed against your throat where you laid face down on the bed, “I’ve been neglecting you. You wanna know why? It’s because I knew that if I so much as looked at you, or held you in my arms while you slept so innocently, I wouldn’t be able to help myself. I wouldn’t have been able to do anything but fuck your tight little pussy all day and night.” His growling voice set off all kinds of sparks in your core. You needed him, now.

You pushed your ass up against him, eating a groan from your boyfriend. “Such a little slut,” he mumbled, letting go of your throat and pulling himself back from you completely. You were dizzy from the hold around your throat, his perfect hands remembering just the way you liked to feel them around you. You were about to whine when his touch left your body when you heard the familiar shuffling of his clothes falling off his body. You wanted to see it, take his form in properly after all these weeks. But he was faster, pushing you back down against the bed before you got up.

His erection pressed against your heat, making you moan as he prodded against the soaked fabric covering your entrance.

“Jihoon, please,” you mewled, wiggling underneath his firm body.

“Wanna shut up and let me fuck you then since you’re so fucking needy?”

“Please, yes! Anything! Please fuck me!” You almost cried as you pleaded with him.

“Sobbing over cock, you really are such a dirty girl for me.” He groaned as he let his pretty hands smooth over one of your asscheeks, smacking down hard and leaving a burning sting after him. Even that felt good. You needed him more than you had ever needed anything in your life.

You felt him pull the sticky fabric from your core, pushing it aside in favor of pushing the head of his hard cock against your messy pussy. “I’m about to drown in you later tonight, just you wait.” He whispered before pushing past your entrance, slipping inside, your walls lubing his cock up as he entered. He ignored the way you were so tight it almost hurt to push all the way inside, your moaned pleas for him to go deeper, and the way you were gripping the sheets while he pushed all of himself inside of your dripping heat enough of a reason to push through. It had been so long since he had felt your walls gripping around him that he could’ve spilled his seed into you right then and there.

He pulled himself together soon enough, thrusting into you at a brutal pace. Your ass which you had pushed up to meet his hips at first had been completely overpowered by the sheer force he was fucking you into the mattress with. You were coming for the first time within minutes. Screaming and sobbing as you finally came around him. He continued, repeating to you what a good toy you were, and how good of a girl you had been for holding out for him this long.

When you were moaning again, closing in on a second orgasm he told you to come again. Lifting your ass up to balance you on your knees and chest, one of his arms wrapping around your hip to reach your clit, pressing down on it while he let his cock slip in and out effortlessly. Your arousal dripped down your thighs. You came undone and sobbed as he continued to overstimulate your abused cunt.

He continued fucking you until he couldn’t take it anymore, his own orgasm crashing into him with such force it knocked the breath from his lungs.

“That was one hell of an apology,” you said, breathless and still leaking cum, exhausted after having all your pent-up frustrations released all at once like this.

Jihoon chuckled, a sound you had missed these past weeks as well. He really had been unusually absent in your life. It wasn’t just about the sex, you had missed him a lot. “I’m sorry for not being around as much,” he said, dragging a gentle hand over your back. You hadn’t had the energy to move a once from the position he had dropped your hips from once he had pulled out.

“I just missed you, I’m sorry for lashing out.”

“Don’t worry about it, just… next time you should just ask me to fuck you instead of threatening to leave me.”

You were embarrassed now, you had acted like a complete maniac, but my god - if that’s how he fucked a maniac, you wanted to stay crazy for the rest of eternity.

Reblogging and commenting is highly appreciated!! Hearing what you thought is what makes writing and being here overall so much fun! Ty and ily 💕

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#woozi smut #seventeen smut #kwritersworldnet #jihoon smut #woozi svt smut #seventeen #svt smut #svt #woozi #jihoon x reader #x reader #fem reader #x reader smut

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morningberriesao3 · 9 months

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Dirty Words

Steve Harrington X Eddie Munson

Summary: Steve gives Eddie a lesson on dirty talk, but things start to get carried away.

Word Count: 10.2K

Chapters: 1 of 1

Content Warning: Explicit m/m sexual content including dirty talk, masturbation, hand jobs, spit and cum as lube, allusions to anal sex, scent kink, spit kink, multiple orgasms, and oral sex. Excessive swearing. Recreational drug use and drinking. This post includes explicit sexual content, foul language, and sensitive themes. It is intended for those 18 and older ONLY. I am not responsible for the media you consume.

Disclaimer: All characters in my fics engaging in sexual acts are—and always will be—18 or older, even if not explicitly stated.

DIRTY WORDS

Eddie is feeling all floaty and shit. The weed Argyle gave him really is better than the skunkweed he’s been peddling in alleyways since he was sixteen years old. Not that he’ll ever admit to it. Definitely a fact he’ll take to his grave.

But for now, Eddie has the weekend off from his new, lousy day job that Steve and (mostly) Robin managed to bag him at Family Video. To be honest, it had been a last resort. But turns out, business is shit after he fucking finally graduated high school. And now—cherry on top!—he’ll have to figure out how to file taxes and shit. Welcome to the corporate world.

With a sigh, Eddie takes another drag from the perfectly rolled joint that he made himself. Argyle can’t top him on that, at least.

Eddie giggles to himself. Top him. Shit, Argyle could top him if he really wanted to, considering how fucking pent up—

The phone rings, making Eddie jump a good six inches from the sunken couch cushion he’s lounging on. He scrambles to a sitting position, and then lifts himself onto his legs that only slightly wobble like a newborn giraffe underneath him. He runs to the yellowing, plastic phone that’s hung up on his uncle’s trailer’s wall, hoping that maybe it’s the guy Eddie’s been fooling around with on the other end of the line. Maybe he could try the whole phone sex thing. Again. And not fuck it up this time.

“Hello?”

“Eddie?” Steve asks, voice all staticky through the speakers. “Why does it sound like you just ran a marathon, dude?”

Eddie realises he’s panting. He’s not sure if it’s from the short dash to the telephone, or if it’s because his blood was rushing to his cock for a minute there instead of his lungs.

Either way, he should probably consider going for a jog once in a while or something. It’s kind of sad that he’s winded.

“Shut up, man,” he says. “Maybe I was running a marathon. You’d never know.”

“I do know. It’ll be a cold day in Hell when you decide to exercise willingly. The sun will be rising in the West. The sky will be green and the grass will be blue when Eddie Munson runs a marathon.”

“You forgot when pigs fly.” Eddie scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. He nearly drops the phone that’s wedged between his ear and his shoulder. “Did you call to talk about my general lack of fitness, or is there another reason you called, Harrington?”

“I’m bored,” Steve whines. The phone line crackles. Eddie can only assume Steve is, like, laying in bed or something.

Laying in bed, in those navy blue sheets. Shirtless. Maybe fresh out of the shower. A little wet still, his hair sticking up around his head—

No. Nope.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and tries to will away the next image (a towel slipping away from Steve’s hips), because three months ago he made a rule for himself. No more fantasising about Steve goddamn Harrington.

It had been becoming nearly impossible to look the other man in the eye after some of the things Eddie imagined doing with him.

Steve continues on, completely unaware of Eddie’s wandering mind. “Robin is working tonight and tomorrow so she can’t hang.”

“Glad to know I’m your second choice,” Eddie teases.

“No! No, I would have called you either way.”

“Sure you would have.”

Eddie smiles to himself. He’s not actually miffed. He and Steve have become way closer than he would have ever imagined possible. It started when Robin would ask him to hang out, and then she’d invite him along with her and Steve, and then somehow he and Steve just started hanging out alone. And it wasn’t even all that awkward.

Turns out Eddie is cooler than Steve thought, and Steve is more of a loser than Eddie thought.

“Eddie,” Steve groans. And Eddie tries not to be perverted about how good it sounds. “Come on, dude. Let’s hang out.”

“Can’t, man,” Eddie says. “I’m busy.”

“What? No you’re not. It’s nine at night and you’re at home. I also know Wayne works a double, so he won’t be back until tomorrow night.”

“It’s weird that you know my uncle’s schedule.”

“No it’s not; he works the same shifts every week. Point is, I know you’re alone. Unless you have other friends that I don’t know about?”

“I do have other friends!” (Not really. Just a guy Eddie’s made out with a couple times in the city, and the members of Corroded Coffin who’re away for the summer.)

“Oh.” Steve goes quiet for a moment, and Eddie feels like he won. But then, “Well, are they over right now?”

“No, but—”

“Then you’re not busy! I can bring movies. I have Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, and Wildcats—”

“What makes you think I want to watch a sports movie?”

“And Labyrinth.”

Eddie’s jaw clenches. Shit, he loves David Bowie, and he hasn’t been able to get his hands on a copy yet. But he also knows Steve won’t just return the movie before Eddie has the chance to see it, because Steve isn’t mean like that. Not like Eddie is.

“I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Getting high and being alone!” And jerking off for the next hour and a half to see how many times he can make himself come before it becomes unbearable.

Eddie doesn’t add that last point, for obvious reasons.

“I like getting high. Please, Eddie? I’m so bored. And my house is empty and quiet, and you know how I get nightmares when—”

“Okay! Okay, oh my god, fine. You’re so whiny.” Eddie had no idea Steve was such a beggar. He kind of likes it. “But you have to bring beer as payment. Afterhours fee.”

“Yes,” Steve says, sounding like he’s doing something dorky like punching the air. “Beer it is. See you soon.”

“Hey, Harrington, can you give me, like—” half an hour, Eddie wants to say. But the line goes dead.

He wonders if he can manage to pump one out before Steve gets to the trailer. And the thing is, his dick is harder than he’d like to admit after hearing Steve’s voice. So he’s going to try.

Eddie runs to his room, pulls down his flannel pants so the elastic sits taut under his balls. He doesn’t bother laying in his bed; he just sits on the edge of it, facing his mirror, watching as he fists his own cock and gives it a few tugs. It’s not a narcissism thing, Eddie just likes the visual. Likes to imagine it’s someone else’s hand, or someone else’s cock. Likes to see the tip of it, shiny and red, as his foreskin pulls down his shaft to expose it.

He wonders if Steve is cut or not.

Fuck—no. No, no, no.

Eddie shouldn’t be thinking about Steve, he should be thinking about the guy from the bar. About how hard his dick had been, pressing into Eddie’s hip as they made out against the wall in the alleyway.

Yeah. Yeah, okay, that’s doing something…

Eddie watches as his hand pumps over his cock, watches as it starts to strain, the veins popping from the skin as he builds himself up. He squeezes hard around the crown. It only gives a little under the pressure, considering how hard he is, but it makes his dick offer up a pearl of precum that he gathers and spreads around the slit. When he lifts his thumb away, a sticky string connects his hand between his legs.

He likes the way that looks. He likes when things start to get messy. He wonders if he’ll ever get to see the guy from the bar’s cock like this, if he also likes to play with cum and spit.

If Steve ever plays with cum and spit when he’s on his own, like Eddie does. He wonders how Steve touches himself, what he likes, what he doesn’t like, what sounds he makes, what face he makes…

Oh fuck, oh fuck. Yeah, that’s fucking good.

Okay. Okay it’s fine, Eddie will just think about Steve one more time, and then he’ll for sure stop doing it. Just this one more time…

A jolt travels from Eddie’s cock into the tight muscles of his stomach as he imagines Steve’s face all twisted up in pleasure. Those strong thighs bracketing Eddie’s head as he sucks back little dribbles of salty white that leak out of Steve. His nose brushing against a mound of dark hair that Eddie just knows would grow thick around the base of Steve’s cock; little curls that smell like honey and almond soap, because Steve uses the expensive shit.

Jesus Christ. What he wouldn’t give to go down on Steve, just once. Just one time.

Eddie’s mouth waters as his hand flies harder, faster. He’s so fucking close. Just a quick, dirty orgasm before Steve comes over. Steve. Fuck, yes, Steve—

There’s a loud knock on Eddie’s front door.

No! Shitshitshit. He just needs two more minutes. Maybe not even that, just one—

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice is muffled beyond the walls of the trailer. Eddie almost considers letting him wait outside while he finishes up, but he can hear Steve’s footsteps getting closer to his bedroom window.

A rock hits the glass and shocks Eddie enough that it sets him back. Now it would definitely take the full two minutes.

“Shit! Goddamn fucking Harrington—” Eddie stands from the mattress and releases his cock from the death grip he had on it. It bobs between his legs, so fucking stiff that there’s no way it’s going away on its own anytime soon. “One sec!”

Eddie has no choice but to tuck his cock into the waistband of his pants. The tip pokes up under his navel, like it’s staring angrily at him for not finishing the job he started. It’s throbbing, and leaking, and getting the fabric it’s tucked into all damp.

“Same,” he mumbles to his dick as he grabs a longer t-shirt and pulls it over his head.

Another rock smacks against his window.

“Coming!” Well, he was about to anyway.

He doesn’t jog to greet Steve, because he doesn’t want to risk his dick slipping from its hiding spot. That is a conversation Eddie wants to avoid.

When he opens the front door, Steve has another rock in his hand, aimed towards Eddie’s window.

“You better not throw that, Harrington.”

Steve’s head whips around. His eyes are full of mischief, a small smile on his lips. His hair is freshly washed and styled, just like Eddie suspected. And his outfit is positively sinful (if you’re horny like Eddie is). Grey sweatpants and a plain white tee, which Eddie thinks is the guy version of lingerie.

Totally unfair, especially when Eddie would just like if his dick would go soft again.

“Why did you take so long, dude? Your trailer park is scary in the dark.”

Eddie gawks at Steve. “You’ve literally fought monsters and a dark wizard in an alternate dimension, and you think my trailer park is scary?”

“Yeah.” Steve points over his shoulder to a mobile home down the lane. “There was an old dude watching me from his window.”

“Mr. Jackson?” Eddie tilts his head, sees the curtains ruffling as his neighbour draws them back. “He’s… mostly harmless. I think.”

“You think?” Steve flings up Eddie’s steps and quickly locks the door behind him.

“Totally. I mean, besides the shotgun he keeps next to his couch. But that’s reserved exclusively for handsome young men that come around the trailer park after nine PM.” Eddie checks his watch, gasps in mock fear, widens his eyes, and peers out of the window behind Steve’s head. “That means you’re not safe! I think—I think I hear him loading the gun!”

Steve grabs Eddie’s arm, just for a second, as he cranes his head to look out the window. When Eddie’s sarcasm finally sinks in, he lets go and punches him (a little too hard) where his hand had been. “You’re such a dick.”

“I think that was kind of a compliment,” Eddie says, rubbing at the place where he would surely bruise. “I did say you were handsome.”

Steve flops down on Eddie’s couch and tosses a bag full of VHS tapes and a six pack onto the ground by his feet. He leans back, like he’s making a point, flourishing his hand over the length of his body with the most disgustingly sexy lazy smile on his face. “Yeah, well, that’s common knowledge.”

Jesus.

Eddie looks down to make sure his cock is still out of sight. He can feel it pulse between his legs as he hears Steve’s voice, sees how he stretches on the sofa. But thank God, he’s still tucked away and Steve should be none the wiser.

He takes his place next to Steve—makes sure his shirt drapes loose enough around him that it hides how hard he is.

He wonders if blue balls are a real thing. Will Eddie have severe health defects if he doesn’t come? Will his boner go away on its own?

Questions that he’ll find out sooner or later, he supposes.

“Little full of yourself, are you, Harrington?”

Steve sighs. “Not at all. It’s actually hard work being this gorgeous. You would know.”

Eddie feels his cocky expression fall from his face.

Did Steve just call him gorgeous? Or did Eddie totally misinterpret his words? He blushes and figures it’s better to be safe than be sorry. “Sure,” is all he replies with.

“So,” Steve says casually, “where’s this weed I’ve been hearing so much about?”

Eddie smiles, big and sweet, and points towards his bedroom where he left the joint to fizzle out in an ashtray before he molested himself. “Be a dear and go grab it from my nightstand?”

The truth is, Eddie’s pretty sure the tip of his dick slipped from under the elastic of his pants when he sat down. Miraculously, he thinks it’s starting to deflate by the teensiest fraction, but it would still basically slap Harrington in the face if he tried to stand.

Which—good thing or bad thing? Eddie isn’t sure. That would all have to do with Steve’s reaction. But he’s not willing to find out.

Steve rolls his eyes but gets up like a good little boy to fetch the ashtray. He brings it and the lighter to the coffee table where Eddie had been smoking before.

Fifteen minutes later, Eddie is back in his floaty state with a beer between his legs instead of a hard on. Turns out, stiffies don’t actually last forever if you don’t let yourself come. It’s just very, very frustrating.

“You up for another beer?” Steve asks slowly, reaching into the bag to grab two bottles. His eyes are glazed and blown, and Eddie thinks he looks totally fucked up already. It’s hilarious.

“Yeah, I’m down.”

Steve hands Eddie a new PBR, and his eyes do this little flare thing that makes him look adorable. “Woah.”

“Woah what?” Eddie asks, popping the cap and replacing his empty bottle with the new one.

“Being up for something and being down for something mean the same thing, even though they’re the opposites. I just realised that.”

Eddie smiles against the lip of the bottle, feeling the glass clink against his teeth. “Shit, man, you’re so high.”

“Am not.” Steve honest to God giggles as he makes eye contact with Eddie. “Okay. Maybe a little.”

“I’m glad you came over, Harrington,” says Eddie after a beat. “Better than another night alone.”

Steve opens his mouth, like he’s about to say something, but he’s cut off by the sound of the telephone ringing.

Both men turn their heads to stare at the wall phone, but Eddie doesn’t make a move to stand up to actually answer.

Because, for some reason, his mind is suddenly going a million miles a minute.

He knows it’s not his uncle calling in the middle of work, and he knows it’s obviously not Steve. The chances that it’s Robin are slim to none because her shift doesn’t end for another half hour. Gareth and Jeff are away with their respective families.

So the most logical answer to who’s calling after dark, would be the guy from the bar.

And the thing is, Eddie doesn’t want to raise questions. Isn’t sure if he’s capable of thinking of a good enough excuse as to who it was or why he’s calling. Yeah, he could probably have at least answered and told Bar-Guy to call back tomorrow, that he has company, but his brain isn’t thinking fast enough. So he just kind of… stares at the phone as it rings.

“I’ll get it,” Steve says after a few seconds, and suddenly he’s standing from the couch and reaching for the telephone—

“No!” Eddie pounces, because that’s even worse than if Eddie just answers the damn phone himself. He flounders towards Steve, grabbing the outstretched hand, stopping it from curling around the phone. “Stop! Stop—just let it ring!”

Steve gawks at him, but holds his hands in surrender in front of his chest.

The phone rings one more time, and then the kitchenette goes quiet.

Eddie heaves a sigh of relief, even though he probably just made more questions arise than he avoided by not picking up.

“What—what was that about?”

“Nothing,” Eddie huffs, dragging his feet back to the couch.

Steve follows closely behind. Just as Eddie flops onto the cushions, Steve is on top of him, tickling the shit out of Eddie’s arms, his sides, his stomach.

Eddie was not expecting anything like this—Steve’s hands all over him, his leg slung over Eddie’s to hold him down, the smell of Steve’s breath hitting his face. It’s not a bad smell, like freshly brushed teeth and beer and weed, and it’s warm, because their faces are so close together.

All Eddie can to is half-shriek-half-laugh, even as his mind muddles with confusion (and lust. Obviously).

“Tell me!” Steve commands, digging his fingers into Eddie’s neck, down his back, dangerously close to his thighs…

The boner that he just got rid of starts to fill out once more.

“Stop, dude!” Any sense of authority is lost under Eddie’s laughter that he can’t control. “No! Stop!”

“Come on, Munson. Spill the beans.”

Eddie tries flipping onto his stomach, but Steve follows him, blanketing over his back. The panes of his chest press behind Eddie, hard and warm, crowding him against the pillows. And there’s also friction.

Friction that could easily become a problem if Steve keeps goddamn moving against Eddie, making his hips rub against the couch—

“Okay! Uncle. Uncle!”

Eddie keeps panting face-down as Steve lifts himself away from his back.

“So?” Steve asks with a smile in his voice, triumphant from his win. An unhonourable win, as far as Eddie is concerned. Tickle torture is a serious offense. “What’s up your ass?”

Eddie snorts as he sits up, casually grabbing one of the throw cushions to hold against his lap.

Nothing, he wants to say. That’s the problem.

Instead, he just kind of adverts his gaze and goes for the truth.

“I’ve—kind of—been talking to…” this guy.

It’s not like Eddie has been hiding his sexuality from Steve, per se, but other dudes are way less accepting than girls about it. His first official ‘coming out’ had been to Robin (an obvious choice after she told him she’s a lesbian), and then to Nancy.

Apparently, Steve had been really cool when Robin told him she likes girls. But this is a different situation. Steve might be afraid that Eddie will, like, come on to him or something. Which… fair enough. Eddie probably would.

So, instead of finishing with the whole truth, he dampens it down a bit, and says, “Someone.”

“Oh. Shit.” Steve’s eyes do this thing where they drop to the floor, and then shoot sideways to Eddie, his eyebrows crumpled like a cartoon above his nose. He grabs the blunt, takes a deep drag. “That’s good though, right?”

Eddie shrugs. “Sure.”

“Sweet. So what’s the issue?”

All of it. Everything.

Because said guy lives all the way in Indianapolis—two hours away—and the only chance they have to communicate is through phone. Which, by proxy, means that the only times they can actually meet up is after a phone conversation.

Not to mention the fact that they aren’t, like, official—that they just made out a few times. Once outside of the bar, and a couple times in the back of Eddie’s van, which left him achingly hard when they parted ways.

This circles back to point number one about the phone conversations. They’re awkward. They don’t know each other well, don’t know what to talk about. Things don’t just flow naturally. Not like they do with—oh, say—Steve.

Maybe the worst part is that Eddie is a twenty-one-year-old man with raging hormones that—as much as he wishes otherwise—he cannot control. His self-discipline is basically nil. Nada. Zero. He’s fucking horny all the time.

So how is he supposed to deal with long-distance plus rare phone calls?!

Bingo. Yep. Phone sex. It’s the obvious answer, is it not?

So Eddie, like, tried.

And he thought it started well!

What are you wearing? Is that not fucking obvious where Eddie was headed? Is that not the exact line that they use in movies and shit? That’s what he said—What are you wearing?—and then he shoved his hand down his pants and waited for Bar-Guy to get into it, start saying something filthy into the speaker that would get Eddie going.

Maybe like… ‘Nothing at all,’ or, ‘tight boxers that show off my cock,’ or—fuck—'a towel slung low on my hips’. Something like that!

But all Eddie got was, “Uh—sweatshirt. Jeans. Why are you breathing hard?”

And then Eddie had said, “Just thinking about you,” with his low and gravelly voice, to help keep the conversation moving (again, he thinks this is pretty obvious and, like, at least a bit sexy).

Here’s the real kicker. The dude then said, “Are you… touching yourself?”

And it was not a sexy question. He sounded completely weirded out! Horrified! Disgusted!

So Eddie pulled his hand out of his pants and basically yelled, “No!”

Deny deny deny. Eddie is good at that shit.

The conversation had gone on to other things. Dinner plans, or something. Eddie didn’t really care. All he could think about was that this guy probably didn’t want to fuck him. They’d had the opportunity before, and it never progressed. And the thought of Eddie even fisting his own cock all but repulsed him.

Such a damn shame. Because Eddie is so desperate, so pent up, so sick of fucking his own hand, that he’s literally about to drill a hole in one of Uncle Wayne’s oranges and go to town until there’s nothing left but pulp.

Eddie doesn’t tell Steve any of this. He just groans really loud and buries his face in his hands, and says, “I don’t know!”

“C’mon, man. Something’s up. Out with it.” Steve waves his hand in encouragement, vaguely gesturing to the empty trailer and himself. “Safe space.”

Eddie peeks through his fingers at Steve, and he just looks so… genuinely curious. Like he actually wants to help, or at least hear, Eddie’s problems.

“Okay, fine.” Eddie snatches the joint from between Steve’s fingers and sucks it back like it’s water, keeping his gaze from Steve’s (beautiful) hazel eyes. “It’s just that I… I kind of made it awkward. Last time we talked on the phone. I tried to initiate… uh”—he clears his throat—“phone sex.”

Steve’s eyes go wide, his forehead crinkling with surprise. His lips are shiny and pink. But that second part doesn’t have anything to do with Steve’s expression—Eddie just happened to notice them.

“Fuck,” Steve says, leaning forward to set his bottle on the table in front of them. “Yeah. I’ve been there before, man. What happened?”

“What do you mean, what happened?”

“I don’t know. What did you say? I assume it didn’t go well considering how you’re all… tense and shit.”

“Tense and shit.” Eddie laughs once, then mumbles, “You have no idea.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Steve encourages.

“It’s not! I started with the classic, what are you wearing?” Eddie drops an octave, making fun of his attempt to sound hot. “And then I got an actual play by play of what they were wearing.”

Steve sits back and thinks about it for a minute—his legs splayed, and his arms crossed over his chest. “I think the issue with that is… it’s obvious, but it’s not sexy.”

“How is it not sexy, dude?” Eddie asks, exasperated. “It’s literally a steppingstone into, like, a form of sex!”

“Yeah, sure, but it doesn’t get you hot. You know?”

“No, Steve, I don’t know. Because I’m always hot. Someone could bend to tie their shoes and I’d fucking cream my pants.”

Steve hiccups a startled laugh. “Fuck. Me too. It’s been forever.”

“I don’t think it’s natural for a guy to go this long, man.” Eddie swigs back the rest of his beer and cracks a third. Lights up a new joint, too. And honestly, regardless of his tolerance, he’s pretty fucked up.

“Do you know how many chicks I’ve gone out with? None of my dates have even led to hands stuff. It at least sounds like you’re close to sealing he deal.” Steve lolls his head towards Eddie with a cheeky little smile on his lips. “I mean, if you didn’t suck at talking dirty.”

“I do not suck!” Eddie cries, grabbing the throw cushion from his lap to smack it against Steve’s smug face.

Steve catches the pillow and rips it playfully away from Eddie’s grip. “Then show me.”

Eddie stares at Steve for way too long. He narrows his eyes after a few seconds. “You’re kidding me.”

“Not kidding. I can’t help you if I don’t know what you’re doing wrong.” Steve leans forward, plucks the joint right out of Eddie’s slack lips. “Just pretend I’m on the other end of the line.”

“No way, dude.”

Steve curls his hand up to look like a telephone, pretends to dial in a number. Brings it up to his ear. “Riiiinngg. Riiiinngg. C’mon, Eds, you’re getting a sexy phone call. Pick up. Riiinngg.”

Eddie feels his face flush red. He’s not sure if it’s from where this conversation is headed, or out of sheer embarrassment for Steve’s sake. “Holy fuck. You’re such a loser, Harrington.”

“I’ll just pretend you already answered and said hello. Hey, Eds. It’s… wait, what’s this guy’s name?”

Eddie opens his mouth. Then closes it again, because Steve just said guy. Not girl. Guy. Is this a slip of the tongue? Or did Buckley out Eddie to Steve? Or Nancy?

No, neither of them would do that. Maybe Steve just figured it out from context clues.

But still, to be sure, Eddie just says, “What?”

“What’s his name?” Steve askes again.

So—shit—it definitely wasn’t a slip of the tongue. But Steve isn’t freaking out. Hasn’t freaked out in the past. And he’s looking at Eddie expectantly, but not judgy or anything.

Eddie clears his throat. “Nick.”

“Nick! Strong name. Not as strong as Steve, but not everyone can be a Steve—”

“Come on, man!” Eddie groans. Again. Hides his face. Again.

“Okay, Okay!” Steve clears his throat. “Hey, Eds, it’s Nick. What’re you up to?”

Eddie sucks in a breath and lets it forcefully out of pursed lips. “Uhh—hey, Nick… I’m…”—his eyes flick sideways to catch Steve staring at him with a half-smile on his face—“no. Nope! I can’t do this.”

Eddie goes to stand from his perch on the couch, but Steve’s arm shoots out to grab him. “Alright. Let’s just do it, you and me. No phone roleplaying required. Just start with saying a compliment you’d tell Nick or something.”

“Alright… Okay… Uh, you’re—I mean Nick—is really funny?” Eddie says. Nick isn’t all that funny but, fuck, it’s all Eddie can think of. Steve is funny, though, so it’s easy enough to say.

“Yeah, good. That’s good. What else?”

“And you’re really hot. Really fucking hot.”

“Good.” Steve shifts around on the couch, maybe trying to get more comfortable. “And then Nick would say something like, You’re really hot, too.”

Eddie stifles a giggle. “I really don’t think he would.”

“Well, just pretend he does. And then it’s your turn to keep the conversation heading in the direction you want it to.”

“By saying what, Harrington?”

“Try saying how I—Nick—makes you feel.”

“Okay. You make me feel… like I’m vibrating. Like I’m pressurized, or something.”

“Yeah?” Steve breathes, his voice dropping an octave. Probably just getting more into character. “What does that make you do, when you feel like that?”

“It makes me… makes me hard.” Eddie feels his hips pitching forward. His cock twitches under his flannel pants.

A dangerous game they’re playing. Maybe Steve doesn’t know just how serious Eddie was when he said he’s pent up.

“Fuck,” Steve says lowly.

“Too much?”

“No! Nah, it’s good. It’s hot. I mean, sometimes it’ll take longer to build into that kind of stuff, but keep going.”

Eddie nods nervously. “Okay. Uh, what do I say now?”

Steve sits up a bit to adjust the band of his sweats. “Sorry. So, you said it makes you hard. And then I’d say… me too. That it makes me hard just talking about it. Just thinking about it.”

Eddie’s dick is starting to properly fill out again. It makes sense since he never got to come after taking himself right to the edge before Steve came over.

He takes a steadying breath to try to will it away. “Shit. Okay.”

“Do you like that?” Steve asks. “Do you like thinking about how hard my cock gets when I think about you?”

“Fuck, Steve.” Eddie pulls at the hem of his shirt, desperately trying to stretch it beyond his crotch where he is most definitely about to tent his pants. Maybe if he wore boxers it would have been easier to conceal. “I don’t think we should do this.”

“It’s okay. It just means we’re doing good, right?” Steve slides his hips forward, making his sweats tighten against the bulge between his own legs.

Eddie lets his eyes linger there for longer than he should. There’s no way that Steve is getting turned on by all of this, but shit, he is. The proof is in the pudding—if the pudding is his dick that is suspiciously growing under the heather grey fabric.

He can’t help but blurt out, “I want to suck your cock.”

Because it’s true. Eddie’s mouth is watering just from the thought of it. But as soon as the words push past his lips, he realises that it’s not exactly fitting in the theme of phone sex. So he quickly adds, “If we were together right now. Instead of—uh—just on the phone.”

“Fuck, yeah. You’d suck my cock so good.” Steve licks his lips, and Eddie swears his eyes trail over his body, landing between his legs and then back up to his mouth. “I’d fuck your throat so deeply you’d gag and drool all over yourself.”

Eddie can’t help himself from groaning at that image. And as if his body is proving to Steve just how right he is, a trickle of saliva escapes the corner of his lips before he’s able to swallow it back.

He lifts his hand to wipe the back of it against his mouth. “Jesus, Steve.”

Steve shifts closer to Eddie. His voice is low and soft and seductive, and Eddie is having a very hard time remembering that this is a game as he says, “And then I’d ask if you’re touching yourself.”

The words echo those of Nick’s. But when Steve says them, he doesn’t sound horrified at the thought. He sounds like he wants Eddie to be fucking his hand while they talk. Like the thought turns him on almost as much as it does Eddie.

“I would be, by now,” Eddie confesses, wiping his sweaty palms against his knees. He desperately wants to trail them higher, wants to rub between his legs where he’s throbbing and hot. His pants feel like a sauna. They’re humid and sticky, and he knows it’s partly because he’s radiating heat, but also because his cock is already starting to dribble.

“I would be, too,” Steve says. “I mean, Nick would be, too. If I was Nick. And I’d—I’d ask how you were touching yourself. What it felt like.”

Eddie glances between Steve’s legs again. And—holy shit—Steve is hard. As hard as Eddie.

His cock is fucking massive, as far as Eddie can tell. Thick, and long, sitting sideways inside his pants against his hip. Eddie knows it would stand proud by Steve’s belly button if it wasn’t trapped.

And he’s also pretty sure Steve is circumcised by the obvious ridge he can see under the fabric.

Maybe it’s dumb, or false hope, or just how ridiculously horny he is (again), but Eddie is feeling encouraged. Because he’s not the only one who’s getting hot. He’s not the only one who’s participating, or the only one who’s bricked up.

So… why not get into it a bit more?

“I’d say that I have my hand wrapped around my cock. That it feels heavy in my hand. And wet. That I’m leaking all over myself.” Eddie’s hips pitch forward on their own accord, the sensitive tip of his dick deliciously grazing against the flannel of his pants. “And I’d tell you that it feels good. Really fucking good. But it would feel better if it was your hand instead.”

Steve is the first one to break.

Eddie can tell it’s an automatic reaction when he reaches for his cock and squeezes where it’s straining under his sweats. Awareness shimmers in Steve’s eyes, and he quickly pulls his hand away again. “Shit. Sorry.”

“It’s all good,” Eddie says fast as a whip, repeating Steve’s words from earlier. “Just means we’re doing good, right?”

“Yeah.” Steve’s laugh is small and breathy. “Really good.”

Eddie swallows his nerves, decides to see if he can keep whatever this is going. “What would you say after that?”

It seems it’s Steve’s turn to be flustered. Eddie can see red creeping up his neck, like his chest is flushed. It reaches his cheeks and makes him look all bright and pink. “I’d tell you what I’d be doing.”

“Which would be?”

“I’d be reaching under my pants, and I’d circle my fingers around my dick. Gently at first, because—because I’m sensitive down there. And I want to make it last.” Eddie watches as Steve’s hands lift back to his lap. And then pinch the hem of his shirt. A strip of his sun-kissed stomach flashes as his fingers tease against the drawstring of his pants. “Like this.”

Steve’s hand disappears as it pushes down into his sweats. It moves along the length of his cock. He adjusts so it’s no longer sitting sideways; it’s now straight up, as big as Eddie assumed, dangerously close from peeking past the waistband.

Eddie would not be upset if it did.

The best part is when Steve’s hand starts moving under the fabric. Long, soft strokes that Eddie can tell are featherlight, mostly just fingertips teasing against his skin. Just enough to make Steve bite down on his lip and his breath hitch in his throat.

“Steve—fuck.” Eddie’s mouth goes dry as he watches Steve touch himself. And he has a few fleeting thoughts.

First is the classic, Am I dreaming? Because surely Steve Harrington is not jerking himself off in Eddie’s living room on a Friday night while they say filthy things to each other under the guise of another dude.

Impossible.

The second comes after Eddie subtly pinches himself and doesn’t wake up. Which is, Is this a joke? Because now that he knows he’s (probably) not asleep, there must be some other horrible explanation for what’s happening. He racks his brain, plays back the events that led him here.

Eddie doesn’t think he could misinterpret everything. But he’s probably done dumber things in his life.

Plausible.

And the third—which is the thought that’s taking up the majority of his consciousness—is, Am I allowed to touch myself, too?

He doesn’t let himself consider this one too long. Because there’s no way in Hell that Eddie would be able to stop himself. Not if a gun was pointed to his head.

So he shoves his hand down the front of his pants and squeezes his cock way more aggressively than Steve.

It’s both not enough and instant satisfaction. Like when you start scratching an itch and it seems to get itchier as your nails dig into your skin, but at the same time it’s doing exactly what you need to soothe the discomfort.

Eddie’s lips part as he grabs his balls and gives them a taut squeeze. His dick basically weeps against his skin. So much precum is pushing from his slit that it’ll be a miracle if there’s any left when he actually comes. Fuck, he hopes this time he can actually come.

His heart is beating so goddamn fast in his chest that there’s a good chance if he stops for a second time this evening, it will give out. He really, really will die.

“Does it feel good?” Steve practically purrs the question.

Eddie nods fervently, but he’s not able to form words. He doesn’t know where to look; Steve’s blown eyes that seem more black than hazel, his hand that’s speeding up under his sweats, the damp patch that’s forming where his cock must be leaking nearly as much as Eddie’s if it has already soaked through the fabric, or the growing expanse of abs on show—flexing in tandem with Steve’s strokes—as his free hand continues to lift the hem of his shirt.

Fuck, Eddie wants to come. Right now. He wants to come right fucking now.

He squeezes the base of his cock, bordering on the verge of pain, to stop his orgasm in its tracks. “So good, Stevie.”

Steve’s head falls back against the couch cushion, his eyes flicking between Eddie’s legs, his mouth, back down again… back up. He’s pumping himself with more intent now, his wrist twisting with each upwards stroke. “I wish it was your lips on me. I just know how good they’d feel. You have perfect dick-sucking lips.”

Eddie attempts stroking his cock again. It zaps into the coil in the pit of his stomach, but if he goes slow he’s sure he can go at least thirty second before he’s on the edge again.

“You have no idea, Steve,” he says, his tongue wetting his lips like he just might fall to his knees and start sucking Steve off for real. “I’d keep them nice and soft like you said you like. The inside of my mouth would be so wet—fuck, I’m salivating just thinking about it. And then I’d seal them around your big cock and hallow my cheeks when you least expect it, and you’d fucking thrust into my throat in surprise—”

Eddie moans, dropping his grip on himself yet again. That time it was really close; he can feel his dick pulsing under his pants. If he were alone, he’d push them down and watch as his cock twitched against his abdomen, angry at the loss of his fingers at the last possible moment.

Across from him, Steve speeds up; his hand moving in quick, short bursts against his tip. He makes his own noise, his eyes rolling back into his skull and then closing altogether.

It takes everything inside Eddie not to grab himself and come inside his pants right then and there. Shit, Steve looks so fucking good. Eddie desperately wants to see more. The colour of Steve’s dick, the way it strains, if it’s curved or straight, if it’s shiny. He wants to see it leak, wants to see Steve’s fingers catch the pearls of precum that are soaking through his pants and rub them into his skin. Wants to see it web between his fingertips—sticky and white. Wants to suck it off of them.

Shit. Fuck. It’s a miracle Eddie isn’t coming untouched. He’s still right there, on the verge of his orgasm. One single, insignificant, breath of a touch would one hundred percent set him off.

Steve’s eyes open. He drops his own dick, wipes his palm against his t-shirt. And he scootches closer to Eddie.

Just the brush of Steve’s thigh against Eddie’s makes him tremble, makes Eddie feel like he’s going to lose any semblance of control that remains.

They’re pressed right against each other. The length of Steve’s leg is warm and strong against Eddie’s, bigger than his. Thicker. Just like the rest of him.

Steve spits in his hand. Eddie watches as it pools in his cupped palm, watches as Steve brings that hand back down to the front of his pants. He stretches the waistband away from his body, and for a split second, Eddie catches a glimpse of his cock. Just the crown, broad and pink like Steve’s lips, right before the elastic snaps back and covers him again.

Don’t come. Don’t come. Don’t you dare fucking come, Eddie Munson.

“And then,” Steve says, adding fuel to the fire, “I’m gonna bend you over the arm of this couch. You’ll look so hot, with your back arched and your ass on full display.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Fuck it. Eddie sticks his hand back down his pants, but barely touches himself. Just draws a line up the fat vein on the underside of his cock. He can feel his heartbeat under the pad of his finger.

“I’ll push into you so slowly. You’ll feel so full with my dick in your tight little asshole. And you’ll make those sexy little noises the whole time.”

Eddie makes one of them right as Steve says that—a low, quiet rumble from the back of his throat.

“Yeah, just like that. And then… then I’ll start fucking you. It’ll feel so good, Eddie.” Steve fucks his fist harder, his hips lifting from the couch like he’s chasing his own touch. His hand sounds wet on his cock, slapping and squelching each time it smacks against the base. “I’m gonna fuck you so good that you start crying. That you start screaming. Your scary neighbours will know how good I’m fucking you from the noises they hear coming out of your trailer.”

Eddie wonders if he lets himself come if it’ll be the end of whatever is happening. He knows for a stone-cold fact that he’ll be able to stay hard after the first time. But Steve doesn’t know that. Not yet. Maybe he should tell him.

But for now, Eddie tries to regain some control, some semblance of his quippy, cocky personality, just so he doesn’t come off entirely as a whimpering fool (if it’s not already too late). He tries to smirk. “Bold of you to assume I’m a bottom, Harrington.”

“A bottom?” Steve asks, and Eddie realises that maybe it’s a term that he’s never heard before. Because he’s straight… (question mark?). Again, Steve uses context clues. Smart guy. He presses impossibly closer into Eddie’s side, and asks, “Are you telling me you don’t want to feel my cock inside of you? Don’t want my cum dripping from your asshole for hours after we fuck?”

Eddie’s whole body vibrates. That’s it. The end. He fists his cock and pumps it hard, pulling his foreskin forward enough to cover the head, back to expose it, all underneath the checkered fabric of his pants. “I’m gonna come, Steve. I’m coming.”

His teeth bite painfully into his lower lip as he lets himself tumble from the ledge. Cum surges from his cock hard enough that he knows it would have painted his entire chest if it wasn’t contained inside of his pants. Each wave of his climax makes him whine aloud. It sounds crude, mixed with the slick slap of his hand against his skin.

“Shit,” Steve mumbles, staring as Eddie’s working fist, eyes blown wide like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.

And maybe it shouldn’t, but Eddie’s left hand reaches out with a mind of its own, gripping high on Steve’s thigh. Squeezing it hard enough to leave a bruise, while his right is covered with hot, slick cum.

“Don’t stop,” Eddie babbles, riding out his orgasm for everything it’s worth. “Keep going. Keep talking. Don’t stop. I’m not finished yet, I wanna come again. Please. Please.”

“Oh, fuck, Eddie.” Steve brings his own hand down atop where Eddie’s is still sunk into the flesh of his upper leg. For a moment, he thinks Steve is going to pry his fingers away, but instead he laces them with his own.

It’s such a simple thing, holding hands, but it feels intimate. Intentional. Like this isn’t just some game.

Eddie shouldn’t be thinking that. But he is. He is. And it’s the moment he consciously knows he’ll be ruined for anyone else. End game for Eddie Munson. Steve held his hand while they jerked off. He’s in love.

Steve yanks him from his internal monologue. “You can come twice in a row?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, his hand still squeezing between his legs. Each stroke sends a bolt of lightening through his entire body, but his dick barely softens in his hand before it stiffens back up to steel once more. “Usually more than that. Four times if I want, but—but not as much cum comes out as the first.”

“Oh my God,” Steve breathes. “Fuck, that’s so hot. Can I… Can I see?”

His eyes flicker down to Eddie’s crotch.

“Sure.” Eddie pretends he’s confident as he tugs down his pants, lifting his hips enough to push the fabric under them.

His cock springs free from where it was trapped.

He doesn’t want to be self-conscious of his body, but he can’t help but wonder what Steve sees. If he’s at all disappointed that Eddie’s dick isn’t as big as his. It he thinks it’s weird that he’s uncut or that his dick curves upwards. If he let his pubes grow too long.

But Steve’s eyes go heavy with desire, taking in every inch of Eddie. The way his entire dick is shiny and sticky with his own cum, how it gets stuck in the hair that grows below it. His fingers squeeze around Eddie’s, involuntarily or in encouragement, he doesn’t know. But it makes him feel better.

Eddie is about to ask if Steve would show him more, too.

Steve beats him to it. “Do you want me to—?”

“Yeah. Fuck, yeah.”

Steve brings the hem of his shirt to his chin, catching it between his teeth. His whole chest is on display, his olive abs flexing as he pulls down the front of his sweats, tucking the elastic waist under his balls. His hand circles his cock, so thick his fingers barely meet.

And now they’re both just… bare. Basically naked as they jerk off next to each other, hands still intertwined like they’re some sort of couple. Things go quiet for a few moments as they just watch each other. How their hands work against themselves, speeding up, slowing, twitching.

Eddie’s cum gets sticky on his hand, against his cock. When he pulls his fingers away from his body it feels a bit like glue, tacking his hand up so much that it’s hard to slide it over his length.

“Spit on it,” Steve whispers, like he knows exactly what Eddie is thinking.

Eddie nods, bringing his hand up to his mouth—

“Wait.” Steve unlaces his fingers from Eddie’s, grabs his wrist. “Can I?”

“Shit.” Eddie huffs a breath through his nose. “Sure, Harrington.”

Steve lets a long string of saliva fall from his pretty, pink lips. It wets Eddie’s palm, mixing with the cum that covers it, making it slippery instead of sticky. Instead of letting go, though, Steve brings Eddie’s hand down to his own lap.

“Wanna switch?”

And—holy fucking fuck. Eddie trembles with ill-contained delight. He doesn’t even reply, just wraps his fingers around Steve’s cock before he can even think about what’s happening. What it means. That it’s changing the dynamic—they’re getting involved with each other instead of just themselves.

It doesn’t even matter. Not right now.

Steve’s head falls back against the cushions. “Oh God, that’s amazing.”

Eddie slides his fingers up Steve’s shaft—so heavy and hot in his hand—just as Steve described he liked. Soft and gentle. He twists his wrist in the same way Steve touched himself, watches as his lips part and his brows crinkle together, marvels at the vision of Steve’s cockhead surging from his grip, so flushed against the paleness of his hand and the silver of his rings.

He squeezes a bit harder and watches Steve’s hips rut towards him.

“You look so good,” he tells Steve, voice getting lost behind the moans that Steve keeps loosing from his lungs.

“Eddie?” Steve pants, thighs twitching as Eddie dares to circle his thumb around Steve’s slit, gathering more wetness to join the rest.

“Hmm?”

“Were you serious earlier?” Steve asks, barely a whisper. “About wanting to suck me off?”

Eddie’s hand stills on Steve, his eyes shining wide with shock and want. “Yeah? I mean—yeah. Very serious.”

“…Would you?”

Steve doesn’t have to say anything else. Eddie is already sliding onto the floor, already grabbing Steve’s knees and spreading them apart so he can slot himself between them. As soon as he’s bracketed by those strong thighs, they clamp down against his waist. A powerhouse of muscle, locking him to where he kneels.

Eddie is slightly intimidated by Steve’s cock. Will he have to unhinge his jaw like some sort of python to fit it in his mouth?

He leans down and kitten licks the tip, testing how it might feel on his tongue. Steve’s body jolts from that alone, makes a little whimpering noise that makes Eddie’s dick dribble onto the carpet.

“That’s it,” Steve encourages as Eddie’s lips close around the crown of his cock. “That’s perfect. Fuck, I can’t believe this is happening. It’s all I think about.”

Eddie moans, opens his jaw wider, and then sinks forward. Steve’s cock glides against Eddie’s tongue. It tastes like hot, sweaty skin. And cum—whether it’s Eddie’s from his hand, or Steve’s pre, it’s salty and heady and makes Eddie’s mouth even more wet as he salivates.

“Fuuuuck.” Steve’s fingers bury themselves in Eddie’s curls, tugging him closer.

It’s different than his fantasies. Steve doesn’t smell like honey and almond soap, and Eddie’s nose most definitely cannot reach Steve’s pubes, even as the tip of his dick brushes against the back of his throat. But the dark curls at the base are exactly as Eddie pictured. Perfectly trimmed and up-kept, as nicely as the hair on Steve’s head.

Eddie can’t help but pull off Steve to trail his tongue all the way down his shaft. He noses along Steve’s inner thigh, shamelessly burying his face in that thick thatch of chestnut hair. And then he deeply inhales the musky scent of Steve.

Steve groans, shallowly thrusting against Eddie’s cheek, the tip of his cock grazing Eddie’s ear, getting lost in his mane of hair.

A rope of drool connects Steve to Eddie, his tongue lolling from his mouth to rub against the side of Steve’s balls as he drinks in his smell. He dips his chin lower, until Steve’s dick is standing straight up, resting against his forehead.

The noise Steve makes is fucking sinful—completely wanton—as Eddie shoves his nose into Steve’s balls and breathes him in, committing everything to memory. His scent, his taste, his sounds, his face—everything.

Eddie isn’t sure if this will happen ever again. Isn’t sure if it’ll even be acknowledged. So he’s going to enjoy every goddamn minute while he’s so up close and personal with Steve’s cock.

“Ah—Jesus Christ. You are a freak, Munson.” Normally, those words might hurt. But Steve says them with such lust that it can’t possible be construed as anything but a compliment. Eddie wraps his hand back around Steve’s cock and starts pumping him with purpose, sucking his balls into his mouth and rolling them around his tongue. The wet, slurping sounds are totally lewd in the quiet air of the trailer. “Shit. Ohhh—shit. I’m close. I’m about to come.”

Eddie hums in encouragement, keeps his lips sealed around Steve’s balls. His hand flies above his face until he can feel how tight Steve’s balls get, can feel his cock pulsing in his hand.

He pops off, rests Steve’s cockhead onto his tongue, and jerks him off fast and dirty.

“Eddie—Eddie!” Steve’s thighs tense around Eddie’s middle. Cum surges from his slit into the back of Eddie’s throat in thick rivers, coating his tongue and teeth in sticky white release that he happily swallows down.

Fuck, Steve tastes good. Feels good. Sounds even better as he comes with Eddie’s name falling from his lips. Eddie closes his eyes and revels in the moment, lets himself savour the twitch of Steve’s dick as it empties into his mouth, the intrusion as he thrusts into Eddie’s throat, and the threat of himself gagging against it. He keeps swirling his tongue, even as Steve’s cum stops spurting. Even as his noises become high, and his body starts seizing with each flick against his sensitive tip.

Eddie desperately wants to make the moment last forever, doesn’t want to acknowledge that Steve is basically crying from overstimulation above him.

Finally, the fingers in Eddie’s hair tug him away. He whines at the sudden emptiness, wants to lean back in and feel Steve’s cock soften completely inside of his mouth.

Steve’s eyes are still blown and lustful, and strangely soft, as he says, “That was so fucking good.”

He smiles and gives Steve’s knees a squeeze as he leans back, his own shaking under his weight as he hauls himself back up onto the couch. He feels a little weird now that Steve came, because Eddie is still hard. Still wanting. But he also came once himself. Not from Steve’s hands but from his words, and it was enough. Maybe he should just tuck himself away and let this thing end naturally—

Before he can make a decision, Steve is reaching towards Eddie’s lap. “Is this okay?” he asks as he wraps his fingers around Eddie’s cock.

Eddie lets his gaze fall between his legs. His dick gets swallowed up by Steve’s big hands. He likes the way it looks so red as it peeks out from his fist.

“Is that a real question?” Eddie’s hands flounder in the air before they land on the couch cushions and bury themselves there, his nails digging into the upholstery as Steve starts fucking him with his hand.

“I knew you’d be good,” Steve says lowly. “Knew your hands and your lips would feel incredible. I can’t believe how hard you made me come. I wanna make you come like that.”

Eddie’s jaw swings open and his eyebrows knit together, and he thinks to himself that it’s not going to take long at all for Steve to get what he wants.

Steve leans forward, and for a second Eddie thinks he’s going to put his mouth on him, but he just lets a string of spit fall onto the tip of Eddie’s cock and gathers it with his hand, spreading it along his skin that moves in tandem with his strokes. It’s almost as good.

“Oh, Jesus—Steve.” Eddie sucks in a breath as Steve’s fingers tighten, forcing a bead of precum from his slit. “I’m gonna come again. Keep doing that. Keep—keep doing that!”

Steve nods, watching as he works Eddie back to the edge. Watching as he expertly rubs his thumb against the spot that makes Eddie see stars.

His second orgasm is stronger than his first. Eddie’s vision blurs out of focus—probably because his eyes are crossing—and the noise he makes sounds like an animal getting fucking murdered. The muscles in his torso tighten and tense and shudder as Steve enthusiastically jerks his dick, cum gathering in his fist, eyes watching with rapt attention.

Eddie’s body goes limp as Steve slowly lets go of him. When he’s able to focus his eyes, he notices that Steve is looking at his hand in fascination, watching Eddie’s cum stretch between his fingers as he scissors them.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever done that,” he says, bringing his wet hand up to his face. Steve smells his fingers, and then decides to bring them to his spit-slicked lips. One of his fingers pop into his mouth, and he hums around it, as if he’s actually enjoying the taste of Eddie’s release.

Yep. Eddie could definitely, without a doubt, go a third round.

But before his dick does something stupid like get stiff again, he tucks himself away. “And? What did you think?”

Steve pulls his finger from his mouth, grabbing an old napkin from the coffee table to wipe the rest of Eddie’s spend from them. “I think I was wrong.”

Eddie’s heart hammers in his chest, waiting for Steve to start berating him or something for making him do something gay. Even though he’s pretty sure he wasn’t the one who initiated it.

But Steve just smiles and cocks his head to one side. “You definitely aren’t bad at dirty talk.”

A sigh of relief heaves from Eddie’s chest. He smacks Steve’s shoulder, but he smiles right along. “You’re a prick.”

As he stands to grab a towel from the bathroom, Steve calls behind him, “You seemed to like my prick.”

Eddie blushes ferociously. He catches his expression in the mirror and tries to wipe it away, but it’s impossible. He’s just bound to look like a totally fucked-out dipshit for the rest of his life, he guesses. As soon as the water runs warm, Eddie washes his hands and wets two towels. He cleans off his dick and his sticky thighs, and brings the second one to the gorgeous man who’s back to lounging on his living room couch.

“Did you?” Steve asks, taking the towel to better clean his fingers. When he shoves it down the front of his pants, Eddie adverts his eyes.

“Did I what?”

“Enjoy it?”

“Jesus,” Eddie laughs. “Yes, Steve, I enjoyed it. Fuck.”

“Good.”

Eddie sits next to Steve and tries not to let himself feel awkward. “Yeah. Good.”

“Want to watch Labyrinth now?” Steve casually digs into the bag he brought, grabs the VHS and wiggles it in front of Eddie’s face.

“Absolutely,” says Eddie.

They pop in the tape, and the TV screen glows blue before it starts playing through the ads. Steve sits next to Eddie, their thighs pressed up against each other, just like they had been before.

Steve reaches over and laces his fingers with Eddie’s. They stay like that for the whole movie.

_____

It’s been three days since Steve left. Since Eddie has even heard from him. Keith makes sure they don’t have many shifts together at Family Video (because they never got any work done), so it’s not uncommon that they go this long. But Eddie’s anxiety makes it feel like it’s the end of the fucking world.

God forbid he reach out to Steve himself.

But by the end of the third night, he gets a phone call.

“Hello?” he answers.

“Hey, man.” Steve is on the other line, sounding chipper and unphased.

Maybe Eddie was overthinking it.

“Oh, hey!” he says, a little bit too enthusiastically. He dials it back a bit, clears his throat. “What’s up?”

“Not much. Just got off work. I have the afternoon off.”

“Sweet.” Eddie nervously twirls the chords between his fingers. Time to be brave. “Do you—maybe—want to hang out then?”

“Yeah. That’s why I called, actually. I stole Psycho III from Family Video. Want me to bring it over?”

Eddie’s shoulders sag in relief. Things aren’t changing. Steve won’t estrange himself after what happened, because he’s a good person. Eddie doesn’t even know why he was worried in the first place.

“Sounds perfect.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah, cool.”

A few ticks go by, and then Steve quietly asks, “Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m just wondering…”

Eddie waits, the suspense nearly killing him. “Wondering what, Steve?”

“…What are you wearing?”

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jo-writes-fanfic · 2 months

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Love & Mischief

Loki x Female!Reader

Rating: M (Mature)

Warnings: There's nothing explicit, some allusions to sex, probably language, violence, and heavy descriptions of grief and loss, although there is somewhat of a happy ending.

Word count: About 2.9k

Synopsis: You're Asgard's goddess of love and loyalty, but you've lost your god of mischief, how do you move forward?

Author’s note: This is set in Thor Love and Thunder. Also if you've ever seen the last scene of the show Reign, it has an inspiration in this fic too. I've had a lot of grief and loss in my life lately and this felt very therapeutic to write. I've tried writing for Loki a couple of times but always chickened out, so I really hope y'all enjoy this and hopefully there will be more to come!

I am no longer using a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on!

“And what are you the goddess of?”

The words resounded in your head again and again and again.

When Hela said those words to you, years ago, you had fired back, so sure of yourself and your role in Asgard, your role in your life, your role in his life.

But now…

What was a goddess of loyalty and love who no longer had love? Who no longer believed in such things as fate and security in love?

Your powers should have died when he did.

It was an odd pairing to many, you knew. But it worked perfectly, your strengths and weaknesses worked in tandem and created a love worth fighting for.

But the fight was gone.

The god of mischief (and betrayal- some would argue) and the goddess of loyalty and love were a match made in Valhalla.

Until he was gone, ripped from you so violently that you still woke up screaming from nightmares regularly.

You sat next to your king in New Asgard during another security council meeting.

You were completely zoned out, thinking of bright blue-green eyes, dark curls, and a blade-thin smile. Valkyrie nudged you. “Hey, tone it down, you're bumming out the whole room,” she whispered.

You sighed and blinked out of your reverie, and finally noticed that the mood of the room, despite the recent good news that had been received (you can’t remember what it was - honestly, you forgot to pay attention, these meetings were very dull and tended to drone on) was altogether glum.

“Sorry,” you whispered back and reigned your mood in.

Normally, your powers were extremely helpful; tightening the bonds of loyalty in those around you, increasing love in both romantic and familial bonds, reading others moods - often influencing them, and sometimes even manipulating loyalties. But currently, drowning in grief as you had been the past several years, your powers were more of a burden than anything.

The heaviness in the room instantly lightened, and the conversation flowed in a more productive direction once more.

“We need to talk about these moods of yours,” Val said once she was satisfied that the meeting was going better.

“No thanks,” you grumbled, and promptly zoned out once more. You really preferred it when Thor was also a mess, before he got his shit together, and you weren’t the only one that hadn’t moved on from the repercussions of the war with Thanos. But you know what they say, misery loves company. And back then, no one nagged you as much to get your shit together.

“A little help here?” the king asked you, irritation in her tone.

Another disagreement had broken out, this time a fist fight. Honestly, you found it amusing and were inclined to let it go on for a while, but when Val glared at you, you stood up and clapped once.

Everyone stopped their movements immediately and looked up at you.

“Enough,” you said sternly. “Asgard, though we may have differing opinions, we all fight for the same thing, the prospering of New Asgard. Remember that,” you ordered, infusing the room with compliance, reminding them of their bonds of loyalty.

Everyone looked sheepish and sat back down.

You flourished a hand to Val and said, “My king,” giving her the floor.

She gave them all a rousing speech, it was honestly quite good, some of her best work, and then ended the dreadful meeting early, much to your relief.

“Good job, boss. Well, I’m off-”

“Not so fast,” she said as she caught your arm.

You sighed once again.

“Do we need to talk about this? About Lo-”

“Don’t say his name,” you hissed and the tension in the room raised significantly as your anger and grief filled the space, making the large room feel claustrophobic.

She sighed and took your hand.

“Look, I can’t pretend to know what you’re going through and what you’ve lost. We can all feel it from time to time and I know it’s an incredibly heavy burden. I’m just concerned for you and want to help you,” she said.

With tears in your eyes, you nodded.

“I’m concerned about me too,” you mumbled.

“What can I do to help? Tell me. Anything,” she practically begged.

“Nothing, unless you can drag him back from Valhalla,” you muttered and brushed past her.

And life continued to trudge forward. As a goddess, never had such a short amount of years felt so long, an eternity really.

You felt as if you were stuck in a time loop and every day was close to the same.

You woke up and for a split second forgot he was gone and reached across your bed to find it cold. Then, a wave of grief hit you that was so heavy, each and every time, that you forgot how to breathe.

Eventually you forced yourself out of bed, shoved some food in your mouth as you rushed out the door and met Valkyrie for early morning training. Then you usually sat by the sea and stared as the sun rose in the sky, thinking of him but trying so hard not to. And again, you forced yourself on.

You completed your daily tasks as the King’s right hand goddess; meetings, meetings, and more meetings usually. Most nights you sat at the bar, watched Valkyrie drink an ungodly amount, then when you got bored enough you walked through New Asgard.

You walked and walked, thinking if you moved enough, if you stayed ahead of your sadness, maybe it wouldn’t catch you in the morning.

It always did.

Rinse and repeat.

There were differences of course, sometimes, you had to leave New Asgard to do the whole ambassador thing. Occasionally Thor came to visit and brought along his various cohorts and problems.

Today was one of those days. You were improving in your hand to hand combat skills, according to your King, through your daily rigorous training sessions, which pleased you since you spent most days feeling like you wanted to fight the whole nine realms. And then, following your routine, you sat on the cliffside and stared at the sea.

You never even got to give him a proper funeral, you thought, which then made you think of Frigga and the beautiful funeral service for her that you had watched through tears.

A voice called your name, you looked back and for a moment, a blink and you miss it moment, you saw him. A flash of green-blue eyes and inky black hair, your heart skipped a beat and the vision was gone.

You shook your head in an attempt to clear it, honestly these flashes of him you’ve been having lately should be concerning, but instead you clung to them, desperate for any connection to him that you could get.

Although the true sight before you was one that made you smile, as Thor came up and wrapped you in a bear hug.

You wheezed and when he finally put you down he chuckled heartily.

“How are you?” he asked and you gave him a look like he should know the answer to that question.

“Well I have something that should cheer you right up,” he said as he steered you back towards the town.

“Does it involve needing my help to fight another dangerous life-threatening bad guy?” you asked wryly.

“Perhaps….” he said.

You huffed a laugh and said, “I’m in.”

The threat you were fighting turned out to be a whole lot more dangerous and life-threatening than you anticipated.

Which is how you found yourself on a ship with Thor, Jane, Valkyrie, and Korg on an unfortunate adventure to confront the God Butcher.

Watching Thor and Jane fall back in love was not doing much for your mood. Val handed you another drink and you downed it.

“Hey, hey, you’re totally bringing down the vibe, mate. This is supposed to be about love,” Korg said to you. You huffed and rolled your eyes.

You made an effort to lessen the dark cloud you’d brought on the ship.

“Do you think you’ll ever find love again?” Val asked you, after she confessed that she’d avoided any serious relationships for decades.

“No,” you said, like it was final.

“Really?” Korg asked. “Shouldn’t the goddess of love fall in love easily?”

You shot him a glare.

“I love. I love a great many people. But true love, like soulmates and shit, that only comes once in a lifetime. And after you’ve had it, you’re pretty much ruined for anything less. So no, I don’t think I’ll ever truly find love again,” you said with a sigh.

“Heavy,” he replied and you cracked up.

You laughed so hard you snorted, and at first your friends looked at you in shock, then joined you in laughter, and the room filled with love once again, the love of friendship, and you realized you’ve been overlooking the amount of love you actually had in your life due to your grief.

You grabbed Val’s hand and patted Korg’s disembodied head, and watched Thor and Jane reignite their flame of love.

“I love you all and am grateful for all the support you’ve given me,” you said.

“No final confessions,” Valkyrie said, “this is not the end for any of us.”

You nodded and then the ship reached its destination. The shadow realm yawned open in front of your vision and you gulped.

You had this horrible feeling, like dread, in the pit of your stomach, and you saw him again. That flash you’ve seen so many times recently, but more and more frequently since this misadventure started and that dread molted in your stomach into resolve.

You were certain and you were ready.

Of course the plan went immediately sideways. You crossed swords with Gorr the God Butcher and your heart threatened to pound out of your chest.

Yes, your sword fighting skills had improved, but not enough to be a good match for a seasoned warrior and god killer.

“What are you the Goddess of? Are you even worth my sword?” he growled out.

You gritted your teeth and went on the attack. Your rage filled the space as you dodged, slashed, and pushed him as hard as you could.

You could hear your friends yelling, but you couldn’t lose your focus even for a moment as he pushed back and fought with skill beyond your own.

And you realized you’d been doing this all wrong. You were fighting without your biggest asset, your own natural gifts and abilities. The powers that made you a goddess of Asgard.

He didn’t notice your impact on his mood because your rage didn’t even touch the deep well of his own, he didn’t feel your rage due to the mountain that was his own.

No, rage wouldn’t work, you thought, and as your swords crossed again you used your other hand to grab his.

Your power was more potent when you were skin to skin.

You poured love and loyalty into your enemy, thinking only of happiness and good memories, trying to lessen his rage. Trying to decrease his fight, hoping to convince him to put down his sword.

Your breath caught into a gasp as his emotions infected your own. His love and loyalty were intertwined with an ocean of grief. Just like your own.

And you were drowning.

His emotions, his rage at the injustice and unfairness and unending sadness felt so close to your own emotions that you were thrown back into a memory.

Your worst memory, actually, the day you lost him for good. And you knew your enemy was in his worst memory as well. The origin of his grief.

Just like you watched the origin of your grief as it unfolded in front of you once more. The reason for your nightmares, the reason you woke up screaming, you stepped back and gasped as the memory overcame you.

And Gorr did the same.

You think the sound might be the worst part. Loki’s choking. Or maybe it was the snapping sound, like a branch, a snap that ended everything for him. And for you.

And then there’s the sight. You couldn’t even describe it, it was too awful to explain. You’ve never spoken about it, even in the therapy sessions your King forced you to attend.

He thudded to the ground and you gasped as the vision cleared.

You were drowning in your own grief and it was clear Gorr was more accustomed to drowning than you.

He recovered one second quicker, and your battlefield reflexes were not quite up to par.

You slashed your sword up but all it did was clang against his where it was embedded in your stomach.

All the air whooshed from your lungs.

“You are not a god that deserves death, are you?” he said as he cocked his head. “But you lost faith in yourself, in what you stand for.”

You weren’t even sure you felt the pain. Maybe the shock inhibited your ability to feel any pain. You’d been injured before, sure, but you always felt the sharpness of it. But of course you’ve never been hurt this severely.

You tried to speak, but it came out as a groan.

“I am sorry,” he said and slowly slid the sword from your abdomen and you fell to your knees. Blood gushed and you saw that flash again.

“Beautiful,” you mumbled as you saw the flash of a wry smirk, eyes full of love, and a hand outstretched towards you. Beckoning you.

Finally, you thought.

The last thing you heard was Thor roaring and your king calling your name as she caught you before your body hit the ground.

There was darkness, utter darkness, and then a solid weight beneath you.

You realized you were laying down. You were laying on the most comfortable bed you’d ever had the pleasure of sleeping on.

Sleeping? Are you sleeping? Wasn’t there something…something painful? You couldn’t remember.

You blinked your eyes open and let out all the air in your lungs.

Your eyes filled with tears, this time happy tears. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you cried happy tears.

Loki laid beside you, close enough for you to touch, staring at you with such love in his eyes that tears spilled down your cheeks.

“Oh,” you gasped.

He reached out and cupped your cheek, wiping the tears away.

You sobbed, and he shushed you even as he pulled you closer. You buried your face in his bare chest and he crushed you against him, so tight, tight enough that you were sure he would never let you go again.

He ran his hand up and down your back, and with a start you realized you were void of clothes as well.

You awoke in the afterlife just as you would have every day of the best years of your life with him; naked in his bed after a night of making love with adoration in his eyes as he watched you sleep.

You took a shuddering breath and pulled back to look at him in the eyes once more, your hands never leaving his body, you ran them up his chest, across his face, twirled your fingers in his hair.

“This is Valhalla, isn’t it?” you asked.

“Yes, my love,” he said, and kissed the fresh tears on your cheeks away.

Then he kissed your lips. It was a delicate thing at first, but then it molted and grew until it felt exactly like it used to. The kiss cemented you to him, secured you right where you should be, where he had been waiting for you.

And all of the pain you experienced before that kiss didn’t even matter anymore. Because you loved him and he loved you, and that’s all.

His lips moved against yours and your tears mixed with his and it was perfect. You loved him, that’s all.

You weren’t angry at him for dying and leaving you alone. You weren’t drowning in heavy emotions anymore. You held no grudges or hard feelings over anyone or anything anymore, not now that you were in the arms of your greatest love once more.

“It’s been so long,” you gasped out when he pulled back and smiled.

“I know,” he said with a small smile.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“I am as well,” he replied, simply and sweetly.

You felt light as a feather. You felt released from your pain and anguish. You were with him again, and that’s all that mattered.

“Isn’t the introduction to Valhalla traditionally supposed to be much different?” you asked.

He smirked and mischief twinkled in his eyes, “It is possible I managed to bend some rules for you.”

You huffed a laugh and pulled him into another kiss. One that could’ve lasted seconds or could’ve lasted a lifetime. It didn’t really matter. You had eternity in the hall of warriors with your Loki, and you were secure knowing you died fighting for the ones you loved.

“Would you like me to give you the grand tour?” he whispered in your ear as he pulled back from your lips and began kissing his way across your skin.

“Maybe later,” you said as you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him atop of you.

“We have an eternity,” he promised and kissed you, slow and deep.

Tagging those who showed interest in this fic (thanks for the support!) : @thespiralstaircasewriter @bellaisasleep @elly-hiddlesherloki @izhunny @drachenkinder @spacefloosie

#loki #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson #loki laufesyon x reader #loki imagine #loki odinson #loki friggason #loki angst

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charlesswife · 1 year

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Una Noche En Monaco iv

Una segunda oportunidad (A second chance)

unem masterlist

pairing: charles leclerc x latina! reader

summary: after a one night stand between you and charles, he continues on with his formula one career. until two months later, you come back claiming to be pregnant with his child.

April 2023

"Are we going for ice cream now?" Fuck, I completely forgot about that.

"Umm not right now, sweetheart. We need to check on Percy, okay? Get everything ready for this week." I got Mateo in the car seat and took a long look at him. He is an exact copy of Charles.

"Mami, you're crying"

I touched my face. "I'm just so happy that you are such a good boy," I smiled at him. "You know, there are some people that are just cruel and evil," Mateo gasped.

"Like in the books?"

"Exactly like in the books. And those people might want to hurt Mommy, and take you away from me," I don't really know Charles Leclerc, but I do know I'm worth more than him. If he tries to take my little boy away from me, I will kill him.

"I'll protect you, Mommy," he made a fist, "I'm strong."

"Yes, you are, mi amor," I closed the door, as I turned around I saw Charles coming out of the bookstore, holding his phone to the side, taking a phone call. He was wearing black pants as well as a black shirt. He had his famous sunglasses on. He didn't look like the twenty-year-old boy I met almost five years ago. He looked different. More mature.

He stopped walking and as he pulled his sunglasses down he said, "Y/n?"

"Charles..." I murmured. He hung up the phone and walked towards me. I panicked and ran to the driver's seat.

"Wait! Y/n!"

I started the engine and drove off.

"So he saw you," Steph said. I let out a small “uhuh.”

"And you ran off," I uhuhed again "So what's gonna happen now?"

"What do you mean?" I asked her. I took a bite of my tiramisu.

"I mean, what are you gonna do? He knows you live here in Monaco and where you work," she leaned closer to me and whisper, "Did he see Mateo?" I looked at my son, who was in the living room playing with Percy.

"I don't think so, I mean I left so fast. I hope not." I love tiramisu, they are so flavorful.

She looked at me for a second and hesitantly she said, “Do you think… he might want to be involved in you guys' lives?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“I mean,” she continued. “would you let him?”

“I DON’T KNOW STEPH,” I yelled. Mateo stopped playing with Percy. I looked at him and said, “It’s okay Mate, keep playing.” I turned to Steph, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled but this whole thing me pone nerviosa, like why was he there in the first place?" It makes me nervous.

“Mira” Look “All I’m saying is that maybe… just maybe give him a chance” I was going to interrupt but she held a finger up. “Maybe he changed. Maybe he grew up. Maybe he’s different.”

“No.” I said.

“No?”

“He hurt me the last time I saw him. I won’t give him the satisfaction to see Mateo just because he feels like it.”

“Y/n…”

All of the sudden, my phone started to ring. My eyes widen, and with shaken hands, I flipped the phone.

Pascale is calling... I let out a big sigh and answered the phone.

"Hey, Pascale, how are you?" Steph grabbed a spoon and tried to get a piece of my tiramisu, I gently slapped her hand away.

"Oh, hello, Y/n. I'm at the store today," I completely forgot about that. Every weekend since last month, Pascale and I take coffee together and we talk. She became a good friend of mine, she knows my story.

"Oh yes!" I answered, "Steph told me, she said you came with your kids,"

"Yes, I wanted you to meet them, are you here now?"

"No, I had to leave to do some stuff, but maybe next time!" I told her.

"Yeah, maybe next time," some voice could be heard in the background, "I'll let you go, Y/n, my son is bothering me right now."

I laughed at that comment. "Alright, Pascale. See you soon."

"See you soon, belle." She said last and hang up.

For the first time in four years, I looked up any news recent news about formula one and Charles Leclerc. According to articles, this season hasn't been a good start for him or Ferrari. Last week, he raced in Australia but did not finish the race. His next race is in Baku in about three weeks. So I can either not get out of my house for three weeks, or actually confront him and let him in our life.

"Do you think I can quarantine for three weeks?"

"You wanna quarantine for three weeks? You barely even made it out of the pandemic and now you wanna quarantine for three weeks?" Steph tried to get a piece of my Tiramisu.

"Stop it! It's mine!"

"Oh, grow up Y/n. Why do you even wanna quarantine? Is this some sort of author method that you are doing to get your second book done?" Angelica, my literacy agent, has been quite pushy with the deadline for my second book.

"No..." I finished my Tiramisu and drank some water. "Charles is going to be here in Monaco for three weeks," I murmured.

"Girl... you're kidding me, right?"

I decided to be the bigger person and actually talk to Charles Leclerc.

I realized that it wouldn't be healthy for Mateo to grow up without a father. I don't want to be responsible for any intentional or unintentional trauma that I could cause him. I don't want to be in my late 30s and have Mateo yelling in my face saying I ruined his life just because he didn't have a father. I'm only doing this for Mateo.

Other than that, Charles Leclerc can go to hell.

Let's see how good of a father he can be when he has to spend most of his time traveling.

Charles' POV

What is the first thing you say to the woman you accused of being a gold-digger, manipulator, con artist after she told you she was pregnant with your child after you guys have the craziest and most exotic night of your life?

Sometimes I wish I could kick twenty-year-old me in the face for how stupid I was.

I walked into L'Incantato Restaurant, which was the restaurant Y/n decided to meet me. I was surprised when she sent me the address, as this has been a restaurant I've been wanting to go to since it opened, but there are never available reservations. There are three restaurants in Monaco, I've heard great stuff about the food and the service. The waiter guided me to a private area where only she was sitting. It was very private, and I knew we could have a free conversation here. She was sitting in the red booth side of the table, making it look like she was the center of attention

She was more stunning than the last time I saw her. Her hair is longer than what it was four years ago. Her body... Stop.

As I was getting closer to her, I saw her take a sip of wine as she was scrolling through her phone. Once I got in front of her, she put her phone away.

Once I sat down at the table I said, "Hi, Y/n. Thank you for agreeing to meet me here," I extended my hand towards her but she only started at it. I pulled my hand back. She was more beautiful up close. Her makeup was flawless, her eyeliner made her eyes look sharp and her red lipstick made her lips look luscious.

"I was surprised when you contacted me. I thought you wouldn't remember my name," She said as she swayed her cup of wine. I remember her name, I've been having her name stuck in my head for the past four years, but I know she's referring to the last time we saw each other when she told me she was pregnant and I told her I didn't even remember her name.

"Look, I'm so sorry for the things I have said," I started. "I called you so many horrible things that I regret deeply and I would never call a woman that. I was at the beginning of my career and I thought you were working for someone to mess me up. I am stupid and in my defense I was..."

"In your defense?!" Fuck... Wrong choice of words. I saw the waiter come to us with a bottle of wine. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" Once the waiter heard that, she turned around and walked away. "Don't try to play the victim here, because you are not. I am." She pointed at herself, "I told you the truth, I was a hundred percent honest the whole time, and still you kicked me out. So why, Charles Leclerc, should I give you a second chance?"

My heart was beating like crazy. Y/n was staring at me with her big brown eyes. I forgot what I was supposed to say. I forgot what the question was in the first place.

I was saved by a bell - or the waiter. "Hello, how are we doing tonight? I'll be your waiter for the evening, can I start you with any appetizers?"

Y/n looked at her and smiled. "I'll have my usual, thanks."

The waiter wrote it out in her notepad, "Of course, Miss Y/l/n," and then turned to me. I didn't look at the menu once.

"Ehhh, I'm sorry," I remember the question now! "Eh, I'll just have whatever the chef recommends." I gave her back the menus.

"If you guys need anything, just press the bottom on the side of the table," as soon as she said that, she left.

There was a moment of silence for us. I couldn't look at her again. I passed my hand through the red tablecloth and looked around the place. "I've heard great stuff about this place, how did you get a reservation? I've been trying to get one to come with my mom for months,"

She took a sip of her wine again and murmured, "I know the owner," she leaned her back into the booth and crossed her arms. Don't look at her ti- "So, my question."

"What question?"

"Why should I give you a second chance, Charles Leclerc?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

New Chapter!!

Is there crack in this story or what? The wayyy you guys have been asking for a new chapter is insane! I know how the story goes and what I scenes I want to put in it, I just don't know how to take it there! Idk if that made sense tbh.

Please let me know what you guys thought of this chapter and what are your predictions or theory!!

I was thinking that maybe I should make some sort of group chat so I could send a text when a new chapter is up because Tumblr only lets me tag up to 50 people and the tag list is suuuuper long.

If you guys don't know, I worked for the Miami Grand Prix last weekend and I would really appreciate it if you guys read about my experience there. In which I speak the whole truth of what I went through. Share it with your friends because stuff like this really needs to change.

My Experience Working For The Miami Grand Prix

On another note, have you guys seen Queen Charlotte? I watched it yesterday and I CRIED for 45 minutes, it was insane.

I lowkey wanna do Bridgerton! Charles Leclerc, but also sugar daddy Charles leclerc 👀, what do you guys think?

Taglist is closed!!!

@mac-daddy-210 @infinite-wanders @rbrsavage @itsyogurlkel @bbygrlllllll @nerdreader @imnotcryingyouare1 @killerangel88 @obx-mylove-things-blog @triorion @daniellarogers @insssanemind @bosinclairsgf @rb-danny @shyshva @booksobsess @ogfangirl @ravenqueen27 @masonspulisic @yunnie-f1 @simxican @ushygushybaby @graceverstappen11 @maximoff-xmen @severenswife @ferraribabe @pjofics @harrysdimple05 @mloyer @teti-menchon0604 @imagineadream @reidsworld @scentedskydreamer @christianpulisic10 @formulas-bitch @topguncultleader @hc-dutch @moonclaine @miureiz @tall-tanned-tattoo @madisontaxarn @bisexualbith @diasnohibng187 @im-just-here-toread @tyskills @rafaaoli @heavengirls111 @lighttsoutlewis @leclerc13 @c4ssi4-luv @livsans @ynbutbetter @marigoldgasly @vita-di-moda @sbrn0905 @yesshewrites1 @AmsOffTrack @fandomxs1 @ludmisorella @japanesekel @leclercsbae @padfootsiriusorionblackthethird @celestialams @dreamcarsound @bhiees @empathypostsf1 @marauderlover22 @zendayabelova @lord_leclerc @itsmesofia @Sebbybucky12 @notleclerc @dicaprio-leo @starkeyellow @spngi @karina-v20 @mskeisha69 @prrttyposts @vex-et-soleil @dessxoxsworld @thesurielscheesecake @btwimmel @67-angelofthelordme-67 @buckleyverse @Mickslover @formula1-bichyslut16 @allgaslynobrakess @Rossy1080 @staris23 @CelestialCharles @glitterf1 @f1-futurewag-16-3-4-63 @buckystwilight @Alionova

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gallavichsreddie1128 · 17 days

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Better (Soldier Boy)

Description: Soldier Boy notices that Homelander isn’t nice to his wife so he will do anything in his power to try and get her to leave him.

Word Count:1,852k

He watched from afar as Homelander yelled and screamed at his wife. She had made a mistake and Homelander was yelling at her, not in front of anyone but he still saw it. She was so damn beautiful and sexy, he really questioned how a fuckup like Homelander got a girl like her. “You were supposed to be here with my food 20 minutes ago!” He yelled at his poor wife who was trying to talk. “There was traffic, I’m sorry there wasn’t anything I could do.” “Oh there was traffic, huh? Well maybe next time leave earlier!” Ben couldn’t watch this anymore without wanting to kill him. He had to get that poor woman out of the situation.

“What can you tell me about Homelander’s wife?” Ben asked the boys as he walked through the door. They all looked up at him. “Y/N?” Hughie asked. “Yeah she’s his wife, right?” Hughie nodded. “So what can you tell me about her?” “Why do you wanna know about her?” Billy asked. “Homelander treat the poor girl like shit.” He said. Billy shrugged. “Eh well maybe the lady likes it.” He suggested. “Didn’t seem like it.” Everyone was confused as to why he wanted to know about her and why he cared. “What do you wanna fuck her or something?” MM asked. Soldier Boy looked at him with disgust but honestly she was breathtaking, maybe he did. “No, But she shouldn’t be treated like shit by her own husband.” He said. “She’s his wife and has been for years. She’s 10 years younger than him and she is unemployed.” Frenchie told him. They all look at the man. “What? It’s common knowledge.” “You won’t get her out of that marriage, so don’t try.” Billy told him.

Ben didn’t listen nor care what the others said. He kept a secret from the others. Homelander was his son and he hadn’t told anyone yet. He didn’t like the fucker and wanted what he had. He could treat her better than he was. It had to be fate when he saw her getting her poor excuse of a husband some food she could make. He wasn’t sure why he agreed to be the one to go get groceries for the boys but he was glad he did. He watched as she tried to reach something from the top shelf but couldn’t. He chuckled to himself and walked over to her. “Excuse me miss, do you want some help?” He asked her. She looked over at him and stopped reaching.

“If you don’t mind.” She said. He shook his head. “Not at all.” He picked up the item she was trying to reach for and handed it to her. “Thank you so much.” She said with a smile. He loved that smile now that he got to see it. “No problem.” He said and watched her put the item in the cart. “You’re Homelander’s wife, right?” He asked. She nodded but didn’t look too happy. “Yup.” She said. “Must be awesome being married to a superhero.” He said. She didn’t look thrilled about it. “Yeah, I guess.” She said. “Are you okay?” He asked her. “Yeah yeah I’m fine.” she lied. He knew she wasn’t telling the truth but didn’t say anything as he went his own way.

It was days later that he ran into her again. As much as he would like to plan these things it’s been accidentally. She was ordering coffee and he walked up behind her in line. His eyes widened once he realized she was in front of him. “Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?” He asked. She turned around and smiled at him. “You’re the guy from the store the other day.” She said. He smiled at her. “Yeah. My name’s Ben by the way.” He tells her. “Y/N.” She said. Though he already knew that. “You getting coffee for Homelander?” He asked her. She shook her head. “No he doesn’t need any. It’s for me.” She said. “Dealing with superheros stressful?” He asked. “Sometimes Yeah.” What she completely forgot about was the fact that Homelander had eyes on her at all times.

“Who the fuck was that guy at the coffee shop today?” He growled. “Just someone that recognizes me.” She shrugged. “Yeah well you had a whole conversation with him.” Homelander yelled. “Am I not allowed to talk to anyone?” She asked, clearly pissed off. “Not if it’s a guy.” She rolled her eyes at him. For being The Homelander he was very insecure. “Ok whatever.” She said to him. Tears threatened to spill down her face. She was so sick of getting treated like shit.

The next time they run into each other Y/N can’t hold back anymore. He sees her at a bar drinking which surprises him. He was there to get laid but now he’s curious why she was here. He walked up to her looking around to make sure Homelander wasn’t near. “Hey 3rd times a charm, right?” She turned towards him and laughed. “I guess it is.” Her laugh wasn’t as warm as it usually is, something was wrong. “What’s got you at a place like this?” He asked. “What? You're saying a lady can’t drink her problems away.” She joked. He chuckled and shrugged. “What problems are you drinking away?” She bit her lip and debated on telling him everything. She barely knew him but it didn’t feel like it. “Everything.” She said and looked at him, sadness filling her eyes.

“What’s Everything?” He asked, taking a seat next to her. She cleared her throat and took a sip of her drink. “You would think being married to a superhero would be amazing but it’s not.” At first she had a small smile but it dropped as she continued talking. “Homelander isn’t a nice guy. He’s not what the world thinks he is.” She whispered. He couldn’t believe she was telling him this. He already knew that but the fact that she trusted him enough to tell him. “What do you mean?” He asked. “He’s not physically abusive but he’s emotionally abusive.” She tells him. “Then why are you with him?” She let out a laugh. “I can’t just leave. It’s not that simple.” She shrugged. “Why not?” He was pissed at this point. “He won’t let me. He’s crazy, Ben.” She looks at him with tears in her eyes.

All he wanted to do was give her a hug and hold her in his arms and tell her she doesn’t have to deal with him anymore. Before he could do anything they heard a hard landing outside the bar. The door pushed open and the devil himself walked in. Everyone in the bar started cheering and taking pictures of him. He waved and smiled and walked through the crowd to where Ben and Y/N were. Ben looked at Y/N and saw her eyes widen. “Don’t worry Y/N. You won’t have to deal with him anymore.” Ben whispered to her. “There you are Honey. I’ve been looking all over for you.” He said as he approached her. She looked up at him with fear in her eyes. He still hadn’t noticed Ben. Y/N watched Homelander’s smile drop as he saw Ben.

But Ben wasn’t just Ben to him, he was Soldier Boy. “Honey, you didn’t tell me you met Soldier Boy.” He said. Y/N eyes widened and looked at Ben. “You’re Soldier Boy?” She asked him. He looked at her quickly and looked back at Homelander. “Maybe.” He said. Homelander laughed. “So you’re the man that wants to take my wife away from me?” Y/N looked at him confused. “Ben is just a friend.” Y/N told her husband. “A friend? Sure whatever you say.” Homelander said sarcastically. “You treat your wife like shit, son.” Homelander was confused by him calling him son. “Excuse me?” Ben stood up. “You heard me.” Homelander laughed. “Is that what she tells you?” “No, I’ve seen it for myself. You can play the good guy act all you want around the world but I know how you are and buddy you aren’t tough.” Homelander’s eyes turned red.

Y/N quickly jumped up from out of the chair and ran to Homelander’s side. “John, it's okay. Let’s go home.” She begged. “Y/N, Don’t leave with him.” Ben told her. Homelander looked at him with anger. “What’s your angle here, pal?” He walked closer to Ben. Ben wasn’t scared of him. That showed in his eyes. “Y/N deserves better than a poor excuse of a man like you.” He said. “Oh what? Like you?” Homelander asked amused. Ben shrugged. “Maybe.” That’s what made Homelander slam him into a table. Y/N gasped with tears in her eyes. The table broke but Ben got right back up and they fought. They were both Supes so it wasn’t an easy battle. The crowd watched in shock as the two beat each other up. Totally forgetting they were in public. Y/N couldn’t move. She was shocked by everything that was said and was happening. Ben was Soldier Boy and trying to take her from Homelander?

She watched as he straddled her husband and punched his face over and over again with super strength. Tears streaming down her face as she yelled at them to stop. Once Homelander was barely conscious Ben stood up and spit on him. The crowd didn’t make a noise as he got off the man and walked over to Y/N. He held out his hand to take. She had a moment to think on whether that was a good idea or not. He just beat her husband. But she thought back to all the times Homelander was mean to her after all she did for him. He deserved to get his ass beat. She took Ben’s hand which made him smile. They walked out of the bar leaving Homelander on the ground in pain.

They sat by the lake in silence. Not much was said since they left the bar. Y/N was still in shock by everything and didn’t know what to say. Ben looked over at her and saw how shocked she was. He didn’t blame her. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about me being Soldier Boy.” He said. She looked at him. “Was this your plan?” She asked him. He looked at her confused. “What was my plan?” “To get me away from him?” “Honestly yeah. I saw you two weeks ago arguing and he was being rude as fuck to you for no reason.” He said. “So all the times we ran into each other they weren’t by accident?” He laughed. “Actually they were.” She nodded and looked down at her wedding ring. “Well I don’t know how to thank you.” She whispered. She was now twirling the ring on her finger. “Go on a date with me.” He said. She looked up at him. She didn’t say anything to him. She got up from the bench and took her ring off. She looked down at it one more time before throwing it into the lake.

#jensen ackles #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy imagine #the boys season 3 #the boys amazon #the boys #the boys imagine #homelander #homelander x reader #homelander imagine #antony starr

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embrosegraves · 3 months

Text

𝔽𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕪 ℝ𝕒𝕔𝕖 𝔻𝕒𝕪

(request) Fernando Alonso x Reader Fernando helps the reader’s daughter to be brave. “Booping noses” and “Hand kisses”

Warnings: Google translated Spanish (i'm trying to learn the language but for now, Google.)

Race day for most people would mean complete chaos, it was no different for the Alonsos.

Even before you had met Fernando all those years ago, your whole life had been chaos incarnate. From working your ass off, to dating a Formula One driver, and even introducing said driver to your family (which included introducing him to your young daughter, Marta). It was safe to say that you were very familiar with chaos.

Which is why you were so surprised to find that Marta, at a very grown up 7 years old, was being so calm. This wasn’t her first time at a race, but it was her first time not going berserk at everything around her. Usually she would be running this way and that, trying to get the attention of every driver that passed you both. Some of them tried to talk with her, but they usually struggled as no matter how much English you taught her, Marta always forgot that not everyone spoke Spanish.

But that wasn’t the case today. Not one bit. You would have been more worried about it if not for the strong grip she had on your hand. Walking over to the Aston Martin hospitality building, you gently guided her to a table near the back. You knew that children often got embarrassed when asked particular questions, so you did your best to find a table that had a bit of privacy.

“¿Qué pasa Pequeña? Do you feel okay?” You squeezed her hand gently, trying to give her a bit of comfort and encouragement. [What’s wrong Little One?]

“Estoy nerviosa para más tarde.” She whispered. Giving her a good look over, you could see on her face and in her eyes that she was a little anxious. A part of your heart broke because you hadn’t noticed sooner. [I’m nervous for later.]

“¿Se trata de estar en el garaje?” You were almost certain it was. Marta had never watched a race from inside the garage before, usually you would watch from the hospitality. Marta nodded, the charms on her pigtails jingling as they went. [Is this about being in the garage?]

“We can stay here for a bit if you want, but do you think it might help if we talk to Fernando? He might be able to help you be brave.” It was almost a sure fire way to get her to do anything. As soon as Fernando’s name was mentioned in any conversation, Marta would latch on and engage in whatever was being spoken about for hours.

“Mamá, ¿crees que Fernando alguna vez se asusta?” It broke your heart to hear her voice tremble. Normally, if you asked a question in English, you would encourage her to answer in English as well, but given the situation, you didn’t try to correct her. [Mummy, do you think Fernando ever gets scared?]

“I know he gets scared sometimes. Even Mamá gets scared. But you know what helps?” she shook her head. “Hugs from your favourite person. Getting a hug can help you feel brave enough to do the things you're scared about.”

“¿Puedo abrazar a Fernando?” [Can I hug Fernando?]

“Of course you can Mija. Should we go find him?”

Marta nodded and got up from her chair, still holding your hand tightly. You quickly made the short walk over to the garage, showing your passes to the security standing outside. Once inside, you made your way to Fernando’s side to see him sitting down with a book in his hands. You weren’t expecting him to notice you over all the noise of the garage, but as soon as you started walking towards him, he looked up and right at you both. He started smiling before seeing just how scared Marta looked to be in the garage.

Fernando didn’t even mark his page before he put the book down. He stood up and gave you a sweet kiss before crouching down to be the same height as Marta, who was now clutching tightly to your leg.

“What’s the matter, Mija?” Fernando had spoken the question to Marta but he was looking at you.

“She’s just a bit scared to be watching from the garage today.”

“Ah.” Fernando gently unlatched Marta’s hands from your leg and held them both in his. Now that she was facing him, he tugged her a little bit closer to him. “Do you know what helps me feel less scared?”

“Mamá said a hug helps.” You almost couldn’t hear her over the noise from the mechanics.

“Your Mamá is a very smart woman, Marta.” You couldn’t help a small smile from appearing. “Can I give you a hug?”

Marta didn’t answer. She just wrapped her arms around Fernando tightly and buried her face into his neck. Fernando wrapped his arms around her just as tight. He made sure he had a firm grip on her before he stood up. He started swaying and whispering to Marta in Spanish. You were forever thankful that you had met Fernando when you did. You had no idea how you would’ve raised Marta by yourself.

Fernando didn’t let go of Marta until he was told that he needed to start getting ready to be in the car. He gently nudged her and asked if she wanted to help him. Marta was feeling a lot better, if the way she enthusiastically nodded her head indicated anything. Fernando gently put Marta back on the ground and led her over to where his things were. She helped him put his gloves and balaclava on, quickly getting another hug before he put on his helmet.

“Do you think you can be brave enough to look after your Mamá?” Fernando asked her, his visor still up. Marta had a serious look on her face.

“I can do it.” Her serious look was gone the moment Fernando booped her nose. Right before Fernando moved to get in the car, Marta reached up and flicked down his visor and then booped the helmet where his nose would be. Fernando gave her a fist bump and then finally got into the car for the race.

Fernando had ended up finishing in P4, only just missing out on the podium. You were originally going to wait in the garage for him to come back after the race, but Marta had decided that it would be easier to look after you if you were in the hospitality. You had texted Fernando to go there after the debrief so he wouldn’t spend ages trying to find you. Soon enough, Fernando was walking towards you, no longer in his racing suit. Before he could even greet you, Marta had started barrelling towards him. Fernando had crouched down in his spot so that she could hug him easier.

“I did it! I did it! I was being brave like you and I took care of Mamá, just like you said!”

“You did an amazing job, Mija. I’m so proud of you!” Fernando’s arms were wrapped around her tightly.

Getting up from your seat, your heart swelled with love at your boyfriend and daughter. Walking over to them, you held your hand out for Fernando to take.

“You did so well, Mi Amor. You drove brilliantly.”

Fernando brought your hand to his lips and kissed it. That one kiss telling you everything you needed to know. That he loved you and your daughter. That no matter what happened he would always be there to help you with anything you needed.

He kissed your hand again before standing up. Settling Marta on his back, he began leading you to the car that would take you all to the hotel to finally rest after the busy day.

So to be completely honest, I had this basically all finished, but then some shit happened (non F1 related) and it may have taken me a while, but i finally got it done

Also, I'm sure you noticed that I took a bit of inspiration from KMag and his daughter. The clip of her helping her dad get ready for a race is just so cute!

I hope you enjoyed!

As usual likes, replies and reblogs are always appreciated

#formula 1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #formula one #fernando alonso x y/n #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso #formula 1 #fernando alonso fluff #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso fic #f1 blurb #fa14

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steddieas-shegoes · 11 months

Note

Request: ok so listen; so Steve Harrington who didn't tell anyone he gets into a medical school (Indiana University School of medicine) but he travels to school during the week and Mike finds the graduation letter in Steve's apartment. He graduated as a premed student with a full scholarship to Harvard Medical school for the trauma surgeon program. The party realizes that their constant jokes making fun of Steve's intelligence caused him to not tell them about this. I want a mixture of angst with a full proper apology & a few years later him graduating from Harvard with the party cheering him.

MY LOOOOOOVE!!!! Nothing gets me going quite like a secret super smart Steve Harrington. Is it OOC? Maybe. But writing Steve as a fucking Harvard Med School graduate!!! A whole trauma surgeon!!!! YES!!!!! I obviously had to put some Steddie in there, mostly because Eddie deserves a happy ending, too and any chance I have to give him one, I will. - Mickala ❤️

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

Steve was late. He’d been late a lot recently.

Mike started driving a few weeks ago, got his hands on Nancy’s car since she was busy traveling the world now, and he’d been quick to pick up the slack.

But he was growing impatient.

When they asked Steve why he was late, he shrugged it off, said he forgot. Everyone just went with it because obviously Steve’s kind of scatterbrained and a few fries short of a happy meal, especially after the head trauma.

But Mike was suspicious.

Steve let it go a little too easily.

And Eddie hadn’t stuck up for him like he usually did when they were teasing his intelligence.

Mike was letting himself into Steve’s apartment, using the key that he kept under the mat so the kids always had a place to go if they needed it.

He wasn’t home yet, but Mike had just been to Family Video and he wasn’t there either. Apparently, hadn’t been in at all today. Keith said something about ‘taking the day off for exams.’

Steve wasn’t in school though, so that meant he was lying and Mike wanted to know what he was lying about.

He looked at the counter, saw a large stack of mail, and decided that was probably a good place to start his search.

Most of it seemed like junk, a few bills, a letter from Robin, and an envelope that was torn open already from Indiana University.

If it was already open, it was fair game. That was his motto, at least.

He pulled out a thick stack of papers.

The seal in the corner of the first page said School of Medicine.

Was Steve sick? Had he started seeing the university doctors because of some weird problem with his head? Maybe that’s why he’d also been so forgetful lately.

Maybe they put him on a new medication trial or something and it was a side effect.

But he kept reading and felt his chest cave in.

Dear Mr. Steven J. Harrington,

It is a great honor to announce your successful completion of the pre-med degree program at Indiana University. Your incredible tenacity has proved that you’re prepared to work through any medical school program in the country.

Graduation is currently set for May 18, 1989. Please contact your advisor to reserve tickets by April 28, 1989.

Thank you for trusting Indiana University with your education. We look forward to seeing your accomplishments in the future!

“Holy shit.”

“Why are you reading my mail?”

Mike jumped at Steve’s voice. He’d been so busy reading the letter, he hadn’t heard the front door to the apartment open.

“You’re going to med school?”

“Hopefully, yeah.”

“What the fuck?”

Steve rolled his eyes and made his way to the fridge, grabbing a can of soda for himself.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, like. You’re. You’re you. How are you going to med school?”

Steve’s brows furrowed as he leaned against the counter and sipped at his drink.

“I graduated from pre-med as valedictorian. I’m not sure what you’re asking.”

“You? Valedictorian? You barely got through high school!”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“I hated high school. I was going through a lot of shit. It wasn’t because I’m stupid.”

Mike’s mouth was gaping like a fish, confused at literally everything that was happening.

“But-“

“I also just got into Harvard on a full scholarship if we’re gonna put it all out there. I was gonna tell everyone this weekend at El’s birthday party but I’m sure you’re about to run to tell them all.”

Well, how could he not? Steve had been hiding going to college for years! He was about to move to Harvard!

“Wait! Is Eddie going with you?”

“Yeah. We found an apartment over a record store and the owner hired him to run the store while he transitions into retirement.”

Mike felt like he was in an alternate universe. There was no way Steve Harrington was going to be a doctor. There was no way Eddie and Steve were moving to Boston.

There was no way he was leaving all of them.

“But. But what about us?”

“You guys are all practically adults. You barely even hang out with me anymore unless it’s to get a ride or get snacks for Hellfire. You didn’t even notice I was driving to and from campus for years. I think I’ve given enough of myself to people who don’t seem to want it,” Steve shrugged, looking down at the floor.

Mike wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, but he also kind of just wanted to hug Steve and tell him that wasn’t true.

But it kind of was, wasn’t it?

They’d all taken advantage of Steve’s kindness for years. He’d been the best damn babysitter they could have, saved their lives multiple times, gave them money for the arcade and dates and pizza for pool parties when he lived in his old house.

They grew to just expect it.

He didn’t even know the last time he’d heard anyone say thank you. He certainly hadn’t said it in a long time.

“But, Dustin will be devastated.”

“He’ll be okay. He’s gonna go to MIT when he graduates and he’ll be right around the corner or something. I dunno. He hasn’t even called me just to talk in months. I don’t think he’ll miss me that much.”

Which just. It wasn’t true. Mike knew for a fact that Dustin would be heartbroken about Steve leaving.

“I.”

“It’s fine. Eddie’s gonna be home soon so if you wanna wait for him that’s fine. I’m gonna go shower and get an early night. Been up since three this morning.”

“Did you really have exams?”

“What?”

“I checked to see if you worked today and Keith said you had exams,” Mike said shakily, feeling entirely off balance.

“Oh. I just had to do an entrance exam for Harvard. They let me take it on IU’s campus since I can’t move until two weeks before classes start.”

Mike nodded once.

This was really happening. Steve was leaving.

Steve was going to Harvard.

He was taking Eddie with him.

And not a single one of them had bothered to notice any of it happening.

————————

“I told you I don’t know! I’m giving you everything I have!” Mike yelled at Dustin, who was pacing and clearly trying not to cry.

“It just doesn’t make sense! He always acted like he didn’t understand half of what we were saying when we talked science stuff!” Dustin yelled as he walked back and forth across the floor, wearing a pattern into the carpet.

“Maybe it’s because we’ve always just assumed he’s dumb. I mean, none of us really treated him like he could keep up, so maybe he just. Didn’t,” Lucas shrugged.

“He could’ve told us!”

“Or maybe he didn’t want to since we all thought he’d be lying,” Max added from her chair in the corner.

“He could’ve proved it!”

“Maybe he didn’t want to have to,” Eddie said as he walked in the room.

Hellfire was at Dustin’s tonight, and Eddie had been late.

His sudden appearance made them all cower where they sat or stood.

“No Hellfire tonight. I was gonna call, but had to drive by here anyway. Steve’s having a bad night and I’m pretty certain it’s your fault, so I’m gonna go try to get him through it.”

It was a bit harsh, but not undeserved.

“Why didn’t you tell us, Eddie?” Dustin asked quietly.

“It wasn’t for me to tell. He was going to when he got accepted into IU, and then you guys spent most of that night telling him he wouldn’t understand what you were talking about with your group science project so he kept it to himself. Then he just decided it wouldn’t be worth trying to explain anything since you wouldn’t believe him anyway. He asked me not to say anything until he announced his graduation and Harvard this weekend, so I didn’t.”

“But we would have been proud of him! He could have shown us his acceptance letter or something.”

“That’s not how you made him feel,” Eddie shrugged before turning back towards the door. “We’ll see you at El’s party.”

When Eddie left, the room was silent.

Everyone was deep in thought, trying to unpack everything.

With Hellfire canceled, they didn’t have much of a reason to stick around, but none of them felt like being alone.

Not when they started to realize that Steve was kind of the glue that held them all together and without him, they may not ever be whole again.

—-----------------------

El’s party was simple, just the usual guests and some cake and balloons. She didn’t like a big thing, usually preferred to have a sleepover with Max and just do their nails and listen to music.

Joyce insisted on having a little get together though, said it would be nice to celebrate something since they hadn’t really since Will’s birthday.

Steve was there, holding Eddie’s hand in the corner, talking with Hopper while Eddie talked with Joyce.

Steve told them everything when they got there since the kids knew, and while he knew Joyce and Hopper were happy for him, for both of them, they could send their shock.

All of the kids had hesitantly hugged Steve when they got there, barely saying anything to him, unsure where they stood.

Steve felt like he was closing the book on his life in Hawkins, and he hated that it felt like no one would join him in the next one except for Eddie.

Throughout the day, the kids would find their way up to him to just be close, soak in Steve’s energy, try to appreciate him now because they clearly hadn’t been before.

He let them. He could have told them to go away, or tried to talk them into apologies, but it wouldn’t do any good right now, and he didn’t want to ruin El’s birthday party.

Eddie could tell he wasn’t himself, though. He saw the way Steve’s eyes dropped down to his lap every time one of the kids would walk away from his side, how his leg started bouncing when things were quiet for more than a few seconds.

“You wanna head out?”

“I-”

“Steve? Can we talk to you for a minute?” Lucas asked, the rest of the party behind him watching with wide eyes.

“Oh. Sure.”

Eddie patted his knee and stood up, but Lucas gestured for him to sit back down.

“You, too. We owe you both explanations and apologies.”

So, Eddie sat. He would support Steve through whatever this conversation entailed, and maybe get something else out of it too.

“We all want to take turns saying stuff, but I wanna start,” Lucas said, playing with his hands nervously.

Steve nodded, always more patient than the kids deserved.

“I always saw you as the jock, ya know? Like, I respected you because you were a great basketball player and you had a lot of friends. I just kind of thought that was who you were, even after high school. You always made time to help me over the summer, even when you’d just worked an opening shift or had to go in for a closing shift. I didn’t really consider you an adult, even though you were. You were just there. You protected me, all of us, from some of the scariest shit any of us will ever have to deal with without even taking a second to consider your own safety. You just did it. And I don’t really think any of us thanked you. None of us would be here without you.”

Lucas was biting his lip, trying not to cry as he wrapped up his speech, but didn’t get a chance to start before Will started talking.

“I haven’t spent as much time with you as the rest of these guys have. But I know that you’re always there. You give me a ride when my mom can’t and you always slip me an extra $1 or 2 when we go to the arcade because you know I don’t have much. You hung up my art on your apartment wall even though it sucks and isn’t your style because you wanted me to know that someone supports me. You’ve been one of the only constants in our crazy lives, and we haven’t done nearly enough to show that we appreciate you,” Will wiped his eyes quickly as he turned away to let someone else speak.

“Billy was an asshole to all of us, but especially to you. You could’ve walked away that night, left Lucas and me to defend ourselves or die trying, but you didn’t. You knew he was a racist piece of shit and you got another concussion just so he wouldn’t lay a hand on us. That was the first time I ever had someone stick up for me like that. And after everything with Vecna, you were the one who always checked in, made sure I had rides to appointments, had food I could easily make when my mom wasn’t around, brought me to the skate park as soon as I was cleared by my doctor. I’ve never had someone who cared so much like you do and I’m sorry I didn’t know how to show you that it meant so much to me,” Max said seriously.

Steve was sniffling, and Eddie knew if he tried to comfort him too much right now, it would just make it worse. He squeezed his hand and wiped the tear falling down his cheek as the kids continued.

“I hated you for the longest time. I thought it was your fault Nancy changed, and then I thought it was your fault when Nancy and Jonathan got together, and then I just hated everyone and everything for a while. But I think it was just easy to use you to blame everything on because you let me. You just let me treat you like shit. You let me complain about your driving while you drove me anywhere I wanted to go. You let me blame you for Nancy being upset about the break up when she was the one who hurt you most. You let me think you were stupid when you’re brilliant enough to go to Harvard on a full scholarship. You let all of us take advantage of you and I don’t know why, but I wish I could turn back time and not let you do that. You didn’t deserve to be used by any of us, but especially me,” Mike said surprisingly sincerely.

In fact, Eddie watched Mike take a few deep breaths like he was holding back a sob.

“I am sorry for how we all treated you, Steve. I did not know that we hurt you. Dad said sometimes the people who hurt the most are the people who accept hurt as the way they are supposed to be treated, but that is not true. You should be loved so much, like Eddie loves you, by everyone. We should have done better,” El said as she held Max’s hand.

Dustin had been incredibly quiet, hiding in the back, not even looking up from the ground. Eddie could tell he wanted to say something, but probably didn’t know how to start.

It was no secret that Dustin was Steve’s favorite kid. It was also no secret that Dustin loved Steve like a brother, maybe even more, and that if Steve was upset, Dustin would want to make it right.

“I never had someone to look up to until you came around,” Dustin started, still not looking up from the ground. “My mom always felt bad that she didn’t give me a good role model or a brother or sister to look up to. But when you started watching over me, she felt like it was better this way. ‘That Harrington boy is special.’ That’s what she says all the time. And I guess I got used to her saying it and just didn’t think anything of it anymore. Like, yeah, you’re great. You do all kinds of stuff for me and for all of us, but it just felt like you wanted to so what made it so special? When Mike told us everything, it hit me that even if you wanted to do all that stuff, you still deserved a thank you. You went out of your way to make us safe and happy, and our only way to repay you was to constantly put you down and bully you. We spent years calling you out for what an asshole you were in high school while we ended up being assholes to you. You’re my brother and I haven’t been good to you. I’m sorry.”

Eddie was watching as Steve finally let out a sob he’d been holding in for too long. He pulled him into his chest, watching as the kids all wiped tears of their own away.

He knew the kids were genuinely sorry, he could tell that when faced with the reality of the way they treated Steve for years now, they felt terrible. But he also knew that Steve let it go on too long without saying something, and that it would take a while for him to really figure out a good balance of being there for the kids he loved and setting boundaries he needed to set long ago.

“Can you give him a minute guys? I’m sure he wants to talk to you all, but I think he just needs to calm down.”

The kids all nodded and scurried away.

They weren’t kids anymore, was the thing. They would always be kids to Steve, though. That’s why this was hurting so much. They were his nuggets, and they’d been unintentionally hurting him for years.

Steve had been so excited to tell them about getting into a pre-med program at IU, and when he couldn’t tell them, he changed. He was withdrawn in ways Eddie had never seen or expected. He was focused on school, and their relationship, but nothing else. He would go through the motions of driving the kids where he could when he could, throwing the occasional pool party, keeping up appearances.

He’d been exhausted for two years now. Running on fumes for miles, no end in sight. Until he got his acceptance into Harvard.

Eddie had never seen him so happy or proud of himself.

But the happiness faded quickly when he realized what telling the kids would mean, what going to Harvard would mean.

It meant moving, it meant leaving the kids, it meant spending the next 6-8 years so focused on school and residency that he probably wouldn’t have time to visit much outside of major holidays. It meant hoping that Eddie would come with him, support him, and love him regardless of the limited time he had to spend outside of school.

But Eddie would be there for every moment. He’d worked so hard, and Eddie wanted to be there for him every step of the way.

The kids would understand. They were almost graduated at this point, probably heading off to college themselves, and had their own lives to start.

“I wish I’d just told them about IU.”

“I know, sweetheart. But we can’t change the past. You’ve got such an amazing future ahead of you. Everyone is gonna be so proud of Dr. Steve Harrington.”

Steve smiled at that as Eddie dried his tears away.

When he’d calmed down completely, he walked over to where the kids were sitting on the porch.

He stood in front of them with his hands on his hips, a small smile on his face.

“If I forgive you all, will you stop looking like I just stole your ice creams and kicked your puppies?”

Dustin was the first to jump up and run into Steve, sobbing when Steve’s arms wrapped around him.

“It’s alright, bud. I love you, even when you’re a shithead, okay?”

All of the kids piled into Steve’s arms and around his back, all of them crying as Steve started telling them all about his program.

“I’m going to be a trauma surgeon. I was always pretty good at patching everyone up after Upside Down shit, so I figured why not make it a career? And I placed so high on the entrance testing, they suggested I go for pre-med instead of the EMT program. One of my professors my first semester suggested being a surgeon, so that’s the track I took.”

The kids looked at him in awe, like they were seeing him in a new light.

Eddie thought maybe they were finally seeing the Steve he’d seen all along.

—---------------------------------

May 11, 1997

“Steven Joseph Harrington, MD, summa cum laude.”

The cheers from his group were so loud, but they all ignored the dirty looks from the surrounding family and friends.

Steve Harrington was a Harvard graduate, a graduate with the highest honors, a trauma surgeon who already accepted his first position in a nearby hospital.

Everyone was so proud of him.

Wayne and Eddie had arranged for everyone to either ride in a rental car with Wayne or fly in to surprise Steve for his graduation.

He could see Steve look up into the crowd when he heard the screams, could see the grin spreading across his face as he realized his whole family was here to support him, just as they had been for the last eight years.

Everything Steve wanted and worked for was coming together, and everyone who believed in him was here cheering him on.

He was the best damn babysitter those kids had, and now he’d be the best damn trauma surgeon Boston Children’s Hospital would ever have.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #the party #ficlet #request #steve is actually incredibly smart and this is my ted talk #eddie is about to become a housewife who works 'for fun'#that boston surgeon money is about to make steve his sugar daddy

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tw1l1te · 19 days

Note

Your writing is sooo good, i especially love the suggestive's one. And the smut 🙈

I really loved your story with the reader showing skin et flirting. Do you think you could do the same with War (my fave) and Time pretty please? ✨💖

And sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language

Anon 🐎

I love Time so much, he helps with the daddy issues

𓇢𓆸.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Wars

Being a Captain was difficult in so many factors.

He had to be precise, smart, authorative, put together.

And right now, he is the complete opposite of those things.

After a messy run-in with some enemies from Legend's Hyrule, most of the group was covered in blood, monster guts, mud, you name it.

So Time suggested they all go wash up in some nearby hot springs, specifically the more private ones for your sake.

By some blessing or curse, Wars was allocated the same hot spring as you, the hot mist of the spring already getting to him

You told him that you'll go on the opposite side of the spring to avoid any awkward eye contact or body's touching.

You both turned around to give each other privacy, stripping all of your clothes and setting them on the side to be washed after they were clean.

You got in first, sighing at the hot water encompassing your entire body. You kept your back turned as Wars got in, letting him have some of his dignity

At the go-ahead, you turned around propping your back against the rocky wall, lazily scrubbing away at the caked-on blood and mud on your forearms.

Wars followed your motions, trying to distact himself from the growing bulge under the water. It was impossible considering the curve of your breasts was very visible through the water and your bare shoulders looked a little too unmarked-

"Wars? Can you get the mud off of my back, you know how unflexible I am."

He nodded, knowing if he said a word his voice would crack, giving away his little problem

Just half a foot away from him, he gently scrubbed the mud off, not going any lower than the surface of the water, after all, he was a gentleman he didn't want to be

You suddently spinned around, your face meeting with his chest

"Why don't I help you out...?"

Pardon-

Did he hear you correctly?

Did you want to...

"Turn around! I'll get your back, you stink!!"

By the Three, he needed to keep his mind out of the gutter.

Time:

He wasn't sure the last time he saw himself wearing the Hero's Garb.

It must've been, what, 5 years ago? 10? He lost track of time.

So when Wild showed him the outfits he had stashed in his Slate, he was suprised to see that it was the very same tunic, and not a replica.

He was suprised a second time when he saw the whole set being worn by you: his Sunflower

You walked back to camp, entranced in a flower you were holding, too preoccupied to notice the eldest taking your form in

By the Three, he forgot how skintight those tights were... but you made them look tailored to you

You look up, a slight blush on your ears, "O-oh, hey! Wild gave me your old tunic to wear, I hope you don't mind."

"I don't mind at all, Sunflower."

He wish he could've taken a picture of how cute you looked, stuttering and blushing.

You walked up to him, the curve of your ass being just barely visible for him to see. Something about you in his clothes made his darker side ignite.

You were called by Wild, needing you to taste something by the fire. You jumped up, jogging up to wild as the short green tunic flounced at your movement. Your chest bounced slightly as you skipped to the cook, Time's eyes slightly lidded at your form.

You leaned over, hands on your knees, giving Time the perfect tease. You looked back at him for a second before biting your lip, giving him the thought that you were doing this on purpose.

You were gonna end him-

𓇢𓆸.𖥔 ݁ ˖

#yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #linked universe x reader #linked universe au #twilite answers #lu warriors x reader #lu time x reader

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months

Note

AITA for not paying for my fiancee's trip?

(Sorry mod, sending this again as I forgot to add an important context detail)

This is going to be long, I'm so sorry!

Okay, so I (23M) am engaged to a very wonderful fiancee (27NB). She's fantastic, and I want to make it very clear that our relationship is great - we have good communication, we never argue, we're always on call without getting tired of each other, etc etc. There is just one issue we have - her financial habits.

For context, I am disabled and can't work due to both mental and physical health issues, so I'm on disability benefits. She can and does work.

We're long-distance (she's in America and I'm in the UK), and we've been dealing with it pretty well so far. At the beginning of our relationship, we agreed that before we got to the point of talking about moving in with each other etc. we would need to have her visit me here at least once to meet my family and get used to how things work here (as she wants to move here), and I would need to visit her at least once to do the same there re: meeting her parents etcetera.

The agreement was that I'd pay for her to come here, and then when it was my turn she'd pay for my visit there so it was fair.

She first visited me about a year and a half ago and came over here for two weeks. I paid for her plane tickets, our transport everywhere (we don't have cars), the AirBNB we stayed in, etc. This ran me about £2k, which was all I had at the time, and I didn't have enough left over to pay for her food on top of that, so I asked if she could cover her own food costs while she was here. This caused a bit of an issue at the time as she was very clearly frustrated at having to do it, and would make comments like "Ugh I wanted a new computer but now I have to save for this trip", "I'm having to sacrifice so much to pay for this" and it made me feel incredibly invalidated, like I was covering everything else and also sacrificing a lot to pay for everything else for us but the one thing I'd asked her to help with was too much. We had a conversation about it at the time and she apologised and said she'd work on it, so we moved on.

Plans changed a bit very early this year, as I was due to get surgery and the friend who was supposed to accompany me there dropped out last minute. I had no one else nearby to turn to and I couldn't go alone (it was the kind of surgery where I would need someone around for at least 1-2 weeks afterwards to help me move around and do daily tasks). As a last ditch effort I asked my fiancee to fly over again and help me out, and I paid for this again which I was completely fine with doing as the trip was a favour for me and it was unplanned from her end. This was another ~£2k.

So cut to summer this year. This was when I was supposed to have my visit over to America. She, at this point, was making pretty good money at a school job. However, when I asked her if we could finalise the plans and buy tickets, she told me that she had no money.

This is where I explain that she's really, REALLY bad with money. She impulse-buys clothes and things for her room etc., she plays gacha games like Genshin Impact and spends quite a lot of money on 'pulls' and the gambling mechanic, things like that. It turned out that through the whole time of having this job she'd been basically spending money as soon as she got it and she now had nothing for the trip. I was admittedly frustrated with her (especially as she initially lied to me and told me she hadn't spent money on games etc. and then later confessed that it IS where the money had gone), but we agreed we could push back the trip to winter/Christmas-time to give her more time to save, and honestly I didn't really mind because I've never spent Christmas/New Year with anyone before, so shifting the visit to over those days would be a nice experience.

However, soon after this she was fired from her job for too many call-outs/absences. For the next few months, she didn't get another job - she said she was doing all she could and was applying for, but I often got the impression that she wasn't and was sort of throwing out an application every few weeks and then writing it off as 'done', which I could be completely misinterpreting so take that with a grain of salt. I kept pushing her to get a job so we could get the trip sorted out and I know she got kind of frustrated with me a few times for it.

I ended up giving up the closer we got to the time and offered to just cover it again if she could pay me back when she did get a job, and she agreed.

Unfortunately, after this I was rendered homeless due to my abusive home situation. I was fortunate enough to be offered government housing and I now have an apartment in town, but it's completely unfurnished (literally all that's in it is a single bed and a cooker, there's no flooring or anything yet). I now have to put all the money I have saved (about £3k) towards getting flooring (which is a little over £1k by itself), furnishings, getting the walls painted, sorting out gas and electricity, etc. I'm also now paying the bills for this apartment. As a result, there's no possible way I could afford to cover the trip anymore myself.

It looked like things were getting sorted because my fiancee got another job recently. It's pretty well-paying, she seems to enjoy it so she's not calling out, and she kept prompting me to talk details of the trip with her so it felt like it was all getting figured out and she was ready to finalise it.

Then today I asked her how much money she had ready for it and she said... $15. I'm genuinely lost on how she still hasn't saved any money, she claims she used it all on "bills" but she doesn't pay rent or cover any housing costs as she still lives with her parents, so I don't understand at all where it's all going. We have less than a month before the trip is supposed to happen, nothing is sorted, we still have no clue where we'd be staying, no plane tickets have been purchased, and now it's looking a lot like it's going to have to be pushed back AGAIN to next year.

I thought about trying to pay for it again, because I DO really want that Christmas and New Year with her. Delaying it again would also mess up our future plans, as the plan was to get this trip to America and meeting her family done this year, then spending the first half of next year on the Visa process and then the latter half getting her actually moved over. It also means I would have to delay my college education, as I was going to start my course early next year, which I wouldn't be able to do if the trip is next year instead as it would require me to take weeks off.

If I tried, I probably could cover it - I need to spend the ~£1k on flooring as that's already arranged, but I could technically use the remaining £2k to fund the trip. However, this would mean my house would remain unfurnished and barely habitable for months longer. It's not so bad if I know she'd be able to pay me back quickly, but the reality is that I don't know how long it would take for me to see the money back.

Part of me also feels like she's kind of expecting me to give in and pay for it last minute in order to not delay it, because I offered before and I was willing to pay for the last two trips. But it's just so depressing and frustrating, because it feels like I keep giving things up and putting things into these trips and getting her over here, and trying to get it back from her is just like running into a wall.

We've talked about it before, but she insists there's nothing more she can do, she's trying as hard as she can, and that she's upset about it too. I just don't know what to do about it anymore.

So I guess my question is, AITA for complaining about the trip, missing Christmas/New Year and pushing her on money and nagging her about what she does with hers instead of just taking the L and covering the trip again until she can pay me back?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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twisted-lover-boys · 6 months

Note

Since you can’t do the Jjba one could I make a different request for Lilia with a Slime reader? Basically the Reader is like those rpg game slimes but can change their appearance to look human(I dont know if you’ve Seen Tensura/ttigraas or not so I made it more broad)

A Bat & A Slime

{not proof-read}

I haven’t but I’ve seen Charlie Slimesicle—

==================================

🐲🦇⚔️⚡️🐲🦇⚔️⚡️🐲🦇⚔️⚡️🐲🦇⚔️⚡️🐲🦇⚔️⚡️

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Lilia has met many people throughout his life. Fae, human, beastman, even monster. But he’s never met someone quite like you

You were a slime monster, that much he was certain, but you were sentient. You talked, walked, ate, and did just about everything anyone could do. It was fascinating

Maybe that’s why he was so attracted to you, even at such a young age. You were different, unique even, and all he wanted was to show you just how much he loved you

Even now, in the days of NRC and his self proclaimed “old age”, he never forgot to show you just how much he cherished you

If you’re a slime, I’d imagine that you’re quite gelatinous so physical affections are quite funny to the fae general

Lilia would get sucked into your hugs, halfway inside your jelly body and halfway outside. Sometimes just sticks his hands in and wiggle them just to see your body wiggle to his movements

Kisses are just as fun to him, especially butterfly kisses. The little impact and jiggle waves that happen when he does kiss you makes him laugh, as if your flustered face isn’t cute enough

Whenever you decide to kiss him instead, he loves how passionate you are with them. It really show him how much you love him and he couldn’t be happier

The one perk of dating Lilia is that now you have a son, no negotiations. He really wants you and Silver to get along and will help you both every step of the way. He always smiles so brightly when he sees you and his son happy and having fun

He also wishes for you to get along with Malleus and Sebek. Even though they aren’t his children, he had taken a massive role in their childhood and raising them. Sebek will be a bit hard but he knows you can manage! And Malleus is a child at heart so you’ll get along just fine

Lilia loves to pull pranks with you. You are both a victim and a valuable asset. By that, I mean he can practically use your slime body to make his pranks more elaborate, whether it’s a borrowed piece or your whole body

On that note, how about some video games with him? He had grown to love them since they were fashioned and would love to share that same passion with you, even if you aren’t a fan of the type he enjoys

Lilia very much so wants to put his general years behind him. The world is more peaceful than it was all those years ago and he’s more than grateful to have someone so wonderful next to him

I think it’s time for the event! Lilia sadly only has 2 events since I didn’t read the Sunset Savanah one (I can’t find a completed translation :[ ) but those events are still worthwhile!

I know Lilia didn’t actively participate in the ghost bride event, but he’d be a liar in saying that he didn’t enjoy the suitor outfit. Just the thought of one day marrying you and not some spoiled ghost bride brings him so much happiness. He can’t wait to see you in such fancy garb like that

Halloween was also so much fun with you! Since you were a monster, it was easier to scare the magicam monsters. He could tell how much fun you were having. It seemed like you were having an easier time fitting into the crowd. He was happy to see you happy

But the endless Halloween was different for you. You had no idea where Lilia went and it seemed you weren’t the only one panicking at his disappearance. To run through twisting stairs and seemingly endless corridors and still no sight of him

Silver tried his best to stay close to you as much as possible. You were his father’s partner and you were his dad. He’d keep an eye on you while you both looked for his old man

It was only when you reached the end and found him and finally got an explanation to all this chaos did you calm down…mostly. Lilia’s intentions were to let you both have fun, not get his lover and son mad at him

Well…you & Silver can’t stay mad at him for long now, can you?

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

🐲🦇⚔️⚡️🐲🦇⚔️⚡️🐲🦇⚔️⚡️🐲🦇⚔️⚡️🐲🦇⚔️⚡️

==================================

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x male reader #twst x male reader #diasomnia #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x male reader

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buckys-wintersoldier · 1 month

Text

Corruption inside of SHIELD | Steve Rogers

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 -> Boyfriend!Steve Rogers x Girlfriend!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 -> You’re visiting your boyfriend at work but when the two of you just want to get some food there are suddenly agents working for shield but fight against Steve.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 -> 1.844

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 -> fighting scene but not much, tiny bit of angst, fluff

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 -> 10 Years Anniversary CA:TWS | March 28 | Theme: SHIELD | The Triskelion, Compromised, Surprise Visit, Weapons, Favorite scene | @catws-anniversary

𝐀/𝐍 -> Thank you to @rogersbarber for helping me to come up with that idea.

Masterlist | Steve Rogers Masterlist

When you enter the kitchen, you shake your head, giggling. Steve just forgot his lunch, and you told him in the morning at least ten times to take his lunch with him. Sometimes you feel like he doesn’t listen to you, just admiring your body, kissing your face over and over again, and mumbling sweet nothings into your ear. You don’t have much to do today, so you will just bring him his lunch, and then the two of you can spend his lunch break together. But before you make yourself completely ready for the day, you make yourself a bowl of cereal and walk into the living room to watch one of your favorite movies. After the movie, you get ready and decide to wear one of Steve’s t-shirts and a hoodie, which actually belongs to him as well. Then you take his lunch, putting your lunch into the bag as well, and make your way to the Triskelion.

With your favorite music, the way doesn’t feel that long, and you can see the big building already when you smirk softly. Steve doesn’t know you will visit him during his lunch break to bring his food. You’re already excited when you just think about it; not only does the big building give you some excited feelings, but Steve also causes the butterflies in your stomach to go crazy. The two of you have been together for a few months now, but it still feels like you just fell in love with the tall, blond man.

Steve and you met a few months ago. He was just ordering a coffee and some food to the Triskelion, the most adorable building you have ever seen. You were always curious about what it looked like from the inside if there were lots of people walking around, and then you had the chance to get into the buildings and deliver coffee to the famous Captain America.

You stumbled into the building, almost falling over your own feet with the coffee and food in your hand. From the inside, the building was even bigger, and it reminded you of an office. So with your hands full of things, you made your way to the woman behind a desk. She looked like she knew where you could find Captain America.

“H-Hello. I have the food Mr. Rogers ordered. Where can I give the delivery to him?” You asked politely.

She looked up from the screen in front of her and smiled at you. Then she saw the food and the coffee in your hands and looked back at the screen.

“I will tell him his delivery is here; just wait a moment,” she told you, and you nodded.

Your eyes scanned the whole room; it was big, there were some plants in the corners, and next to them were a few couches. And some people were sitting on them, talking to each other, or they were just busy with their work. Some agents were walking through the room, greeting others, some on their phones, and some walking next to others.

The restaurant you work at is small, and there are not even as many people as you see walking or sitting in the hall right now. Then you see a man in gray pants and a light brown shirt walking in your direction. His hair is short and blond, he is shaved, and his steel blue eyes lit up when he saw the food and coffee in your hand.

“Hello, I’m Steve. Steve Rogers,” he said, taking his order out of your hands.

Before the two of you were able to say something else, someone crashed into Steve, and he threw the cup of coffee all over your t-shirt. You hissed softly when the hot liquid met your skin, and Steve immediately apologized. He was looking for a tissue to help you dry the coffee, which soaked the fabric of your clothes.

“I’m so sorry. Please, let me take you out for a co- maybe for a pizza?”

You nodded with a smile and dried your shirt before you wrote down your number and handed it to Steve.

“Don’t worry, and I would love to get a pizza with you.”

Steve’s smirk was from one side to the other, his eyes roaming over your body when you walked out of the building. Your smile was at least as big as his; you were going to have a date with Steve Rogers.

You enter the building, walking straight up to the woman you met for the first time in the Triskelion a while ago. The two of you have talked a few times. When you pick Steve up and she has a shift, the two of you gossip over some agents.

“Picking him up today?”

“No, he just forgot his lunch, and I thought I would spend his lunch break with him then.”

She nods and smirks at you before she looks at the screen of her computer, tapping something.

“He is in Fury’s office. You could go there; the meeting should be done in a bit,” she tells you, and you thank her before you walk to the elevators.

When you get into one, you tap the bottom, which brings you to the floor with Nick Fury’s office. He is kind of Steve’s boss, and he can be funny and a weird man at the same time, at least after things you heard from your boyfriend about the other man. When you get out of the elevator, you walk along the floor, looking for Fury’s office, and you see the door already open.

When you walk closer, you see Natasha and Steve in the room; they are talking to each other, papers are everywhere on the table, and you knock at the doorframe, not wanting to scare them both. They turn their heads towards you, and Steve immediately smirks at you; his eyes light up, and he walks closer to you.

“What are you doing here, princess?” Steve asks, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close against his broad chest.

“You forgot your lunch at home, and I thought I would bring it then,” you say, holing the back with food up.

Steve smirks and leans closer, capturing your lips with his for a short but sweet kiss. You wouldn’t mind feeling his lips on yours all day and his hands on your body while you get lost in his beautiful eyes. But Natasha interrupts your thoughts when she laughs behind Steve. He turns around, pulling you with him and turning you so you’re standing with your back against his chest.

“What’s so funny?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re so old; you look like a guy our age, actually. But you act like an old man, grandpa,” she says, and the two of you burst out laughing.

Steve grumbles behind you, and when you look up at him, he pouts. You chuckle, standing on your tiptoes, and your hands find their way around his neck, pulling him closer until you reach his lips to kiss the pout away.

“I will leave you two love birds then. Have fun- but not in the office, please.”

Steve rolls his eyes playfully and lets Natasha walk out of the room, then he kisses you once again before he lets go of you and puts some stuff together.

“Let’s get downstairs; it’s more comfortable there,” he says when he takes your hand and leads you back to the elevator.

When the elevator reaches the floor in the Triskelion, you get into it and wait to get downstairs, back into the hall. You’re looking out of the elevator, loving the view you have, while Steve stands pressed with his body against you, kissing your neck softly. When the elevator stops a floor deeper, a man with two bodyguards gets into the elevator. Steve turns his head toward the men.

“Rumlow.”

“Rogers.”

Both men greet each other before the elevator gets further down. On the next floor, a lot of men get into the elevator. The next floor and another few men join you in the elevator. Slowly, you’re all pressed together, and Steve kisses your neck once again, leaning closer after looking around and seeing the sweat on someone’s forehead and the hands of a few men near their weapons.

“I love you. Don’t move away; enjoy the view, princess,” he mumbles, and you nod softly.

Then Steve turns around and faces a few of those men. He then says something, but you’re focused on the people walking around. Then you hear a crack, and the elevator suddenly stops. You don’t move, obeying Steve. You hear the sound of metal against metal, punching and groaning, and you see in the corner of your eyes some men lying on the ground. You grip the railing of the elevator, digging your fingers against it, while you hear Rumlow's voice.

“It’s nothing personal, Cap.”

“It kind of feels personal,” Steve says, then you hear another groan before Steve inhales deeply and walks closer to you again. “You’re oke, Princess?”

You nod, turning around to hide your face in Steve’s shirt. You grip the fabric tightly and pull him closer. Your boyfriend’s hands slide up and down your back, comforting you.

“Let’s get out of the elevator,” he mumbles, and he turns around to open the doors of the elevator.

When he does so, there are a few more agents running in your direction. He groans and closes the door, using his shield to let the elevator fall down before he stops it with his shield. You want to scream, but there is nothing similar to the tone that leaves your lips. Steve opens the doors once again, but there are even more agents.

“Where do those agents come from?” He asks more himself as you.

He then walks over to you, wrapping his arm around your waist, before he starts running and crashes with his shield in front of the two of you through the glass off the elevator. You're screaming, your fingers digging into his skin, holding him tight against you while you two fall down, his shield still underneath you when you meet the ground. It wasn’t hurtful, and when you open your eyes - which you didn’t even know you had closed while the two of you were jumping out of the elevator - you see Steve laying underneath you, smirking at you before he kisses you softly.

“What was that? Why did they come into the elevator?”

“They are members of Hydra. Nat and I found it out earlier, before you came with the dinner.”

“It’s flat now,” you mumble.

“That’s oke, we get some food on our way home. Nat will be there later too,” Steve says, helping you get up.

Your legs are shaking, and you’re clinging to your boyfriend and his arm is wrapped around your waist while you make your way to his motorcycle to pick up some food and drive the two of you home.

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨

𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬.

┗━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┛

Taglist: @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @felicitylemon @cjand10 @lives-in-midgard @casa-boiardi @cevansbaby-dove @flstrawberry @capsbestgirl77 @bookishtheaterlover7 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf

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flamingpudding · 8 months

Text

Modern (Fenton) Ghost Hunting Part 1

Ties to: Post from under 'It started with a Ouija Board' found in the Masterpost

A/N: I got a little stuck with this and there is another bigger fanfic project I started working on that has me distracted. But I wanted to post at least part of this before I might end up in radio silence for three weeks cause I am visiting family out of country and have no idea about internet access there yet 😅

Danny was in a good mood as he slurped the ecto-shake his mom had made upon his return from the Zone. It was one of the more harmless and ghost helping food inventions his parents had come up with, once the truth was out of the bag when he was more or less forced to take on his kingly duties. Though his mom's ecto-fudge special (that was also one of the few ectoplasm infused foods not coming back to life) made for only him and Ellie was even better than the shakes. It wasn't better than their special family recipes their Dad loved so much but it came a close second.

He sipped on it more as he fell back into the couch as he flicked through some TV channels. His last trip to Gotham had been a month ago and he mused that he probably would need to visit soon to update Lady Gotham on the status of the Garbage Disposal Leaks. It was a pain to deal with but hey at least he, for once, got to be the mean guy to yell at the observants how they could have left these alone for over a hundred of years.

Seriously? If he could, he would stick Sam and one of her righteous rants onto them too.

So yea Danny was in a good mood he had gotten rid of another leak which only left a couple more to take care of and then put the observants into their place with another petty with hidden insults filled and Sam inspired as well as co-authored lecture.

He would give Lady Gotham a present for giving him such a great opportunity with this problem, even if that wasn't her intention. There was also a rumor in the GZ that Box Ghost and Walker had gotten beat up by Lady Gotham several times while he was busy, he would like to hear what that was about.

In all this Danny completely forgot about his encounter with the vigilantes and that his parents told him about a new business partner that was interested in their Fenton Ghost Tech that wasn't weaponry but focused on co-existence, like the Fenton (blob-)ghost feeder.

So when the doorbell rang and Danny went to open the door, thinking it might be one of his friends. He nearly choked on his ecto-shake as he came face to face with a person he only knew from paparazzi shots or Tucker's endless rants about their technology.

"Hello, I am Tim Drake-Wayne! I believe I have an appointment with the Drs Fentons? I am not too early am I?"

-------

Red Robin was on his wits end. After the first success he had used various more 'modern' summonings in hopes of getting their ghost to show up again. But most of them ended with the same white ghost or only one other ghost claiming their name as Box Ghost to appear. Strangely when they did appear, after about a minute after their appearance an invisible force started to attack them to which these ghosts instantly turned tail and 'unsummoned' themselves. They didn't even give Red Robin the chance to ask anything.

In the end after the third time of summoning that white ghost called Walker, the ghost peeked out from that portal once and the moment they spotted him sunk back into it. Not even bothering to tell him about any rules RR might have broken. Since then none of his summons appeared to work anymore.

Though the vigilante at least concluded that whatever had attacked their teenage ghost most likely was also the driving force behind Walker or any other ghost refusing to answer his summonings. He had suspicions that might have something to do with Lady Gotham, the teenage ghost mentioned and had been unable to summon at all.

Of course Red Robin couldn't leave it like that so he dug deeper into the whole ghost cult thing and came across published research papers. Apparently the ghost cult wasn't just an occult but also a science, that he highly doubted was real. The deeper he dug the more concerned he became, for one that ectoplasm they mentioned looked awfully a lot like Lazarus Water, and second the research from the Drs Fenton he found was awfully a lot biased until a year or so ago when they suddenly invalidated all their previous research and published a nearly completely different thesis.

Though the teenage vigilante had to admit everything they offered on their website looked a whole lot more modern and right out of a SyFy movie than any of the tools he had already purchased, from a ghost Wikipedia (which surprisingly included information about Walker and that Box Ghost), to protective gear, to feeders and ectoplasm infusers.

So after a small recon with his siblings and listening to their disagreement and another rant from their youngest about Pit Demons, Red Robin made the decision to check these Drs Fenton out undercover. And who better to do that than Tim Drake-Wayne, CoCEO of Wayne Enterprise who got interested in their ectoplasm-powered gadgets designed for co-existing. After all Gotham might just be as hunted if not more with the crime rate they had.

His siblings were not happy, he knew that but he took the earliest chance he had, to take a private plane to Amity Park and made an appointment with the Fentons on a saturday afternoon.

He made sure to smile pleasantly as the son of the Drs Fentons opened the door and took his time staring. Before finally inviting him in after a shout from the Drs. resounded somewhere behind him in the house. Tim of course eyed the glowing green shake the other teenager was drinking, already forming plans on getting a sample of it the first chance he got.

"Mr. Drake! Such a pleasure to have you here! You have already met my little boy Danny, my husband will join us later he got hold up by my daughters. But we do have a couple of inventions prepared for showcasing, we could also go over some of the theories first if you prefer until my husband can join us.." A woman came up shaking his hand and the teenager, Danny, stepped away from them retreating further away but staying in earshot, Tim noted.

"Dr. Fenton, thank you for having me. I am looking forward to learning about this ecto-energy and your Fenton-inventions, I believe one was called an Ecto-Infuser?" Did he imagine it or did that boy cringe? Also the boy was clearly watching him, he tried to appear nonchalant but the way the other teen's eyes followed Tims every move as well as the guarded look in his eyes was making it obvious.

"The Ecto-Dejecto, originally designed to weaken ghosts but is now one of the many medical tools that can help a ghost survive if they do not have a steady supply of ectoplasm." Dr. Fenton easily explained while leading him over to the seating area.

"Danny be a dear and bring our guest something to drink. Coffee or Tea?"

"Coffee would be fine." Not like he would actually drink it. As much as he and his siblings made fun of Bruce's paranoia, he was not about to drink coffee offered by people who research ghosts. Besides, looking around, he wasn't sure how well they followed OSHA and he wasn't about to potentially drink a coffee infused with Lazarus Water. If that ectoplasm was Lazarus water. But he would take it with him as one of many samples.

"Sure things mom. Should I bring out the fudge too?"

Tim's ear twitched and he turned ever so slightly in the direction of the son. No it couldn't be, could it?

"Oh please be so kind."

"Will be right back."

Now Tim wished he had forced at least one of his siblings along. Because if his ears didn't betray him then this teenager had the same voice like the ghost kid. Though his memory could be slightly impaired because of the time frame since he had last heard it. He would need to get a voice recording now too and play it to his siblings.

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nonclassyparty · 2 months

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tins without labels - chapter 1 (j.wy)

summary: Jung Wooyoung's life was always somehow intertwined with your own. from living in the same neighbourhood as kids to attending the same college; fights, bickering, bruises, teasing comments and tears. Wooyoung and you were never complete strangers but never friends either. Always somewhere in between, growing up with each other but never actually knowing one another. The relationship takes a confusing turn in your third year of college after an injury that places your football career on hold. Lonely, lost and confused, you find yourself at your first college party in the presence of none other than Jung Wooyoung asking him to show you what exactly have you been missing out on. playlist // my main masterlist // moodboard (tba)//click to donate to Palestine

pairing: jung wooyoung x reader warnings: drinking, little bit of kissing, descriptions of erm...male genitalia? cursing, cringe fest you've been warned. !word count: 9.3k taglist: @maru-matt @yawnzshit @mcsalterego @ddaeing @downbadreading @btshook (sorry if i forgot anyone but pls reply if u want to be added!)

previous chapter

(chapter 1; when we feel each other up)

Got different people inside my head, I wonder which one that they like best, I'm done with tryna have it all, and ending up with not much at all

present time (21 and 23 years old);

There was a really ugly drawing framed and hanging on the wall at the doctor's office.

It was a house tilting to one side with three stick figurines whose shoes were far too big next to it with strokes of green thrown everywhere which you presume is supposed to be grass. It was drawn by crayons.

You presume it's an art piece made by the doctor's kid but you hope she realizes early on that her daughter or son doesn't really have a proclivity for the arts.

But then again, maybe they will later on. Maybe they'll stand out amongst their peers and be further encouraged by their parents. Maybe they'll even take private lessons to get better. Maybe they'll get into art school and have the professor praise them up on how their talent is extremely rare. Maybe they'll even win some awards.

And then, maybe someone will break their hand so badly that they never get to hold a brush again.

Alright, now you were just projecting.

But what else is there to do as you sit in the almost sterile office with your dad by your side as the doctor keeps going on and on with a somber expression on her face. You're sure Doctor Son is a nice lady, if you were paying attention you'd maybe notice that she tries to break the news extra gently but you're barely listening.

There's been a lot of "it was more serious than we first thought", "rehabilitation will be a long and steady process", "a new excellent physical therapist works at the sports center on campus so she'll be able to visit him a couple times a week, we've already made sure that he gives all of his attention to her" and the most gruesome one, "another even minor injury and there's a risk of her not being able to walk again."

You don't really have to be paying too much attention to know what the underlined thought is.

No more football.

The persistent ache in your left knee serves a constant reminder of what happened almost four months ago, it was the last game of the season. Little did you know it might be the last game of your measly career.

You refuse to look at your dad, feeling the sadness radiate off of him like it does every time he speaks to any of the doctors you've visited in the past four months.

And it's been a lot of doctors.

The fact that you spent the whole summer at home for the first time since you finished high school didn't help. All he did was coddle you and stare in pity and disappointment. Or try to be overly positive and enthusiastic about your recovery.

You didn't know which was worse.

After the final doctor's appointment before the start of the new semester which you leave with barely saying a word during the almost half an hour you're there, you and your dad get lunch at a dinner just off campus.

The thick holder containing scans, blood tests, surgery papers and whatnot, lies on the table between the two of you and you feel like nothing could cut through the thick silence.

Your dad, of course, tries.

"You can still have an amazing career in education, you know? Your mother was a teacher and she loved her job."

It's just sometimes, your father really doesn't know how to beat around the bush and in this moment, you wish he did.

"Right." Is all you say.

Neither one of you comments on what you both know. Which is that you didn't give a fuck about your major in education. Sure, you had passing grades but that is because you needed to study something to stay on the team and not because you were actually interested.

Football was always the bigger picture, the real goal.

"You can always switch majors?" He offers and you nod again, thanking the waiter when he brings two bowls of noodles to your table.

You don't want to say that switching majors in your third year of college seems like a complete waste, of both money and time.

He sighs and you know he's frustrated with you, you understand it as well but you can't control it. Talking about your career, now that your dream career is over and done with, is an extremely sore subject.

"You know what, you've been working so hard since before you even started college, you deserve to rest."

"I've been resting since May." You respond and he winces at the mention of May. When it all fell apart.

"That wasn't rest. It was recovery." You give him a bland look and he sighs again, "I'm just saying! Maybe you'll discover something else you like to do this semester."

"Doubtful." You murmur, the reality finally sinking in at least a little.

"It's not doubtful at all." Your dad scoffs, taking a slurp of his noodles. "You're twenty-one, your life just begun, I'm sure there are other things to do and new people to meet. You wouldn't know if you never even tried."

"Dad-"

"Get yourself a boyfriend. Go to parties. Find yourself some friends who aren't talking behind your back in the locker room-"

"They weren't my friends-"

"Live your life. Is my point. Don't be cooped up in your bedroom, refusing to see anyone like you were doing the whole summer. Just...try, at least." He is silently begging now and now, it's your time to sigh.

"Fine."

"Who knows...you might discover that football isn't all there is to life."

You go silent at that, embarrassed of your own thoughts on the matter so you just keep them to yourself.

You flip through the pages of the magazine that you've read front to back at least four times by now before throwing it on your bed.

Your dad left earlier this afternoon after you've settled into your dorm and since then you've just been lounging on your bed, trying to busy yourself with knick-knacks that you have lying around so the time could pass faster.

You adjust the ice pack on your knee a bit better and with a soft sigh, your eyes fall on your roommate.

Yunjin was sitting behind her desk that was pushed up right next to your identical one and was busy doing her makeup. Carefully applying a pretty shade to her eyelids as she moves her desk mirror to her liking.

She was getting ready to go to a party no doubt. It was the last Friday before the new semester after all and Yunjin was a frequent party goer from what you could tell in these years living together.

Yunjin and you have been roommates since freshman year and yet, you've barely spoken to each other. Always sticking to your sides of the generously sized dorm room, you guess it's because you don't have much in common with each other that you never tried to be friends.

You didn't know much about her if you were honest, just that she majored in political science, often dyed her hair and had a lot of friends. You were sort of the complete opposites from what you could tell.

But since she kept renewing her contract for the room with you every year, you think it's safe to assume that she at least doesn't mind you all too much.

Just...try, at least.

You clear your throat. Here you go...

"You, uh, you do your makeup really prettily." It's out of your mouth before you know it, you already feel awkward as it is but when your red haired roommate turns to you in surprise that maybe you even spoke in the first place - the awkwardness triples.

"Oh." Yunjin utters with raised brows before a tiny, careful smile settles on her face. "Thank you."

So...now what?

You both stare at each other for a long hard second and you hesitate, thinking it's best to leave it at that. Keeping up a conversation was never your strongest suit either. Now that you think of it, apart from football, you don't have any strong suits at all.

"I, uh, I had a lot of practice." She offers awkwardly, motioning to her face with the eyeshadow brush wedged gently between her fingers.

"Right, yeah, I can totally see that." You nod, surprised that she responded back with something that almost sounds like she wants the conversation to keep going. You clear your throat, "The eyeliner and stuff, seems tricky."

It seems like that was all it took for the ice to disapparate for Yunjin because next thing you know, she's rambling without a plan to stop;

"Oh, that's just at the beginning, the first couple of tries I mean and that goes for everything makeup related or, hm, maybe everything life related as well, wow." Yunjin shakes her head as if life philosophies were certainly not more important than a perfect winged eyeliner, "But anyways, I was looking like a panda for the majority of my junior year in high school." She chuckles at that, not looking embarrassed at all, "Had those thick eyebrows as well, it was a complete disaster. But the longer I wore makeup, the better I got at it and the more I learned what suited my face."

You clutch the pillow in your lap as you diligently listen to her, feeling like a younger sibling watching her older sister get ready for a party.

"People say eyeliner isn't in fashion anymore, like it's an old makeup trend or whatever," Yunjin rolls her eyes at you and you chuckle lightly, shyly because you had no idea what was in trend, "Such bullshit, I'll never stop wearing it. It looks so good on me."

She observes the perfect thin wings decorating her eyelids and almost sighs a little in admiration.

You nod in agreement, not being able to stop yourself, "You have big eyes so the eyeliner frames them perfectly. It suits you."

Yunjin smiles happily, "Right? I totally look like Jihyo from TWICE, right?"

You hesitate, having no idea what Jihyo from TWICE looked like but you don't have the heart to sway her happiness so you just give her a small nod.

You continue to chat, mostly Yunjin talks, and by the amount she seems to have to say to you, you start to think that maybe all this time it wasn't that Yunjin avoided getting to know you because she wasn't interested in knowing her roommate. It seems like she had the idea that you had no interest into getting to know her, so she never bothered.

Once she's done with her makeup and she looks over herself in her precious small round mirror standing on her desk in satisfaction, she turns to you with a glare.

It's not a glare as if you've wronged her somehow but a glare of curiosity and seemingly not taking 'no' for an answer. You raise your brows.

Her glare deepens, one inquisitive but perfectly plucked eyebrow raised, "Do you want me to do your makeup?"

"Oh," You huff out, for some reason embarrassed that she's aware you're a complete klutz in that department, "I don't know."

"Hm, why not? You might like it. Makeup is fun!"

"No, I know I'll like it." Your cheeks flush, embarrassment growing at the thought of her thinking that you're one of those girls who thinks she's better for not being interested in makeup. It wouldn't be the first time it happened. "I just...won't I look stupid?"

"Stupid?" Yunjin frowns as if the idea is ridiculous and maybe it was a little. "Why would you look stupid? I'm basically a pro at this, I wouldn't let you look stupid."

"Oh, I didn't mean anything about your...y'know, skills." You grimace when she continues to stare at you, not really in the mood to disclose that ever since a stupid teenage boy named Son Eunwoo laughed at you at prom for trying to look pretty that you've given up on it as it obviously didn't suit you all that much. "Just, y'know, people will think I look silly if I wear it. It's not my thing...y'know?"

There's a faint moment of silence and you cast your eyes somewhere else as you feel awkward all over again for ruining the relaxed mood. Finally, Yunjin speaks,

"Y/N," She calls quietly, face set in a serious expression when you bring your eyes up to her again, "Do you want me to do your makeup?"

You blink at her a couple of times, mouth parted as she sits in her chair, perfectly curled hair and perfectly applied makeup, and waits for your response.

"I'll go wash my face."

"Yes, you go do that and don't forget to moisturize."

It doesn't take more than twenty minutes for Yunjin to do your makeup. Before she starts, you carefully tell her you don't want too much and she says she'll ask before everything she applies if you want it or not.

And she really does.

She places a little bit of foundation just to cover the natural redness of your cheeks and the couple of small pimples that appeared on your chin. She foregoes contouring because you tell her you don't want that, not sure what's the purpose of it.

She goes a little bit crazy with the eyeshadows though, maybe she notices that you have the most interest in them. Glitter especially. It makes your eyes look glossy, almost wet but you're sure you're not describing that properly.

She even does some thin eyeliner on you, some mascara, brushes out your eyebrows but doesn't fill them out because you tell her you don't like them looking sharp. Some blush, a pretty light orange color that decorates your cheeks in a way that it surprises you by how good it looks on your face. And at the end, some lip gloss to finish everything off.

All through out, you two talk. About school, about your hometowns, about your parents.

It's bonding, you realize.

You never bonded with anyone through makeup before, it was usually over football with Ryujin or gossiping over the people you knew from school because that's what you had in common with her. But football is gone now, so is high school and for years now, so was Ryujin.

It was hard to keep up with a friendship that was out of necessity in the first place, even harder when there's an entire ocean separating you now.

But with Yunjin, although you seemingly have nothing much in common, the conversation just flows with each soft stroke of a brush or pat on the cheek.

"See!" She hands you her round mirror to look at yourself, "You look so good!"

"Oh," You muse out, staring at the reflection, admiring the glitter and shimmer and all the colors you're not used to having on your face, "I like it."

"Now, don't get me wrong!" She warns quickly with her hands up, painted nails glistening under the shitty dorm lights, "You look good without makeup too. Well," She rolls her eyes at herself, "You obviously know that since you don't wear it at all as it is but like, if you sometimes want to wear it, you'll know now that it won't look stupid on you."

You chuckle shyly at her short rant, placing the mirror back on her desk.

You wished Yunjin's words of affirmation would be enough to rid you of all your insecurities regarding makeup or...anything 'girly', they don't but you don't have the heart to tell her that. "Thanks."

She nods in response before checking her phone for the time apparently. She throws it on her bed before clapping her hands, "Well, since you already have your makeup done, you might as well go to this party with me."

That leaves you stumped. You turn to look at her from the chair in front of her desk. Party? "Wait, what?"

Yunjin doesn't even grace you with a look, standing in front of her closet which was flung open as she sorts through different materials and patterned clothes.

"Come on L/N, brush your hair out and get into a pair of jeans that make your ass look great." Her head peaks out from behind the door of her closet, she winks at you, "I'll worry about your top."

You really don't know how this happened. You don't know how you ended up here, in the jeans that hugged your hips and thighs the tightest and in the most preposterously skimpy top you have ever worn with your brushed out long hair falling over your back and your lips tinted a deep glossy red. You were a willing participant in it but you really have no idea how this happened.

"I don't think this is an appropriate outfit." You tell Yunjin as you look over yourself in the tall mirror which you both share. "I don't think this shirt is supposed to be worn like this."

"Actually," Yunjin said as she fixed her skirt in the mirror behind you and paid no mind to your ongoing breakdown, "For the last three months I thought I got scammed by the online shop I ordered that top from because it looked nothing like the photos on me but now looking at you, I'm starting to realize that the online shop is legit and that I simply didn't have the tits to fill it out."

You spluttered about at her commentary as you stared at the outfit, wondering if it would be rude to chicken out on her now.

Your light blue denim flare jeans and white sneakers looked totally acceptable. They were yours after all.

The shirt, the offending bright red sleeveless low cut crop top that almost had your boobs out completely for the whole entire world to see, on the other hand, was certainly not.

You don't think you've ever worn something so short, so tight, so...revealing. In your life.

It's not even that you felt uncomfortable in it, really, you thought you looked hot but it just....wasn't You.

And at that point, you had to remind your self very strongly that you had no idea what You actually was. Football was no more (at least for the near future but you have an inkling it's for forever) and maybe the you that was tied to it and that the rest of your small world knew should rest for a little bit while you explore what other you's are there.

Beats moping around and feeling sorry for yourself, at least.

Yes. You will try your hardest not to care what anyone else might think tonight. You looked good. Sexy as fuck, as Yunjin said.

It wasn't all she said. Yunjin, as you begin to find out in the last hour you've actually spoken to her, is the best when it comes to making a girl feel good about herself.

"God, Y/N, your body is crazy." You hear her say as she pulls your hand away from your stomach that was bare since the skimpy shirt or jeans didn't cover it. She stares at your abs. "Do you still workout?"

Still. Meaning she also knows you're a retired athlete at only twenty-one years of age. Once again, you have to try your best to not let that reminder dampen your mood.

"Thanks." You respond clearing your throat, giving her a weak smile. "Yeah, I workout five times a week."

You don't mention the physical therapy you're about to start next week or the fact that all your workouts are under strict supervision ever since the injury happened. That, starting from next week, two other people will be responsible of you staying in shape.

It's so pitiful, you're so used to doing everything on your own.

"Five?!" Yunjin's jaw drops before she scoffs, looking at her body in the mirror with overly critical eyes.

Yunjin seemed to be naturally on the skinnier side, she didn't have any muscle built up. Not like you, years of doing football made your physique change, your body looked amazing - you were aware of that. Personal trainers, coaches both male and female told you so at least....'Defined thighs, defined stomach, toned arms...'. You heard enough about your body to know that it looked good.

It took years of sweat and regular gym hours to make it that way though and you feel bad that Yunjin seems to be comparing it to her own.

"When I was in my best shape, I had a whole team of people working with me from diet to workouts, that includes my coach as well." You chuckle lightly, as she turns her eyes from her stomach to you, "Everyone was expecting me to go pro so...The university invested a lot in me."

You force out another laugh, not trying to turn an attempt to stop the comparisons into a pity party. "Even now when I won't be playing, I'll have two people working with me."

When all you get in return is a dumbfounded stare, you groan feeling like you read the situation incorrectly. Your social cues still need some catching up to do.

So, there's nothing left to do when you feel so uncomfortable but ramble and it's what you do best, you will be quick to learn.

"This is stupid, I don't know if that's what you were doing and I'll feel like shit if I say it but ended up assuming it wrong but I'll say it anyway just in case; if you were comparing yourself to me, don't, I had professionals working with me for the past three years. Professionals that are extremely expensive and finished schools and shit to learn how to make people look hot and fit, so...." You trail off, avoiding her eyes at all cost and scratching behind your neck awkwardly.

The silence is so long that it almost wills you to run out of the room and maybe ask for a permanent roommate change, just to beat Yunjin to the punch. Instead, you hear a stifled giggle.

You glance at her just to see your roommate bite back a grin.

You huff, cheeks turning red from the embarrassment because you barely speak but when you do, it's really almost always complete and utter shit, as you try to hide your own smile.

"You're a nice girl, Y/N."

"Yeah, yeah." You huff, always terrible at taking compliments, "So are you, I guess."

She snorts at your awkwardness but doesn't further comment on it as she rummages through her jewelry box and pokes big hoop earrings on.

"And you can keep that shirt if you want...God, I hate you big boobed bitches." You let out a surprised laugh at that as she rummages some more through her jewelry box. "Do you have any earrings for yourself? I'd offer you a necklace but I think it's hotter if your neck is bare honestly."

"Um," You approach your desk and pull out your mom's jewelry box with a humble amount of items in it. You show her your tiny golden hoops, "What about these?"

"Yeah, those are great. Put those on and let's get ready to go, Chaewon might be dancing on tables by now."

As you lock the door to your dorm and turn to leave, Yunjin intertwines your arms as you both walk down the hall crowded by college students either going in or going out.

New girl friend, not so bad, you think to yourself.

Chaewon is not dancing on tables when you get there. You don't exactly know who Chaewon is but there's nobody dancing on tables in the crowded frat house you've walked into. You don't know anyone there, you thought you might see some girls from your team at least despite not getting along with them the best but you don't.

Yunjin, on the other hand, seems to know everyone.

She greets every living soul in the dusty, stuffy living room and every living soul greets her back. You guess it's safe to say that your roommate slash new girl friend is very popular with the party crowd at your campus.

As it's your first ever college party, you just follow her around like a lost puppy but she never makes you feel like a lost puppy, instead, she introduces you to every person that comes to chat with her even though you can hardly remember their names. You appreciate that more than you'd like to admit.

You end up in the kitchen which is less crowded but still has a handful of people in it where Yunjin shoves the classic red party cup in your hand and clinks it with her matching one, telling you to drink up.

At least you're not a complete virgin in this area. You drank before, you weren't an expert or anything because alcohol is limited for athletes but still, it's one of the first 'not first's of the night.

You meet Chaewon who is bubbly and cute with her bob and sparkly eyes. She's not nearly as drunk as Yunjin led you to believe she would be. When you comment on it, Chaewon smacks Yunjin's arm jokingly.

"You've made the girl think I'm an alcoholic or something." She scolds your roommate with a smirk before turning to you, smile back to complete innocence, "I don't even drink that much, Y/N. Honest."

Yunjin comes closer to mutter in your ear, "She's a liar, it's just that she's trying to be sober to see if the guy she's into comes alone tonight."

"Oh!" You nod and give Chaewon a reassuring smile as she goes beet red in the face and glares at Yunjin who continues to tease her.

You were about to tell Yunjin that you much prefer the crowd in the kitchen than the living room area and that you'd hope to stay here a bit more but you don't get a chance to.

Loud hoots echo through the kitchen and you turn your head to see what the ruckus is all about only to see the bane of your very existence walk in with a wide smile along with a group of other guys, greeting everyone like he's the king of the world and with the way everyone in the room treats him - he might as well be.

Of course. Of fucking course, Jung Wooyoung would be considered the life of the party.

He can be! You don't give a fuck! But why did it have to be the first party that you are attending.

You try to hide your scowl by taking another sip of your drink, trying your hardest not to let your eyes trace his movements from the other side of the kitchen island but one second your eyes are coasting over his ridiculous outfit (which he looks damn near scrumptious in but that's besides the point and something you will never admit that you ever thought about for even a second) and the next thing you know - his eyes are meeting yours.

You quickly whip your head to stare into the living room, feeling the edge of the counter dig into your back.

Yunjin and Chaewon are talking about something, laughing loudly through the noisy room and you're trying to hard to keep up with their conversation but that turns out to be impossible now that you're aware of a certain menace lurking about.

And lo and behold, quickly enough he skulks away from his group of friends and sneaks up to your side in three long strides.

"Well, well, well, do my eyes deceive me or is this Y/N Y/L/N at a frat house party?"

You stand rigid as his clothed elbow brushes your bare one but otherwise don't give him any further acknowledgement. Yunjin, from your freshly learned discovery is ever the social butterfly, grins with an eyeroll.

"Don't be a dick, Wooyoung."

Oh. Oh.

Yunjin knows Wooyoung. Well, that makes just about everything a thousand times worse.

"What? I didn't say anything." Jung Wooyoung defends with a smug smile from next to you before giving Chaewon a charming (or at least what might be charming by some people's standards, definitely not yours or anything) smile. "Chaewon, hello."

She stifles a laugh, "Hi, Wooyoung."

You're irritated to the highest degree for some reason.

Why were you never on the receiving end of his charming smiles? Again, charming by some people's standards. Let it be known, it's not by yours. Not that you want to be on the receiving end of any kind of Jung Wooyoung smile but just...why aren't you ever?

"Can't believe you two managed to get babyface over here out of her room for once." He comments and for a second you have no idea who he's referring to. Until Chaewon laughs lightly again before motioning towards Yunjin.

"That's all Yunjin. I just met Y/N, actually."

"Lucky you." Wooyoung adds and only after his second mischievous glance do you realize they're talking about you.

"Babyface?" You turn to him, growing outraged as his lips stretch into a wide grin. What is it with him and these weird nicknames which all contain the word 'baby' in them. What happened to calling you a troll like he did in middle school and moving about his night?

He shrugs, "I reckon it's better than crybaby."

"You reckon?" You scoff, not being able to stop yourself. Not even a full minute with him and you're already showcasing the gnarly childish side of yourself to girls you were hoping would become your friends. "Wow, how many years of college and you're finally using big words, Jung."

Wooyoung, for reasons you could never wrap your head around, looks positively delighted at your quip. "If you think 'reckon' is a big word then I have no further comments, Y/L/N."

You flush a deep red at that as a glare fully sets down on your face, aimed entirely towards him now. He bites his lip to stop himself from laughing which only makes you grow redder.

"So, you two know each other?" You forgot for a split second that the two of you were in the presence of your new friends. Yunjin stares at you with brows raised.

With a solemn sigh, you respond, "We were neighbours."

"We still are." Wooyoung adds, cozying up to you further. You watch in contempt the way his shoulder brushes yours and his arm lays on the kitchen island behind you, one wrong move and his arm would be around your waist. Seriously, why is he so damn close?

To your own embarrassment, you find yourself not moving away, liking his warmth and whatnot. Maybe, he smells nice as well. Just a little bit. Something citrusy and delicious. Whatever.

"Oh?" Yunjin asks, looking awfully too interested in your relationship with Wooyoung. Not that there is a relationship. Your brows furrow as you observe the way she silently communicates with Chaewon.

"What?" You ask, lost entirely.

Chaewon gives you the same, overly enthusiastic smile, "Oh, nothing."

Wooyoung's chest shakes against you from silent laughter about something you must've missed and you turn to glare at him. He didn't do anything, you just felt like it.

A couple of minutes of conversation pass and you find yourself even enjoying it, despite the little nuisance stuck to your side. It's been awhile since you hung out with anybody, you never thought you even needed it but you think you understand now the hype around these college weekend hangouts.

Until it somehow dips to Yunjin and Chaewon ditching you.

"Y/N, remember that guy Yunjin was talking to you about? The one I have a crush on?" You nod as Chaewon talks against your ear, "Well, he just got here and Yunjin and I will go say hi to him."

"Oh, I'll come with!" You say pathetically before Yunjin loudly exclaims "NO!"

"No, Y/N, you stay right here with Wooyoung, okay?" She motions to the guy next to you, "You two seem to have so much in common!"

She's giving you a weird smile, overly wide, overly excited and you have trouble reading what she's trying to tell you, not knowing her nearly enough to be able to read girl code already.

You can barely get a word in and they're already gone, whisked by the living room crowd and you're stuck with Jung Wooyoung of all people by your side, feeling completely and utterly stupid.

They...ditched you? Did Yunjin regret inviting you? Did she find you embarrassing? Maybe you should just go home.

A deep sigh is heard by your side and you're once again reminded with who they left you with.

"Y/L/N, they didn't ditch you. They don't hate you or whatever it is that you scrambled up in that big head of yours, they're trying to set you up with me." Wooyoung lazily explains from your right and you turn to look at him like he's crazy. What surprises you more than his statement is the fact that he's actually sticking by your side.

"What? Set you up with me?" You scoff, crossing your bare arms over your chest, "Don't be ridiculous."

He snorts, "You'd rather think they ditched you than trying to get you laid?"

You go silent at that. Laid. How preposterous. How insane and how ridiculous.

It's another thing that you're a complete virgin to. Literally and figuratively. You've never went with a boy past a clumsy make out session. Get laid, you scoff inwardly, how silly.

Suddenly, you're aware of a pair of eyes on the side of your face and you're not surprised to find Jung Wooyoung staring at you in amusement. With all your defenses up, you ask, "What?"

His eyes twinkle with mirth. "I didn't say anything."

Another moment of silence between the two of you passes. Some guy comes to greet Wooyoung, he gives you a small nod in greeting which you return and after some small talk between the two of them he walks away, leaving you two alone once again in the middle of the semi-crowded kitchen.

Wooyoung inches closer to you again, mirroring your stance now by leaning against the island with his back. "Is being alone with me that scary that you refuse to talk?"

"Scary?" You scoff again, it's all you seem to do in his presence, without even looking at him. "Don't flatter yourself too much, Jung, you're not nearly as intimidating as you like to think you are."

"Who said I thought I was intimidating?" He asks calmly, enjoying the way you're riled up for no apparent reason.

You don't answer his question, aware that you're being a bitch for no reason. But it's his fault if anything, years of juvenile fights made Jung Wooyoung bring out the worst in you.

"These parties don't seem like they're all that." You comment, more to yourself than anything but he's obviously listening so you decide to include him in the conversation. "Don't you get bored of them?"

Wooyoung hums from next to you, lightly swaying to the music from the living room as he hands you a cold cup of...something and takes one for himself as well. It feels weird that he actually is sort of attentive by getting you a drink when he noticed your empty cup on the island. You decide not to dwell on it too much.

"Bored? Not really, they get repetitive but there's always something fun to do." He responds, mouth quirking up as he looks down at you. Your eyes flicker down to his lips just in time for his tongue to swipe across his bottom lip. You look away quickly.

Clearing your throat, for the life of you, you have no idea why you nod to a couple in the corner right next to the kitchen almost having intercourse against a wall. "Like that?"

Wooyoung snickers and you feel yourself flush slightly but you blame it on the drink which is...much better than whatever Yunjin handed to you at the beginning of the night. "Don't blame people for having fun, Y/L/N."

You turn to him with your nose crinkled, "That's your idea of fun?"

Wooyoung seems a bit surprised and yet strangely intrigued by the course of the conversation. Maybe you are too but in this moment, it feels all too exhilarating with him being so close and you being a complete and utter virgin and all. God, if Chaewon and Yunjin left you here in hopes of getting you laid, maybe they were right.

There's no reason to be acting like this around Jung Wooyoung.

Honestly, what is wrong with you Y/N? Maybe you really should fuck someone. You'd stop thinking about Jung Wooyoung this way and lose your virginity at last.

Two birds with one stone.

"I know lots of ideas of fun." Wooyoung starts before he gives you that devastating grin of his that you despised even as a lovesick teenage girl as he subtly nods to the couple, still at it in the corner, "That is one of them. Although I'd at least take it up to one of the bedrooms upstairs."

Your nose crinkles in disgust again at the thought of the state of the beds in these dirty testosterone filled frat houses. "Gross, they probably don't even change the sheets."

"My apartment is two blocks away." Wooyoung adds, a little too quickly in your, once again completely virgin, opinion. "I always have that option as well, y'know?"

You blink a couple of times, staring at the kitchen tiles as you start thinking that you're not talking about his ideas of fun only anymore.

Was he-? Is he trying to-? No. No way. Do not.

"Right." You say quietly, taking a tiny sip of your drink before smacking your lips.

There is no way that in any shape or form Jung Wooyoung is attempting to flirt with you.

He's quiet for only a couple of seconds before two other guys approach him, doing those weird half hugs half handshakes that assholes like Jung Wooyoung use to greet their friends. Which he seems to have a bunch of. Mr. Popular he is.

While they converse, your eyes are still stuck on the couple making out in the corner of the room and to not seem like a complete and utter creep, you draw your eyes away from them into the living room where...all you seem to see are couples.

Flirting. Kissing. Grinding on each other (Gross). Humping on the couch (Double Gross, you're sure people use that to sit on ordinary days). Clumsily walking up the stairs with their hands already on each other's clothes (Triple Gross). They're all going to have sex!

Meanwhile, you're a virgin. Not by choice either, if it were up to you you'd grab the first guy you see right this second and let him fuck you just to get it over with. It's not like you're saving yourself for someone special or anything. Too bad that they all seem to be taken one way or another and the only guy you've spent the whole night talking to is-

Wait.

Nononono.

But-

Wait.

You turn to observe Jung Wooyoung by your side, who is still talking to his two buddies. None of them paying you any mind.

As you mentioned before, there was a general consensus going around that Jung Wooyoung was good looking. You've seen him only a handful times since that night he dropped you off home after prom even if you're both on the same campus but you can admit (although you'll outwardly deny it if anybody asks) that he has gotten even hotter.

His face lost all of his baby fat with years that went by, his jawline got sharper and lips plusher. His eyes were expressive and the mole under one of them was cute. His hair was still long, you don't know if he cut it after prom night and just let it grow out again or if this was simply the length her preferred, now all black but it suited him immensely.

He had nice hands as well. Veiny hands, long fingers with nice and tidy nails. And you might've called his outfit ridiculous but you only did it to fulfill your role as his self-appointed enemy, it wasn't that ridiculous. Just a pair of baggy jeans and a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up. You guess he knows that he has sexy hands. The first three buttons of his shirt were undone, making sure to showcase the naturally tanned smooth skin underneath and a necklace decorating his collarbones.

This...whore.

A man that plays up his good physical attributes this well could be nothing else but a man that gets around a lot.

When you notice that you've spent a good two minutes doing nothing but checking Jung Wooyoung out, you notice that his two friends have left already and he's holding his red cup while staring at you with an amused smirk on his face.

"What now?" He asks and you part your lips before licking them, almost shivering when you catch Wooyoung following the action closely.

Well, your dad did say that should live your life and try at least. His words, not yours!

Although when he said them, you are most definitely sure your dad didn't think you'd ever be applying them when asking Jung Wooyoung to take your virginity but what he doesn't know won't put him in an early grave.

You are twenty-one years old and among a lot of other things, you are horny. It's time to get a move on.

"I'm going to ask you something now and for once," You let out a soft sigh, eyes fluttering shut as you can't believe you're about to do this before opening them to level Jung Wooyoung with an open stare as you inch closer to him to make sure he can hear every word, "Just this once, I ask of you, nicely, to not be a dick about it. If you're not up for it, just...just let me down gently. Don't laugh at me, please, just tell me no and we'll forget it ever happened."

All traces of amusement leave Wooyoung's eyes after your all-too-honest speech and he turns to rest his hip against the kitchen island to be face to face with you. He looks serious and asks quietly, "What do you wanna ask me, Y/L/N?"

You take a deep breath, feeling undeniably nervous under his heavy gaze. "Those ideas of fun you mentioned before, the ones involving your apartment...."

Wooyoung presses the rim of the cup against his lower lip, teeth gently grazing it before he takes a sip. He nods, looking a little confused as he swallows, teeth coming back to bite on the cup.

"Mind showing me?"

It takes him a second to catch on but when he does, it only takes another second for the mischief in his eyes to triple and lips placed against the rim of his red cup to stretch into a wide breathtaking smile.

Wooyoung had an inkling of an idea where the course of the night would take him when he first left his apartment. Have a drink or two, mess about with the guys for a few hours and maybe if he was up to it, find someone to take home.

But this... if someone told him this would happen, he'd burst out laughing and call that person crazy. Insane. Deranged. A lunatic.

Really, he had no idea how the hell this happened.

This being two handfuls of your jean-covered ass in his hands, tongue shoved deep into your mouth as he pushes you against his hallway wall and swallows every tiny sound you make while your hands tug and rake through his hair.

He's pretty sure your dark red lip gloss is all over his cheeks from how messy and rushed the kissing is. Everything tastes like artificial cherries, a taste too sweet for Wooyoung's liking accompanied by a tinge of vodka and lemonade that you've both been drinking.

Your hands are soft when they run over his jaw and latch onto his shoulders, he swallows another surprisingly sweet whine of yours and slips a leg between your thighs. Embarrassingly enough, Wooyoung is already hard and once his hands slip from your ass to your hips just to feel the way you move them as you grind against his thigh - he fears he might finish in his pants.

Yeah, if at the start of the night someone told him that Y/L/N Y/N would be dry humping him in the hallway of his small studio apartment after he went out of his way to keep her company at a party, he surely would've dialed the nearest psychiatric institution to take that person in for much needed treatment.

When you reward him with a whimper that goes straight to his dick for placing a kiss underneath your ear, Wooyoung starts coating your neck in slow hot kisses and bites that leave you trembling in his arms.

He's been (as subtly as he could) staring at the naked skin that your shirt revealed for the majority of the night anyway so, truly, this isn't much of a chore for him.

When his teeth gently graze your clavicle, he pulls away for just a moment and realizes he's finally gotten a front seat view of your tits.

Jesus Christ.

When the fuck did you become hot?

Wooyoung always found you cute at most. And fine, he thought you were pretty too that night he drove you home from your prom night. But that's where it all ended. He didn't think about you all too much in any other way given your history and barely saw you as it is.

Looking at you now...your hooded eyes that glittered around the corners. Flushed cheeks and heavy breaths that made his head spin. Disheveled long hair that fell down your back and that he wanted to tangle his fingers in (which he quickly did as soon as that thought appeared, no time like the present!). And those fucking tits covered with nothing but a sorry excuse for a shirt that clung to your torso.

Wow.

It really must be true when they say that distance makes the heart grow fonder.

Although there's little heart involved in this situation and a whole lot of thinking with his dick.

He pulls the thick strap of your top a little and watches at it smacks against your skin gently. You keep quiet, breaths still heavy as you watch him.

"This shirt is fucking ridiculous, Y/L/N."

No time left for talking, his fingers curl around your waist again as he bends down to place kisses against your chest. You both probably smell like smoke, sweat and booze but there's a soft layer of vanilla mixed into it the closer he gets to you and Wooyoung finds himself not minding the combination.

"I-It looks bad?"

It's the first words you've spoken since you stumbled into his apartment and Wooyoung has to pause, almost in disbelief. His first reaction is annoyance, not pegging you as the type of girl to fish for compliments by acting insecure even though she knows very well she looks delectable.

But then, the more he stares, the more he notices the way you twitch in his hold, shifting your gaze around his face in order to avoid his eyes, his annoyance disappears. You are insecure about the shirt. You are genuinely wondering whether or not it looks good on you.

And Wooyoung is nothing, if not ready to please at all times.

"I wanna drag it off of you with my teeth." He says the honest truth, hating the way his voice is low and husky. What the fuck is he doing. Why is he breathing so heavily?

The blush that overtakes you doesn't stop at your face but slowly curls around your neck and appears at the top of your chest. He hums, satisfied with the reaction he got before going back to business.

The business being your marvelous tits.

With his hand still curled around your waist as he lowers down so his forehead is basically resting on your bare chest, he groans once he thumbs over your left breast and feels a hard nipple under the material.

"Are you not wearing anything under this?" He murmurs against your skin, groaning again once he feels your fingers intertwine with his hair. Wooyoung doesn't wait for a response but roughly pulls one of the thick straps down your arm and places a hand over your naked breast feeling its weight in his hand.

Jesus fucking Christ.

He thumbs at your nipple, liking the soft moan that escapes you at the action as you continue to grind against his clothed thigh.

"Y-Yunjin said it didn't need a-a bra." You stutter out through a whisper and he places a soft kiss to the middle of your chest as if to soothe you before returning his attention to what's really important.

God bless Yunjin then. Wooyoung should remind himself to buy her that chicken sandwich she likes so much tomorrow morning.

His thumb rubs over the hard pink nipple one last time before its enveloped by his lips, tongue twirling around it and arm tightening around your waist as your breath hitches and you twitch even more in his hold.

When you let out a high pitched moan once his teeth gently graze the soft bud, Wooyoung thinks he'll send Yunjin a whole damn buffet to her dorm.

Wooyoung releases your nipple with a 'pop' that makes you groan lewdly and he scrambles to stand up to his full height to get the offending red shirt off your body.

"Off." He mutters and you quickly grab the ends of the shirt to pull it off, needing Wooyoung's help since it was genuinely so tight on your torso.

With your hair disheveled even more now and bare chest on full display, Wooyoung almost kneels down in front of you.

His dick ached.

"Oh my fucking God." He mutters, burying his face into your chest as he licked and kissed and sucked and...

"Bed." You whisper through a moan, tugging at his hair. You grit out almost bossily, "B-Bed!"

"Bed?" Wooyoung looks down on you in confirmation, body now completely pressed against yours and when he sees your wide, desperate but sure eyes, he quickly nods. "Bed."

His lips are back on yours again, hand grasping at your jaw as he pulls you from the wall and leads you further into his studio apartment. The bed was only a couple of feet away anyways.

You grunt against his lips as you trip over something and he pushes it away with his foot (it was a sneaker that fell out of place as he was getting ready in a hurry), continuing to lead the way to his bed.

"You take off your shirt too." You whisper, almost shyly which causes something warm to swirl in his stomach. He obeys quickly, dropping his shirt to your feet before pulling you in with a hand at the back of your neck, biting at your lower lip and letting out a small laugh as you gasp.

"Pants too." You add innocently and he huffs, growing amused at your bossy nature even in the bedroom.

So, of course, he'll be a little shit about it.

Wooyoung drops himself on the bed, thanking God he changed his sheets this morning, and obnoxiously spreads out his legs. He observes you with a tilted head and a grin on his face, "Why don't you take them off?"

You lick your lips at the request, feeling like it's awfully hot in the room despite the fact that you're not wearing a shirt. You without a shirt in front of Jung Wooyoung with your tits on full display was another thing that you weren't ready to unpack just yet.

He's beautiful.

Wooyoung's skin is a pretty color of fresh honey and you carefully step closer, between his legs, to place a hand on his firm chest and feel his velvety skin. He watches your every move with hooded eyes, holding himself up with his arms placed behind him on the bed.

There's a tattoo on the side of his ribs, one that you would never know about unless you see him like this, so you run a thumb over it in admiration. Still, you don't want to take too long at the risk of coming off as weird, so with all the bravery you can muster - your hand drops to the button of his jeans and you gently (because of your fucking knee) lower yourself down to sit between his legs.

You thumb it open and pull the zipper down, shivering at the way Wooyoung's lips part and he softly exhales in what seems to be anticipation. You further flush when you finally get to see the outline of his....well, his dick.

You felt it against your hip, when you were kissing by the entrance door but you didn't have the guts to ever look down.

When Wooyoung lifts his hips up to help you get his pants off, you realize you're about to see it now anyway.

Clearing your throat, you curl your fingers around the waistband of his jeans and underwear all at once and pull it down. If Wooyoung notices how clumsy you are with it, he decides not to comment at least.

And there it is. His dick. A dick, first of all. The first dick you've ever seen in your life that wasn't through the screen while watching a bad porn video.

You don't stop pulling on his pants until they're pooling at his ankles without breaking stare with his...penis.

You don't really know what you expected if you're being honest. You never thought a dick would be pretty and...it's not exactly ugly either. Just, odd looking you suppose.

You can't tell if it's either big or small as you have nothing to compare it to. Maybe average? What is considered small? You're scared what a big dick looks like if this is a small one. Or even average one. It's kind of thick though which is worrying, you don't even notice the way your lips part as you imagine how exactly is this...thing supposed to fit anywhere inside of you.

There's neatly trimmed hair at the base of it and the tip is flushed, a thick vein running at the underside of it and two-

"Uh," It's like a sound of a scratched record as you freeze, "Your first time seeing a dick or something, Y/L/N?"

Your head slowly lifts from his lap and up to his face where a Jung Wooyoung awaits with raised brows.

It's only then that you realize you've been examining this guy's dick like he was at a doctor's appointment instead of trying to get him off.

You're at a little loss of words to be honest and for a split second you're worried that Jung Wooyoung will take your stutters of "I, uh" and "Um"'s and "Uh, hm"'s the wrong way and think you're impressed by him or something. You're not, once again, you have nothing to compare it to. You barely know what you're looking at right now.

His facial expressions go a little like this in the next twenty seconds: Cockiness (that quickly fades though), Confusion and last but not least Realization.

"Oh my God, it is?!" He laughs in disbelief before his eyes grow even wider and mouth continues to hang open. He quickly places a pillow laying on his bed over his lap, to shield his manhood from the big bad scary virgin apparently, "You're a virgin?!"

It feels like a punch to the gut and you flush a deep red, already scrambling up to your feet and shielding your bare chest. While you try to find that damned crop top, Wooyoung is still rambling in the background.

"There's no way! Wow, seriously you've never had sex before?! Never?! Wow, there's no way! Wait, why are you putting your shoes on-"

You refuse to turn towards him, pathetic tears of embarrassment already welled up in your eyes and bottom lip wobbling, "Uh, I'm gonna go."

"Wait, what? Why?" You hear shuffling behind you and you assume he's trying to get back into his jeans.

You quickly slide your second sneaker on and are flinging the door open, not looking back. "I have to go. I'm sorry, bye."

"Sorry? What are you- Will you just wait a fucking second for me to put my clothes back-" The door falls shut and you're stalking down the hallway of the apartment building, trying to get as far away from his door as you can.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

What were you thinking? Kissing Jung Wooyoung, going home with Jung Wooyoung, doing anything with Jung Wooyoung. What were you thinking?

You cry only a little when you get back to your dorm. Really, it's only a little, just a couple of flimsy tears.

Then you scrub the makeup from your face and change into your pajamas. Yunjin still isn't back and you're angry at her too, for bringing you to that party in the first place. For leaving you with Jung Wooyoung as well.

You're angry and embarrassed. And on top of that, you're horny too.

Why did Jung Wooyoung have to be such a good kisser? Why did his hands have to feel so nice? Why was he so beautiful?

You huff, buried deep in your sheets and all ready to go to bed but sleep just isn't coming. You're too busy thinking about the guy you've sworn not to think about at all anymore.

It was going so well these last two years.

With another huff, you cover your face with your pillow and scream at the top of your lungs.

He tasted like lemonade.

#ateez angst #ateez x reader #ateez imagine #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung imagine #wooyoung smut #wooyoung angst #wooyoung fluff

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