#1. stack of textbooks

[gwendeeagain]

Thanks @cheetahleopard for the tag, how fun

Tagging anyone else who wants to do this.

[softspiderling]

like, ever | j.v

summary:

“Hey, I’m worried about you.”

You glanced up from your laptop screen to see Rhaena standing in your doorway, her arms crossed.

“Why?”

She gave you a look, before her eyes roamed your room: your textbooks stacked half-hazardly on your desk, two empty ice cream tubs, another half melted one on your nightstand, an empty tissue box on the floor and you on your bed, wrapped in your blanket like a burrito.

OR; You and Jace break up because of a stupid reason, but you’re both too proud to apologize.

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader

warnings: kinda toxic behavior from both of them, but like the usual issues in communication that’s so common in people our age idk what to tell you

word count: 4,1k

author’s note: modern au!jace is the president of the frat Alpha Draconis (it's co-ed, Rhaenyra was president during her time at uni), Jace/Aegon/Baela and their respective siblings are all cousins, but this is NOT in the same universe as can I go (where you go). thank you to my wonder sister wife beta @eldrith as usual <3

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“We broke up.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes, we did.”

Baela gave you a look, narrowing her eyes at you as she pushed her Econ 1 assignment away. You dropped down on the couch next to her, leaning your head back.

“Why?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you huffed and Baela whacked you in the arm.

“You just came home and dropped a bomb like that, you can’t just not talk about it.”

“Not talk about what?”

You internally groaned when Helaena’s voice floated from the hallway, the front door shutting behind her. An intervention was inevitable at this point. At least Rhaena wasn’t home yet, you knew she was volunteering until six.

“She and Jace broke up,” Baela told her and Helaena paused in the doorway to the living room, a frown on her face as she undid her braid.

“You didn’t.”

“That’s what I said!”

“You know, normal friends would offer ice cream if their friend was going through a break up.”

“I’d offer you ice cream if you were sad,” Helaena pointed out. She sat down next to you, patting your shoulder. “You don’t look sad.”

“Well, I am sad,” you sniffed, but Baela fixed her brown eyes at you until you threw your hands up in frustration. “Fine! I’m mostly mad, okay? Pissed off, actually!”

Baela folded her legs under herself. “Tell us what happened.”

“I don’t know, she just rubs me the wrong way. It’s like she knows you have a girlfriend and she chooses to ignore that.”

You and Jace were laying in his bed, your head on his chest. He had been telling you about the new pledges of the term, and you weren’t exactly fond of one of them - Laura, a nursing major. You were aware of her being especially touchy with Jace, twirling her hair while she was talking to him and always searching him out at every event. Which was fair, he was the president of the frat after all and at first you had told yourself that you were just projecting but the you noticed that she was laughing at all of Jace’s jokes. She was definitely into him. He was not that funny.

“I don’t know, it’s just the way she is, I think,” he said, and you frowned at him.

“Jace, come on, she’s totally into you.”

“Well, good thing I’m into you,” Jace pointed out, turning his head to nose along your neck but you pushed him away, starting to get annoyed that he wasn’t taking this seriously.

“I mean it, Jace.”

“So do I,” he answered, irritated. “Why does this bother you so much?”

“Because I don’t like another girl’s hands being all over you?”

You sat up, leaning away from him with a frown and he only sighed, laying his head back on the pillow, shutting his eyes. He was starting to piss you off.

“She’s not into me! Everyone tries to butter me up because they want to join the frat. And even if she was, why does it matter?”

“It matters because it bothers me and you clearly don’t care!”

“Of course I care,” Jace sighed. He opened his eyes, reaching out for you, and you had to admit your resolve was starting to crumble. “You’re overreacting.”

And just like that, the wall was back up.

“Wow, thanks.”

Your voice was biting as you spoke, tugging your hand out of his grasp and standing up, grabbing your hoodie. Jace was quick to follow you, brows furrowed. Great, now both of you were mad.

“You’re making a big deal out of nothing!” Jace snapped and you only glared at him.

“Thanks for invalidating my feelings, Jacaerys,” you said sarcastically. “If I’m making a deal out of nothing, maybe we’re both nothing.”

Jace’s face fell and he stopped in his tracks, letting out a huff. “You don’t mean that.”

Maybe you didn’t. But you weren’t about to backtrack now. You were a woman of your words.

“Yes, I do.”

You pulled the door open and rushed out of his room, slamming the door shut behind you. Distantly, you could hear Jace call after you and you secretly hoped he would chase after you, but by the time you made it downstairs to the front door, he was still nowhere to be seen.

“That’s…”

Baela and Helaena exchanged a look and you frowned at them. While you hadn’t expected for them to immediately spring into assuring you that they were on your side - you were dating their cousin after all - you also didn’t quite imagined them being so… Shocked.

“What?” you asked, suddenly growing insecure. “I had a point.”

“Well, yeah,” Baela started, “But so did he.”

“Why did you immediately jump into breaking up?” Helaena asked with a soft voice, the voice you knew she used when she didn’t want to hurt your feelings. You lifted your shoulders, then dropped them again, unable to answer her question.

“Did you want to break up?”

“No!”

You tucked your chin against your chest, a pit forming in your stomach. Did you maybe overreact?

“I was just mad,” you said, frowning, picking at the hem of your shirt.

“.. And you wanted to hurt him?” Baela said, finishing your sentence. Your head shot up, a denial on your lips, but your mouth closed when her words sunk in.

“… Maybe.”

“You two really are hotheaded and stubborn,” Helaena pointed out, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You only glowered, the anger from earlier dissipating and instead was replaced by misery and a little bit of guilt? Luckily, Helaena and Baela left you to your wallowing after they realized you needed some space and you fled to your bedroom, trying to bury yourself in your assignments.

There was only one slight problem. You couldn’t find school bag anywhere.

“Where did I leave it?” you muttered to yourself, checking under your desk for your bag, even opening the drawer for good measure. You were crawling on the floor looking under your bed when it finally dawned on you.

“Fuck.”

You had gone over to the frat’s house right after class, with your school bag. And after the fight, you must have forgotten to grab it.

“Ugh,” you groaned, dropping your forehead on the floor You’d rather crawl under your bed and sleep with the dust bunnies that have been collecting under there than go back to the frat house right now. But you had no choice. The assignment was was due the day after tomorrow and Professor Cole already was in a bad mood because his date went badly.

“Fuck me,” you muttered to yourself, turning to lay on your bad and cursed the Gods for making you miserable as you stared at the ceiling, collecting your wits.

“Oh.”

Luke Velaryon, Jace’s younger AND biological brother, stood in the doorway, apprehensive. He had always been the more sensitive one between the two brothers, but he was also unwaveringly loyal. You had no doubt that Jace had already told him everything about your fight.

“Hey Luke,” you said, giving him a wry smile.

“Hey,” he replied hesitantly. “Jace is not here.”

“I know.”

Luke pressed his lips together, his eyes darting around as if he was expecting his older brother to come out of the bushes any second. “Are you okay?”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. What a sweet boy.

“Yeah, alright enough I guess,” you replied, sighing. “Listen, I forgot my bag in Jace’s room and I really need it to do an assignment, could you let me in?”

“I don’t know….” Luke answered slowly. “Jace should be back soon though. Maybe you can just wait until he gets back? And then you guys could talk?”

Bless him.

You bit on your lip, running your hand through your hair, exasperated. “Listen Luke, I really appreciate you trying to look out for Jace, but I really can’t see him right now.”

Luke exhaled, shifting on his feet like he was undecided. The longer it took for him to decide, the higher chances were you’d run into Jace on your way out.

“Please, Luke, I just need to grab my bag really quickly. He won’t even notice I was there.”

With a loud sigh, Luke finally nodded, opening the door wider and taking a step back.

“He’s gonna be back soon, you need to hurry up.”

“Thanks Luke!”

You hushed past him into the house, walking the familiar way up the stairs to Jace’s bedroom, shutting the door behind you. With a small sigh, you looked around, trying to discern your stuff from his. It was harder than you had first anticipated, your belongings strewn all over the room. Picking your favorite scrunchie off of his nightstand next to a picture of the two of you during New Year’s Eve, you put your hair up as you narrowed your eyes, feeling relief settle in your chest when you saw your backpack lean against the desk.

“Thank God”, you muttered, grabbing it quickly. Just as you headed to the door, hand on the door knob, you could hear voices down the hallway through the closed door. You cursed, recognizing it as Jace and Cregan.

Fuck.

Immediately, you let go of the door knob, taking a few steps back, trying to come up with a way you wouldn’t be caught standing in the middle of Jace’s bedroom. Did you have enough time to make the climb out of the window and scale down the roof?

“- it’ll blow over. I’ll give her some time to calm down and-”

Before you could make a decision, the door swung open, and Jace entered. He was looking back at Cregan, who raised his brows when he saw you in the middle of the room.

“Wha-?” Jace turned his head, his mouth dropping open. “… Hey.”

“Hey.”

Cregan glanced between the two of you, narrowing his eyes. Meanwhile, Jace was rubbing the back of his neck.

“Did you forget something?”

“Yeah,” you answered - LAME! - lifting your backpack.

Jace nodded slowly. “Was there anything you wanted to say?”

You frowned at him, confused.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Jace said, shrugging with his shoulders. “I thought you were here to apologize.”

Cregan groaned, leaning his forehead against the door frame as you felt all the anger from before welling up again.

“Me apologize?” You repeated, your voice shrill. “What about you? I bet Laura’s thrilled to hear we broke up.”

“You just ended things for no reason! Laura’s not even into me!” Jace snapped and Cregan pushed himself off of the door frame.

“Maybe we all should just calm down.”

“Shut up, Cregan!” You and Jace yelled at the same time, your anger very briefly directed at Jace’s best friend.

Cregan flinched, raising his hands defensively. “Jesus, sorry. I’ll never try to help again,” he muttered. “Let me give you two a minute.”

He stepped out of the room but you held your hands up, stopping him with a scoff.

“No, I’m done here,” you huffed, shaking your head in disbelief. With one last angry look at Jace, you pushed between them, running out of the house, smoke coming out of your ears.

You spent the rest of the week distracting yourself. Burying yourself in assignments and reading, eating ice cream - there was a deal at Whole Foods, five for three, your freezer was full - and you only cried once.

“Hey, I’m worried about you.”

You glanced up from your laptop screen to see Rhaena standing in your doorway, her arms crossed.

“Why?”

She gave you a look, before her eyes roamed your room: your textbooks stacked half-hazardly on your desk, two empty ice cream tubs, another half melted one on your nightstand, an empty tissue box on the floor and you on your bed, wrapped in your blanket like a burrito. You sighed, letting the blankets fall from your shoulders.

“I’m fine, Rhae.”

“Hey, did you convince her to come?” Baela skidded to a halt next to Rhaena, looking from her sister to you. Rhaena only sighed while you narrowed your eyes at Baela’s get up. She was wearing black leather pants and a brown corset; she looked like she was going out.

“Come where?”

“Alpha Draconis’ summer term opening party.”

Right that. The party you had helped Jace plan. Before you broke up.

“I don’t know guys,” you sighed, leaning back against your headboard. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go.”

“You don’t have to go,” Rhaena assured you but Baela shushed her, shaking her head.

“No, you absolutely have to go,” she insisted. “We’ve let you wallow in your misery long enough. It’s time to put your big girl pants on and face Jace. You broke up with him for a shitty reason and yes, he was being a jerk, but you were being a bitch. Now suck it up and get your man back.”

You gaped at her, and Rhaena whacked Baela in the arm, but she only shrugged, ever the unapologetic brutally honest one.

“What? You know I’m right,” Baela only said, frowning at her twin before she turned to you. “So?”

With a groan, you closed your eyes. You knew Baela was right, in a way, and it was no use sitting around when your friends were going out. You had to see him eventually.

“Fine,” you gave in, pushing the blanket back as Baela cheered, immediately disappearing. Rhaena only shook her head, stepping into your bedroom, helping you clean up a little.

“I’m driving,” she told you. “Just tell me if you want to leave, okay?”

You nodded, giving Rhaena a grin when something soft just hit you in the face with no warning, courtesy of Baela having returned to your bedroom.

“Put that on.”

The projectile fell to floor, and as you picked it up, you recognized it as a dark red dress, tags still on.

“Hel’s headed to the party from work, so we’ll meet her there in an hour, go take a shower and I’ll do your hair,” Baela said, reaching for your hand to pull you up. “Come on, up up up!”

Begrudgingly, you let Baela usher you into the shower, shutting the door behind you very decidedly. You stared at yourself in the mirror, eyes rimmed red and hair a mess and you allowed yourself a minute of respite before you turned the shower on. If you had to go to that stupid party, you’d make sure to look the absolute best.

“Am I crazy or is it even more crowded than last term?”

You winced as you followed Baela and Rhaena through an especially crowded spot in the house, glancing around.

“No, it’s definitely more people,” Baela agreed, squeezing your hand to make sure not to lose you in the mass. “Has Helaena said where she is?”

“She said she was in backyards,” Rhaena replied and Baela steered you in the direction of the backyard. Meanwhile you tried not to let your eyes roam too much; you didn’t want to seem like you were looking for Jace, even though that was exactly what you were doing. Just as you reached the patio doors, Helaena appeared, stopping you in the doorway.

“Hey guys,” she said, breathless, her eyes flitting over to you as you greeted her. “Should we go get drinks?”

“I’m not dragging my ass back through that crowd,” you moaned, shaking your head. “Let’s just sit down by the pool for a second before we go back in.”

You nudged Helaena out of the way gently, but the blonde grabbed your arm, trying to pull you back.

“But I’m really thirsty.”

“Hel, come on,” you laughed. “You’ll survive ten more minutes without-”

The rest of your words died on your tongue when you caught sight of Jace sitting by the pool, surrounded by his frat brothers and of course, Laura. Now you knew why Helaena was so adamant to get you away from the backyard. It was too loud to hear what Jace was saying, but he must be telling an extremely funny story with the way Laura was laughing, touching his shoulder. They weren’t doing anything scandalous, but it still hurt you to see him still talking to her after you voiced your concerns. You tried not to let it get to you. It wasn’t your business anymore anyways, but you were still a little sick to the stomach.

With a scoff, you turned away, embarrassment burning your cheeks as your friends looked at you with pitiful eyes.

“Sorry,” Rhaena said and you only shrugged with your shoulders.

“Whatever,” you muttered, clearing your throat. “I told you, she was into him. Now he’s free to do as he pleases.”

Baela winced. “We can leave, if you want.”

“No, I’m not leaving because of that clown.”

The girls let out a laugh and Helaena wrapped her arm around you. You gave her a wry smile, leaning into her.

“Let’s go get you that drink.”

As Helaena dragged you away, you couldn’t help but glance back to Jace and for a split second, your eyes met. You quickly turned away, feeling a lump form in your throat. You couldn’t wait to get drinks. After getting to the kitchen, the four of you did two rounds of shots, knowing where the boys kept their expensive booze; Rhaena then mixed you some drinks before you settled on the couch in the living room. Taking a careful sip of your cup, you immediately pulled a face, looking at Rhaena.

“What the hell is in this?”

“I think Grey Goose and Coke.”

“You think?” you asked, wincing when you took another sip. “This is awful Rhae.”

“What is awful?”

Aegon, Helaena’s brother, one cousin of many in the Targaryen family, suddenly plopped down on the couch next to you.

“Oh great, Aegon is here,” Baela deadpanned and Aegon only mocked Baela as he reached for your drink.

“Sure, just go ahead and take my drink.”

Aegon took a big gulp of your drink, humming. “It’s not bad,” he said, offering the cup back to you but you politely declined. You didn’t know where Aegon’s mouth had been in the last 24 hours, there was no way you’d drink out of the same cup he had.

“So, what’s this I hear about you and our cousin breaking up?” Aegon asked, throwing his arm around the back of the couch and you scooted forward, trying to escape his touch.

“You heard right,” you said, throwing him a dirty look and Rhaena rolled her eyes.

“You’re a dick, Aeg.”

“What?” Aegon exclaimed. “’t was just a question, no harm done, right?”

You let out a deep sigh, pushing away from the couch.

“I need some air,” you told the girls and Rhaena furrowed her brows, worried.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“We can make Aegon leave,” Baela offered and Aegon made a noise, frowning at his cousin but you shook your head,

“Nah, I’m good. Just, text me if you guys go somewhere, okay?”

“Are you sure, babe?” Helaena asked and you nodded, patting her shoulder gently.

“Yeah, ‘m fine. I promise.”

With a small wave, you disappeared into the crowd, hearing the cousins starting to argue, but it was background noise to you. Instead of heading to the front door, you inconspicuously headed upstairs, past a kissing couple, and to the bathroom on the second floor. The door was shut, but unlocked and unoccupied as you opened the door. You let it fall shut in its hinges after you, walking over to the window, like you had done so many times before, but never alone. Clicking the window open, you carefully climbed out to the roof, sliding the window closed behind you again. You traipsed over the roof, before settling down on the small nook that sat right above Benjicot’s bedroom, stretching out your legs.

Jace had shown you this place when you first started dating, and sometimes when the parties got too much, the two of you snuck out here to be alone. It was probably risky to go here; but it was the only place you felt like you could retreat without having to go home.

The noise of the party downstairs could still be heard, especially the conversations in the backyard, but to you, it seemed quieter as you closed your eyes. It had cooled down significantly since you had come to the party, but you enjoyed the bite of the cold on your bare arms. A deep breath escaped your lips, your chest heavy.

Looking back on it, you knew what you had said was wrong. It was words hurled in the heat of the moment, chosen to provoke a reaction out of Jace and if you could take them back, you would. But now it was too late, it had seemed like Laura had already sunken her talons into Jace as soon as he was available - not that she had cared much about whether he had a girlfriend or not - and he seemed to be lapping it up.

“Stupid,” you muttered to yourself, wiping the tear that escaped your eye from your cheek with the back of your hand. You froze, when you heard the bathroom window slide open; not daring to look back. His steps were careful as he walked towards you, as if not to spook you, but before he came into view, a soft jacket was draped over your shoulders, engulfing you in his scent. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, tugging the jacket tighter around your body when Jace sat down next to you.

The silence between you stretched on, before Jace cleared his throat.

“You were right.”

You let out a small scoff at his words, glancing over to him.

“You’re shitting me, right?” you asked in disbelief. “She was all over you like that and you still thought she wasn’t into you?”

Jace winced, ducking his head.

“That’s fair. Maybe I was a little oblivious. It’s just…” he paused, sighing. “I didn’t see it, because I don’t really see other girls. Ever since we met, it’s just been you. I didn’t even realize that she was flirting with me until she straight up asked me if we could go upstairs.”

Jealousy flared up in your chest at his words, and you frowned, quickly giving him a once over.

“Well, did you?” you asked, your voice tight. Jace gave you a look, his hands dropping down on his lap.

“I’m sitting here with you, aren’t I?”

Relief flooded your veins and you ducked your head to hide your face. Jace glanced over at you, his face vulnerable and you bit your lip.

“I’m sorry too,” you then said. “I didn’t mean what I said. It was petty and stupid, and I’m sorry.”

“Well looks like we both got to work on some things,” Jace said, tentatively reaching out to take your hand; out of reflex you immediately laced your hand with his. He quirked a smile at you, scooting closer to you and you glanced up at him, almost shyly before you leaned in, as he met you halfway, your lips touching. Jace wrapped his hand around the back of your neck as you kissed, and if you hadn’t felt warm before, you definitely did now.

“What’s happening?”

“They’re kissing!”

“No way! Move over!”

“You move over!”

A crash sounded and you pulled away from Jace, just to see Luke and his cousins spying on you from the bathroom.

“Nothing to see here, carry on!” Luke yelled, quickly sliding the window back down, but their bickering could be heard through the closed window.

Jace snorted out a laugh, leaning his forehead against yours and you only grinned lazily at him.

“Come on, let’s go face the circus before they break the window and we have to scale down the roof,” Jace said, offering you his hand as he got up. You let him help you up, as the two of you walked back to the bathroom window.

“You know I thought about scaling down the roof when you caught me in your bedroom?”

“You’re joking.”

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author’s note: tell me what you think <3 also will add the taglist tomorrow bc i’m so tired but wanted to post🫶🏼

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Imagines: Simply Shady I*

Summary: The following events of Joe changing up his hair, along with both you and your fiance gearing up for the start of the season.

(Part 1 to - Part 2)

Warnings: Fluff, Smut (male receiving oral)

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine Universe: Misc.

August 1st, 2024 - First day of pads at camp

I was woken up in a way that I would usually love, but the fact that it was insanely early made me more annoyed than anything.

“Mph. Not now Joe.” - you mumbled

He didn't say anything in return, and the slow movements of his hips grinding into my behind kept going.

Joe’s body was pressed flesh against me. His chest to my back and his crotch to my ass. Because he was rubbing himself into me, I thought he was awake. But as I froze up in shock, I heard a snore leave Joe’s lips.

He's asleep. He’s asleep and grinding into me.

As Joe continued his movements in his sleep, my mind went wild. Throughout the dirty thoughts, I remembered a conversation that Joe and I had a couple of weeks ago.

Joe had asked me if I'd ever give him head while he was asleep, a different way to wake him up if I was comfortable doing it. I had said yes, that I would, but there was never a day where I woke up first since that conversation.

Today, though, was a perfect chance to try it out.

After deciding that I was going to suck him off while he was still sleeping, I slowly and quietly scooted away from him. Joe had always been a deep sleeper, so it was easy for me to pull the covers off of him and lightly shove him onto his back.

I couldn't help but sit there and admire him. Joe looked like a wet dream, and he was all mine. My personal 220 pounds of pure sexiness.

Joe was wearing nothing but his black boxers, and my mouth watered as I stared at his toned torso, sculpted chest, and perfect arms.

This off-season, one of Joe’s workout priorities was to gain weight to be bigger and stronger by the time football season came around.

He achieved that completely, and the outcome was one of the hottest states of his body that I had ever seen. Don’t get me wrong, as his partner, I've never not thought he was the most attractive man on the planet, but I love it when he beefs up.

I believe it’s because it reminds me of how he looked when I first fell in love with him, back when we were both freshmen at LSU.

——

Flashback - 2018 - LSU

“This date is awful! Please, please, please come pick me up?” - Lyla

After accepting a phone call from my best friend, she enlightened me that she was currently in the bathroom of the restaurant where she was on a date. She went on to say that her date was a weirdo and nothing like how he was over texts.

It was later in the evening, and I was studying in the library for my first big test of the semester, but I had to save my girl.

Still on the phone with her, I grabbed my laptop and textbooks super fast before darting out of the library.

Lyla was still ranting on the phone, telling me to please hurry, and I was focusing hard on not dropping my belongings. As I rounded the corner of the sidewalk, I looked over at the parking lot, trying to remember where I parked my car.

Since my eyes weren't on where I was walking, I gasped when I smacked into a hard body, dropping everything I was holding and my phone.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

“No. No. I should be.” - you

I immediately lept down and started to grab my things, not paying attention to the person that I just ran into. It sounded like a man, and I didn't exactly have time to put up with a college male right now.

To my surprise, though, he crouched down as well, stacking up some of my books as I focused on making sure my laptop screen wasn't broken.

After seeing that it was fine, I finally looked up at the man crouched down next to me who was holding my stuff.

My mouth dropped open, and my eyes widened.

Joe Burrow.

He was the starting quarterback for the football team, and because he had just transferred from Ohio State, his name was known.

I had only seen a couple of blurry pictures of him before as I listened to a couple of my guy friends rant about the incoming QB. In pictures, I wasn't exactly attracted to him, but seeing him in front of me right now, I completely understood why girls all around campus were obsessed with him.

“Are you okay? You look like you just saw a ghost.” - Joe chuckled

My cheeks turned red when I realized I had zoned out staring at him. This cannot be happening right now.

“I- I'm fine. I just wasn't expecting you.” - you

Joe cocked his head to the side, not exactly understanding. To him, he was a normal guy who just loved to play football. He didn't exactly love all of the publicity.

In the end, he shrugged and looked down at my books that were in his hands. Most of them were for classes, but a couple were for my personal reading.

“In Plain Sight? Do you believe in aliens?” - Joe

I nodded my head with a soft smile on my face, completely in shock that I was talking about aliens with Joe Burrow.

“That’s cool. I do, too. My friends all say that I'm crazy to believe in them. Oh, I’m Joe, by the way.” - Joe

Joe shifted my belongings into one arm before reaching out with his now free hand. I reached out, too, putting my hand in his and shaking it.

“I know who you are. I'm y/n.” - you

“That’s a pretty name. Only fitting for a pretty girl, though.” - Joe winked

My stomach dropped, and reality hit. He’s a jock college football player. Only one thing on his mind.

I stood up and recollected everything into my arms, and Joe immediately noticed my change in body language. When he handed me my books, I noticed that the pretty smile had dropped from his face, a disconcerted look left in its place.

“Did I say something wrong?” - Joe

“No. I just need to get out of here. Thanks for the help, it was lovely to meet you, Joe.” - you

I started speeding down the sidewalk once again, but Joe called out for me to wait. Oh, fuck this.

“You forgot your phone!” - Joe

Mentally cursing myself, I turned around and walked back up to Joe. He was fully standing up now, and he towered over me.

“Thanks..” - you

“You’re welcome. Maybe I'll see you around campus?” - Joe grinned

I looked up at the stupid smile on his face and wanted to claw my eyes out. Why is he so cute? He’s just wearing athletic shorts and a Looney Tunes sweatshirt, but he looks perfect.

“Mmm. Probably not. I'm more into school than all of the partying.” - you

“I’m not into partying either. I’m taking all online classes, so unless I'm at football practice or working out, I'm usually at my apartment.” - Joe

Why are his stupidly perfect lips still moving?

“Okay? Thanks again. Bye.” - you

I started walking off again, and this time he didn't stop me. Once I got into my car, I laid my head back against the headrest with a deep sigh. That did not just fucking happen.

Why was he being so oddly persistent?

Probably looking for a quick fuck.

“That’s what they all want.” - you whispered aloud

I was lost in my thoughts. The thoughts being the image of the pretty quarterback crouched down while examining my alien book, the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkling up when he smiled.

God he was so-

My train of thought abruptly stopped when I heard a quiet voice. I looked around, confused, before my eyes landed on my phone. The call with Lyla was very much still going.

I remembered why I was rushing in the first place, and my eyes went wide. After quickly grabbing my phone to my ear, I realized just how crazy I was about to sound.

“Lyla, you will never guess what just happened. It sounds crazy.” - you

“You can tell me after you fucking pick me up!! Come on!” - Lyla

——

Flashback - still 2018 - LSU

“Are you excited to watch your man play?” - Lyla squealed

I rolled my eyes at her words. We were currently sitting down in our seats for the first home game of the season.

My run-in with Joe was months ago, and I hadn’t seen him since then, not like I expected that I would, but Lyla swore up and down he was into me.

She hadn't let the interaction go, and when I perked up at the mention that she had an extra ticket for the game since her boyfriend bailed, it only made it worse.

“You know he's still single. Maybe he's waiting to see you again.” - Lyla bumped your shoulder

I stared at her for a few seconds, narrowing my eyes at her dumb assessment. There was no possible way that was true.

Joe and I were strangers. We only knew each other’s names and the fact that we both believed in aliens. To be frank, he's probably long forgotten about our encounter. There were girls constantly throwing themselves at him, so why would he pay attention to me?

Up til the team ran out, Lyla was talking about nothing but Joe.

“Lyla. He doesn't even know who I am. He's probably long forgotten about bumping into me. Even if I wanted to say something to him, which I don't.” - you

“Sure. We’ll see if that changes after you watch him play. Those football pants might do something to you.” - Lyla

“Stop saying things that make me roll my eyes. I'm gonna get a headache.” - you

“Or… stop fighting the fact that he was into you and one thousand percent recognize you if he saw you again. He called you pretty! And when you freaked out, he immediately got worried that he said something wrong.” - Lyla

Before I could say anything, the team ran out. Lyla immediately jumped up and yanked me up with her. I have to admit, the electricity running through Death Valley as everyone was on their feet cheering was an adrenaline rush. I couldn't help but jump and cheer as well.

My eyes landed on Joe fairly easily as he was leading the pack as QB1. And for a split second, he looked at me too. His eyes were scanning the crowd before looking away, but he did a double-take.

Unfortunately, Lyla noticed and shook my shoulder. We were in the bottom row of our section, so there was a chance he was looking at someone behind me. Right?

-

Joe’s POV - Same flashback

While running out with the team, I looked over at the crowd just to see how big it was. It was my first home game as a Tiger, and Death Valley already felt like home.

As I looked around, my eyes scanned over a familiar face. I looked away and realized, so I did a double take to make sure I wasn't seeing things or my mind was playing tricks on me.

It was her.

My eyes weren't deceiving me. It was y/n. The beautiful girl I had the lovely opportunity of gracing paths with. Quite literally.

When I first bumped into y/n, it felt like everything around me disappeared and that it was just us on that sidewalk, much like how it felt as our eyes met through the crowd.

I only knew this girl's name, but I’ll never forget how I felt crouched down on that sidewalk with her. Everything felt right. Like everything was still and at peace.

I never thought I’d see her again with how quickly she took off running after I called her pretty. Looking back, I could see why it freaked her out. Our personalities were meshing super well before I said that, and I know the reputation of college athletes. She probably thought I was trying to get in her pants, only to be gone by the morning.

I'd never been that kind of guy anyway. I had hooked up with a couple of girls while at Ohio State, but I got attached too easily and could never leave it as just a one-night stand.

Maybe I could talk to y/n more and show her that I wasn't the average college athlete fuckboy. That is if she'd even talk to me or even remember that we'd bumped into each other.

After Game - Same flashback

LSU won the game, and Joe was impressive, to say the least. Lyla nudged me after every good play he made, making sure to call him ‘my man’ when she was talking about him.

Everyone was filing out of the stadium, but Lyla and I stayed back to take a couple of pictures and wait for the crowd to die down.

We had our backs to the field, our noses buried in our phones as we looked at a few selfies we had taken.

“Okay, let me get a good pic of the field.” - Lyla

I wasn't exactly paying attention to her, but I noticed that she had turned around to take a picture of the stadium. When she did, though, she paused and gasped.

“Y/N… turn around.” - you

Sighing as I slipped my phone into my pocket, I turned around. My eyes went wide when I looked down and saw what - or who - was standing on the grass looking up at us.

“Hi.” - Joe smiled

Joe was in regular clothes now since the game had been over for about thirty minutes. He was all that was left on the field other than the training staff cleaning up and a few janitors.

“Hi?” - you smiled back

“Did you enjoy that game? I know you said you don't go out, so this must be a different environment for you.” - Joe

“It was so fun. You're crazy good, by the way. I'm impressed.” - you

Joe felt his cheeks heat up a little at the compliment, and it didn't go unnoticed by me. I saw the way his face turned a little pink.

“Thank you. It was awesome to see your pretty face again. That might be your queue to runaway, but that's how I feel.” - Joe smiled

My stomach filled with butterflies at him calling me pretty again, along with a feeling of slight embarrassment from his joke. Something about him making light of the situation gave me closure, though. He wasn't looking for a hookup.

“You’re pretty good-looking yourself.” - you grinned

“I’m glad you think so, y/n. But I didn't just walk over here to call you pretty again. I wanted to know if you'd like to have dinner with me tonight. I’d love to get to know you.” - Joe

I looked at Joe’s gorgeous face in shock before looking over at Lyla. She nodded and bumped my elbow with hers.

“I can get home just fine by myself. You get him, tiger.” - Lyle whispered

Looking back down at Joe, he looked up at me with hopeful eyes. His gaze shifted to Lyla, trying to read her expression before looking back at me.

“Sure. I'd love to have dinner tonight.” - you

Joe’s anxious expression broke into a huge smile, the nervous feeling in his stomach immediately going away. You said yes.

“Okay, great. Can I get your number? You know, so I can text you when I'm pulling around to pick you up.” - Joe

I nodded my head, the smile never leaving my face, and handed Joe my phone for him to put his number in. Once he was done, he handed me his phone to do the same.

After handing his phone back to him, Joe nervously rocked back and forth on his feet. Saying he was giddy was an understatement.

“So I’ll see you in a little bit?” - you

“Yup. It’s a date.” - Joe smiled

As soon as the words left his lips, he spun on the balls of his heels and walked back toward the tunnel. I slowly turned my head to Lyla, my eyes wide, and my jaw dropped.

“That did not just happen.” - you

“Oh, it so did! And he walked over to you. He initiated all of that. Not to mention, he just said that dinner with him tonight was a date. Y/N, that's your man!!” - Lyla

We both grabbed each other’s forearms, jumping up and down and giggling at the fact that Joe, a desirable starting college quarterback, just asked me on a date. Out of all of the girls who wanted him, Joe chose me, the girl he bumped into once.

——

Back to present day

Obviously, the first date went amazingly, and Joe and I have been together ever since. Joe always says that he knew I was the one when he first laid eyes on me, and the fact that his body immediately relaxed on that sidewalk was a sign of things to come. I was home to Joe, sometimes described as his everything.

Since the moment Joe and I started to get to know each other, he became my best friend. Well, I’d say that to everyone but Lyla. She would get a little salty if I told her that.

I remember thinking that Joe was cute the first time we crossed paths, but when he ran out of the tunnel that day, and we made eye contact, my insides melted. No other guy I had been with before was able to make me feel the way he did in that second.

Call it love at second sight.

For the rest of Joe’s time at LSU, before he graduated, we were stuck to each other at the hip, completely and utterly inseparable.

We had to do long distance for a year because I was still at LSU, and Joe got drafted by the Bengals. It was arguably the hardest year of my life.

As soon as Joe entered my life, he became the anchor that kept me grounded. I’d never been happier with someone, and we were together practically every moment that we could. So, to be living in completely different states was tough.

Once I graduated, though, I moved in with Joe. It was the house he bought with his rookie contract, and it was perfect for just the two of us. I ended up getting a marketing job in Cincinnati, just like I had planned when it was announced that Cincinnati had the first pick of the draft. Joe always told me that I didn't need a job since he was getting paid millions to play football, but I wanted to work. I didn't want to mooch off of my boyfriend.

But, a few months ago, I ended up calling it quits at that job. The workplace grew increasingly toxic under a recently hired new boss, and I found myself crumbling under the workload. Joe had been present for a few of my work-related breakdowns, and he finally put his foot down one day.

——

A few months ago

“I don't know if I can do it anymore, Joe. I feel like she's setting me up to fail.” - you

I was having yet another breakdown over work. Second time this week, and it was only Wednesday.

Joe was holding me as tight as he could, listening to every word that left my lips. We were lying on the couch, and I was cuddling on top of him, my face buried in his neck as I tried to calm down my crying. Joe had his arms wrapped around my waist, rubbing my back and kissing my head now and then. He hadn't said a word yet.

After my crying started to slow down, Joe abruptly rolled onto his side and unwrapped his arms from me. He stood up from the couch seconds later and grabbed my phone off of the end table.

“Joey? What’re you doing?” - you

“I can't do this anymore, y/n. This job is breaking you down, baby. I can't just sit here and hold you and then send you back just to have to do it again tomorrow. It hurts me to know you're hurting. I hate it.” - Joe

I stared at him dumbfounded. I knew he detested my job, but he respected my decision to go back every time.

“I’d be a terrible boyfriend to let you stay in that environment y/n.” - Joe

After sniffling a few more times and wiping my eyes and nose on the back of my sleeve, I finally spoke up.

“So what are you gonna do?” - you sniffled

“I’m calling your boss. I’ll try to remain calm, but when it comes to you, I can't control if I lose my shit. You’re the most important thing to me in the whole world, and to see you get treated like this is pissing me off.” - Joe

You could practically see steam coming out of Joe’s ears. I knew he was mad, but I didn't expect him to get this worked up. In another way, though, it made sense. I was the woman that Joe loved, and he took his responsibility of protecting me very seriously.

“What are you gonna say?” - you

“I’m telling her to put your two weeks in. Do you have two weeks of vacation days? I’m not letting you step foot in that office building.” - Joe

“You’re making me quit?? I need that job, Joe. How am I gonna pay for stuff?” - you

Joe did a massive eye roll before plopping down on the couch next to me. Here we go.

“That might just be the dumbest question you have ever asked. Baby, do you know how much money I make? It’d be stupid for you to keep that job that makes you feel like shit when your boyfriend is making millions to play football. No, you aren't mooching off of me, and I don't want to hear that. I want nothing more than to take care of you, y/n. You just have to let me.” - Joe

I stayed silent for a few moments, my anxiety and a feeling of guilt creeping in. My eyes welled up with tears again from Joe’s generosity and the fact that a bunch of fear came with it.

“I need a job, Joe.” - you mumbled

“Why? Why do you need one?” - Joe

It was gonna sound bad to say out loud, and the last thing I wanted was for Joe to think I had doubts about our relationship, but I was just being reasonable.

“What if things go south? I don't want to, and I don't think we will, but what if we break up? Then, I don't have anything to fall back on.” - you

“Are you being serious? We’re not gonna break up, baby. You’re it for me. Do I not make it obvious enough that I'm all in?” - Joe

“I know, it’s stupid. But I still worry.” - you

“You have no reason to. I'm not going anywhere, and that's a promise.” - Joe

——

Back to present day

So, that's when I finally agreed and decided to quit my job. Joe and I were able to spend a lot more time together, and we grew closer than ever before. I was putting full trust in him, and after a while, the thought wasn't scary.

I lay in bed for a while longer, just watching Joe as he slept peacefully. He just looked adorable.

My more innocent thoughts changed, though, as my eyes wandered over his perfect body once again. God, gaining weight was the best decision he's ever made.

Time to get down to business, I thought to myself.

I shoved the covers farther down the bed and gently spread Joe’s legs before kneeling in between them. After getting comfortable, I reached out for the waistband of his boxers and slowly pulled them down and over his perfect butt.

Joe stirred once he was fully exposed, probably feeling a draft but not fully waking up. Once he stopped moving around, I reached and wrapped my hand around his semi-erect cock. He always woke up a little hard, and right now, I was silently grateful for that.

Slowly pumping his length, I felt Joe harden and grow in my hand, and yet his face still showed zero tension. Once his erection leveled up to fully erect, I removed my hand from his length and slowly leaned down.

I wrapped my lips around his tip, watching his face the entire time I slowly inched my mouth down his dick. Joe let out a little whimper when his tip hit the back of my throat, but as I watched him, I noticed that he was still asleep.

After that, I doubled my efforts in hopes of drawing another sound from his lips while he was still out cold, and it was easier than expected. I sucked on his length as I bobbed my head, trying to give him the sloppiest head that I could conjure up. Joe would let out a little whimper or a quiet moan now and then, and I could tell he was close to waking up.

A minute later, with my eyes glued to Joe’s face, his mouth dropped open, and he moaned out. Louder than before. He’s awake.

Joe’s eyes fluttered open, and when he looked down to see my mouth around his cock, his eyes went wide, and he sat up straight. Joe’s cock got impossibly harder at the sight, and he buried a hand in my hair when I pulled off of him with a pop. I immediately wrapped my hand around him, stroking him fast with a grin on my face.

“Morning, Joey.” - you grinned

“Holy fuck, baby. I- I… fuck, I can't.” - Joe moaned

His raspy morning voice only made the experience hotter, so I took his length back into my mouth. Joe’s head was thrown back, and his grip on my hair got tighter. He's so close.

Joe continued to moan as I sucked him, his thoughts going crazy at the fact that he just woke up to me giving him head.

“So hot, baby. Oh god.” - Joe whimpered

A few moments later, Joe only started getting louder, his built chest heaving as he panted.

“Fuck, I'm cumming.” - Joe moaned

Joe held my head down and bucked his hips up, stilling as he exploded in my mouth.

“Fuck- fuck- fuck.” - Joe

It took a few minutes for Joe to gain his composure back, along with his breath, and I pulled off of his length. I rolled over back into my spot and cuddled up to Joe, pulling him into my chest.

I went to play with his hair before awkwardly stopping, remembering the fact that his curls were no longer there. Joe had recently changed up his hairstyle, and though it was hard to get used to at first, I loved it.

——

Flashback to a couple of months ago

“Hey.” - you

“Hi, baby.” - Joe

I was currently driving home from doing a few errands, including picking up dinner for Joe and me since he said we should just eat at home, though he didn't feel like cooking.

“Whatcha doing?” - you

“Nothing much. I'm looking at clothes for game day fits.” - Joe

“Sounds like fun!” - you enthused

Joe went silent for a couple of seconds before letting out a sigh, my eyes narrowing at his change of attitude.

“Sure. When are you gonna be home? I miss you, and I have a surprise for you.” - Joe

“You miss me? It’s only been a couple of hours, Joey. And I'm pulling onto our road right now. What'd you say about a surprise?” - you

“I have one for you.” - Joe

“Oooo. Am I gonna like it?” - you

Joe was freaking out just a little bit. Sure, what he did was what he wanted, but he was realizing now that it was a little impulsive, and he was worried about what you would think of it.

“Uh. Hopefully.” - Joe chuckled

We ended the call a few minutes later since I was literally in our garage. After grabbing all of the bags that I could, I walked into the kitchen through the mudroom. Joe was sitting at the counter, a grin forming on his lips when he saw me.

“Hey, gorgeous.” - Joe smiled

After placing the bags down and setting the food in front of Joe, I walked back around to the other end and up to him. Joe swiveled the barstool around, opening his arms for me once I stepped between his spread legs. He pulled me into a hug, and my head fell onto his shoulder, Joe’s arms wrapped tightly around my waist.

“Hi, handsome.” - you mumbled into his neck

Joe stayed silent for a few moments, rubbing his big hands over my back before pulling away and doing the same to my hips.

“Is there anything left in the car?” - Joe

“Just a couple more bags. I can get them, though.” - you

I went to turn around and head back for the mudroom, but Joe grabbed my arm and pulled me back to him.

“How about you get dinner out of the bags, and I’ll go get ‘em? - Joe

“Alright.” - you smiled

Joe pecked my lips before getting off the barstool. I watched him walk away till he disappeared from my sight, my eyes lingering on his ass for a few seconds before I looked away with a giggle.

-

Thirty minutes later, Joe and I had just finished dinner when I realized something. Ever since I got home, Joe’s been wearing a hat with his hood up over the top of it.

Joe cleared his throat to say something, looking over at me to see that I already had my eyes narrowed and staring at him.

“What?” - Joe chuckled

“Why do you have a hat on and your hood up? New questionable fashion choice?” - you

I giggled when he rolled his eyes, but his tone quickly switched back to serious.

“That’s what I was about to tell you. Close your eyes.” - Joe

“Is your hair my surprise?” - you

“Uhm. Basically.” - Joe

Please tell me he got the modern-ish-looking mullet that I've been begging him to do.

I closed my eyes, a grin on my face as I prepared myself. He's gonna look so hot.

Meanwhile, Joe’s heart was beating out of his chest. It was silly to be nervous about, but buzzing his hair, which he knew you loved, was almost a recipe for disaster.

Joe took his hood down before popping his Bengals hat off, running his hand over his spikey hair. He took one last deep breathe, mentally preparing himself for what you're reaction would be.

“Open.” - Joe

I opened my eyes, immediately jumping back with a scream. That’s not a mullet. He's fucking bald. Joe immediately started biting his cheeks and playing with his fingers.

“Is it that bad?” - Joe mumbled

“Joseph Lee. Your hair is gone. It’s gone.” - you

“Can you answer my question? I’m super scared right now.” - Joe

I stared at his head for a few more seconds, my eyes going between his practically bare head and his worried face. He looks so nervous.

Because I hadn't said anything yet, Joe dropped his head, unable to maintain eye contact with you because he was worried you weren't attracted to him.

“You hate it.” - he mumbled

My bottom lip stuck out in a pout as I pushed off of the barstool, wrapping my arms around Joe’s shoulder as his head ended up on my shoulder.

“Aww. Baby, I don't hate it. You know I love your hair, but there's so much more to look at than it. Look at me.” - you

I gently patted the back of Joe’s neck, and he leaned up. I cupped his cheeks, placing a kiss on his forehead before pulling back with a grin on my face.

“Your pretty face is the star of the show now. I can focus on your perfect nose, your baby blue eyes, and these perfect lips.” - you

When I mentioned Joe’s nose, I pecked the tip of it, rubbing my thumbs under his eyes when I mentioned them, and I pressed a kiss to his lips when I talked about them as well.

Joe’s cheeks turned pink at the overwhelming compliments, a cheeky grin forming on his lips before I returned his head to my shoulder.

“You’re so cute.” - you giggled

I rubbed his back as Joe giggled into my neck, his hot cheeks easily feelable on my neck.

“Hair or no hair, you're the hottest man I've ever seen.” - you grinned

—

Later that week - Same flashback

I was sitting on the couch when Joe got home from his workout. I was neck-deep in a conversation about Love Island USA with Lyla, so I didn't even look up when Joe loudly shut the mudroom door.

Truthfully, he shut the door loudly on purpose to try to get your attention. When you weren't already looking up at him when he entered the house, he attempted to slam the door so you'd look up, but you didn't.

“I’m homeeee.” - Joe

It was adorable how he drawled out the word, but I was too busy ranting about my least favorite person on the show to acknowledge Joe.

“Baby?” - Joe

“Hi, Joe.” - you

Joe walked into the house, dramatically dropping his bag on the floor before basically throwing himself down on the couch next to you. And yet you still hadn't looked up at him.

“Are you gonna ask me how my workout went..?” - Joe

“How’d your workout go?” - you sighed

He had to grin. He loved messing with you.

“Good. Can I have a kiss?” - Joe

All I did was pucker my lips, my eyes still not leaving my phone as I sent a frantic paragraph in response to something Lyla said.

Joe leaned over and craned his neck to give me a kiss, my eyes going wide when his head came into view. I immediately jumped back, our lips barely ever touching.

“Oh my god. You bleached it?” - you chuckled

I watched Joe move back to his seat so that he was comfortable and not straining his neck. He nodded with a grin, and my eyes were stuck on his bleached + buzzed head.

“What do ya think?” - Joe

I couldn't lie. As bizarre and silly as bleaching and buzzing his hair was… he looked hot as fuck.

“You look good. I kind of like this more. You look less intimidating.” - you giggled

With how bright his hair was, it brought out his blue eyes. One of my favorite features of his and something I could find myself getting lost in.

I moved over after setting my phone down, eventually straddling his lap as Joe’s hands found their place on my hips.

That hair made his perfect face the star of the show, and his built chest and sculpted arms were a sight. I was getting worked up, and he was just sitting here.

“I'm not gonna lie, you look hot.” - you

“Yeah?” - Joe

I nodded, my arms going around his neck as I slowly ground down onto his crotch. Joe groaned, leaning forward and smashing his lips into mine.

“Fuck.” - Joe groaned

After a few minutes of making out, I pulled away from his slick, reddened lips. God, he looks so hot right now.

“We should probably stop. We have to tour our possible wedding venue in less than two hours, and I need to go get ready.” - you

Oh yeah, Joe and I got engaged right after his trip to France! We were planning our wedding for the next off-season, and today we were going to tour a venue with both sets of our parents.

I grinned at Joe’s pout, sad that I was leaving him hanging because he was very hard. But he couldn't get too upset. Not when we were about to tour the place where we were possibly going to get married.

“Are you not excited?” - you chuckled

“No, I am. I just don't want to have to go take a cold shower. And alone.” - Joe

Chuckling as I crawled off of Joe’s lap, I couldn't help but bite my lip at the sight of the tent in his pants.

“Stop that!” - Joe

I only laughed louder before Joe got up from the couch, wrapping his arms around my waist.

“I'm excited to see the venue, though. It’ll make everything feel a lot more real.” - Joe

“Me too. The thought alone makes me giddy. I can't wait to marry you.” - you

“I can't wait to marry you more. I've been waiting for that moment since I bumped into you on that sidewalk.” - Joe grinned

I laughed at his over-the-top statement, finding it both endearing and silly.

“Okay, I think you need that cold shower now. You need some blood flow to go back to your head instead of your dick.” - you chuckled

“Why do you say that?” - Joe laughed

“You’re starting to say some questionable things.” - you

Joe cocked his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at me because he was confused.

“What have I said that's questionable?” - Joe

“Saying that you've been waiting for us to get married since we met.” - you

He rolled his eyes when I left his arms and gently started pushing him towards the stairs. Joe argued that he meant what he said our entire trip into our bathroom.

“Okay, okay! Get in the shower, goofball.” - you

I threw a towel at Joe before turning to the sink, going to grab my face wash before doing my makeup when a cloth fabric hit my face. I put the bottle down to pull the garment off of my head. Lo and behold, it was Joe’s boxers.

Turning around to glare at him, all I'm met with is the sight of Joe butt naked. The only thing he's wearing is a cheeky grin that makes the corner of his eyes crinkle up. If he wasn't so perfect, I’d slap him.

“Ya know… I’m still pretty horny from that make-out earlier…” - Joe

“Get in the shower.” - you

“Yes, ma'am.” - Joe sighed

I watched him climb into the shower with a smile on my face, shaking my head at his antics.

At least I know I'm marrying a man that always keeps me on my toes, I thought to myself.

“Baby, are you sure you don't want t-” - Joe

“Yes, Joe! Shower.” - you

Authors note: The next part will go back to present-day! Or August 1st. This part was just kind of setting the stage for the real stuff!!

Requests;

HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!! 💕

[o9sessions]

JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY — H.H

↻ 5 times you experience jealousy— and 1 time he does.

↻ fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, suggestive themes

↻ wc; 7.1k

1 —

The familiar ding of the elevator echoed through the Man Cave, reverberating off the metallic walls. You barely glanced up, still savoring the last few fries from the greasy basket in front of you. The smell of salt and oil hung in the air, mixing with the subtle hum of the computers. When you finally did look up, it wasn’t Ray as expected—it was Henry and Charlotte, their laughter spilling in like sunlight breaking through the cold steel of the lair.

They strolled toward the booth, Henry’s hand brushing against Charlotte’s arm as she made some joke you couldn’t hear but felt in the way his eyes crinkled. They collapsed into the soft, foamy cushions across from you, still giggling like schoolkids.

“Did Ray beep you guys too?” you asked, feigning nonchalance as you shifted in your seat, the cushion creaking beneath you.

“Yup,” Henry replied, his voice light, the ‘p’ popping playfully. “He sounded kinda urgent.”

Before you could say more, the sound of Ray’s heavy footsteps thudded in the distance. He emerged from behind the snack bar, dressed in his usual plaid shirt and jeans, pushing a cart laden with neatly stacked manila folders. The air around him smelled faintly of nacho cheese.

“Speak of the devil,” Charlotte quipped, her voice dripping with sarcasm, her eyes rolling in that effortless way she had. Henry chuckled beside her, their laughter vibrating through the booth.

You glanced at the cart as curiosity tugged at you, fingers lightly grazing the folder marked DRILL FINGER as you picked it up. Before you could speak, Henry’s hand reached over, brushing yours as he took the folder from you. The brief touch sent a spark up your arm, but before you could meet his eyes for more than a second, Ray slammed a fresh stack of files onto the table, snapping you both out of the moment.

“They’re mission reports,” Ray grunted. “Sort through them, figure out which villains are in jail and who’s still out there causing trouble.”

The collective groan that followed was immediate, filling the cave with a heavy sense of dread.

“And you’ll be doing… what, exactly?” Charlotte asked, raising an eyebrow at Ray’s retreating form.

“Eating nachos and watching you kids work,” he replied over his shoulder, already heading toward the snack machine.

With a sigh, you reached for a stack of files, the paper crinkling in your hands. It should’ve been a quiet task, but Charlotte soon broke the silence, nudging Henry. “Remember that time you got stuck in that weird dream and I had to save your ass?”

Henry’s laugh was soft but genuine, the sound low in his throat as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey, that was one time.”

You tried to stay focused on the mission reports, the feel of the rough paper slipping through your fingers grounding you, but their laughter kept creeping into the corners of your mind. Every shared glance, every inside joke felt like a secret you weren’t part of. Their chemistry was effortless, natural, and it left you feeling like a bystander in a scene that wasn’t meant for you. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the leather squeaking beneath you as you cleared your throat, hoping to draw them back to the task at hand.

But they barely noticed, their world orbiting around each other. Another joke, another laugh. You clenched your jaw, the sound of their shared amusement feeling heavier than the silence that followed.

2 —

The soft murmur of the coffee shop wrapped around you like a blanket, blending with the gentle clinks of ceramic mugs and the rustle of pages turning. The smell of fresh-ground coffee drifted through the air, mixing with the warm scent of cinnamon pastries from behind the counter. You sat tucked away in the back corner, the dim light above casting a soft glow on your open textbooks. Midterms were looming, and you’d come here to focus, hoping the quiet hum of life around you would ease the anxiety brewing in your chest.

But just as your pen glided across your notes, the bell above the door jingled, and out of habit, you glanced up. Your breath caught.

Henry walked in. And with him—Bianca.

You froze, fingers tightening around your pen as you watched them make their way to a small table near the window. Bianca looked effortlessly perfect, her hair catching the afternoon light as she smiled up at Henry, her laughter a melodic hum that echoed faintly across the shop.

You sank lower into your seat, hidden behind a stack of books, heart pounding in your chest. They hadn’t noticed you. The chatter of the coffee shop continued, but all you could focus on was them—the way Bianca’s hand brushed against Henry’s arm as they sat down, the way she leaned in just a little too close when she spoke. Her laughter came easy, bubbling up every time Henry said something, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lit up, even if just for a moment.

Your stomach twisted as Bianca casually reached across the table, her fingers grazing Henry’s. It was subtle, innocent maybe, but the gesture stung all the same. She was always like this—flirty, magnetic. You watched as she played with her hair, tilting her head slightly as she spoke, her eyes never leaving his. Henry seemed comfortable, leaning back in his chair, smiling that boyish smile that made your heart race.

You tried to focus on your textbook, but the words blurred. Your mind was too busy replaying every small interaction between them. You told yourself to leave—to get up and walk out—but your legs wouldn’t move. Instead, you stayed rooted in your chair, watching from the shadows as an hour ticked by, each small gesture between them feeling like a tiny dagger.

Bianca laughed again, her voice soft and sweet, and for a brief moment, Henry glanced out the window, his smile fading just slightly. You wondered if he was thinking of you—wondered if he remembered the promises he’d made before Bianca had left. But then his attention snapped back to her, and the thought dissolved.

The coffee in your cup had long gone cold, but you didn’t move. You just watched, heart heavy, until finally, they stood to leave. Bianca looped her arm through Henry’s, and they walked out together, the door’s bell jingling behind them.

For a moment, you just sat there in the dim light, the weight of what you’d witnessed pressing down on you. None of them knew you had been there. They didn’t see the way your fingers trembled, or how your heart had fractured, piece by piece, with every lingering glance and laugh shared between them.

In the quiet that followed, the world continued as if nothing had changed. But inside, something had shifted—jealousy, sadness, the ache of uncertainty. You let out a shaky breath, finally closing your book. For now, you’d leave the words unstudied and the questions unanswered.

3 —

The steady beep of the heart monitor echoed softly in the quiet of the Man Cave’s med bay. The fluorescent lights overhead cast a sterile glow on the room, making the sterile whites and grays feel even more lifeless. Henry sat beside the bed, his chair pulled close to where Phoebe lay, still and bruised, her breathing shallow but steady.

You stood a little farther back, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, your heart a jumble of emotions. The fight was over, but the weight of what had happened lingered thick in the air. You glanced at Henry, the way his eyes stayed locked on Phoebe, his expression tight with concern. There was something about the way he hovered, his presence protective and unyielding, that twisted in your chest.

You understood the direness of the situation—she had been hurt saving him. Still, a dull ache of jealousy had settled deep inside you, one that you tried to push away.

As Henry sat there, his mind seemed far away, lost in the chaos of what had happened earlier. The fight was still fresh in his memory, replaying in flashes.

It had started fast. They had stormed the warehouse, side by side, working in perfect sync. Phoebe had been fierce, taking down guards with her energy blasts while Henry worked on the bomb, his hands moving quickly over the wires. You had been there too, backing them up as best you could, but it was impossible not to notice how well they worked together. Every movement was fluid, every glance between them understanding without words.

And then, out of nowhere, the blast. Henry had barely registered it until Phoebe hit the ground, a sickening thud echoing through the warehouse as her body crumpled against the pillar.

He had rushed to her, the panic in his voice unmistakable. “Phoebe!” he’d shouted, his fingers trembling as they hovered over her, unsure of where to touch, how to help.

You had watched from a few feet away, heart in your throat. Jealousy flared then, sharp and stinging, watching how frantic he was. But then Phoebe had groaned, trying to sit up, wincing through the pain, and all of that jealousy faded, replaced by something else—fear. Fear for her. Fear for Henry.

Now, back in the med bay, that same fear hung in the room, even though the immediate danger had passed.

Henry hadn’t moved from her side since you had returned. His hand rested lightly on the edge of the bed, close but not quite touching, as if he was afraid he might hurt her if he did. His face was drawn, worry creasing his brow, and he kept glancing at the monitors as if checking for any sign of change.

The jealousy you had felt earlier was still there, but it was quieter now, dulled by the reality of the situation. You understood why Henry was acting the way he was. Phoebe had saved him—she’d taken a hit for him. Anyone would have done the same in his place. But that didn’t make it easier to watch.

She stirred slightly, a soft groan escaping her lips as her eyes fluttered open, still groggy from the sedatives. Henry straightened instantly, his face lighting up with relief.

“Phoebe?” His voice was soft, gentle, and he leaned forward slightly. “Hey, you’re okay. You’re safe now.”

Her eyes moved to him, a tired smile pulling at the corner of her lips. “Henry… you… okay?” she managed to whisper, her voice hoarse and weak.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, brushing off her concern. “Thanks to you.”

You shifted awkwardly, feeling like an outsider as you watched the exchange. The way they looked at each other, even in this moment, was undeniable. There was a bond there now, something forged in the heat of battle, and it stung in a way you hadn’t expected. You bit your lip, trying to shake it off, reminding yourself that this wasn’t about you.

But it didn’t stop the feeling from settling deep inside.

Phoebe closed her eyes again, clearly exhausted, and Henry exhaled, tension easing from his shoulders as he leaned back slightly, though he still stayed close. You could see the weight of what had happened written all over his face—the relief that she was okay, the fear that something worse could have happened, and maybe something else you couldn’t quite place.

After a long silence, Henry finally spoke without looking away from Phoebe. “I thought we were going to lose her,” he admitted quietly, almost to himself. The words hung in the air, heavy with emotion.

You didn’t know what to say, so you stayed quiet, watching him, watching her. In that moment, you realized that even though the jealousy still lingered, you couldn’t blame him for caring. Phoebe was a hero, just like him, and she had fought beside him, saved his life. It wasn’t about you or her—it was about the bond they’d formed in that moment of danger.

But still, it hurt.

Henry stayed with Phoebe through the night, his hand never far from hers, and you stayed too, even though a part of you wanted to leave, wanted to escape the painful feeling gnawing at your heart. You stayed because, despite it all, you knew they were both important to you.

And maybe that was enough.

4 —

The bright lights of the studio gleamed overhead, casting a spotlight on the sleek set where Henry and Captain Man sat for their interview. The whole space felt larger than life—cameras lined up in perfect formation, audience murmuring softly, and the shimmer of fame hanging thick in the air. You stood off to the side, arms crossed, trying to remain unnoticed. It was supposed to be an exciting event—a chance for Kid Danger and Captain Man to speak to the world, to show the public a little more of their heroic selves.

But the moment the actress, the stunning and ever-charming Ava Monroe, glided onto the stage in her shimmering gown, something in your chest tightened.

She was breathtaking, even more so in person, and the second she sat down across from Henry, you felt the shift in the air. Her smile was dazzling, her laugh infectious, and from the very first question, her attention was completely fixed on him.

“So, Kid Danger,” she purred, leaning in slightly as if she was sharing a secret just between them. “What’s it like being the most eligible superhero in Swellview?”

Henry smiled awkwardly, shifting in his seat, his cheeks flushing a little under the lights. “Uh, I don’t know about that,” he laughed, glancing briefly toward Captain Man for help, but Ray only grinned, clearly enjoying watching Henry squirm under her attention.

You felt the jealousy prickle at your skin, creeping in slowly at first. It wasn’t just that Ava was beautiful or charming—it was the way she made it so obvious that she was interested. Every glance, every brush of her hand when she leaned a little too close, every laugh that lasted just a beat too long. And Henry—Henry was trying to keep it professional, but you could see how flustered he was, how her attention had him off-balance.

“I’m sure the girls in Swellview are just dying to know—do you have someone special in your life?” Ava asked, her tone light but with just enough curiosity to make it clear she was fishing for an answer.

Henry’s smile faltered for a split second, and your heart clenched. His gaze flickered toward you for the briefest moment, but before he could answer, Ava was already speaking again, her fingers gently brushing his arm as she laughed.

“I mean, with looks and charm like yours, it’s hard to believe you’re still single,” she teased, her voice sugary sweet.

Your jaw tightened, fingers digging into your arms as you tried to keep your composure. The casual touches, the way she batted her eyelashes—it was all so painfully obvious. And the worst part? The way Henry didn’t pull away, didn’t shut it down. He was polite, yes, but the fact that he didn’t seem to mind was enough to make your stomach twist with something ugly.

You told yourself you shouldn’t care. This was just an interview, just part of the job. Ava Monroe was an actress—flirting was probably part of her charm, part of the persona she put on for the cameras. But that logic didn’t make it any easier to watch.

The interview continued, but you couldn’t focus on the questions or the banter. All you could see was the way Ava’s attention never left Henry, the way her smile brightened whenever he spoke, the way her eyes sparkled like he was the only person in the room. Every second of it felt like a punch to the gut.

When the cameras finally cut and the audience clapped, Ava stood, flashing one last smile in Henry’s direction as she thanked him for the interview. Henry stood too, still looking a little dazed by it all, but before you could even approach him, Ava was already there again, her hand on his arm as she whispered something in his ear. He smiled—nothing more than a polite, awkward smile—but it was enough to push you over the edge.

You couldn’t stay any longer. The weight of watching it all, of feeling so invisible in the shadow of her charm, was too much.

Without a word, you turned and slipped out of the studio, your footsteps quick and silent as you made your way through the exit. The cool night air hit you as soon as you stepped outside, but it didn’t ease the tightness in your chest. Your breath came out in shaky bursts, a mix of frustration and heartache swirling inside of you. You had no right to feel this possessive, you told yourself. Henry wasn’t yours to claim, not in that way.

But that didn’t stop the hurt from creeping in. Seeing Ava bat her eyes at him, the way she touched his arm, the way Henry had smiled—however innocent it might have been—felt like a crack in something delicate.

Your heart felt like it had been shattered by something so small, yet so impossibly large all at once.

And so, you walked, letting the distance grow between you and the place where Henry still stood, unaware of the turmoil swirling inside of you.

5 —

The quiet hum of the library filled the air, punctuated by the soft shuffling of pages and the occasional murmur of whispered conversations. It was the kind of peaceful environment you usually thrived in, the kind of place that helped you focus and push through hours of studying. But today, no matter how hard you tried, the words in your textbook blurred together, unread.

Across the room, Henry sat at a long wooden table, his head bent over a pile of notes, talking animatedly with his partner for the project—Natalie Reynolds. She was smart, everyone knew that. Always the first to answer questions in class, always at the top of the grade charts, and, to make things worse, she was easygoing and fun. The kind of person that people naturally gravitated toward.

Normally, it wouldn’t bother you. Henry had friends, just like you did. But watching the two of them together for the past week—spending long hours holed up in the library, their heads close as they poured over their research—had become increasingly hard to ignore. You told yourself it was nothing. Just a project. They were working. That’s all.

Still, every time you glanced over at them, the jealousy tightened around your chest.

You tried to focus on your own work, flipping through pages of your notes, but you couldn’t stop your ears from tuning into their conversation. Henry was laughing at something Natalie said. You couldn’t help but remember the conversation you had yesterday:

“She’s honestly so cool,” Henry said, his voice carrying across the room as he talked about her later at Junk N’ Stuff.“Like, she just knows so much about this stuff. I’d be lost without her.”

Your grip tightened on your the figures you were restocking, trying to pretend the words didn’t sting, but they did. You tried brushing it off, convincing yourself it didn’t matter, but it was hard to ignore how often Henry had been talking about Natalie lately. How much he’d been praising her, how their study sessions seemed to stretch longer every day.

It wasn’t like you didn’t understand—Natalie was smart. She was capable, and probably the perfect partner for the project. But knowing that didn’t make it any easier. You couldn’t help but feel left out, like some invisible line had been drawn between them that you weren’t a part of.

You caught glimpses of their smiles, the way they leaned in close, heads bent together, deep in conversation about whatever new discovery they’d just made in their research. They were so focused, so wrapped up in their own little world, and you… you were just on the outside, looking in.

The worst part wasn’t even how close they seemed to be getting—it was the way Henry kept bringing her up in conversation when you did see him. Talking about how smart she was, how much she knew, how helpful she’d been. And every time, you’d nod along, forcing a smile, trying to be supportive, when all you really wanted was for him to stop.

You hated feeling this way—jealous, insecure. It wasn’t like you. Henry wasn’t doing anything wrong. He was just working on a project, just being nice, just appreciating someone else’s skills. But each compliment he gave her felt like a little piece of your connection to him was being chipped away.

Eventually, you closed your notebook and shoved it into your bag, unable to focus anymore. Maybe it was better to just leave, to stop torturing yourself by watching them from afar. But as you stood and slung your bag over your shoulder, you caught Henry’s eye. He smiled, waving you over.

“Hey!” he called, oblivious to the internal storm brewing inside you. “Come check out what we found.”

You hesitated, your heart tugging between wanting to be close to him and wanting to avoid the sharp sting of jealousy. With a deep breath, you crossed the room and stood at the edge of their table, forcing a smile as Henry excitedly explained whatever new piece of information they had discovered.

But you barely heard a word. All you could focus on was how natural they seemed together, how easy it was for him to talk to her, laugh with her, and how little space seemed left for you in that moment.

+1 —

The bright lights of the lavish dining room glimmered overhead, casting an elegant glow on the grand table set for a private dinner with one of Swellview’s most notorious villains, Victor Voss. The atmosphere felt charged, filled with the soft clinking of silverware and the low hum of conversation, as you stood off to the side, adjusting your suit to fit the part. This was a high-stakes mission—a chance for you to flirt with Victor while Kid Danger and Captain Man snuck in to retrieve vital information.

You were wired with an earpiece, allowing you to hear Henry and Ray’s every word as they made their way through the shadows. Your heart raced, not just from the thrill of the mission but from the daunting task ahead. Victor entered the room, his presence commanding, dressed in a tailored suit that accentuated his imposing figure. You felt a flicker of nerves but quickly pushed it aside; you were here to do a job.

As you approached Victor, a confident smile on your face, his gaze shifted to you, instantly intrigued. “Well, well, who do we have here?” he purred, leaning back in his chair, eyeing you with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “Are you here to charm me, darling?”

“Maybe,” you replied, leaning slightly closer, letting your voice drop to a conspiratorial whisper. “Or perhaps I’m here to learn a few things from the most powerful man in the room.” The flirtation was effortless, and the words felt natural as they slipped from your lips.

In your earpiece, you could hear Henry’s voice, a hint of tension threading through his words. “Stay focused. Remember, we need that intel,” he urged, though you could detect a slight edge to his tone.

Watching from the shadows, Henry clenched his jaw, his heart racing in a way he hadn’t expected. Every word you exchanged with Victor felt like a dagger to his gut. It wasn’t just the situation—it was the way you held yourself, how effortlessly charming you were, drawing Victor’s full attention. He’d always known you were good at this, but watching it unfold in front of him made it feel too real.

Victor chuckled, a sound deep and rich, leaning in to engage you further. “You’re bold. I like that. Tell me, what do you find so fascinating about my work?” His eyes sparkled with interest, and Henry felt a surge of frustration. This is just a game for him, he thought, struggling to keep his own feelings in check. Just a villain playing with his prey. But that didn’t make it any easier to watch.

“Power can be intoxicating,” you responded, flashing him a coy smile. “But it can also be lonely. Don’t you crave something more?” You could feel the energy shifting as he leaned even closer, his interest piqued.

Henry swallowed hard, an unfamiliar tension coiling in his chest. What am I doing here? I should be the one sitting next to you, he thought, his mind racing. He couldn’t shake the image of you and Victor, their chemistry crackling in the air like static. “Just stay focused,” he reminded himself. “We’re here for a reason.” But the words felt hollow against the weight of his jealousy.

In your ear, you heard Henry let out a barely audible sigh, followed by Ray’s chuckle. “Looks like she’s really got her claws into him,” Ray teased, but Henry’s irritation was mounting, the feeling of helplessness gnawing at him. “Just keep him busy; we’re almost in,” Ray continued, but Henry felt anything but calm.

As the banter continued, the tension in Henry’s voice tightened. “Just don’t get too close,” he cautioned, his protectiveness surfacing despite his best efforts to remain professional. What if she actually wins him over? The thought was almost unbearable.

“Power is lonely, but I have my ways of making it more… enjoyable,” Victor replied, his tone suggestive as he gestured for you to sit beside him. Henry’s heart sank as he watched you move closer, the warmth of your presence drawing Victor in. He could practically feel the heat radiating from the two of you, and it twisted like a knife in his gut.

“Enjoyment can come in many forms,” you countered, and Henry’s resolve faltered. You’re playing a dangerous game, he thought, anxiety spiking in his chest. The way you leaned in, the way you laughed—it was everything he feared and wanted all at once.

“Just keep flirting,” Ray whispered in your ear, but Henry could sense his irritation simmering just beneath the surface. “We need that information.” The urgency in Ray’s voice only heightened Henry’s frustration, making it difficult to concentrate on the mission.

You carried on, pouring on the charm, but every compliment exchanged with Victor felt like a knife twisting deeper into Henry’s resolve. “You know,” Victor said, his gaze flickering over to where Henry was concealed, “I’ve always admired someone who can keep up with me. How do you feel about a little… adventure?”

“Adventure can be thrilling,” you replied, casting a quick glance at Henry, who was clearly on edge. He was trying to mask his emotions, but his heart was racing. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go, he thought. I should be the one enjoying this dance, not him.

A faint rustle in your earpiece reminded you of the urgency. “We’re in position. Just hold his attention a little longer,” Henry urged, his voice strained. He hated feeling this way, the jealousy clawing at him. He wanted to focus on the mission but felt trapped by his own feelings.

Finally, as Victor leaned in closer, his voice sultry and enticing, Henry’s heart sank further. He caught a glimpse of you, your expression a mix of confidence and determination, and it sent a rush of warmth through him. You’re incredible, he thought, a mix of pride and frustration swelling within him. But why does it have to be like this?

With the stakes rising, Henry knew he had to keep his emotions in check, but the weight of his unspoken feelings felt like an anchor pulling him down. The evening wore on, laughter and flirtation blending with the tension that wrapped around you both, each moment laden with unvoiced feelings as he navigated the delicate balance of duty and desire.

And so, he stayed, weaving through the intricacies of deception, letting the distance between you and the truth shift, all while his heart ached for a connection that felt just out of reach. The longer he watched, the more he realized that what he truly craved was not just the mission’s success but the chance to be the one at your side, sharing in the dance of danger and attraction that seemed to come so naturally to you.

The tension hung heavy in the air as Henry and Ray settled into the car, the hum of the engine a stark contrast to the chaos of emotions swirling inside Henry. They had successfully retrieved the intel from Victor’s office, but the victory felt hollow as he replayed the earlier scene in his mind—your laughter, the way Victor leaned closer, how easily you had captivated him.

Ray glanced sideways at Henry, who was staring out the window, lost in thought. “You okay?” he asked, breaking the silence, though he already knew the answer.

Henry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, just… a lot to process.” He felt like a ball of frayed nerves, each thought pulling him in a different direction. You did what you had to do, he reminded himself, but the sting of jealousy was still fresh. “I just didn’t expect it to feel like that,” he admitted quietly, his eyes still fixed on the passing streetlights.

Ray raised an eyebrow, sensing the weight of Henry’s frustration. “You mean seeing her flirt with Victor? That wasn’t part of the plan, was it?”

“Not like that,” Henry replied, his voice tense. “I know it was just a distraction, but watching her… it’s like she was in her element. Like she was enjoying it.” The words came out more bitter than he intended, and he felt a wave of guilt wash over him. , he chided himself. But the feeling of helplessness clawed at him.

Ray nodded, trying to understand. “It’s just a job, man. We all know how good she is at this.” He paused, gauging Henry’s reaction. “You can’t let it get to you. She’s got a role to play.”

“Yeah, but it’s hard to watch someone else take the spotlight,” Henry muttered, his fingers tapping restlessly against the seat. “I’ve seen her take on villains before, but this was different. He was leaning in, like he wanted something more.”

“I get it,” Ray said, his tone more serious now. “But you’re Kid Danger. She’s not going to forget that.” He watched Henry’s jaw tighten, the flicker of insecurity written all over his face. “You’ve got to trust her, man. She can handle herself.”

Trust her, Henry repeated silently to himself, wishing he could. The fact that you had been so effortlessly charming, so confident in the face of danger, made it even harder to swallow. “I know she can,” he said finally, forcing a nod, but the doubt lingered. What if she enjoyed it too much?

Ray shifted in his seat, sensing the thick atmosphere. “Look, once we pick her up, this whole thing will be behind us. You’ll have your chance to talk to her.”

“Yeah, if I can even find the words,” Henry replied, his voice low. The thought of confronting you about his feelings—about everything he had experienced during the mission—felt daunting. Would you understand? Would you see how hard it had been for him to watch?

As they approached the designated pickup location, Henry’s heart raced at the thought of seeing you again. What if she thought it was all just part of the act? He didn’t want to be just another distraction in your world, yet that was exactly how he felt.

“Just keep it cool,” Ray advised as he pulled up to the curb, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of you. “You can’t let your feelings cloud the mission. You know that.”

Henry nodded but found it hard to focus. His thoughts were tangled, emotions roiling beneath the surface. What if this changes everything? He couldn’t shake the feeling that the mission had shifted something between you two—something more than just friendship.

The wait felt interminable, each second dragging on as Henry replayed every moment from the dinner in his head. Finally, he spotted you stepping out of the building, your confident stride and easy smile radiating energy that made his heart flutter and ache at the same time.

When you slid into the backseat, the atmosphere instantly changed. You were all smiles, but Henry noticed the glimmer in your eyes that hinted at the tension you must have felt earlier. “You guys won’t believe what just happened!” you exclaimed, clearly still riding the high of the mission’s success.

Ray smiled at you, engaging in light banter, but Henry remained silent, his thoughts a storm of conflicting emotions. He felt like an outsider in the moment, watching you bask in the aftermath of your performance with Victor.

As Ray continued to drive, the tension in the car grew thicker, punctuated by the unspoken words that hung in the air. Every glance you exchanged felt electric, charged with feelings that neither of you had dared to voice.

Henry stole another glance at you, his mind racing. Each second stretching into an eternity as you chatted with Ray, laughter mingling with the tension that seemed to weave its way between you and Henry.

Finally, as the familiar streets of Swellview passed by. The unease in his chest pushed him forward, urging him to break the silence, but he didn’t . He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his feelings pressing down on him like a heavy fog.

The workout room in the Man Cave hummed with a rhythmic energy, the sound of punching bags swaying gently and sneakers squeaking against the polished floor blending into a symphony of exertion. You moved with focused determination, sweat glistening on your skin as you threw punches at the heavy bag, each strike a release of the pent-up stress that had built over midterm week. The air was thick with the scent of rubber mats and the faint echo of heavy weights clanging in the distance, a welcome distraction from the swirl of thoughts clouding your mind.

You were aware of the tension that had developed between you and Henry over the past few weeks. It felt like a weight pressing on your chest, growing heavier with each passing day. The memory of his close encounters with various girls—each one more charming than the last—gnawed at you. You tried to brush it off, convincing yourself that you were overreacting, but the truth was undeniable: the jealousy was like a constant, throbbing ache, and it didn’t help that you felt more distant from Henry than ever.

As you focused on your training, each punch against the bag was a desperate attempt to release the frustration that threatened to boil over. The rhythm of your movements was meditative, yet your mind was anything but calm. Memories of Henry laughing with those girls played on a loop, a haunting reminder of the connection you wished you had with him. You could still hear the laughter echoing in your ears—the easy banter, the way his eyes lit up when he was around them. It stung more than you cared to admit.

The door creaked open, breaking your concentration, and you glanced over to see Henry emerging from the locker room, his body still glistening from his earlier workout. The sight of him took your breath away; the muscles in his arms flexed with every movement, and the way his hair fell across his forehead made your heart race. Yet, as soon as he stepped into the room, the atmosphere shifted, tension crackling like electricity in the air. You could feel it—the unspoken words, the unresolved feelings.

“Hey,” he called out, his voice low but confident, breaking through the silence that had enveloped you both. “Wanna spar?”

Your heart raced, caught between desire and reluctance. You shook your head, trying to play it cool. “No thanks, I’m good,” you replied, your voice steady, but the frustration you felt seeped through the cracks. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much his presence affected you, especially after everything that had happened recently.

“Oh, come on,” he urged, stepping closer, a playful grin flickering across his lips, a grin that made your stomach flutter and clench at the same time. “I promise I won’t go easy on you.”

The mention of that last part made your heart drop, a fresh wave of jealousy crashing over you like a cold wave. “You mean you won’t go easy on me like you didn’t go easy on those other girls?” you shot back, your voice sharper than you intended. The bitterness of jealousy was a familiar taste, one you hated but couldn’t escape.

Henry’s expression faltered for just a moment, but he quickly masked it with determination, his jaw tightening. “That’s not fair. This isn’t about them.”

“Isn’t it?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, your pulse quickening as you felt the heat rise to your cheeks. “You’ve been with so many girls lately, it’s weird.”

He clenched his jaw, a flash of frustration igniting within him. “Weird?” he echoed, his voice rising a notch. “You think i’m the only one that’s ‘weird’?”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “What do you mean?”

“Oh don’t be dense, it’s not like you were just flirting with some random guy,” he snapped, his emotions boiling over. “You were flirting with a villain! Victor Voss! You were practically hanging on his every word!”

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden intensity in his voice. “Henry, it was part of the mission! I had to distract him to get the intel. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know that!” he shot back, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “But it doesn’t mean I have to like it! Watching you smile at him, the way he leaned in closer… you know you liked it.” he said, his tone more challenging, almost daring you to confront the truth. The intensity of his gaze sent a thrill through you, a mixture of annoyance and longing that twisted your insides.

“Come on. Let’s get this out of our systems.”

After a moment’s hesitation, you exhaled a sharp breath, finally giving in to the urge that had been bubbling beneath the surface. “Fine. But don’t cry when I wipe the floor with you.”

As you squared off, the air thickened with anticipation. You could feel the heat radiating off him, his presence pulling you in like a magnet. With the adrenaline coursing through your veins, you began with playful jabs, each strike punctuated by a shared history of friendship that made this moment feel electric.

Yet, the tension simmering beneath the surface was impossible to ignore. Every punch he threw felt like a reminder of the distance that had grown between you, a barrier that had been built on misunderstandings and unresolved feelings. With each hit, you found yourself more frustrated—not just at him, but at the entire situation. You wanted to fight, to push against that barrier, but part of you was terrified of what would happen if you did.

“You think you’re so great, huh?” you teased, sidestepping a punch he aimed at you. “But you’re still avoiding the truth.”

“I’m not avoiding anything!” he replied, landing a solid hit to your shoulder, a small grin tugging at his lips as he feigned innocence.

“Really? Because it seems like you’re avoiding me since those girls came along,” you shot back, landing a kick against his side. The words felt charged, a mix of frustration and longing spilling over as you fought.

Henry’s expression darkened, and the playful tone slipped away. “You think this is about them?” he asked, his voice low and intense. “This is about you pushing me away!”

The air crackled with unfiltered emotions, and as you continued to spar, the fight morphed into a release of all the pent-up tension. You both knew it was more than just a physical match; it was a battleground for your feelings, an attempt to confront the truths that had been lingering in the space between you.

“I don’t want to feel jealous, Henry!” you yelled, frustration boiling over. “But how am I supposed to ignore it when you’re always with them?”

“Then why are you acting like you don’t care?” he countered, his breath coming in quick bursts. “I’m tired of pretending we’re not something more than friends!”

With each exchange, the intensity escalated. You could feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins, pushing you to the brink as you both vented your frustrations. As he caught your punch, his grip was firm yet gentle, and your heart raced as you locked eyes, the world around you fading into the background.

“Maybe we should stop fighting,” you murmured, your breath mingling with his, the space between you charged with electricity.

“Maybe we should,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, the intensity in his gaze igniting something deep within you.

Before you could think, he pulled you closer, the intensity of your earlier sparring morphing into something more profound. Your lips crashed together, the kiss igniting a fire that had been simmering between you all along. It was rough and passionate, each moment a release of the frustration, jealousy, and longing that had been pent up for far too long.

You felt every ounce of pent-up emotion flood through you as you melted into him, bodies moving together with an urgency that spoke louder than any words exchanged in the heat of battle. The kiss deepened, hands roaming freely, exploring the familiar territory you both had skirted around for so long.

His grip on the back of your head tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you in closer. His lips crash down onto yours, hard and rough.

“Mine.” He growls against your mouth, his tongue pushing its way past your lips to explore the inside of your wet cavern, tongue battling against your own.

Henry pulled you closer, his hands gripping your waist, fingers digging in just enough to remind you of the heat radiating from his body. Every kiss was a confession, every breath an admission of the desire that had been simmering beneath the surface. You lost yourself in the moment, forgetting everything else—the jealousy, the misunderstandings, the insecurities.

As the kiss broke, you both pulled away, gasping for breath, the reality of the situation crashing back in. The silence between you was thick with the weight of what had just transpired, a new understanding settling into the space that had once been filled with tension and uncertainty.

“What just happened?” you whispered, a mix of exhilaration and disbelief coursing through you.

Henry searched your eyes, vulnerability flickering across his features. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice husky. “But I know I want to figure it out—with you.”

Fin.

NAVI

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 8

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7

“I can’t believe you let me fall asleep!” Chrissy complains, crowding into Steve’s space to desperately try to fix her hair in the mirror.

Steve snorts, unbelievably fond at the way her bangs are going every direction but down. “What am I, your mother?” he asks, fixing his own hair by standing on his tippy toes and looking over her head.

“No, but she will be killing me for this!” Chrissy cries, finally giving up on finger-combing her bangs to dunk the strands into the sink and get them wet. “Thanks for reminding me!”

“You’re bitchy in the morning,” he mutters, grimacing when she pulls her head out of the sink abruptly enough that water droplets fling from her head and onto his shirt. “Now, hurry up, we’re already late.”

She flips him off, ignoring him entirely to continue fixing her hair.

They’re both late; Chrissy doesn’t let him forget it for the rest of the day, as if it’s his fault.

“I remember when I thought you were nice,” Steve mutters, laughing helplessly when she elbows him in the side.

“You love it,” she says, smiling as they sit across from each other in their usual spot in the library, feet settling together beneath the table.

The thing is, he does. He’s always liked Chrissy, even back when she was all sunshine and rainbows, but even more so now that there’s some grit to her.

“Shut up.”

Chrissy beams, all sunshine again as she plunks her stack of books onto the table and shuffles her letter-drafting notebook to the top. Only once she’s opened to a blank page does she bite her lip, looking up at Steve through her lashes.

“Are you sure you want to keep doing this?” she asks, voice hesitant.

“What do you mean?”

She breaks eye contact, fiddling with her pen anxiously. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Steve doesn’t tell her that he already is, that a part of him, the small, squirming part he keeps hidden in his heart, wishes he’d never done this. That watching Eddie kiss Chrissy’s hand and knowing without being told that she’s the kind of girl Eddie might want had broken something inside him. That Steve knows he could never be Eddie’s choice, and knowing that burns.

But, since the flirting started, Steve hasn’t written a word, and that’s worse, somehow. He only has the one tether to Eddie, and he wants to keep it, even if it’s through Chrissy’s handwriting, and Chrissy’s words, and Chrissy’s face.

He just wants.

Instead of saying all that, he reaches out, putting his hand gently on Chrissy’s hand and replies, “I’m sure,” even as the fluttering of his heart makes a liar of him.

Chrissy’s still biting her lip, not looking reassured at all. Steve’s gut churns with worry. ”Are you, though? You didn’t sign up for this, and if you don’t want to do it anymore, that’s okay.”

She smiles, her bottom lip blanched white from her teeth, as she replies, “We’re in this together, right?”

Even with the smile, she still looks worried, but Chissy puts her pen to paper and dutifully writes out the words Steve speaks, editing and revising each thought until it’s something someone might want to hear.

They keep their voices quiet because there are more people sitting in the library than usual today: a big group working on a project, a couple of freshman scowling down at what looks like a Geometry textbook, and closest of all, a girl he recognizes as a band nerd, flipping through a magazine too fast to really be reading it.

It doesn’t take them long—they’ve done this enough times that it’s become almost an art form. Chrissy pushes the completed letter across the table for his final review before it’s signed and sealed.

“It’s good,” Steve says, pushing the letter back across to her to be dropped off in Eddie’s locker.

His heart aches; Steve wants to slap himself.

Instead, he parts ways with Chrissy at their cars, Jeff already waiting beside hers to be driven home, and goes back to his house, bereft of the noise Chrissy had brought only that morning.

*** 

Eddie had worried when there wasn’t another letter after he’d started talking to Chrissy. Did she not like him anymore? Was she done writing them entirely now that she can talk to him face to face?

He worries incessantly for days about it, even as Chrissy keeps saying hi to him in the halls, keeps smiling back when they catch eyes across the cafeteria, keeps being her usual, friendly self.

It’s just, the letters are different. They’re more raw, somehow, more real. And, no matter how this thing goes with Chrissy, if they stop coming, he’ll miss them.

So, it’s a relief when he opens his locker the Monday after Chrissy’s eventful Hellfire induction to find a letter. He can’t wait to read it, the anticipation has built up over too many days of not receiving any. So, he rushes to the same, familiar bathroom and opens it in the stall he’s starting to think of as his.

       Eddie —

       How did your show go? I bet you’ve got a couple groupies already, you’ve already got the look for it. Did you figure out the riff for the song you were working on?

       I tried playing the piano again, and I’m a little rusty, but it’s like riding a bike, you know? (Do you know how to ride a bike?) It’s nice, playing music, even if it’s all songs someone else has written, and they’re still not coming out right.

       I’m sorry it’s been so long since my last letter. I just didn’t know what to say. You’re so patient, and nice, and I got caught up in my head you know? But I missed you.

       I slept with your letter beneath my pillow last night, hoping for dreams of you.

       Yours, Always

       Your Secret Admirer

       P.S. I haven’t read it, but maybe I will. Just to keep with the theme, put this letter in The Lord of the Rings.

He devours the words, slumping onto the toilet seat the longer he reads. It’s perfect—just what he was missing. He reads it once, twice, thrice, the same way he had when he’d received the first two, disbelieving that such lovely words were meant for him.

Eddie skips his second period, first already long gone by the time he’d trundled into the school’s parking lot, and pens a response, then and there.

He goes to the library immediately, nervous that if he doesn’t drop it off right away, she’ll assume Eddie isn’t going to write back at all. 

He waffles over which book to put it in before finally tucking it into The Fellowship of the ring–it’s the first in the trilogy, and Chrissy’s probably too cool to even know it’s a trilogy. 

There’s no response in his locker before Hellfire on Thursday, but that’s okay because true to her word, Chrissy shows up again. She’s smiling as she bounces through the doorway, all springy curls and happy cheer.

“Hi!” Chrissy says, waving as she beams her blinding smile around the room,  all that cheerleader enthusiasm on display.

Doug looks struck dumb, staring at her with his mouth open. Gareth’s gaze is darting back and forth from the door to Eddie, eyes growing wider and wider with each pass. Only Jeff smiles and waves back.

“I hope we’re not intruding,” Chrissy says, elbowing Harrington in the side until he finally looks up and gives his own half-hearted wave.

Because Harrington is slumped in the doorway behind her, looking like he’s trying to hide the entire bulk of his body behind Chrissy’s petite frame.

“Uh, hey,” he says, ears strangely pink as his eyes dart around the room.

He never looks Eddie’s way at all.

“Hey, man,” Jeff replies, the only person aside from Chrissy that is currently functioning.

“Steve, can come, right?” Chrissy asks, like he’s not already in the doorway behind her.

Eddie’s gut sinks then swoops. Harrington’s a jock—what will he do locked in a room with a bunch of nerds? But, the chipped nail polish.

Eddie’s mind is full of screaming, thoughts flip flopping over each other as he tries to articulate all the things wrong with Harrington coming to Hellfire, but all that comes out of his mouth is a chipper, “sure!”

Chrissy’s smile grows teeth—is she going to bite him?

Eddie resists the urge to take a step back.

Jeff pulls out the vacant seat beside him, still looking cool as a cucumber while the rest of them scramble. “Come sit down.”

And that’s how he finds himself with a jock in Hellfire. Should they call an exterminator?

It’s Chrissy who takes the seat beside Jeff which leaves the only other empty chair next to Eddie’s throne. Eddie glares at Gareth, gesturing wildly for his friend to move up a seat, but Gareth’s too busy staring at Harrington like he’s a cobra about to strike.

Harrington is looking at the only empty seat with the exact same expression.

“Steve,” Chrissy hisses, and Harrington jumps. “Go sit down.

The pink on his ears travels down to his cheeks—it’s unfair, really, how pretty and even his blush is. When Eddie blushes, he blotches bright red from forehead to chest.

Steve’s embarrassment suits him.

Eddie waits until he’s seated before clapping loud enough that everyone startles as they turn to him. “Now!” he starts in the grand voice he uses when he’s performing his Dungeon Master duties. “Are you two playing?”

“No,” Harrington rushes out, the pink of his blush deepening to a red as he finally meets Eddie’s eyes. “I mean, Chrissy said she just watched last time?”

“We didn’t want to slow you down,” Chrissy cuts in.

Eddie nods, looking between the couple as awkwardness stews in the stilted silence.

“Alright,” he replies. “Gird your loins, lords and lady.”

Knowing a cue when they hear one, the Hellfire boys scramble to pull out character sheets and dice.

And they’re off!

It takes a minute to fall into the familiar minutiae of telling a story with not one but two interlopers, but Eddie manages it. This is where he thrives: a captive audience and all the power to fuck with them in the palm of his hand.

He only stumbles once, words jumbling together when he looks up and catches Harrington staring at him, eyes wide, cheeks still flushed from his earlier embarrassment as he bites his lip, ass literally on the edge of his seat as Eddie cobbles together the climactic finish to their latest encounter.

Harrington looks away quickly, but Eddie knows what he saw: Harrington is into this nerd shit. He’d tease him if he wasn’t worried that it would end in a swirlie.

Still, Eddie can feel his head puffing up like an overfilled balloon. He’s on the top of his game, painting grand adventures with grander words, all gestures and enthusiasm. He feels electric, the way he always does when there’s a new sheep in his flock to impress. His skin’s almost buzzing with it.

After all, even if his audience member is a jock, Eddie’s always been great at putting on a show. 

Neither of the interlopers say anything until they’re busy packing up. Eddie lounges back in his throne, watching Chrissy help Jeff with his dice. She’s smiling up at him, clearly just as interested in their nerd shit as Harrington.

Eddie turns his eyes back to Harrington to see how he’s taking his girl talking to a guy that isn’t him only to find Harrington staring at him again.  When Eddie meets his eyes, he ducks his head, cheeks tinting that familiar pink.

Is Steve Harrington fucking awkward?

“You’re good at that,” Harrington says quietly.

Eddie hums, confused. He’s shuffling his papers back together, not looking down at what he’s doing. What’s happening in front of him is far more interesting.

“At what, big boy?”

“Uh,” Harrington starts, darting his eyes back up to Eddie’s for a second before looking back down at his fiddling hands. “Telling a story.”

Eddie smiles, something warm and amorphous filling his stomach. “Thanks,” he says, lightly kicking Harrington’s ankle.

Harrington twitches, lets out a quick, “mmhmm,” and then turns away from Eddie to go find his girlfriend, dismissing Eddie without another word.

“Ready to go, babe?” Steve asks, settling his arm around her waist and damn-near frog marching her out of the room.

“Bye, Jeff! Bye, Eddie!” Chrissy calls, still cheerful even as her boyfriend controls her every move. Maybe she’s used to it—first Carver and now Harrington. “See you next week?”

Neither of them wait for a reply.

The silence is stifling in their wake. Only Jeff seems unbothered as he stuffs all of his supplies into his backpack. Doug hasn’t even touched his dice.

“What the hell was that?” Gareth asks, whipping around to Eddie.

“How the hell should I know?”

Jeff snorts. “You invited them,” he says.

“I invited Chrissy,” Eddie whines. “She invited Harrington.”

That catches Jeff’s attention. He glares at Eddie like he’s the one that had invaded their sacred space. “You’re not this stupid,” he says, swinging his backpack onto his back and striding toward the door. “I’ve got a ride home, don’t wait for me.”

“What does that mean?” Eddie demands.

The only answer is the door swinging shut.

*** 

Once he’s walked Chrissy to her car and watched her pull out of the parking lot safe from Carver’s creepy hands, Steve collapses into his own car. He presses his face into the steering wheel and groans, long and loud, assured in his safe isolation. 

When the passenger door opens, he jumps, neck cracking with the speed at which he turns his head, ready to fight off the trespasser.

“Oh, it’s you,” Steve says, dropping his head back to the steering wheel.

“He knows,” Jeff says, voice serious enough that Steve raises his head back up immediately, heartbeat ratcheting up.

It takes a second for the words to connect, and when they do, his heartbeat quickens further, sweat pooling on the back of his neck, hands clenched hard enough on the steering wheel to hurt as fight or flight hits him.

“What?” he asks, the word cracking around his suddenly parched throat.

“Shit,” Jeff mutters, reaching out to pat Steve’s shoulder. “Not about you!”

Steve’s shoulders slump, breath shuddering out of him as Jeff continues to pat his shoulder, too awkward to be all that comforting. “Then, what—”

“He knows Chrissy is putting the notes in his locker.”

Steve sighs, slumping into his seat, uncaring of the way it crushes Jeff’s hand against the backrest. “Yeah, we figured,” he says, suddenly exhausted. “Do you know how?”

Jeff’s biting his lip when Steve looks his way. “He didn’t tell me,” he mutters. “But I know my best friend.”

It’s Steve’s turn to reach across the car and clasp Jeff’s shoulder. “I’m sure he has a reason for not telling you,” Steve replies, trying to smile past all that exhaustion.

Jeff snorts. “A stupid one, maybe.”

Steve hums, squeezing once more before dropping his hold on Jeff, suddenly realizing how stupid they must look, leaning toward each other, hands on each other’s shoulders like they’re having some sort of bro moment.

Steve turns back to the front of his car, cranks the engine, and smiles across at Jeff as the other boy takes the hint and drops his own hold. “Want a ride home?”

Instead of answering, Jeff puts on his seatbelt.

Jeff’s house is surprisingly close to Steve’s own. It’s a bit smaller than his, but there’s already a car in the driveway, and the shadows of silhouettes moving behind the pulled curtains, warm yellow light filtering through the fabric and onto the street.

Steve wishes he could go in with a fierce sort of longing that surprises him.

Jeff’s already got his seatbelt off and the passenger door open when he sighs, turning back around and settling back in his seat.

“You should come next week,” he says, all earnest in that way that seems to come so naturally to him and must have gotten him eaten alive in middle school.

“You can’t be serious,” Steve replies. There’s a tension headache growing, exasperated by the incredulous scrunching of his eyebrows. “That was a disaster.”

“Aw, it wasn’t that bad,” Jeff says, but he’s grinning like he’s remembering something funny. Steve’s got a few guesses what.

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious, man.” Jeff clasps his shoulder again—maybe that’s just something he does?

Steve scoffs, the roll of his eyes making his head pound. He opens his mouth to retort, something about Eddie’s reaction to Steve sitting beside him, but Jeff beats him to the punch.

“I know Eddie. And that in there?” He points back the way they’d come, like if Steve just strains his eyes, he’ll be able to catch sight of Eddie’s stupid fancy chair, and the stupid musty drama room, and the stupid look on Eddie’s face. “—is him interested.”

Steve closes his mouth, swallowing all the spit in his mouth, hoping it’s not audible to Jeff no matter how quiet the car is. “In me?” he asks, voice cracking embarrassingly.

Jeff doesn’t break eye contact, but his mouth twists uncomfortably. “Like you’re interested in him?” Jeff asks, continuing before Steve can reply. “I don’t know, man.”

Steve droops, the hope blooming in his chest curdling and sinking down into his stomach like old milk. He wants, desperately, to go home, turn out all the lights, and curl up alone in his bed to sleep away the rest of the day. But, Jeff’s still in his car, so he clenches the wheel between his fingers and says, “okay.”

“But, he doesn’t get you,” Jeff continues, voice gentling further. “And that intrigues him.”

Jeff’s still smiling like that should be some sort of boon to Steve’s ego, but it’s not. It lands like a brick. No one ever gets him, and whether he intrigues them or not, it always ends the same: him, alone in his big, empty house, waiting for a phone call that will never come, a doorbell that will never ring, a window that will never be snuck through.

He’d been through it before, with Donna in sixth grade, Nancy in tenth, hell, even Carol and Tommy for more years than he can count.

Intrigue has never gotten him anywhere. But, Jeff’s smiling, small and real, so Steve replies, “thanks, man,” smiling back until the other boy gets out of the car and he can safely drive away.

He’s got a dark house and a chilled bed waiting for him.

For the first time since this whole thing started, Steve writes the first draft of one of his secret admirer letters alone.

PART 9

[evergreenstringbean]

And now, a sad concept that I pondered with friends before and I’m currently turning into a fic:

Darry hides spare cash on the rare occasions he finds it as a backup plan that way Soda and Pony aren’t as caught off guard financially as he was if something happened to him like what happened to their parents because dude cannot stop thinking about how abrupt death can be

He doesn’t tell anyone about it because 1) He doesn’t want to freak out his brothers and 2) While he trusts his friends he also doesn’t trust them enough to tell them about his makeshift life insurance

So one day Ponyboy goes to Darry’s closet to find some clothes that he’d ironed and he spots a beat up cookie tin that used to house their mother’s sewing kit and spare buttons. Out of curiosity he opens it to find it full of bills, mostly ones and fives, some crumpled up and some stacked and neatly folded in half.

At first Ponyboy’s just confused why Darry has money saved up when they’re always stressing out about bills until it hits him: all of Darry’s vague threats that he makes when he’s angry about leaving them and starting a new life for himself aren’t threats anymore. He’s saving up money. He has a plan.

And Pony rightfully panics and out of desperation to keep his older brother there, pushes himself hard than he ever had before. He stresses to get better grades, keeps the house clean, and stays out of trouble as much as possible to try and convince Darry to reconsider and stay.

The gang can tell he’s slipping, though. He doesn’t go out anymore and rarely hangs out with anyone. He’s always either hunched over an essay or reading a textbook while folding the laundry. He doesn’t see movies anymore. He barely cracks open a book that isn’t for school.

Darry can tell something’s off, but he doesn’t know how to broach the subject or ask what’s going on. And the house is clean and Ponyboy’s doing well in school, so it can’t be that bad, right?

Until one night Soda’s got a late shift at the DX and Darry comes home late to the echo of crying in the kitchen, Ponyboy having finally snapped after spilling food on his nearly completed semester thesis after trying to make dinner and do his homework at the same time.

Darry finally can’t take it anymore and has to sit Pony down and be like “You’re pushing too hard, chill out”

To which Ponyboy, still crying, finally crashes out with “No ‘cause I’ll have to do this anyway when you leave us!”

And Darry panics because what the hell is his little brother talking about and Ponyboy finally mentions the cookie tin

Darry finally explains what the money’s for, and has to reiterate that he’s not going anywhere, and he’s not planning for them to need the money anytime soon, but he works a labor intensive job that comes with risks, and anything can happen

Once he’s eventually able to reassure and calm Ponyboy down, they have a heart-to-heart about how Darry really wants Ponyboy to be a kid. That he’s pushing too hard and he and Soda didn’t even need to step up as young as Pony is trying to.

“I do really appreciate all the help around the house. But it ain’t just on you, okay? We might have work, but you got school. We had some time to be reckless kids. You get your time too. Please just let us worry about it.”

Anyway they cook dinner together after and Darry gives him money to go see a new movie since he’d missed so many he’d secretly wanted to see during it all

Cut to a week later and Darry’s explaining the newly developed “Curtis Family Chore Chart” to the gang, to guarantee Ponyboy doesn’t try to do everything by himself again

[xxkissesforchanniexx]

𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧

Pairing: Seungmin x fem!reader (college au) Genre: fluff IMPLIED smut hehehe Word Count: 2.9k Warnings: jealous seungmin implied smut, player hyunjin, drinking, party games, making out

A/N: This request is really new but bro code is actually frying my braincells as I'm tried to string together the plot sooo this is my rescue.

You were bickering with your friend, Felix as your professor entered the classroom.

"Settle down class." The teacher said. "I'm going to hand back your tests now."

You perked up at this.

"Best score." Felix nudged you and you hummed.

"The top score was a 97%," your teacher said, taking one last look through the tests. "Oh excuse me. 100%," She stared at the paper for. a moment and raised it, "Kim Seungmin."

Your mood crumbled. "Of course." You muttered.

The dark haired man smiled at you and walked down for his test. He took it and smiled as he went back to his seat. "#1 is really a pipe dream, huh, Y/n?"

You gripped your notebook tightly and exhaled slowly.

"L/N Y/N." Your teacher held out your paper and you grumbled as you went to collect it. Staring daggers at Seungmin you crushed your test into your bag as you sat.

Felix got called a moment later and came back to sit, beaming at a 79%, "As long as it's not a fail." He smiled.

You hummed softly. "You wanna go get food?"

He nodded and you got up to leave, as you packed your things, a lot more neatly than you had your test, Seungmin came up to you.

"It's an A right?" He shrugged. "Maybe next time."

You looked at him. "You really revel in seeing me anger, don't you?"

He raised a brow and fixed his glasses. "Yeah," he leaned in close, breath grazing your ear as he whispered, "I adore it."

You wanted to throw our bag at him but Felix dragged you away before you could do anything. You and him walked to the cafeteria, scanning around the food selections before deciding to eat off campus.

You were about to exit the cafeteria before someone squealed and you turned. Chris and his minions had entered the room. The men looked around before sitting at a table and one, a man with long dark hair, Hyunjin, looked at Felix then at you, then back at Felix before waving slightly.

Felix waved back and smiled. "Hyunjin is really so nice no? Come on I want chicken." He dragged you out of the cafeteria, you looked back just in time to see Hyunjin watching you. And you smiled.

You had finally found a seat in the library, sitting with your textbooks ready to study, you cringed a you realized you left your tumbler in your last class. You got up to get it and ran off to get it, but when you came back you sucked in a breath to see your things by the door of the library. You picked them up and went back to your seat lip pressing into a thin line at the sight of Kim Seungmin sitting in your seat typing away on his computer.

"Seungmin." You said.

He looked up, "Can I help you?"

"You moved my things. I was sitting here."

He smiled. "Those were yours?" He knew damn well they were... "Sorry, but there was no one sitting here."

"KIM SEUNGMIN-" You started before glaring at a book he had on the table, bookmark sticking out innocently. You grabbed the bookmark and threw it, making the man lose his page.

"Y/N!"He stood, fuming.

"Was that yours? I didn't realize." You took a sip from your tumbler and walked away. As you left the library you looked at your phone, and crashed into someone. You stumbled back, dropping your phone and literature textbook, a few of your papers cascading around the sidewalk. "Sorry." You muttered, going to pick up the things.

"It's fine." The guy said, kneeling to help you pick up your stuff.

"Thank you-" You looked up at Hyunjin as he handed you the stack of papers.

"No problem." He nodded, tilting his head. "You're Yongbokkie's friend?"

Your mouth opened then closed.

"I saw you earlier." Hyunjin clarified.

"Oh. Yeah! I'm Felix's friend." You took the papers and opened your textbook, tucking them carefully in between the cover and the first page.

"I'm Hyunjin..." He extended his hand out to you.

"Y/n.." You fumbled with the stuff you were carrying for a moment before shaking his hand.

He smiled slightly. "You need help?"

"Uh... Yeah." You laughed in defeat as he took the textbook from you.

"Where're you headed?" He asked, walking with you.

Seungmin bit his lip as he watched you walking to the cafeteria with Felix and Hyunjin. When did you entertain people like that? A guy who was a notorious player? A guy who made other men look away from you with one glare? A jerk like that? With you? Since when?

Seungmin thought nothing of it until he saw Hyunjin waiting outside of your class that afternoon. He tapped his pen against his desk, anger boiling as you came out of your class and Hyunjin put an arm around you, sweeping you away.

"Seungmin?" Jeongin tapped his friend's shoulder, before looking and seeing you and Hyunjin. "Just tell her."

"How?" Seungmin muttered.

"I don't know. But it looks like Hyunjin might actually be serious about her."

"Is Hyunjin serious about anyone?" Seungmin rolled his eyes. "I don't want him to mess around with her too."

"Then get to her first."

"HOW?!" Seungmin groaned.

"I don't know!"

Seungmin walked down the hall and sighed. "He's not good for her."

"She looks good right?" Hyunjin asked his friend, Chris.

"Very nice." The older man nodded, looking at the picture.

Changbin looked over his shoulder, "Isn't that the nerd?"

"She's fine though! Bin look." Hyunjin showed the shorter man another picture.

"You think she's better than the last one?" he asked Hyunjin.

"Of course," Hyunjin shrugged. "It's always the nerds."

"I bet 50 bucks I'll get her before you." Chan said, looking at Hyunjin.

"Not fair."

"Come on... You scared?" He challenged.

No... Hyunjin thought, I just don't want you fucking her over... "Nah. Bet 100."

"Greedy." Chan rolled his eyes. "You got it. At least introduce us. Level the playing field."

"Y/nnie." Hyunjin said, hands in your hair as you sat between his legs on the floor, munching on your chips while watching something on the TV.

"Huh?" You looked up at him.

"You should meet my friends." He smiled.

"Why so suddenly?" You popped a chip into your mouth.

Hyunjin turned your head to the TV, "Don't do that with your head back, you could choke. But I just feel like you'd fit in with them, y'know?"

You made a face and actually almost choked.

"Woah, woah-" Hyunjin handed you your drink.

After a few gulps you looked at him. "Me? The schools nerd girl? Fit in with you jocks?"

"Uh- Well-"

You turned and looked at him, raising a brow.

"That's not the only thing they say about you.."

Your eyes widened. "HUH!?"

"Nothing! Never mind. I just think you'd like to meet my friends though." He turned away, ears red.

You hummed. "Okay. I'll see."

"Yes!" Hyunjin did a small jig before smiling at you.

You rolled your eyes. "When do you think I can meet them?"

"Well there's this party..."

"It's only right that the best guys in school," Jiwon said, twirling her hair around her finger.

"Yeah." Minsi added, smiling at Seungmin and Jeongin.

Jeongin looked at Seungmin before whispering, "We're the best guy on campus?"

"Not just you two." Jiwon sighed. "Changbin and Hyunjin are going to be there too. And Chris!" She and her friend squealed.

"Hyunjin's going." Seungmin hissed to Jeongin.

"Y/N might go too!" Jeongin hissed back.

"When's the party?" Seungmin smiled.

"Friday night. Fraternity house."

Seungmin hummed. "I'll be there."

"Yeah." Jeongin nodded, "We'll be there."

"Awesome!" Jiwon and Minsi clapped their hands before going off somewhere.

Seungmin saw you in the hall a while later and cornered you when Felix went to class.

"Y/n." he called.

You looked back and made a face. "Seungmin."

He pursed his lips. Tell her.. "Can you not look at me like you despise me?"

"But I do." You pouted slightly and rolled your eyes.

"You know I see why Hyunjin would go for you. Your ego is just as big as his and I really hope when he's just messing wwith you, you stop your power trip." He snapped before he could stop himself.

"Go fuck yourself Seungmin." You started walking away, something about him saying that tearing your insides apart.

PANIC! He thought, Save it! "Y/n!"

You looked at him.

"He's going to hurt you..." Seungmin said quietly.

"I'll trust him until he does." And you left him standing there..

You were sitting on the couch in Hyunjin's apartment, staring blankly at his TV.

"Something on your mind, pretty?" He asked, sitting next to you.

"Not really.." You muttered.

"Y/n.." He faked a crying face. "Did I do something??"

"No-" You started, "Well yes-"

His brows furrowed. "What?"

"Are you messing with me?" You asked bluntly.

"Why are you asking so suddenly?" His eyes narrowed.

"Well some dick sad something..." You sighed.

"Who?" He asked, sitting up straight now.

"It's not importan-"

"Who?" He pressed.

"Kim Seungmin." You relented.

He looked at you for a long moment. "Don't believe him... Why would I ever hurt you y/n.."

You smiled at him slightly.

He hugged you and smiled. "I'm not messing with you..." I like you too much...

Seungmin was studying in the library when he heard the library volunteer girl shriek.

He looked up and was met with the dark gaze of Hwang Hyunjin.

"Can I help you?" He asked.

"What are you telling Y/n?" Hyunjin stared at Seungmin.

"It wasn't a lie." Seungmin shrugged.

"Kim Seungmin." Hyunjin slammed his hand on the desk and glared at him.

"Hyunjin." Seungmin stared up at him.

The people were gathering now, looking around the shelves at the men.

"Stay away from Y/n." Hyunjin said lowly.

"But I saw her first so-"

"You think Y/n is just something you can see first-"

"You think Y/n is something you can just fuck and drop. Hwang Hyunjin. Steer clear of her?" Seungmin snapped back, standing. "Or I don't think you'll like me."

"Are you threatening me?" Hyunjin moved to grab Seungmin's collar.

"What do you think?"

Hyunjin was about to punch him when hi phone rang. He paused and took it out before smiling at Seungmin. "Guess who's calling." He turned away and pushed past the people who had been watching while he answered the phone. "Hey Y/nnie."

Seungmin felt his stomach twist.

When Seungmin and Jeongin got to the party, the latter was almost immediately dragged away by his friend Beomgyu, leaving Seungmin alone in the party.

It was that same solidarity that led him to Lee Minho, who according to Jiwon who Seungmin had met earlier was "10000% boyfriend material". Seungmin couldn't deny the man was fun to be around though, Minho introduced him to a living firecracker, Jisung, who was apparently very close friends with your "friend", Hyunjin.

After a few drinks, Seungmin felt his head going fuzzy but he only shrugged it off laughing. While watching Jeongin chugging his 9th red bull on a girl, Sumin's, request.

"We're going to play Seven Minutes in Heaven." Jisung said, following Minho to the basement, "Gonna join?"

"Sure." Seungmin said before realizing what he'd agreed to. It's the liquor talking...

Seungmin and Jeongin followed Minho and Jisung down the steps into the small space under the house where a few people had gathered to participate in the game.

He sat down on the floor, next to Jisung and Jeongin as everyone settled. Then he saw you, giggling with another guy, not Hyunjin but-

"Chris. That bottle empty?" A man with freckles and long bleach blonde hair pointed to the wine bottle behind the man you were with.

"It's glass, like hell I'm going to trust you with it., Yongbokkie." Chris rolled his eyes and tossed the blonde man a plastic two liter soda bottle.

He caught it and sat it in the middle of the circle as you and Chris sat, closing the circle. Hyunjin bite his lip, staring at you and Chris like he wanted to fight the man.

"Okay, you all know the rules." Felix said. "Changbin who should start?"

"Not it." a short, muscular man poked his nose.

"Not it." Felix followed.

Seungmin's brain took a moment to process what had happened but by the time his finger touched his nose everyone else had already made it to safety.

"You good sir," Felix said in very sophisticated accent. "Start the game." He handed Seungmin the bottle.

Hyunjin's eyes met his as he spun the bottle.

It turned once.. twice.. three times before slowing to a halt.. pointing right at you.

Seungmin looked at you.

"INTO THE CLOSET!" Jisung shouted.

"Come on let's go!" Changbin opened the door to the small closet.

Hyunjin gave Seungmin the scariest look he'd ever seen as Jeongin pulled him into the closet and Jisung grabbed you from Chan.

"Jeongin-" Seungmin started before his friend whisper-shouted.

"This is your chance." and shoved him in.

You followed and both men gave you thumbs up before closing the closet door.

"I-" Seungmin started.

"Save it." You cut him off.

He remained silent for a moment. "You know they're no good for you..."

"Uh huh, but they're nice, they accept me-"

"Y/n they look like they want to eat you. Like your prey or something." Seungmin sighed.

"Why does that matter to you?!" You snapped a bit loudly.

Seungmin opened his mouth then closed it.

"Don't waste my time Kim Seungmin." You leaned against the closet wall.

"You're right." He muttered, maybe the alcohol really had gone to his brain, he walked closer, and leaned into you, "I shouldn't waste your time..."

You stared up at him with wide eyes. "Seungmin-"

He leaned closer, caging you between the wall and his chest. "It matters to me because how could you let them ruin you..." He reached out a tentative hand and caressed your cheek. "So perfect. So smart and pretty. I can't just sit back and watch you lose that... that perfection..." He leaned in so close you could feel his breathe on your lips. "It's mine to ruin.."

You stared into Seungmin's eyes for a long moment.

"If you want."

You kissed his hard.

He stumbled slightly before catching up with the moment and leaning into your lips, pressing his tongue past your lips and into your mouth, groaning at the taste of you. He pressed you against the wall and you let out a small mewl that he swallowed and returned in a soft moan.

You pulled back for air and he stared into your eyes. "If there's any other way to say it. I like you, I love you, I'm infatuated with you, Y/n. I always have been."

"You.." You blinked in shock for a moment.

He kissed you again and his hand moved to your hips, lifting you up to grind on his knee, as he pressed it into your core, eliciting quiet cries from you, he smirked and silenced you with his lips.

Your hands moved to his shoulders and your fingers ran through his hair as your tongue fought his for a moment. His easily batting yours down before tasting inside your mouth. You moaned into the kiss as he pulled you up to thigh and you bucked into it.

"You want me to fuck you?" he muttered against our lips. "Want me to ruin you? Not Hyujin, me right?"

You nodded and whined.

Seungmin's lips broke away from yours before kissing and biting at your neck. You held onto him tightly and bucked your hips into him.

He pulled away panting. "Shit." He lowered you and fixed your hair.

Just as Felix opened the door, "Times up lovebirds-"

Seungmin grabbed your hand and dragged you out so fast you couldn't even protest.

Hyunjin stood in you way. "Y/n we need to talk-"

Seungmin stared at him. "Y/n doesn't need to say anything to you."

"Hyunjin-" You started but Seungmin squeezed your hand pleading before pulling you past Hyunjin.

As you passed him Hyunjin's eyes widened.

Seungmin woke up with his head pounding. He rolled over and almost jumped almost at the feeling of another person in his bed—then the memory hit him like a truck.

He looked at you with a soft expression before propping himself up on his elbow to look at you sleep, the way your chest rose and fell, the content look on your face, the marks he'd left on you the previous night.

"I can feel you staring.." you muttered.

"Can you?" he asked quietly, brushing hair from your face.

"You do it so often of course I can." You opened your eyes and they locked on his.

"I love you.." he smiled that puppy smile.

You rolled your eyes. "Take me to dinner first."

He made a face and you giggled, leaning up to kiss him.

"I love you too."

© 2024 xxkissesforchanniexx. DO NOT COPY OR TRANSLATE MY WORK

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 if your name is blue i can't tag you very sorry

@asahisimpnation, @seolarsonlyloveisyou @leeknowsnot

[mattslolita]

she - c. & m. sturniolo ( 003. )

in which . . . the new girl down the street catches the attention of two brothers who grow infatuated with her.

( ghostface!chris x black!fem!reader x ghostface!matt )

warnings ; black!bimbo!fem!reader , ghostface!chris , ghostface!matt , obsessive!chris & matt , blood , gore , knives , mentions of death , eventual smut , threesome , munch!matt , oral ( fem! receiving ) , overstim , praise kink , dry humping , squirting

"o𝒏𝒆, 𝒕𝒘𝒐, 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕."

1, 2, 3, 4 💌

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆

it felt like you were betraying chris and matt in some way, having not told them about the call from the ghostface killer that you received — but luckily for you, they didn't seem to suspect anything was wrong with you. despite your overly jumpy nature and the constant looking over your shoulders in between classes, matt and chris thought nothing of it.

( but of course, they knew. )

you sat at one of the tables near the cafeteria, chemistry book open in front of you with a worksheet neatly sat on top of it. your nose scrunched in confusion, before you shook your head to clear the distractions.

"what's up, pretty girl?"

you jump slightly, a shriek leaving your lips as you turn around to be met with the familiar sight of matt, who grins down at you, running a hand through your sleek ponytail as he takes a seat next you. you inhale, looking back down towards your textbook.

"y'alright?" chris asks, sitting on the other side of you guys, as he licks his lips whilst sending you a wink.

"mhm!" you answer quickly, cheeks heating up as you looked at chris, remembering the intimate night you both shared. as if he can sense what goes through your mind, he smirks at you knowingly.

"your parents gonna be gone tonight?" matt asks you, toying with your ponytail as you try to regain focus on the assignment in front of you.

"yeah, it's date night yet again," you snort quietly, shaking your head slightly, "but i have lots of homework to do..."

"you sayin' you can't make time for us?" chris asks, feigning a pout as he puts a hand on his chest. matt shakes his head and chuckles at this, resting a hand on your thigh.

you sighed at this, a pout forming on your face as you looked at them both. "i mean i could, but i really need to get these done."

"how bout' tomorrow then, yeah?" matt tells you, face dangerously close to yours as he licks his lips, his eyes grazing over your lips for a mere second, "y'gonna be free by then?"

"yes!" you beam just then, nodding your head as your wide eyes shine with anticipation.

"s'good to know," chris murmurs, nodding to you with a smirk, "we'll see you tomorrow."

with a hum, matt presses the ghost of a kiss to your cheek, slightly tugging on your ponytail causing you to pout as you turn to give him a slight glare at his retreating figure. chris throws you a wink, and you roll your eyes slightly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. aside from the phone call you know you'd be receiving soon enough, you looked forward to spending time with your favorite boys.

───

later on that night, you had your english work spread out across your bed this time — you were in the same aggravated state as you were with chemistry, being that you kept finding yourself distracted.

you bit your lip in frustration, narrowing your eyes at the words on the page. it wasn't hard work, you just couldn't bring yourself to do what you were supposed to be doing.

after a couple of minutes, a strangled groan leaves your lips as you stack your papers neatly, deciding you were just going to give up on your work for now — you felt a tad bit guilty since you could've been spending this time with matt and chris, but to be honest? you needed the mental break and some time alone to process things. besides it was after curfew, and you didn't want either of them in trouble.

a phone call wouldn't hurt.

you grinned slightly about to reach for the cherry red landline, before the loud ring from the device startles you — a cold chill runs down your spine, and your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

he only ever called you once a week.

could this possible be someone else calling you? nervousness bubbled in your gut, and you found a shaky hand reaching out for the phone anyway — for your sake, you seriously hoped someone else was calling you.

"hello?" you say into the receiver nervously, biting down on your bottom lip as you glance around your room.

"hey there, pretty girl."

a gulp rides down your throat, and you squeezed your eyes shut before opening them again. "what is it you want now?"

"i jus' wanna talk to you, baby," he purrs, causing your thighs to unwillingly clench together. "y'know you missed me."

"bold of you to assume that," you muttered into the phone, tracing your fingers up and down your thigh, "why do you wanna talk to me?"

an almost irritated sigh leaves his lips on the other line, and your eyebrows shoot up as you await his response. "i always look forward to talkin' to you. an' i know you secretly enjoy talkin' to me."

the curve of a smile tugs at your lips, and you find yourself biting down on your lip once again — if it was so wrong to be talking to him, why did he gauge this sort of reaction out of you? strangely, you liked the idea of these intimate talks with a man you didn't know — a stalker, learning everything about its' target. you secretly liked the way he seemed to know exactly what you liked, even if he was somehow watching to see your reactions.

( and he definitely was. )

"let's play a game, doll," he tells you, and you can almost hear the grin in his voice.

"okay," you say back in confirmation, and a low chuckle escapes his lips.

"for every question i ask you and i get right, you have to take off article of clothing," he says, causing your eyebrows to furrow before a slight grin breaks out over your face. it's not like he was there with you — he couldn't tell you what to take off.

"easy enough, s'not like-"

"and it's my choice what you take off," he growls into the phone, which elicits a gulp from you as you glance around your room, "got it, princess? wouldn't wanna gut you cause you can't follow simple directions."

a small whimper escapes your lips and you nod, though he can't see you ( that's what you thought, anyway. . . ) "words angel, i need your words."

"okay, i'll follow your rules," you whimpered into the phone, and you could hear a strained groan come from the other line.

"thas' a good girl," he purrs, the praise sending a familiar feeling to your core. "first question. do you like our phone calls?"

"yes," you whispered into the line, scolding yourself for being so honest. but how could you lie?

"take off those pretty lil' shorts you're in," he instructs you.

reluctantly ( but not really. . . ) you lift up from your bed, un-tugging the knot from the drawstring of your shorts — the piece of fabric falls to floor, and you move your legs to completely step out of it. you bite your lip, knowing now that this game would be too easy for him.

you weren't wearing any underwear underneath.

and to make it worse, there was a faint squelch sound when you sat back on your bed — but of course your conversation with the ghostface killer had you sopping wet. and you were almost certain he could hear it too, judging from the low chuckle that left his lips once again.

"aw, s'my girl not wearin' any panties?" he cooed, and you whined again unintentionally, causing a growl to leave his lips.

"got you all wet while you're callin' me," he teases you, causing you to pout as your fingers trace patterns along your thigh, "new game, an' i want you to do exactly what i say."

"i'll do whatever you say," you purr into the phone.

"touch yourself f'me."

you were shocked at the request — was he getting off to this, too? maybe that's why he decided to start calling you in the first place. ( and if you weren't so clueless, you would've known that he jerked off to just about every phone call you had together. )

"don't get all shy on me, darlin'," he sneers, as you opened your legs just slightly, "go head', touch that pretty pussy."

your hand snakes down to your heat, a soft whine leaving your lips when you gather your slick, spreading the wetness across our wet cunt. it's eerily silent in your home, nothing but the wet, slick noises sounding throughout it as a low moan leaves your lips.

( why in the hell would you leave your bedroom slightly cracked opened? )

"oh," you moan, throwing your head back as you begin to circle your clit, hearing the labored breathing from the man on the other line.

"such a good girl, playin' with herself jus' f'me," he groans, and you're almost certain he's jerking off to this.

but you didn't care — his praise has you arching your back, as you slowly put one of your digits into your tight hole, moving it in and out slowly.

the door to your bedroom creaks open slightly, the phone long forgotten as it lays on the bed beside you. static sounds throughout the other line, but you're too caught up in pleasuring yourself to even notice. hell, you're too riddled with ecstasy that you don't notice matt begin to slowly make his way into your room, his eyes zeroing in on the sight of you.

"fuck, y/n," he mumbles, breath strangled as he runs a hand down his jaw.

your eyes suddenly flutter open, wide — yet, you make no move to stop touching yourself. instead, your movements speed up as he watches you hungrily, just waiting to devour you. wordlessly, matt lets out a groan as he walks over in front of you, bending down so that he was level with your glistening folds. he pries your legs apart, mouth watering at the sight in front of him — how he couldn't wait to taste you.

"m-matt, i-"

"gonna have a taste of you," he growls, eyes clouded with pure lust as he looks up at you momentarily, a smirk on his face. "sit back an' relax, angel."

before you can get another syllable out of your mouth, it's replaced with a loud moan as matt attaches his lips to your swollen bud.

"o-oh- matt, gosh!" you cry out, gripping the edge of your sheets as your toes curl, head thrown back as matt devours you.

his low moans send vibrations throughout your core, causing profanities to slip your lips as matt eats you out like a starved man — his tongue does figure eights inside your swollen hole, his blue eyes darkened possessively as they look up to watch your face contort in pure pleasure. the grip on your thighs is enough to bruise by tomorrow, but you could care less — the way matt's tongue felt inside of you is all you could focus on.

his hips rutted into the bed with each flick of his tongue, groaning when he hears the sounds of bliss that exit your mouth. "oh gosh, please don't stop!"

"don't plan on it, princess," matt smirks, coming up momentarily before diving right back in.

"shit, feels so- gosh- so fuckin' good!" you babble out, your hand going down to tug on his brown locs.

"fuck, keep tuggin' at my hair jus' like that," matt growls lowly, adding one of his digits to your sopping hole. you scream out, his pointer finger curling inside of you as he sucks and nips at your sensitive bud.

you tug on his harder, the semi pain going straight to painfully erect cock — as much as he wanted to fill you up, tonight was all about you. he speeds up the movements of his finger, lips still attached to your cunt at the same time. the pleasure was causing the familiar band in your stomach to grow closer and closer to snapping.

"matt, m'so close," you whined, back arched as you rut your hips into his face, "gonna c-cum..."

"please baby, give it t'me," matt begs you, voice hoarse as he speeds his movements, "wan' it all over me..."

"fuck, fuck, fuckkk..."

the knot in your stomach unravels, your juices spraying all over matt's face as your orgasm crashes over you — a low growl leaves his lips as he laps at your sensitive cunt, not leaving anything behind. a whine leaves your lips, and a sudden small thud sounds from beside matt.

the voice modulator he had been using to call you falls out of his pocket, as he obsessively pulls your thighs closer to him, staring up at you with a smirk.

"gonna give me another one, baby?"

you didn't question how matt got into your room so quickly — before you could even say anything about it, his mouth was back on your overstimulated pussy. did you even notice the voice modulator that had fallen out of his pocket?

but lust had clouded your judgement, and you let matt give you not one more, but three more orgasms after that one. and you didn't question how he got in your home, nor the voice modulator.

( lilly's corner 💌 )

HEYYYY its her guys so sorry it took so long😞😞i've been working alot so things have not been getting out as fast as i wanted them to💔💔 i hope you guys enjoyed this part !! part four ( the finale ) will come out soon, i can't WAITTTTT🥴🥴

taglist🥝 : @muwapsturniolo @thenickgirl @luverboychris @cottoncandyswisherz @chanelles-world

@sturnprime @middlepartmatt @chrissturniolossidehoe @sturniqloo @chaossturns

@fairyrcts @mbbsgf @sturnsxplr-25 @moonk1ss3d @oliviasturniolo21

@wh4re4chratt @cyberdre4ms @angvlarabella @pvssychicken @lovesturni0l0s

@delilahsturniolo @venusxsturnio @chrissystur @sweetangelgirl7 @wovenribbons

@chrispotatos @chrissystur @jetaimevous @55sturn @yn-ws

@u-didnt-see-this @caseybennett @lowkeyobsessedwthesturniolos @sparklyskies0

@sturnsxbitvh @watercolorskyy @bagsbyclair0 @lovingregulusblack @starkeyszn

@victoryouactuallydidthis @colorthecosmos444 @elizasturn

[solxamber]

Romance Roulette — Rollo Flamme x reader

You, Rollo's self-proclaimed bestfriend, have been trying to set him up with someone for the past few weeks. If all your plans fail, maybe you should do it yourself?

Rollo Week Day 2!

You’re absolutely convinced that one of these days, Mount Rollo is going to erupt—metaphorically speaking. The man is a storm in human form, and if anyone needs to loosen up, it’s him. As his self-declared bestie, you’ve decided it’s your personal mission to fix this. And what better way to prevent a volcanic explosion than by finding him the perfect date?

Date 1: The Perfectionist

For the first attempt, you decide to set him up with someone equally serious—a meticulous scholar who practically breathes textbooks, just like Rollo. You arrange a nice little lunch at a quiet, book-filled café. The ambiance is perfect: walls stacked with old books, the soft clink of teacups, and an academic atmosphere. You figure they’ll be intellectual soulmates.

Everything goes well—until they start debating. What begins as a pleasant discussion about historical architecture quickly escalates into a competition of who knows more obscure facts.

Rollo’s frown deepens as his date continuously tries to one-up him. By the time their coffee arrives, they’ve gone through no fewer than five intense debates about the most esoteric details of 14th-century bricklaying techniques.

You check on them an hour later, only to see Rollo sitting there, arms crossed, looking like he’s ready to punch a library in the face. His date is still babbling on about the aesthetic superiority of Gothic buttresses.

When you catch him outside after the disastrous date, Rollo sighs heavily and mutters, “I’ve had more stimulating conversations with my textbooks.”

“Well, they can’t all be winners!” you laugh awkwardly.

Date 2: The Overenthusiast

Clearly, the last one was too intense. You decide to go for a different approach—a cheerful, bubbly person who’s passionate about spontaneous adventures. Maybe someone who will drag Rollo out of his stoic shell with some boundless enthusiasm and positivity.

The date starts off on a hike, and Rollo already looks skeptical as they begin rattling off suggestions for future extreme sports they should try together. “Skydiving’s on my bucket list,” they say, oblivious to Rollo’s growing dread. “Oh! And I’ve always wanted to try base jumping.”

“I don’t have wings,” Rollo deadpans.

Things only go downhill from there. His date suggests bungee jumping off a nearby cliff, just to spice things up. Rollo’s jaw tightens like he’s physically restraining himself from yelling, and by the end of the hike, he looks like he’s been through some kind of personal hell.

As they part ways, Rollo gives you a flat look. “I don’t understand how you come up with these people.”

You just shrug, trying to hold back your laughter. “Maybe you just need to learn how to let loose!”

His scowl deepens, and you’re already mentally planning Date #3.

Date 3: The Tortured Artist

Next up, you think Rollo needs someone with a creative soul—an artist with a vision, someone who’ll talk about the beauty of life and inspire him with their philosophical musings. You manage to track down someone who’s always talking about their next big project and their deep thoughts on the human condition.

Things start off okay, but midway through dinner, they begin rambling about the chaotic beauty of life. “You see, Rollo, destruction is just a form of rebirth. Every time something breaks, it’s just… making way for something new.”

Rollo stares at them like they’ve grown a second head. “I believe in structure and order,” he says stiffly.

The artist looks unfazed, waving their hand dramatically. “But chaos is art!”

By the time the night is over, Rollo looks like he’s aged ten years. When he returns to you, he mutters, “They suggested we burn down the restaurant. For ‘art.’”

You burst into laughter. “Okay, maybe not the creative type either.”

Rollo glares. “Stop trying to torture me.”

Date 4: The Free Spirit

Alright, maybe what Rollo needs is someone who’s completely carefree—a person with no boundaries or restrictions, someone who doesn’t sweat the small stuff. You set him up with a free-spirited individual who lives life with a “no rules” philosophy. They suggest meeting at a park for a casual walk, and at first, it seems like things are going fine.

Then they start suggesting that they should start a protest about “the man keeping us down” and skipping stones at a restricted pond area because, “rules are just social constructs, man.”

Rollo’s eye twitches as they start skipping stones like it’s no big deal. “You realize you’re breaking the law, correct?”

“It’s just a pond,” they wave him off. “Live a little!”

The date doesn’t last much longer. As soon as they part ways, Rollo gives you the most exhausted look you’ve ever seen. “Why do you do this to me?”

You grin, feeling only slightly guilty. “You said you needed to loosen up.”

“I’m going to throw you into that pond next time,” he mutters, but you can see the faintest smirk on his lips.

Date 5: The Socialite

This time, you think you’ve cracked the code. Someone social and charming, who knows how to navigate high society. You arrange a dinner with an outgoing socialite who can hold their own in any conversation.

Except, they spend the entire date talking about all the high-profile parties they attend, the famous people they’ve met, and their networking skills. Rollo is clearly unimpressed, barely saying a word as they drop name after name, and by the end of the night, he looks like he’s had all the life drained out of him.

“They talked more about themselves than any lesson I’ve ever attended,” he mutters to you afterward.

“Wasn’t that fun?” you tease, trying not to laugh.

Rollo just glares at you, muttering something about “irreparable damage.”

After the fifth disaster, you both sit in the café (again), your chin resting in your hands as you ponder your failure. “Maybe I’m just not cut out to be a matchmaker…”

“I’ve been telling you that since the first date,” Rollo replies dryly, sipping his tea.

You stare at the cup, lost in thought, then blink. "What if I just find someone more like...me?" Your eyes light up. "Of course! How did I not think of that before—"

"I think I’ve figured that out myself," Rollo cuts in. His tone is so dry, you almost miss the little sarcastic jab in it. He raises an eyebrow. “Why not just date me yourself, then? You’re the only one I can stand at this point.”

You pause mid-sip, blinking. “...What?”

He shakes his head, clearly joking, lips curling into a faint smirk. “You’re already committed to this ridiculous mission. Why not be my date, if you're so determined?”

Rollo’s tone is light, and you can tell he’s not being serious, but something clicks in your mind. You blink at him like he’s just handed you the Holy Grail. Slowly, you lower your teacup. “Wait...that’s...brilliant.”

It’s Rollo’s turn to blink. “What?”

You snap your fingers. “I’ll do it! I’ll date you!”

The smirk falls from his face as he processes your words. “What? No—wait—I wasn’t—” His usual composure slips for a moment, a flicker of shock in his eyes. “You’re serious?”

“Obviously,” you grin, completely oblivious to his shock. “I mean, I’ve been spending all this time trying to find someone else, but why would I need to? We get along great, I know your quirks, you know mine—this is perfect!”

Rollo is still processing, his mouth slightly open, like you’ve just told him the world is flat. “I wasn’t actually expecting you to—”

“So,” you interrupt, leaning in with a smug smile, “where are you taking me on our first date?”

Rollo groans, rubbing his temple. “You’re impossible.”

The date with Rollo is… interesting. You two plan a simple walk through the city, but it doesn’t take long for things to go off track. Rollo tries to impress you by leading you through what he calls a "shortcut"—a long, winding, and completely unfamiliar street that gets you both hopelessly lost.

"Is this your plan?" you tease, nudging him as he checks the map on his phone. "Get lost together so I’ll have to rely on your company?"

Rollo gives you a flat look. "No, this is my plan going terribly wrong."

But despite the mishap, the date is surprisingly fun. You tease him relentlessly about his poor sense of direction, and he grumbles about how you’ve ruined his peace, but there’s an underlying warmth to his words. It’s clear that, despite the banter, he’s enjoying himself.

After wandering around for what feels like hours, you finally find your way back to a quaint little café. You suggest stopping for a drink, and Rollo, surprisingly, agrees.

The conversation flows naturally, filled with lighthearted teasing and small smiles. Rollo, despite his usual stern demeanor, seems at ease with you, even allowing himself a small chuckle when you accidentally spill sugar all over the table.

As the evening winds down and he walks you home, there’s a comfortable silence between you two. At your ...your doorstep, you hesitate for a moment, unsure of how to end the night. Rollo stands there, watching you expectantly, clearly not used to situations like this.

“So,” you say softly, “thanks for, uh, getting us lost today.”

Rollo raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” you grin, stepping closer. “It was fun anyway.”

You lean in, brushing your lips softly against his in a quick kiss. When you pull back, Rollo is staring at you, frozen in place like he’s processing what just happened.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” you ask, suddenly feeling a little shy despite the chaos of the night.

Rollo blinks, his usual serious expression faltering as a slight blush creeps into his cheeks. “...Yes,” he says, almost as if he’s surprised by his own response.

You smile at him, the warmth from the kiss still lingering, and before you can walk away, Rollo suddenly grabs your wrist, pulling you back gently. He leans in, pressing a lingering, softer kiss to your lips, as if trying to make sure this time is real.

When he pulls away, he mutters, “I suppose I should thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being insufferable enough to try this.”

You laugh softly, a lightness settling in your chest. “I aim to please.”

As you head inside, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, Mount Rollo isn’t going to erupt after all. In fact, it seems you’ve found a way to calm the storm for good.

Masterlist

[bbunnyyy]

All The Stars~

BAKUGOU X SECRET ADMIRER PT.1

A/N: This idea has marinated in my head for wayyyy too many weeks, so here you go. There will be a part 2 to this.

P.S: Not proofread. Sorry for any mistakes.

ALL THE STARS~ PT.2 | ALL THE STARS~PT.3

It was the second day of school after the summer break. You peeked out from behind the wall at the lockers- your crush's locker. Your stomach grumbled in pain- ah, the sacrifices you make for love. Maybe this was a stupid idea, why would Katsuki fucking Bakugou reciprocate the sickening feelings you harboured towards him? You were better off staying his secret admirer.

Bakugou was the last person you'd imagine a puppy dog romance with. He surely wasn't worth skipping lunch for. What were you thinking anyway, hoping his love for you would blossom? Well, that's all it would be. Hope. You told yourself. Not that it would matter, the gifts inside were unsigned anyway.

Sighing, you turned to walk away- maybe you could convince Lunch Rush to let you have a peck or two before class started. Walking into the hallway, you scratched the back of your head as you felt a headache come on. Looking up, you saw Bakugou, Kirishima and the others walking towards the lockers. Scrambling, you ducked behind the staircase- Holy fucking shit. This was it. They hadn't noticed you, luckily. Not yet, at least. Your knuckles were white from grabbing the wall as you stood on your tippy toes, trying to get a closer look at his expression.

That idiotic blonde was screaming at Denki for electrocuting his lemonade or whatever- at least he saw that coming; what he didn't see was the hellish amount of confetti falling onto him as he opened his locker. The rest of the Bakusquad looked with their mouth open as you cowered behind the wall, blushing. You were grateful no one had noticed you yet. "Ooh, looks like someone's got the fancies for Bakubro ;)" Kaminari said, almost emoting in surprise, along with Kiri.

"What the actual fuck is this?" Bakugou grimaced, stepping on the now confetti-covered floor. He rummaged around his locker, pushing the confetti around to uncover boxes stacked on top of each other next to his textbooks. Pretty pink boxes adorned with ribbons, must I add. A neon orange sticky note taped to the topmost box stood out in contrast with the monochrome textbooks and grey metal of the locker. Bakugou had half a mind to throw it all away or blow up the entire locker. It wasn't worth the hassle anyway.

Denki snickered, peeling off the note that read 'High protein chocolate~' "Woaahh, real thoughtful, ain't it?" Kirishima said, elbowing Bakugou in the stomach. "I wonder who it isss~~" Mina piped up, opening one of the heart-shaped boxes to reveal chocolate-covered strawberries. Popping one in her mouth, she sighed, placing a hand on her cheek while relishing the flavour. "I wonder how they got all that confetti into your locker."

You took a deep breath in, relaxing your shoulders. One step at a time- You walked towards Bakugou. "I wonder who's masochistic enough to have a crush on Bakugou, let alone express themselves, hahaa-" you laughed, interrupted by a sharp jab on your ribs. "Aahh that hurt, y'know?" You sulked, rubbing the sore spot. "What kinda coward leaves this unsigned?" Bakugou grumbled, tearing up the note and resuming rummaging through his locker for his textbooks for Present Mic's class.

Katsuki Bakugou was not a kind man. You more than most people, knew that well. But Bakugou didn't mean to push you out of the way as he made his way out the hall. He didn't mean to bruise your chest. He didn't mean to hurt you.

[undead-supernova]

Bullshit! / Masterlist / 18+

part 1 / part 3

Playlist

pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

plot: eddie runs into you unexpectedly and you think it's time to have that date a little early

contains: eddie lacking confidence, confident!reader, get to know Eddie and the reader a little better, making out, kids this is a bit more than pg-13 I'll tell you that much without spoiling it

note: sorry guys, I'm not done with this. maybe far from it. they have a dynamic unlike any other and I'm here for it.

wc: 4k

The library was maybe the last place Eddie wanted to be at one in the afternoon on a Tuesday. It was always overcrowded, riddled with students running around with coffee from the adjoining Starbucks. 

But Eddie needed a new book, having told himself that rereading The Hobbit the third time this semester was…unnecessary. Plus, his English professor told him that “we can only enact change ourselves.” 

Maybe it was a sign. Because as Eddie passed the large glass windows, he saw you sitting at one of the booths.

You looked different from every Saturday night. No makeup, hardly any jewelry except for a thin gold necklace and several rings. An oversized sweatshirt and, from his vantage point, you were wearing a pleated skirt. He even noticed that your high-top Converse were placed next to you, mismatched patterned socks adorning your feet. 

And, fuck, Eddie couldn’t help the excitement rising inside him. It should’ve embarrassed him when he started jogging towards the front door, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. All he could think about was the sound of your voice and your eyes and your touch and your kiss.

He slowed his pace as he walked past the printers and computers and found your head down in some textbook, blissfully unaware.

“Working hard or hardly working?” he asked.

And when you looked up and smiled, he could’ve sworn his heart swelled and burst like a goddamn balloon.

“Oh my gosh, hi!” you exclaimed, jumping up to give him a hug. “What the fuck are you doing here!”

It was only for a few seconds, but he couldn’t resist breathing in your intoxicating perfume and memorizing the feel of you. The curve of your back, the soft fabric of your sweatshirt scratching against his calloused fingertips.

And as you sat back down, he realized quickly why your mere touch was so alluring. It was a reminder that Saturday had been real and, on this grueling Tuesday, you still cared about his existence. You still noticed him.

“I was coming to look for something new to read,” he answered, trying to figure out what to do with his hands and failing. “What about you?”

Eddie couldn’t decipher your now raised eyebrow, watching as you lifted your pointer finger. “Sit down,” you nearly demanded, eyes flickering from him to the booth. His heart hammered in his chest as he complied, eyeing your finger following his movements. 

It was despicable how easy it was for you to get him to do whatever you wanted. Even just fucking sitting down. But he loved it. Every. Fucking. Second.

“I was in the stacks looking at the archives,” you explained. “But everyone in my class took them already.” You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Such bitches.”

“How rude,” Eddie said, all teasing with an amused smile.

He could tell you liked it, biting your lip slightly before playing along. “I know, it’s offensive.”

There was something he noticed in your expression, placing your lip back between your teeth as you scanned him up and down. Eddie was unable to keep a smile off his face, overwhelmed by the attention you gave him. Like he was a meal, but something to be savored rather than merely devoured.

He couldn’t help it when he returned the sentiment, glancing down at your skirt that was riding further and further up your thighs. It wasn’t the time to think about you like that, spread wide for him as he got on all fours. Having you barking commands at him to do it properly, rewarding him with endless praise once you deemed it good enough.

Your thighs parted just a bit more, head tilting to the side as you gave him a smirk. As if you knew exactly where his thoughts were and wanted him to keep going. And, wow, were you two really just eye-fucking each other in the library?

“Want some coffee?” he asked, trying to distract himself. Practically flinching, pulling himself back from the table. “I was gonna head to Starbucks afterwards.”

The sexual tension broke at the question and he watched as you fiddled with your pen. But you didn’t flounder like he did. He wondered if you ever could. 

“Yeah, I’d love to. I have to finish something up but—”

“Oh, I’ll go by myself,” he offered.

“You sure?” you asked, clearly surprised.

“Yeah, no biggie,” he assured you, standing up.

Expression turning a bit sheepish, you said, “I will warn you… My order is complicated.”

He shrugged. “Hit me.”

And the order wasn’t complicated, per se. Eddie just wanted to know how the hell had you come up with a “dirty iced chai with oat milk and two pumps of cinnamon dolce”. Regardless, Eddie tucked that into his Notes app for later. If there was a later.

After grabbing himself a large black coffee and the concoction you'd asked for, he made his way back over to you. Rounding the corner, he noticed the way you moved back and forth between a book and your laptop, sighing and mumbling something to yourself. But as if you could sense him, you turned and watched him approach, a smile appearing on your lips.

“Oh, a Venti, huh?” you teased, making grabbing motions at him anyways.

He shrugged, sitting back down. “You deserve it.”

“You know what? You’re right.” You took it from his hand, taking a long sip. “I hate Starbucks coffee,” you said, licking your lips. “It’s awful. But this is the best thing on the menu, so thank you.”

“Yeah, of course.” Eddie hoped you couldn’t see him blush. "I hate it, too. It's just the only thing we got." 

“God, I know. Also, I can Venmo you or—"

“Absolutely not,” he interrupted, waving you away. 

“Okay,” you conceded, not bothering to argue further. Just took another sip and sat back. Glanced out the window before back at him. “Wanna go on that date today?”

“Today?” he asked, nearly gobsmacked.

Nervousness ran along his limbs, not fully prepared to be with you. Alone. Just the two of you. It’d taken him hours to go to bed after dropping you off the other night. Any time he thought he was done masturbating, it just came with another round. Like a goddamn creep.

“Why not?”

“Aren’t you doing research?” he asked, feeling his face grow hot.

And if you noticed, you didn’t say anything about it.

“Oh my god, I would rather die than look at this shit any longer. I’ve been here since eight.” You paused before throwing a hand over your face. “Unless you’re busy. Sorry I didn’t ask first.”

“No, no. I’m free,” he lied, deciding at that moment to skip his class. He’d catch up on Algebra with his tutor—it’s not like he paid attention anyways. That damn tutor was the only reason he understood a fraction of it. Pun absolutely intended. 

And he swore you nearly jumped up, grabbing your shoes and shoving them on before packing up your backpack, the weight of it starting to look daunting. Book after book, plus your laptop and pencil case and…

Without thought, Eddie grabbed it for you, slinging it over his shoulder. Fuck, it was heavy. “Here, I got it.”

You stared up at him, clearly shocked. “Oh, you sure?”

But Eddie gave you a smile and gestured towards the window with his head. “Yeah, come on. I’ll drive.”

By all accounts, Eddie was actually…sweet. It was nearly sickening how sweet he could be, carrying your backpack for you and opening the car door (despite it being a stalker van). Asking what music you liked to listen to—everything, was the answer. And you didn’t just like every genre, you loved it— Fiddling with the air conditioning and telling you to change it if you get too hot or too cold. Asking if his music was too loud, asking how you were doing now, away from your books.

You were starting to find him ridiculously intriguing, unsure how to take his kindness. It wasn’t a bad thing by any means. You just…weren’t used to a man being so considerate of your feelings. 

It wasn’t like you didn’t think you deserved it—that was obvious every time a man got a little too close for comfort and you had to humiliate them. 

But there was just something that felt new about Eddie. When he’d approached you at the party, you sized him up like every other guy shooting their shot. But he caught your eye immediately when he stumbled over his words. And when a jolt seized your veins at that first touch on his arm, you knew you were hooked. 

You’d gone to bed that night with a smile on your face, softly licking along your lips to savor the lingering taste of Eddie’s mouth. It was tinged with beer, something you used to hate. Something you now loved, thoughts echoing one word:

New.

Eddie helped you out of the car once he’d parked, even insisting that you let him get it for you. It made you feel quite warm in the face, surprised by his assertion. Made you feel like a lady, something you hadn’t ever felt at the hands of a man.

As you moved through the museum, you were quiet, whispering now and then about certain art styles and their importance during their corresponding time periods. And you were glad that Eddie wasn’t a douchebag about noise level inside a museum.

He never interrupted, never poked fun at your intelligence. He’d even asked more questions, all hushed and contained, some even you didn’t know the answer to. Pocketing them for later to ask your professors. 

But Eddie rarely gave up any information about himself, leaving you to tap his foot with yours and ask him questions. Every time, his face got hot and he murmured responses with a shrug, as if he didn’t think it was anything special. 

How was it not? He was still undecided, having dreams of working on video games and helping direct the narratives in new and innovative ways to engage with the player more. You didn’t know much about video games, but you still listened. Still gave him the attention he’d given you. It wasn’t even hard—he was so animated once he got into something he was passionate about. It was endearing, actually.

You ended up sitting down on one of the benches together, staring at an abstract painting by an artist you’d never heard of. 

“Do you like abstract?” you asked him, whispering despite the empty room.

Eddie shrugged, eyes trained on the swirling colors. “I think so? I mean, it’s cool to look at. I just don’t really know what I’m looking for. Or what I’m looking at, for that matter.”

That brought a smile to your face. His statement wasn’t judgmental or dismissive. It was…pensive. Contemplative. 

“I think of it like music,” you said. “The different colors and movements are like different instruments. They’re all separate but they come together to make something magical.”

For emphasis, you leaned in closer to him, your face and shoulder fully pressed against him. Raised your arm to point at the sharp flicks of red hurling towards the top right of the canvas. You could’ve sworn you heard Eddie suck in a breath, having to suppress a smirk at the effect you had over him. 

“That’s like a trumpet, bright and loud. Furious in nature but soaring off the page.” Then you pointed toward the royal blue splatters, more round than some of the other scattered pigments. “And this is like, oh, I don’t know. I guess, a trombone. Low and sultry. Rounded. Keeping everything together.”

Eddie turned his head, your noses nearly touching. You couldn’t help the shiver running down your neck at the tickling sensation you got from his hair. A smile you hadn’t seen before enveloped his face as you made eye contact.

“So, you’re saying it’s like jazz.”

A breathy laugh left your lips, finding yourself intimidated by his pointed gaze. By the way you could study the rich brown in his eyes, all bright and energized despite his calm demeanor. The stubble rising from his pores, all scratchy and wicked. 

“Well, uh,” you murmured, surprised by your inability to form words. “It doesn’t have to be, but, um, I guess this one made me think of jazz. The way it kinda…” your voice trailed off as he seemingly leaned in further, his scent like smoke fogging your senses. “It’s not so rigid. It’s improv. It’s, um…”

“Varied?” he offered, his smile growing. “Unique?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Eddie let out a hum. “I think I get it now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s beautiful.”

For once, you had to look away, back at the painting to try and control your breathing. There were flashes of things you wanted to do, both tender and wildly too inappropriate for the setting. Things you wanted beyond physicality, beyond the limits you’d always set for yourself.

And as if he could hear the pounding of your heart, his fingertips touched yours. Slowly weaved his fingers through the spaces left open. Took a piece of your heart with him.

Eddie might not be exactly forward with his actions, but he knew what he wanted. All you could do was squeeze his hand and hope that one day you’d get to see him in full bloom. 

“Why do you do that thing?” you asked.

Eddie glanced over at you, one hand on the steering wheel. The other fiddled with a hole in his pants, needing something to grasp onto. His heart rate just started to slow down, giving him a chance to breathe. 

There was just something about you that drove him mad.

“What thing?”

“Act like you’re not interesting.”

Sheepishly, Eddie shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know. I guess it’s ‘cause you’re way more interesting than me.”

“Bullshit,” you said sternly, a scoff leaving your lips.

“What!” he exclaimed, looking over at you again. “It’s true.”

You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “You highly underestimate yourself.”

Eddie snorted. “I’m a stereotype.”

“Bullshit,” you repeated, starting to sound genuinely frustrated. “Who the hell told you that?”

He didn’t know where to start. 

Being a loser wasn’t a big deal for him in high school. Grew up with his father’s reputation preceding him. Got through it the best he could with some awesome friends along the way. Finally graduated high school and raised his GPA enough to come here. It was simple. In his mind, he was simple.

But spending the latter half of summer, the one he dared never to speak of, without his friends and then coming here without anyone else… Well, he struggled to find anyone willing to be his friend. He tried. Really, he did. But it never came to fruition.

And what was more embarrassing than joining a D&D club before being told he didn’t belong within the first hour? Him, the DM of Hawkins, hell, Indiana, being told he didn’t belong. That he didn’t play right. That he just didn’t fit.

He spent so much time alone. It was starting to make him miss Hawkins, the nostalgia starting to kick in. Hawkins, the place he loathed. The place he wanted nothing to do with. 

He was a nineteen-year-old Freshman with no friends and an undecided future.  

His silence must’ve lasted longer than he thought because you pointed at the nearly empty Walmart parking lot and asked, “Actually, would you pull in for a sec?”

“Yeah, of course,” he responded, heading towards the very back row, far from any remaining cars. Giving the two of you privacy just in case you started to yell at him for being a loser or something. He didn’t know. You were just so unpredictable.

But once he parked, you were unbuckling your seatbelt and grabbing his chin. Squished the bottom of his cheeks in one hand as you pulled his face closer to yours. He must’ve stopped breathing, hands slipping from the steering wheel.

“You better start listening to me, Eddie,” you breathed, all low and sensual, moving your lips to barely graze his bottom lip. “I really don’t like you talking about yourself like that.”

Eddie could feel sweat collecting beneath his bangs as you continued your torture, raking your fingernails down his throat before wrapping your hand around it. He gasped, earning a small smile out of you.

“I don’t waste my time with boring people, as conceited as that sounds,” you continued, the left corner of your mouth lifting. Eyes flickering between his eyes and his lips, eyelashes fluttering with each micromovement. “But I never claimed to be the nicest person, did I?” Eddie still wouldn’t speak. He didn’t know if he could without moaning. “You’re one of the most interesting people I’ve met. And the nicest, which is probably more than I deserve. You’ve seen the way I treat other men.”

“They deserved it,” he whispered, feeling his cock twitch when your grip tightened. “Every one of them.”

“Yeah, they did,” you replied, raising the pitch of your voice. Like you were taunting him. “But you’re different, aren’t you?”

“I-I am?”

“You’re sweet,” you breathed, giving slow kisses to his cheeks. Giggling when you noticed the blood rushing into them so rapidly. “And you’re a real nice guy, you know that?”

“I, uh, I try to be,” he stumbled as you moved your lips past his jaw and against his ear. Went limp at the feeling of you biting the lobe, fanning your breath over it.

“You do such an excellent job,” you whispered. “So nice and kind and funny. You really get me going, Eddie. I didn’t think I’d be so affected by you.”

When you pulled back to face him, you chuckled. He couldn’t blame you. His eyes must’ve been popping out of his head, mouth agape at your pretty words. What was even more fucked up was how genuine you sounded, like you weren’t just saying these things to say them. You meant it.

“I thought about you a lot this weekend,” you said breathily, removing your hand from his neck to start coiling his hair around your finger.

“Me?”

“You,” you said with a nod.

He licked his lips. “W-what about me?”

“About how interesting you are. And not to get too vulgar,” you said with a giggle, all teasing and devilish. “But I couldn’t help but think about taking your cock down my throat.” Another giggle as you tapped your fingers along his collarbone. “Thought about what it looks like, if it’s half as pretty as you.”

Eddie couldn’t stop the way his cock strained against his jeans, the neverending praise overwhelming him. “T-thank you,” he responded, unable to suppress the whine that he’d tried to contain when your other hand began palming him over his jeans. 

“You, um,” he tried to continue, taking a deep breath through his nose to keep his composure. “I-if you want, you can. Anytime. Any time.” 

“It’d be so easy like this, you know,” you nearly purred. “To ride you, to leave you a blubbering mess and thanking me for taking care of you. I think you’d really, really like that.”

“You’re killing me, sweetheart,” he groaned, fingers now reaching out to white-knuckle the steering wheel. 

“Am I wrong?”

A tiny scoff left his lips as you nearly massaged his cock, knowing that if you didn’t stop soon, he was going to burst. “You already know the answer to that.”

“I want to hear it, Eddie.” You nipped his neck, causing him to jump a little. But you wouldn’t stop, whispering filthy words as you continued to mark him. “I want to hear you tell me how good it would feel for me to suck you dry.” He continued to nod, each word sending him further into the deep end. “Before getting you hard again, just ‘cause I can, and getting on top so I can milk you with my pussy.” He moaned at your vulgarity. “Which is dripping, by the way.”

Without any warning, Eddie was cumming, an explosive rush that had him twitching and jerking. Panting and dry mouthed. You didn’t remove your hand, merely chuckling and rubbing him through his jeans until he was able to breathe normally again.

Before Eddie could get the chance to apologize for his behavior, you were pulling him in with an agonizingly slow kiss, your fingers damp from the cum seeping through his jeans. 

You tugged at his lower lip with your teeth before letting out a hum. Gazed up into his puppy dog eyes and said, “Good boy.”

After a few moments of Eddie being able to think clearly again, you found your eyes wandering around his console before settling on a pack of cigarettes. 

“You smoke?” you asked, plucking them from the cupholder and shaking the box in front of his face.

He nodded, seemingly quiet despite what transpired. “Want one?”

“Absolutely,” you responded, quick to take two out and hand one over. Watched him roll the windows down. Even went so far as to light both cigarettes for you like a gentleman. 

You knew he was still coming down from that high. It wasn’t like you could judge when the wetness collecting between your thighs was probably staining the carseat. It took everything in you not to beg him to take you right then and there. But you were a lady (of sorts) and as a lady, you were content with saving yourself for another day.

Besides, it was nice to see him so calm now. Like a weight had been lifted, if only for a moment. It was still a moment.

“Post-nut clarity cigarette,” you joked, taking a slow drag and glancing out at the afternoon sun. 

“Was that…not embarrassing?”

That was when you realized what was happening.

“Are you kidding me? That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” you said truthfully. 

“I’m sure it’s totally hot,” he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Ah, yes. You supposed it was embarrassing for a guy to have creamed his pants without so much as a kiss. But that didn’t bother you at all. You knew it would be different once you were alone, edging him until he was begging you for more. Nothing would make you happier.

You ignored him. “You know, if you want us to go any further, you’re gonna have to earn it,” you said plainly, checking over your nails to make sure the paint hadn’t chipped too bad.  

“How?”

“Once you learn to be nice to yourself.” You shrugged before glancing back over at his wide-eyed expression. “I know there’s something more to you than what you think of yourself. I saw it at the party and I’m seeing it now. You just have to see that, Eddie. That’s really all there is to it.”

Eddie’s lips seemed to form a pout before he took a few hearty puffs, the smoke billowing around you. Looked around. Looked down at his lap. Looked back up at you. Mumbled, “So I can’t, like, go down on you right now?”

A laugh surged out of you so quickly that you started coughing. You waved him away when his concern sounded, ending up laughing harder before you could contain yourself.

“As much as I’d love to give you the privilege of eating me out right now, I think it’s best to wait until you’ve shown some improvement.”

“So there’s a chance?” he asked. 

You leaned back in towards his face, opening his mouth with your thumb. Taking another drag, you put your lips to his and blew the smoke into his mouth. Felt him breathe it in before letting it out through his nose. 

You smirked. “If you’re desperate for a piece of me, you could always lap up what I left behind on your car seat.”

He groaned, taking a deep breath while rolling his eyes. “God, you’re a fucking menace.”

“Honey, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

as per usual, thanks to @strangergraphics for letting me use her dividers and looking over my work hehehe

[melancholicstation]

FRAT!JACK SCHLOSSBERG SFW AND NSFW HEADCANONS

imagining COLLEGE SWEETHEART!READER who loves the outdoors, is the best in her harvard polo team, is a criterion channel SNOB, spencer hasting's archetype, vacations in miami, aspen, ibiza and saint tropez, is the president of many student clubs, buys hermēs blankets for the dogs kennel blanket and keeps an elegant stack of erotic, cheesy novellas under her .

tags: @obsessedwithjohnjr @candyneckl6ce @rocker-chick-7 @ultr4v1ol3nt @violetharmonsfavgf @strip-weather-forecast @darcyspirits @fortheloveofjos @h-l-v-kennedy-blog @h-l-vlovesvintage @bluelancergirl @snowsgames @salvatoresablondie @dulcegal @kennedyism @bloxholden35 @kimcrystal123 @absurdlyvintage @jackiesgirl @chemicalw0rld @remotewatch @starsprangledgirl

fyi: I have not edited this nor looked over it too closely so if there's spelling/grammar mistakes je m'excuse please!!

you cross each other's paths at institut le rosey in year 13 because you guys are unfortunately wealthy teenagers of highly successful family dynasties so it'd be sacrilegious to go anywhere else... where else would they go to get their educational chops that they can brag about at dinner parties?

super rich kids by frank ocean is both of your respective spotify wrapped no.1 song

you guys don't formally meet until harvard law school

always immediately goes to you for any fraternity parties where they need to be all gussied up for it and whines until you do his makeup... and of course he wants you to use your expensive chanel, byredo, chantecaille make up

jack uses your own la perla thongs as bookmarks to keep track of a certain page in a law textbook when studying at your place cause he left all his stationary at home

when you both found each other you guys were both in your slut era and weren't looking for anything serious

tries to make you beef tartar in the confines of your tiny dorm like this one chick on tiktok does in her bed

after a couple days of not seeing each other jack comes back with little gifts and trinkets cause he has the instinct to gather in his bones, baby!

you both eat like a 17th century king despite being college students

classes were cancelled for a day due to a particularly aggressive blizzard that sought to reek havoc on anyone in its path--or in this instance trying to get to their econ major on time for once so you two are held up in your dorm end up watching 'secretary' (2002), one thing leads to another and you and jack's have ended up recreating this scene except jack is lee... and the saddle is an old hermēs vivace jumping saddle that you got for an early christmas present one year back (something like this) and the carrot is slightly dirty cause its been in your farmers market tote since your last run to whole foods... but you both enjoy it all the same cause you guys are F.R.E.A.K.I.S.H.

he has a very intense samurai sword obsession to the point where his dorm closet holds all the medals he won for the best sword in local competitions... and gets extremely territorial if you want a drawer in his closet cause where are the synthetic fabric medals supposed to go??

always buys you lingerie whenever ssense has a sale

you both buy each other maison margiela shoes for a joint graduation present from law school

you both always have a ritual of buying mint and lavender lemonade at different harvard athletic games

you guys broke up briefly during mid term hell-week and you genuinely observed him re-connecting with nature in the harvard yard to ease his anguish

you guys practice parenthood by adopting a few sylvanian families and putting them in a house

your matching boat n' totes (top: yours bottom: jack)

on holiday break from college you guys go on so many sketchy facebook marketplace hunts to the point where jack films with his phone just for evidence purposes

your dream that makes you crash out over imessage to jack:

NSFW UNDER THIS CUT 🧵✂️

he definitely wears a hat while you guys are fucking making beautiful sensual love

foreplay is stimulating conversations with jack

as foreplay you make jack recreate that one cmbyn timothee chalamet scene with the peach

eroticising studying and giving each other orgasms when you've memorised a topic correctly

two beers at a beer garden and you guys are in each others pants immediately. stat!

they are delicately perverted

he loves giving you some clavicle kisses... like that is his shit!

jack loves to be lightly tapped with the hermēs crop but he'd never admit it what?? who said that??

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

50 Shades of Red || Chapter 1

pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

summary: A reimagining of 50 Shades of Grey, featuring a healthy, consensual relationship and safe BDSM scenes. And lesbians, of course. Wanda meets Natasha, and their captivating story begins.

content warnings: none

word count: 4.9k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

Chapter 1

Wanda frowned, running her fingers through her hair. The auburn locks mocked her, laying over her shoulders as she ran her eyes over them. There was something wrong, whether it was the curls or the style, Wanda couldn’t tell. Whatever, fuck her hair, and fuck her roommate for getting sick. 

A groan sounded out from the other room, and Wanda let her frustration slip away. It wasn’t Kate’s fault for getting sick, but it just so happened to be at the most unfortunate time. Really, Wanda should be studying for her finals, her textbooks laying open on the kitchen counter. But instead, she was here running her fingers through stubborn hair and mentally cursing out her roommate as she searched for a hair tie. 

The only thing that would save her appearance now was a ponytail, high on her head. Anything to give the illusion of confidence. At least her slight curls would give her hair some dimension. 

Sighing, Wanda let herself look away from the mirror, catching a glimpse of dark circles under her normally vibrant green eyes. Were her cheeks more hollow than usual? She couldn’t tell, but judging by the way her stomach rumbled, she knew she had forgotten about eating in favor of studying for the past few weeks. 

Swiping some concealer under her eyes, Wanda dabbed the product into her skin as she walked towards the living room. Kate was a good roommate, always cleaning up after herself and offering Wanda ice cream after every failed date she went on. But truly, she’d chosen the worst time to get sick. Wanda had volunteered, of course, but interviewing some rich multi-millionaire was not high on her fun list. 

“You’re a lifesaver, truly,” Kate mumbled, her flushed cheeks appearing over the arm of the couch. She’d been running herself ragged, trying to write papers and organize some questions for this interview. It was at Romanoff’s Global Enterprise, a special section for the school newspaper. Goddamn Kate and all her extracurriculars. Now, instead of losing herself in textbooks and notetaking, Wanda was driving 165 miles into Seattle in her shitty old Honda. 

Evidently, the CEO she was meeting today was an enigmatic and charming woman, one of the youngest millionaires in the country. Natasha Romanoff. God, even her name sounded rich. 

“I’m so sorry Wanda,” Kate’s voice was raspy, and Wanda filled a glass of water for her. “This interview took me months to get, and by the time I would be able to reschedule, we’d both be graduated. You know I’m the editor for the newspaper, I can’t give up this opportunity. I’m not even kidding, it's the chance of a lifetime.” Her eyes were wide and red-rimmed. Even though she looks like she’s on death's door, Kate still manages to have flawless skin and long, flowing hair. Wanda feels a pang of sympathy, bringing the glass of water over and swiping a bottle of NyQuil from the counter. 

“It’s okay, Kate. I promise. Take this and go the fuck to bed, you look like you’re seconds away from passing out.”

“Fine, but here are the supplies you’ll need,” Kate reaches for her bag, pulling out a recording device and a printed stack of questions. “Just hit record and ask all these questions, I’ll transcribe everything later when this fever goes away and I can finally think straight.” 

Wanda suppresses the wave of panic that rises in her, taking the questions and recording device with slightly trembling fingers and tucking them safely in her messenger bag. She wouldn’t do this for anyone else, only Kate. 

“Go to bed, I’ll be fine,” Wanda says, her voice not sounding as confident as she’d like. 

Giving her a knowing look, Kate shuffles off towards the bedroom, a blanket wrapped around her. “You’ll be fine, just ask the questions and that’ll be enough information to get you through the interview. And Wanda,” Kate pauses at the door, her tired gray eyes finding green. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“I’d better get going,” Wanda smiles, her hands shooing her roommate through the door. “It’s a long drive, and I don’t want to be late.”

“Good luck, you’re my favorite roommate.”

“Kate, I’m your only roommate.”

—

The drive is easy, not many people are up this early. The trees whizz past, Wanda’s foot never leaving the gas pedal as she makes her way towards the city. She doesn’t have to be at the interview until two this afternoon, but there’s something intoxicating about driving 15 miles over the speed limit on a bare highway. 

Pictures of a tall, curved glass building float through Wanda’s mind. She was certain that the pictures of Romanoff’s Global Enterprise on Google didn’t compare to the actual building itself, and she brushed off the waves of anxiety building inside her chest. 

It’s a quarter to two when Wanda pulls her car in front of the building. The reflective glass stares down at her, the top of the building too high to see without craning her neck. Large lettering spells out Romanoff above the entryway, and Wanda feels her fingers trembling as she hands her keys to the valet driver. Honestly, a valet driver? How much more over the top could this day get?

Walking into the lobby, Wanda hears the muted click of her low heels as she tugs her dress shirt down. A tall blonde woman walks towards her, a smile plastered on her face as her eyes rake up and down Wanda’s body, no doubt judging her outfit. The woman looks pristine, with a slicked-back ponytail and a subtle hint of mascara. Her blazer is sharp and tailored, and Wanda fights the urge to tug her dress shirt again. 

“I’m here to see Ms. Romanoff, my name is Wanda Maximoff,” The statement comes out as more of a question, and Wanda blushes under the scrutinizing look the blonde gives her. 

“One moment, Ms. Maximoff,” the woman says, her perfect brow arching slightly as she appraises Wanda one last time before turning her attention to the large iPad in her hands. She swipes a few times, a small smile gracing her features as she finds what she’s looking for. 

“Ah, Ms. Bishop was expected, but I see that was changed last minute. Right this way, Ms. Maximoff,” the woman turns, walking confidently towards the elevators. “If you could sign this, please.”

The blonde hands Wanda the iPad, and she quickly signs her name. It looks illegible, and Wanda hopes her signature isn’t going anywhere except to the security office for verification. She fights the urge to fix her ponytail, her eyes landing on the blonde woman’s slicked-back hair tied high on her head. Maybe a quick tightening of her hair tie wouldn’t hurt.

“Press the button for floor twenty.” The woman turns, catching Wanda’s hands as they shoot down from adjusting her ponytail. A graceful smile spreads across her face, “Have a good interview.”

Wanda thanks her, accepting the badge the blonde hands her. It has the words VISITOR stamped across the surface. Awkwardly adjusting the badge until it’s pinned to her jacket, Wanda scoffs internally. As if anyone in this building didn’t already know she was only a visitor. She might as well write the word on her forehead to go along with her outdated shoes and slightly too-large jacket. 

The elevator ride is quick, shooting up towards the twentieth floor smoothly. Wanda is greeted by the sight of yet another pristine, clean lobby. Another blonde woman sits behind a desk, quickly rising as Wanda steps out. 

Running a hand over her hair, Wanda reaches into her bag. She’s never felt self-conscious about her hair before, but after seeing no less than five impeccably dressed blonde women, she can’t help but think she sticks out like a sore thumb. 

Pulling out the recording device and the slightly crumpled stack of questions, Wanda curses herself for not researching Ms. Romanoff. The woman could be ninety years old for all she knew. She hadn’t searched up her name at all, and fights the urge to smooth down her shirt as she glances towards the receptionist. 

The upcoming one-on-one interview looms in the front of her mind, nerves causing her fingers to systematically rub the pages in front of her. Wanda hated attention being focused on her, much preferring the anonymity of a group discussion or a crowded room. Sitting on hard white leather chairs and staring at the city skyline from a large floor-to-ceiling window was not something Wanda would consider as a happy place. 

Wanda wonders if Ms. Romanoff insists on all her employees being blonde as yet another smartly dressed woman appears from around the corner. The blonde’s eyes glance towards her, doing a subtle double-take before smoothly stepping towards her. 

“Ms. Maximoff?”

“Yes,” Wanda hopes her voice isn’t trembling too badly. 

“Ms. Romanoff will see you shortly, can I offer you a refreshment? Coffee, tea, water?”

“Water is fine, thanks.” Her throat is suddenly parched, and she takes the cup from the blonde woman gratefully. 

“She will see you shortly.” The woman says, a small smile plastered on her face as she turns and walks towards the desk. She sits next to the other blonde woman, her attention focused on the computer before her. Wanda wonders if she should call them Thing One and Thing Two as the clacking of a keyboard fills the empty, sterile feeling space. 

A door opens, a tall man stepping through as he chuckles at something. He bids a brief farewell, barely glancing at the blonde woman, who Wanda notices has jumped to their feet in his presence. They seem nervous, one woman ushering the man towards the elevator while the other hurriedly gestures for Wanda to stand. 

“Ms. Romanoff will see you now,” she says and pushes Wanda towards the open door.

Wanda walks through the door, one hand gripping the recording device and the other holding the stack of papers close to her chest. She steps through the door, catching a glimpse of a large office with floor-to-ceiling windows, before she promptly trips. 

Her palms catch her, the papers flying from her hands as the recording device clatters to the floor. Fuck. This was a terrible first introduction. 

The sound of heels steadily approaching reaches Wanda’s ears, and she feels her face burning as she scrambles to pick up the items now strewn across a polished marble floor. Bracing herself, she manages to glance up. 

“Ms. Bishop,” A long-fingered hand is extended. “I’m Natasha Romanoff, are you alright?”

Holy shit. Wanda finds herself speechless, her lips parted as her mouth hangs open slightly. She quickly gathers the rest of the papers, gratefully taking the cool hand with her own as she stands. 

Ms. Romanoff is absolutely stunning. There are no words to describe her, and Wanda feels herself taking in the woman’s appearance. Long legs and a tight, black pencil skirt, an hourglass figure that means this woman spends countless hours in the gym, and a dark green button-up shirt with just enough buttons undone to show the barest curve of her chest. Blinking, Wanda feels herself flushing further, the sight of Ms. Romanoff’s rolled-up sleeves and bare forearms sending her head spiraling. 

“I’m okay,” Wanda manages, feeling her breath catching. She finally manages to drag her eyes toward Ms. Romanoff’s face, finding the barest hint of a smirk and kind, vibrant green eyes. She’s mildly surprised to see dark red hair, and she suddenly doesn’t feel as out of place as she did before. 

Looking down, Wanda startles at the sight of a hand still outstretched. She takes it, shaking firmly as a spark of something runs through her fingertips. It travels down her spine, filling her with warmth. 

“Um, it’s actually Wanda,” she begins, flushing under the sharp eyes that remain locked with hers. “Um, Maximoff. Wanda Maximoff. Kate, I mean Ms. Bishop is sick so… here I am.” She concludes lamely, the barest hint of amusement in Ms. Romanoff's eyes. 

The silence stretches, and Wanda finds herself speaking again. “I study English literature. With Kate, I mean um… Ms. Bishop. At school. Our school, Washington State. I hope you don’t mind that I’m here.”

“I don’t mind.” is all Natasha says, and she gestures towards a leather L-shaped couch. “Would you like to sit?”

This office is far too big for one person, a large desk near the center of the room. Wanda assumes it’s Ms. Romanoff’s. She walks towards the corner of the office, large glass windows extending around the couch and a few comfortable-looking chairs. There’s a dark mahogany desk, with enough chairs to seat a dozen people all around it. She wonders if Ms. Romanoff ever leaves this office, and takes in the minimalistic artwork hanging on the walls. 

“The table was handmade by a local artist,” Ms. Romanoff says, her head tilting when Wanda looks back at her. She flushes, knowing that the woman had been watching her look around the room. 

“It’s beautiful,” Wanda murmurs. “Seemingly ordinary resources crafted into something exquisite.” 

“I couldn’t agree more,” Natasha agrees, her voice low and sounding like melted butter. Wanda finds herself blushing at the sound. 

Distractedly, Wanda sinks onto the couch as Ms. Romanoff gracefully sits on one of the black leather chairs across from her. Her fingers fumble, dropping the recording device onto the wood roughly. The blush must be semi-permanent at this point, spreading across her cheeks and over the tips of her ears as she turns the recording device on. Finding the first page of questions, Wanda realizes that she never read the questions in advance. 

Off to a great start, then.

“I apologize,” Wanda lets a hand run along the side of her head, a ghost action of tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’m not really used to this.”

“Used to what?”

“One-on-one interviews, they feel oddly intimate. I’m much more acquainted with blending into the wall in a crowd.” 

“Take all the time you need,” Ms. Romanoff says, a small smile on her face. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Do you mind?” Wanda gestures towards the table, “I would like to record your answers for my roommate, I mean… Ms. Bishop.”

Ms. Romanoff smirks widely at that, amusement dancing on her flawless features. “You already started recording, now you’re asking for permission?”

Is she teasing? It sounds like she’s teasing, but Wanda is too flushed with embarrassment to really place the emotion behind Ms. Romanoff’s words. The woman takes pity on her. 

“I don’t mind.”

“Did Kate, uh… Ms. Bishop explain what the interview was for?”

“Yes,” Natasha settles into her seat, a faint look of boredom overtaking her face. “This interview will be placed in the school newspaper as a feature article since I will be the featured speaker at this year's graduation ceremony.”

Oh. Kate had forgotten to mention that little detail. Wanda hoped the surprise at the news wasn’t showing on her face. 

“Oh, good,” Wanda cleared her throat. “In that case, let’s begin.”

“Yes, let's.”

Is she… teasing? Again? Wanda feels as though she’s been thrust into an alternate dimension. She sits up straighter, squaring her shoulders in an attempt to look more confident than she is. Professional, that’s what Wanda is hoping to achieve. 

“You’re very young to have amassed such an impressive empire.” The words feel almost monotone. Scripted. “To what do you owe your success?” Wanda glances up, and Natasha’s smile falls into a vague look of disappointment.

“In short, business is all about people. I excel at knowing what makes a person tick, and I am an excellent judge of character, Ms. Maximoff. I know how to inspire, and most importantly, how to incentivize.” Natasha’s dark green eyes lock with Wanda’s, pinning her to her seat. “I believe that I must know every detail in order to achieve success, knowledge is power after all. I make my decisions based on logic, not feelings. In short, I know people. I know how they tick, and I know how to inspire them.”

“Well,” Wanda flounders, the answer sounding rehearsed to her ears. God, this woman is arrogant. “Maybe you’re just lucky.”

A startled look flashes across Ms. Romanoff’s face, surprise appearing in her eyes momentarily before it’s brushed away. “I don’t believe in luck, Ms. Maximoff. I believe in my own abilities, and I believe in the team that surrounds me. I select only the best to work for this company, and that is the reason for my success.”

“You sound like someone who is obsessed with control,” the words escape Wanda’s mouth before she can restrain them. 

“I exercise control in all things, Ms. Maximoff,” Natasha says, not a glimmer of humor in her words. Her steel gaze locks with Wanda’s, impassive as she watches Wanda flush again.

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Natasha continues as if she never heard Wanda speak. “Immense power is only acquired by those who are convinced that they have the ability to control the things around them." 

Immense power? Yeah, total control freak.

“So you believe that you have immense power?”

“I employ over fifty thousand people, Ms. Maximoff. I am responsible for all of them. This responsibility gives me a certain sense of power. If I decided that a department wasn’t needed one day, such as a social media section of my team, hundreds of people would struggle to find a replacement job. So yes, I have power.”

The complete lack of humility and apparent empathy causes Wanda’s mouth to open, her lips parted slightly in disbelief. 

“Is there a board you answer to?”

“I own this company. I don’t answer to anyone.” Ms. Romanoff raises a single eyebrow. 

Wanda feels herself flush yet again. If she had done any research, she's certain she would have known the answer to that question beforehand. She changes the topic. 

“What are your interests outside of work?”

The sharp curve of Ms. Romanoff’s eyebrow suggests that she knows what Wanda is doing, but the woman answers the question gracefully. 

“I have many varied interests outside of work,” Natasha’s tone is bordering on playful, the slight curve of her lips almost teasing. 

“Well, what do you do to relax?” Wanda asks, rephrasing her question. For some reason, the previous answer sent a flush down her spine. 

“Relax?” Ms. Romanoff sits back in her seat, the heat of her gaze never leaving Wanda’s. “I engage in multiple physical pursuits. I’m a wealthy woman, Ms. Maximoff, I never tire of looking for hobbies.”

Not knowing how to respond, Wanda glances at the next question. 

“You invest in engineering, why?”

Ms. Romanoff’s response is quick and practiced. “I enjoy the creation of things. I like knowing how they work, what makes them tick. How to build and create. I enjoy the process of creating something, adjusting to flaws, and perfecting things.”

“That sounds awfully sentimental.”

“Does it?” That damned subtle smirk is back, and Wanda looks down at the page in front of her. “There are many who say I don’t have the heart for sentiments.”

That makes Wanda look up. There’s a curious expression on Ms. Romanoff’s face. It disappears before Wanda can decipher it. 

“Would your friends say you don’t have a heart?” Fuck. That wasn’t on the list of questions. Kate is going to kill her. 

“Why would you presume they say that?” 

“I assume they know you well, and you’re easy to get to know…” Wanda responds, her heart thudding. 

“Well,” Natasha leans forward slightly. “I’m a very private person, Ms. Maximoff. I go to great lengths to ensure my privacy is well maintained. There is a reason I don’t often give interviews.”

“Then why did you agree to this one?” The question escapes Wanda’s lips before she can stop it, her curiosity taking over.

Natasha leans back, crossing a leg delicately over the other. “I’m a generous benefactor to your University, and in all honesty, Ms. Bishop was extremely insistent. She was relentless in her communications with my PR and assistants, and I admire her motivation.”

Fully aware of how tenacious Kate could be, Wanda curses her out mentally. Instead of studying for her finals, she was sitting in this cold, expensive office and interviewing a successful, rich woman not much older than her. 

Wanda glances at the next question. 

“Do you have a philosophy you live by? If so, what is it?” 

“It's not so much a philosophy as a guiding principle. As Carnegie said, ‘A man who acquires the ability to take full possession of his own mind may take possession of anything else to which he is justly entitled.’ I like control of myself and those around me.”

“You sound like the ultimate control freak.”

Ms. Romanoff smiles sharply, a dangerous look appearing in her eye. “I suppose I am.”

Swallowing, Wanda feels as though the woman seated across from her is talking about something else entirely. She can’t quite pinpoint what it is. It frustrates her to no end, but Wanda just shakes her head and continues with the questions written before her. 

“You were adopted,” Wanda pauses, this information is a surprise to her. She risks a glance up. Ms. Romanoff’s face is impassive. “How do you think this shaped the person you are today?”

Biting her lip, Wanda hoped she didn’t cross any lines. Ms. Romanoff doesn’t seem to be offended, but her brows furrow slightly. 

“I have no way of knowing, Ms. Maximoff. My adoptive family is all I’ve ever known.”

“How old were you when you were adopted?”

Natasha’s lips curl into a wry smile. “That is information available by public record.” Her tone is stern, her words sharp. Wanda immediately flushes, feeling like hitting her own forehead against a solid surface. Repeatedly. 

If only she’d done some research ahead of time. Well, no time to dwell on the past. Wanda speaks quickly, suddenly wanting this interview to be over. 

“Does your family life encroach on your work?” 

“It does not.” Ms. Romanoff’s tone is flat and hard, her response quick. 

Wanda feels red-hot embarrassment slink down her spine. She should have looked over these questions ahead of time. Curse her inability to think ahead. She barely glances at the next question before the words are spewing from her lips. 

“Are you gay?”

Ms. Romanoff blinks. Wanda feels her eyes go wide, darting down to the paper in front of her. Why the fuck is that question in here? Why didn’t Kate warn her, or… matter of fact, why did Kate think that was an appropriate question to ask?

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t…” Wanda trails off, her flush returning. “I didn’t know that was a question. You don’t have to answer that, I’m sorry. Let's move on.”

“I am.”

Wanda’s head shoots up so fast she strains a muscle. It shoots painfully down her neck, but the only thing she’s focused on is the dark green of Ms. Romanoff’s unwavering gaze. 

“You didn’t write these questions.” It’s a statement, and Wanda finds herself nodding. 

“Like I said before, my roommate was supposed to interview you today. These are her questions, for our school newspaper.” Wanda feels her fingers clenching the paper. She hopes she isn’t thrown out of the office. She couldn't bear the shame and judgemental looks the blonde assistants would surely send her way. 

“Are you also a part of the school newspaper?”

“No, I-” Wanda falters, wincing at the dull tone in Ms. Romanoff’s words. “Kate asked me to come since I’m her roommate. She had no other options.”

“That explains a multitude of things,” Ms. Romanoff’s voice is quiet, her eyes boring into Wanda’s.

A soft knock sounds out, the door swinging open as blonde thing number one steps into the office. Wanda immediately resents her presence, a strange atmosphere encroaching on the space she was occupying. 

“Your next meeting is in five minutes, Ms. Romanoff,” The assistant says, not sparing a glance towards Wanda. 

“Cancel it, we’re not done here.”

Wanda looks up, her hands already preparing to sweep the recording device into her bag as she makes her escape. The assistant is gaping, her eyes flicking between Wanda and her boss. Natasha raises a single eyebrow, and the assistant bows her head slightly before leaving and gently shutting the door behind her. 

“I hope I’m not taking up valuable time,” Wanda says, her hands still hovering over the recording device. 

“You aren’t. Besides, I want to know about you.” Ms. Romanoff tilts her head slightly, her lips turning up slightly. “It’s only fair, after all.”

That damned flush makes itself known once again, traveling over Wanda’s cheeks and down her neck. She folds the corner of her paper, the crease sharp beneath her fingers and she bites her lip briefly. 

“There’s not much to know, I’m afraid.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.” Ms. Romanoff’s eyes are sharp, assessing. “What are your plans after graduation?”

Wanda recognizes the escape for what it is and seizes it wholeheartedly. “I don’t have any plans, I’m too focused on exams at the moment.”

“I see,” her voice is low, her posture relaxed, and her eyes piercing. Ms. Romanoff uncrosses her legs slowly, leaning forward slightly. “We offer an excellent internship program here.”

Letting out a soft chuckle, Wanda smiles slightly. “I’m sure you do. Although, I’m not sure I'd fit in here.”

“No?” Her head tilts again, green eyes unwavering. Wanda feels trapped suddenly, the weight of the woman’s gaze pinning her to the couch. She lets out an uncomfortable cough. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” The statement is evasive, but Ms. Romanoff answers without hesitation. 

“Not to me, it isn’t.” Her gaze is heavy, eyes all-knowing and locked on Wanda. There’s a new sort of tension in the air, all traces of awkwardness gone and replaced with something heady. It’s making Wanda’s head spin, and she breaks eye contact with some effort. Reaching towards the table, she turns the recording device off, placing it gently into her bag. 

The tension breaks, Ms. Romanoff standing slowly as Wanda shoves the papers into her bag. 

“Would you like a tour?”

Wanda pauses, her hands stilling. Why is she asking that? Isn’t she the CEO of the company?

“I’m sure you have many other important things to attend to, Ms. Romanoff. Besides, I should get on the road before it starts raining too heavily.” Wanda glances out the window, taking in the dark clouds on the distant horizon. 

“You’re driving back to campus today?” Ms. Romanoff sounds almost concerned. Wanda tries not to stare at her in shock, blinking quickly. The woman clears her throat, an authoritative tone taking over as she speaks. “Be careful.”

“I will. Thank you for the interview.” 

“The pleasure is all mine,” she says, polite and dismissive. 

Wanda stands, closing her messenger bag. She takes in the woman in front of her, letting her eyes glance over the impeccable outfit the woman has put on. Truly, she should be taking notes on how to dress in a business formal manner, and she’s got the perfect model in front of her. Blinking that thought away, Wanda takes in the small smile creeping onto Ms. Romanoff’s face. 

“Until we meet again, Ms. Maximoff,” she holds out her hand, gripping Wanda’s fingers in a gentle yet firm hold. 

Will they meet again? Wanda can almost guarantee that they won’t, but something in Ms. Romanoff’s eyes tell her differently. She shakes it off, labeling it as nerves running rampant through her mind. Of course, they wouldn’t meet again. A classic case of a rich, hot CEO meeting a poor college student, their paths crossing once and never entangling again, akin to a set of perpendicular lines. 

“Ms. Romanoff,” Wanda nods slightly, letting the woman walk her to the door. 

Opening it wide, the woman holds out a hand. A small smirk graces her features. “I am averse to my guests tripping more than once in my presence, and I’d like to ensure your safe journey from my building, Ms. Maximoff.”

“Well,” Wanda flounders for a moment. “That’s very considerate of you.”

At least someone is amused, Wanda thinks as she steps through the door. She considers shooting a victorious glance back at the woman, but decides that the action would be too childish. 

Evidently, Ms. Romanoff doesn’t often escort her guests from her office, judging by the surprised looks the blonde assistants shoot their way. It all seems quite suffocating for a moment, and Wanda takes a deep breath. 

A hand on her shoulder halts the escape she is about to make. The warmth from Ms. Romanoff’s firm fingertips sends something intoxicating through Wanda. She hopes the ensuing shiver isn’t too obvious. 

“I have to swipe my card for the elevator to work on this floor,” Ms. Romanoff explains, pressing the down button. 

Of course. That makes sense. Then why is her hand still resting on Wanda’s shoulder? 

Almost as if she’s reading Wanda’s mind - or maybe her body language - Ms. Romanoff releases her hold. Her fingers linger briefly, tracing briefly over her arm as she fixes Wanda with a look. 

The elevator doors open, and Wanda gratefully steps through. Turning, she sees Ms. Romanoff leaning casually against the wall. The sight is attractive, and Wanda finds her eyes lingering on the exposed forearms crossed in front of her body. 

“Wanda,” the woman says, a goodbye, but without a note of finality.

“Natasha,” she replies. 

The doors close.

Next Chapter

---

Dm or comment to be added!

Taglist: @alexawynters @msvenablesbitch @marilynthornhilllover @lifespectator @milkeeteaa @imnotawitch @marvels--slut @justabrokensunshine @dorabledewdroop @wandsmxmff @esposadejoyhuerta @captivepotato @justarandomreaderxoxo

[beomcharms]

5:53 p.m - a time called you

pairings: yeonjun x reader

w/c: 2.5k

genre: high school au, strangers to friends to ???, angst (loads of it), idiots, friendship, romance

warnings: mentions of food, hugging (?)

read pt.1 - here

a/n: the way i totally forgot to post the second part of this fic😭, thanks to the lovely reader who reminded🤍. i’m slowly working on the third part.

taglist: @baekberrie @doumachi @b1ueboi-jjunie

(let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist)

“This is your house?” Yeonjun stands still in front of your gate.

“What? It doesn’t meet your expectations?” You ask. You were used to this question and you knew he would ask you the same.

You walk in as Yeonjun still stands by your gate, “Are you planning on coming in?”

“Yeah” he clears his throat and follows you inside as you unlock your door.

Yeonjuns brows knit themselves together into a frown as he walks in. He couldn’t figure how more than one person could live here. There is a small drawing room with a table and a green couch, books are kept in stacks on one side of the room and on the other side is a small kitchen. There is a little hallway leading to one room which he assumes to be a bedroom and what could be a bathroom opposite to it. Yeonjun feels something hardening in his chest.

You find him inspecting your house and for some reason you feel like laughing at his concerned expression.

“Where are your parents ?” He asks you quietly as you pull down a cushion and make yourself comfortable on the ground, placing your books on to the small round table.

“Not here” you reply “Come, sit down. You can sit on the couch if you want to”

“You live alone ?” he asks you incredulously.

“Mostly” you tell him “Done investigating, Officer?”

Yeonjun picks up the other cushion and sits opposite to you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude” he tells you.

You nod your head “Let’s get started then. We will go over your grammar and then work on the chapters, yeah?”

“Okay, sounds good” Yeonjun replies. You can tell something in him has shifted, by his attitude towards you. Well, you were used to this and rarely felt embarrassed about your situation.

-.-

Time goes by quickly, the clock indicating that it was already seven at night. Yeonjun yawns and you close up your textbook. It had gone much more smoothly than you had expected. He didn’t seem as stuck up as before and some of his antics almost made you laugh out loud. Still, you couldn’t let yourself lower your walls to him.

“That’s enough for today” you tell him. You felt hungry and you are pretty sure he must be starving too.

“Aren’t you hungry?” you ask him, getting up and stretching.

“I’m alright” he tells you but the rumbles from his stomach tell you otherwise.

“I have ramyeon, have some before you go” you tell him walking over to your kitchen.

You turn on the stove, aware that he is watching you. You sigh, “Go ahead, ask me” you tell him waiting for the water to boil.

Yeonjun gets up and walks over to the kitchen, hopping up on the table top. To say he was surprised by today’s turn of events would be an understatement. He felt much more aware of you, like you were a real person instead of just someone he found interesting and was infatuated with.

Not that his feelings towards you suddenly changed, he could see you had a much more softer side to you than what you let on. But, after spending time at your house and with you he feels as though he has seen something that was meant to be a secret. You didn’t seem like you were trying to hide anything, in fact you seemed to welcome his questions, almost like a challenge.

“What happened to your parents ?” He asks you.

“Hmm, let’s see, Mom left me when I was 15, although that isn’t the first time she has walked off, no clue about who my Dad is or what happened to him” you reply as nonchantly as possible.

“How… how do you live like this?” He asks you softly, afraid of offending you.

“Part time jobs and She sends me an allowance every month” you tell him looking up at him finally. The noodles were nearly done and this is the closest you’ve ever let anyone get to you outside of Ryujin and Jin.

Yeonjun nods his head and looks at you giving you a small smile. Thoughts were racing through his mind, each trying to win him over but the one he felt the most was how foolish he had been to assume you were some girl he had to woo over.

“Why, did you expect a big mansion or something?” You ask him before turning off the stove.

“No. But I didn’t expect this either” he tells you picking up bowls and spoons as if it were natural to him.

You place the pot on the table and sit down on your cushion, slurping up the noddles immediately and Yeonjun follows suit.

You look over at him and he is smiling at you.

“You are kind off cool, you know?” He tells you.

“Oh for sure, poverty and absent parents indeed increases one’s coolness” you reply dryly and he laughs before diving back into his food.

-.-

Why do earphones insist on tangling up? You are untangling them and trying to plug them into your phone when you feel someone plop down next to you.

Yeonjun smiles at you, before taking a bite of his pizza slice. You raise your eyebrows at him.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him.

“Keeping you company?” he replies and you roll your eyes. You look around and notice half the people from your year staring at the both of you.

“It’s like having Princess Diana sit next to you” you mutter and Yeonjun chuckles. Taehyun and Soobin sit down opposite to you. They both give you awkward smiles and you smile back at them.

“What happened to your friend ?” Soobin asks.

“Oh… Ryujins visiting her grandmother” you reply putting your earphones back into your pocket and starting on your lunch.

“Are you guys studying today too?” Taehyun asks you.

“No” Yeonjun mumbles with his mouthful.

“I have work today” you add.

“Ahh… you work at Jins Diner don’t you?” Soobin asks you.

“Yeah… how do you know?” You ask him curiously.

“Beomgyu has told me about you” Soobin replies.

“Really and what-“

“Who is Beomgyu?” Yeonjun asks Soobin. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

“Is he supposed to inform you about everything ?” You question.

“Uh… he is a friend of mine, we used to go to the same school before” Soobin tells Yeonjun.

“And how does this Beomgyu know you?” Yeonjun asks you.

You raise your eyebrow at his tone and he coughs a little, “Obviously a coworker” you tell him.

“Ahh” Yeonjun says before going back to his food.

“Beomgyu tells me you are scary to work with” Soobin chuckles.

“Oh well, if he wasn’t so fucking clueless all the time maybe I’d be nicer to him” you huff out.

“That must be why you always look mad at Yeonjun too” Taehyun tells you in a matter of fact tone and you can’t help but smile

“Is it?” Yeonjun asks you with his mouthful.

“Very much so” you tell him and Yeonjun gives you a push while Taehyun and Soobin try to cover their smiles.

Maybe its not so bad. Having friends, you think.

-.-

Even though you hated to admit it you and Yeonjun had fallen into a routine. Even Ryujin seemed to have adopted Taehyun and Soobin as her own and more often than not you all had lunch together. It was the closest you ever had to something resembling a family.

Studying with Yeonjun also became easier, he would do whatever you told him to do and you would carry on with your assignments helping him out whenever. You could see how prejudiced you had been about him now.

Yeonjun looked intimidating and kind of had that bad-boy vibe but the more time you spend with him, the more you could see how much of a goofball he was. You felt bad for avoiding him for almost half of the year.

Yeonjun hadn’t felt this emotionally attached to anyone. Being with you, even sitting next to you and watching you puzzle over problems made him feel so much at ease.

People usually discarded him after getting what they wanted and he had people telling him that he was being childish and cringe when he was being himself, but with you it felt like he could just be. The most you’d do would be, roll your eyes or tell him a sarcastic comment, but usually you didn’t seem to mind him at all.

Yeonjun could see how hard you worked and he could only imagine how difficult your life had been up until this point, but despite your tough exterior he could see the softness the world had still not managed to harden over. He wished you’d let go sometimes and ease up but he knew it wasn’t that easy for you.

Yeonjun loved making you laugh. Seeing you laugh made him crack up too. He especially loved the moment where you would lean into him, unable to sit straight from your giggles. It was rare but he always tried to make it happen.

“I forgot to say, a funny thing happened today” you tell him, remembering the event at class and looking up at him. Yeonjun seemed distracted and was staring at you with a stupid grin on his face.

You wave a hand at him and he shakes himself out of his daze, “Uh… sorry, what happened”

“Yeah… Lia talked to me today” you tell him a smile playing on your lips. “You know Lia right?”

“Who doesn’t know her?” Yeonjun mutters.

“Uhuh she asked me if I could set her up with you” you tell him breaking off into unable to keep your smile contained. Yeonjun looks at you, not amused.

“And what did you tell her?” He asks you, his tone serious and you feel a bit intimidated.

“I said I’ll try” you reply shrugging your shoulders and going back to your work. You glance back at him and he is staring at you with an unreadable expression.

“What? It’s not like I’m actually going to set you up with her” you tell him and the intensity of his gaze drops a little.

“Why not?” Yeonjun asks you his tone a little playful.

“Like I have that kind of time to be doing match making” you scoff, “Maybe if she pays me I’d think about it” you joke.

“Fuck you” Yeonjun tells you in a small voice and you look at him again. He looks hurt.

And you are surprised that it makes you feel a little uncomfortable to see him like this.

“I- I’m sorry” you tell him and he looks at you, “I didn’t mean to offend you and you know bviously you are free to be with whoever you want to be with I was just playing with you, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings” you add earnestly.

Yeonjun tsks at you, “That is not what I-“ a loud bout of thunder hits the sky, even rattling your windows a little. You get up and are about to close the windows when another one hits. The smell of rain hangs heavy in the air and you look outside to see that the sky has darkened over.

“I didn’t realise how much time has passed by” you say to Yeonjun closing the windows and turning to look at him. He sits rooted to his spot.

“Please don’t tell me you are afraid of thunder” you tell him, holding the bridge of your nose.

“Uh…” he tells you eyes wide with fear.

“Oh god” you mutter as another one hits and this time your house plunges into darkness, the electricity being cut. You fumble around for your phone when you feel long arms wrap around you.

“Wha-“ you start.

“Please… I’m scared” Yeonjun tells you hugging you tightly against him. You stand there in surprise as he buries his neck into your shoulder while the lightening lights up the sky outside, his hands around you while yours hang limply by your side.

Slowly you bring up yours, wrapping them around his torso and patting his back gently as thunder continues to rumble outside.

“Shh- it’s alright, it’s just thunder” you tell him softly.

“Mmhmm” Yeonjun murmurs into your neck and you have to hold yourself very still to not shiver at his touch. Yeonjun was all muscle and warmth and the way he hugged you made you feel like you were the most important person to him. You can’t remember the last time someone’s hugged you like this, always pushing away Ryujins attempts at affection. It was like learning how to breathe again.

“Uh… Jun, let me get the candles” you whisper to him, trying to loosen his hold on you.

“I’ll come along with you” he replies holding onto your waist and you resist your urge to laugh, afraid of hurting his feelings.

“Alright” you tell him and turn on your phones flashlight making your way to the kitchen as Yeonjun follows along, holding onto you like a koala.

You open up the cabinet above the sink while he rests his head on your shoulder picking up the candles.

“Got them” you inform him. You’d be lying if you said that his touches had no effect on you but you forced yourself to ignore them. You were terrified of the person you’d be if you lowered your walls to him. If you didn’t let yourself feel anything, nobody could hurt you right?

Yeonjun and you make your way over to the couch again and you light the candles while he continues to hover over your shoulder.

“All better now, no?” You ask him turning around in his hold.

Yeonjun nods his head and you hear the rain starting outside. He lets you go, grabbing hold of your hand and you both sit down on your couch. Yeonjun pulls you closer to him wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you watch the rain from your seat.

“It’s almost 7.30” you whisper to him, the atmosphere making you talk in hushed tones.

“Uhuh” Yeonjun replies and you turn to look at him.

“Let your mother know you’ll be late, she’ll be worried” you tell him.

“She is out of town” Yeonjun tells you, “It’s alright” he adds when he sees your expression.

“Oh” you say, fidgeting around his hold, not used to being so close to others.

“Y/N…” Yeonjun drawls out and you look at him again.

“Don’t set me up with other people” he mutters making you smile.

“I can’t set you up with others against your will” you remind him.

“No, but don’t try to” he tells you running his hands across your arms.

“Like you’d listen to me” you laugh.

“I will” he insists and something about the way he looks at you makes him believable.

“Also you are calling me Jun from now on”

-.-

🎧this is the end to part -2, hopefully you all liked this one. part 3 would be out sometime by the end of december (hopefully?). if you liked this fic please leave a comment/reblog/like it helps me out a lot and consider giving my other fics a read. xoxo🎧

-.-

[nislost]

unvirgin | chapter 6

warnings: suggestive, people being mean again

(written + smau)

you’re driving back to your apartment after you finished your class. you have 2 hours to get ready and you need to look good. you quickly jump in the shower to shave and take off all that school stench off of you.

after two hours you check how you look in the mirror and you feel good. wearing the two piece outfit your friends voted on that consisted of a tight miniskirt that matched the cropped jacket you had and platform heels because who are you without your heels?

you rush out the door and make your way to the library after you notice you’re 5 minutes late. at least you’ll be fashionably late! you walk into the library searching for the black haired boy and when you do you smile walking your way over. tapping jeno on his shoulder he turns around startled.

“sorry i’m late” you whisper giving him an apologetic smile. “i-it’s fine don’t worry” he whispers before clearing his voice his eyes looking everywhere but you. you giggle at his nervous state before sitting in the empty seat next to him. you noticed he looked good really good…why? well he’s wearing the number 1 kitty cat defeater. gray sweatpants and a matching hoodie.

“so what did you need help with?” jeno asks softly not to bother others around. “everything” you groan “i swear math is my worst enemy” he chuckles at your words. “okay let’s start from the beginning of the topic we’re currently learning” he says as he takes out a stack of textbooks from his bag causing your jaw to drop.

your reaction makes him giggle which in return causes you to pout. “stop laughing at my pain” you mutter. you prepare mentally and physically for the time you’ll be spending here.

30 minutes in your brain is hurting and you’re completely frustrated. you begin working on a problem jeno gave you until your ears pick up a conversation behind you “omg did you see y/n with jeno?” one voice says “omg yeah i bet she’s trying to get into his pants” the other voice replies with a giggle. you can’t blame them you have a reputation, but it doesn’t give them the right to talk about you like that. “she’s such a fucking slut. poor jeno” the first voice says.

jeno notices your mood change and the conversation behind him. “i heard she fucked the principal and that’s why she’s here” they just kept going. they were wrong the reason you even got into this university was because you (kinda) tried in high school. don’t get you wrong you never studied or anything you just did the bare minimum and that got you a 3.4 gpa.

your friends wondered what happened since then and it’s just because you lost motivation and wanted to have more fun, but look where that landed you. you get up from your seat causing jeno to look at you confused and worried. you give him a smile “i’ll be right back” you state before you walking over to where those girls were.

seeing you in front of them made them shocked “what? you can talk shit about me behind my back why not in my face” you raise your brow waiting for them to respond. they just look at each other before one of them finally speaks up. “w-well it’s not like we’re wrong! look at yourself you dress like a prostitute” she spits out. the other girl taps her friend and points somewhere behind you. you turn around confused and see jeno.

“what’s going on here?” he asks. both the girls in front of you begin to stutter “n-nothing” “nothing at all! we’re just talking about how much we love y/n’s outfit” you roll your eyes at their words. jeno just hums in response before grabbing your arm and taking you back to your table. “anyways let’s continue our tutoring. don’t let anyone distract you.” he says giving you back your pencil.

you sigh before continuing solving the equations given.

2 hours pass and you’ve grown tired. “do you think we can stop for today?” you ask letting out a yawn. jeno chuckles before nodding. “oh i forgot to ask earlier but what would you want in return for you helping me? money, food or something else? i’m okay with doing anything” you turn to him. jeno ponders seeing if there is anything you could possibly help or do for him.

“can- no never mind that’s too embarrassing to ask for” he says blushing and looking away. this interests you a lot and makes you wonder. “just ask i already said id do anything” you say softly somewhat implying something. “i-i can’t” he stutters his nervousness makes you grin. you place a hand on his thigh to “comfort” him and it causes him to flinch. “jeno you can tell me” you pout tilting your head. he looks at the hand on his thigh then up at you.

“i have no experience…in you know” he mutters because you could hardly hear him you lean in closer “repeat what you said louder” he looks at you all flustered which makes something purr and it’s definitely not your pet cat at home. “can you h-help me um” he groans “take your time baby” you giggle. his ears perk up at the nickname you didn’t even realize you said.

“can you um unvirgin me?” he says softly looking at you with a vulnerable expression. you can’t help but giggle “unvirgin? seriously?” he looks at you embarrassed. “jeno are you sure? wouldn’t you want to save something like that for someone special?” you giggle again “i have no experience and everyone around our age has at least done it once and all my friends tease me” he looks at you with a pleading gaze.

“fine. i’ll unvirgin you, but only if i pass a math test. just so that’ll give you time to think this through” you stand up. jeno quickly nods before standing up as well and walking you to your car. “u-uh ill text you about our next session” he stutters slightly which makes him want to punch himself. you nod before driving off.

previous / next

taglist: @jenoleeaesthetic @yukisroom97 @4yunogf @iloveyou200 @antifrggile @t-102 @n0hyuck @cigarettesafterjae @bellymellyyyy @dudekiss3r @puzzlepiece-mp3 @nctdreamchaser @snoopyjimin @taeeflwrr @whothefvckami @minkyuncutie @sungsgirl @sunghoonsgfreal @toroufriteh @cookydream @flamingi @purrzitas @grassbutneo

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 7

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6

Robin’s been keeping her eyes peeled, and things have only gotten weirder.

Chrissy and Steve are still tied at the hip, still holding hands sometimes in the halls, she’s still wearing his letterman jacket any chance she gets. It all screams perfect textbook couple destined to win prom king and queen in a few months and pop out boring babies with glorious hair a few years later.

Except, she’s seen Chrissy leave two more notes in Eddie’s locker, has seen her and Steve pick up random books out of the library and pull envelopes out of them. She’d think the pair were pulling some sort of horrible prank on Eddie, if Chrissy wasn’t so goddamn nice.

And she’s seen Steve staring down the other boy, more caught in Eddie’s pull then even Chrissy is. It’s like he’s trying to melt Eddie’s eyeballs straight out of his skull with the force of his gaze. For his part, Eddie never even seems to notice.

That’s not even mentioning whatever the hell had happened in the cafeteria last week when Eddie had kissed Chrissy’s hand, and then Steve had whisked her away before Jason could start some sort of pissing contest.

Even the band nerds were all atwitter with that development.

And then there’s the other guy: Jeff.

Before this whole cluster of a situation, she hadn’t known Jeff from Adam, but now he’s everywhere. It feels like every other day now he’s climbing into Chrissy’s passenger seat and they’re speeding away, not a Steve Harrington or Eddie Munson in sight.

Or they’re in the library doing the same mail pick-up that Chrissy and Steve do together. Once, Robin had even seen Jeff by her side as she’d dropped a note into Eddie’s locker, which might be the wildest part of the whole situation; Robin had been under the impression that he and Eddie were friends.

There’s some benefits to being invisible: no one notices her.

So, she’s got all these building blocks to the juiciest gossip in Hawkins High for probably decades, but, no matter how she stacks them together, she can’t make them into a picture she understands.

All she knows is this: Steve Harrington is up to something shady.

Robin’s got her eyes open and a mission of the heart. She’ll protect Chrissy with all she has, and if Steve gets caught in the crossfire? That’s fine with her.

*** 

Chrissy’s still all over Harrington. He doesn’t get it, can’t comprehend why someone who leaves him such lovely, lovely notes has stuck herself to that douche’s side.

Eddie doesn’t get it.

Is it the status bump? No, can’t be, even Eddie knows the guy’s fallen a few pegs down the ladder since whatever the hell had happened with Wheeler last year.

Maybe it’s the looks? He’s got that swoopy hair all the girls fawn over, and the features to back it up. But Chrissy’s never struck him as that shallow, no matter how hot the guy is.

Is it the money, the car, the nice clothes? What does Steve Harrington have that Eddie doesn’t?

Is it the way he leans up against lockers, smiling at every girl in his sight like they’re his whole world? The way he tucks a lock of hair behind their ears, eyes smoldering, touch gentle? Steve goddamn Harrington with his jockish good looks and sweeping charms. 

He just—doesn’t get it.

He also doesn’t get why he hasn’t received a note in his locker for a couple days now, not since Eddie’d come up to her table in the cafeteria and kissed her hand.

Her nails had been painted a perfect pink, and when Eddie looked away to stare Harrington down, he’d noticed the guy had nail polish on, too: a bright yellow that would have suited him if it wasn’t chipped to hell.

It was such a small, incongruous detail, but it niggles at Eddie late into the night. It doesn’t fit with who Eddie knows Harrington to be. 

It didn’t fit, and he’s tired of nothing fitting together the way it should, so he’s been avoiding Harrington like the plague.

So, when he catches Chrissy in a rare moment where Steve’s not loitering in her periphery, he approaches again, hands raised like, see here, I’m harmless!

She smiles at him, white teeth damn-near glinting where they peek out from behind her lips. Eddie’s reciting sonnets in his head.

“Miss Cunningham,” he says, bending over at the waist and bowing low as she laughs at him. “Would you give this lowly Dungeon Master the honor, nay the privilege, of accompanying him on his quest this Thursday?”

Chrissy’s head’s tilted to the side like an inquisitive dog as she asks, “in plain English?”

He bounces closer, pleased to have even gotten his foot in the door. “My Dungeons and Dragons club is starting a new campaign tomorrow,” he says. “Want to come play?” When she purses her lips instead of answering, he scrambles to continue. “Or even just watch?”

Chrissy’s lips are still pursed, but she’s nodding slowly, like she’s thinking about saying yes. “That might be fine,” she replies. “Where should I meet you?”

And that’s how he finds himself with Chrissy Cunningham sitting in at the next Hellfire session. Gareth’s awkward because he always is when there’s a pretty girl in his vicinity, but Jeff smiles and chats with her like they’re old friends. Doug doesn’t seem to care one way or another, too focused on getting the newest campaign started to care about an interloper.

It goes off without a hitch, Chrissy’s presence blending into the background. He forgets her entirely until the end of the session when she starts slinging questions at them, and Jeff starts patiently explaining what a modifier is, and how they know which dice to roll as Eddie packs up his supplies. 

He’s got grand ideas about taking Chrissy home, had even cleaned out his van for it, but Chrissy was always destined to pop his ego.

“That was great, Eddie!” Chrissy cuts in, barely waiting for the party to finish celebrating to speak. “But, I’m already late to meet Steve, so I’ve got to go.”

“Uh,” Eddie says, staring at her retreating back, “okay.”

She turns back around right before she’s through the drama room door, still smiling as she calls, “see you guys next week!”

She’s going to see Harrington, the bane of Eddie’s current existence, but she did say it was great. No, she’d said Eddie was great.

Truly a mixed bag.

Eddie takes his time wrangling the boys out of the room and into his van, determined to hold onto the high of Chrissy Cunningham watching him DM—no way would he let Harrington of all people ruin his night.

*** 

She damn-near runs out of the drama room, lie leaving a bitter taste on her tongue—she’s not late to meet Steve, isn’t planning to see him at all.

It’s just, she knows what that gleam in a boy’s eyes means; Eddie was about to do something stupid. Ask her out, or try to flirt, or do something else both embarrassing and heart-crushing for Steve.

So, she’d done what she’s best at in uncomfortable situations: she’d lied.

Now, she’s just gotta get out of the school before anyone can call her on it.

The school’s eerily empty, the fluorescent lights only on in patchy segments, luring all the lingering students into the poorly-lit parking lot where Chrissy’s car waits. She just wants to get into her bed and wait until she can debrief with Steve in the morning.

She’s just twisted the key in the lock and begun pulling it open when a hand reaches past her and slams it closed. Chrissy jumps, fear coiling through her stomach and rapidly churning into anger. She turns, back to her car, ready to curse out Eddie or one of his other club members, but the words die unsaid in her throat.

It’s not Eddie; it’s Jason. His hand’s still slapped onto her door, keeping it closed, and in the dim light of the parking lot, his eyes are almost glowing. She wants to take a step back, but he’s effectively boxed her into the side of her own car.

“Are you serious, Chris?” he asks. The nickname sounds wrong in his mouth, all toxic and chopped up. Not at all like when Steve says it. “You really are hanging out with freaks now?”

“Jason, I—” Chrissy starts, hating the way her voice trembles.

“Are you sleeping with that freak now, too?” he demands, crowding farther into her space. “Harrington was one thing, but Munson?”

He says Eddie’s name like it’s a curse. She’s scared, still, but suddenly she’s furious that she wasted years of her life with this douche, that she’s still wasting time being afraid of him.

“He’s better than you’ll ever be,” she snarls, unsure if she means Steve or Eddie. It doesn’t matter, it’s true for both.

Without wasting another word on the jackass who’s made it his mission in life to make her feel small, Chrissy yanks her door open. It hits him in the face, sending him stumbling to the asphalt with a groan.

Even still, she rushes to slide into her car, ramming the key in and backing out without even checking her blind spots for unsuspecting pedestrians.

Jason’s just making his way back to his feet when she glances into her rear-view mirror before turning out of the parking lot and onto the street.

Her hands shake on the steering wheel making the car jerk about.

She doesn’t go home.

All the lights are on in the Harrington house, and she worries for a second that his parents are home for once before she sees the solitary car in the driveway. She parks behind it, taking the extra minute to line her car up perfectly parallel to it, hoping her hands will stop shaking by the time she’s done.

Steve’s waiting on the stoop by the time she makes it out of her car and up the driveway, hands still shaking with aftershocks of flight or fight. His arms are crossed, and he’s scowling down at her from his casual lean against the closed door.

“Will you come to Hellfire with me next Thursday?” she asks, voice wobbling around the request.

“Was it that bad?” Steve asks, scowl shifting into a teasing smile before she steps into the halo of the porch’s light and he catches sight of the expression on her face. “Are you okay?”

His hands are on her shoulders, warm and grounding against the chill that’s seeped into her skin. She reaches one of her hands up to brush the wetness from beneath her eyes. “Will you come?” she asks again, question firming up and sharpening now that she’s here, safe.

Steve’s hands squeeze, warm, warm, warm. “Course, Chris,” he replies, and she was right—it is better coming from his mouth. “Want to come in?”

She follows him into the house, curling herself up small in the corner of his couch, relieved when he sits close. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t rush her at all, just waits, patient the way Jason never was.

“You’re a great fake boyfriend, you know,” she says, smiling when he laughs and knocks their shoulders together.

“Well, as your fake boyfriend, do I need to kill Eddie?” he asks, and when she looks up from her knees, his eyes are almost shining with sincerity. “Because I will, you know.”

“I know,” she says, cheeks warming, not because she likes a boy, but because she has a friend, a real one who would pick her even over his crush. “But, Eddie was nice.”

Steve hums, slumping into her further. “So, who am I killing?”

“No one!” Chrissy replies, laughing just a little. Steve’s just like a dog with a bone; she’s always been a dog person. “Or Jason, maybe?”

“What?” Steve barks, all playfulness gone from his voice. “What the hell did he—”

“He didn’t do anything!” she rushes out, making space between their bodies so she can meet his heated gaze. “He just freaked me out.”

“But, he can’t—”

“But, you’re a good friend, and will come to Hellfire next week to keep it from happening again, right?”

Steve groans, slumping back into her and hiding his face in her hair. “You’re the worst,” he grumbles, only continuing when she pinches him hard right beneath his ribs. “But, fine! I’ll go!”

“Thank you,” Chrissy replies, glad she hadn’t gone home to recover alone.

Steve rubs his face against her head like the freak he secretly is. “Anytime.”

They stay there, bathed in the quiet of their shared companionship and the frankly alarming number of lights Steve has lighting up his entire house.

She’s almost dozed off, slumped into his side when Steve asks, “but, like, how was it?”

She laughs, body shaking with delight instead of fear this time as she replies, “Eddie Munson is such a nerd.”

PART 8