#4th set is the doors opening

[hogwartslegacypics]

The contrast between MC’s and Sebastian’s reactions to casting the Cruciatus Curse on each other is striking

[starmocha]

Little Dino [Sylus + Daughter ★ 2555 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] Sylus has a little dinosaur problem. A/N: OK another crow dad and his baby birdie ficlet because they bring me joy 🥹 istg I am working on those wips I promised on my tumblr. But…birb dad and birb baby… 🥺

“Mr. Sylus, we have new intel about that night on the 4th.”

“Mmhmm,” Sylus absently answered the person on speakerphone as he leaned back against the desk in his study. His eyes keenly followed the quick movements of the little green dinosaur who walked in uninvited to his study carrying an armful of plushies and setting them on his couch in a neat order: Smiley Dino and Sunny Dino. He watched as she scurried out the room for a few minutes, her long tail swaying back and forth.

He suppressed a chuckle. It seemed his daughter was really enjoying the dinosaur onesie her mother had gotten for her recently. She had insisted on wearing only this outfit for the last week. Sylus turned his attention back to his phone call.

“Now, you were saying there was a mole at the auction?”

“Yes, sir, we believe it to be…”

Sylus discreetly eyed his study door when he saw it pushed further open and his little dinosaur-daughter walked in with another armful of plushies. She scampered over to the couch and set them neatly next to the ones already sitting. The little girl then tried to climb up the couch before she paused half-way, seemingly remembering something. She slid back down to the floor with a soft “oof” and turned around, running pass Sylus.

Before she passed him completely, Sylus subtly stepped on her tail, making the toddler paused, confused. She turned around, her mouth opening wide in shock at the sight of her tail caught under her father’s foot. The little girl grabbed her tail and started tugging helplessly, but her efforts were in vain as it remained trapped under this sudden obstacle. She looked up at her father, and Sylus pretended he was looking elsewhere, appearing as if he was entirely preoccupied with his call.

“Yes, yes, we can do a meetup later this week,” Sylus answered as he kept an eye on his daughter from his peripheral vision. He casually crossed his arms over his chest and hummed softly. “Now there is this protocore incident I have been meaning to have you look into…”

The little girl pouted from the lack of attention and continued trying to tug her tail free. She looked up helplessly, shocked that her father still didn’t notice her. She gave another quick feeble tug.

Sylus remained feigning obliviousness. He almost lost his composure when he caught sight of his daughter’s angry pout and the little glare directed at him. She really did look like her mother in this moment, Sylus couldn’t help but thought with delight.

“Mr. Sylus, we can arrange a meeting on—”

“Daddy! My tail!”

There was an awkward pause in the room after the sudden outburst.

“Um…Mr. Sylus…”

“Oh, dear,” Sylus said with mock-worry, “I seem to have a little dinosaur problem in my study right now…”

“Uhhh…I’ll call you back later, sir.”

The line immediately went dead. Sylus chuckled and redirected his entire attention to the angry little girl at his feet. He tsked softly.

“Now what do we have here?”

“Tail! My tail, Daddy!” The little girl continued fruitlessly tugging her tail to emphasize her point, but Sylus seemed to press his foot down even harder.

“I see that,” he said, feigning astonishment, “That is quite a problem, isn’t it, baby?”

The little toddler continued to glare at her father.

“My, my, that is such a ferocious look,” Sylus teased, smirking. Just like her mother…

An idea seemed to pop into the little girl’s head. She mustered up her scariest voice and then with her little hands held up to claw, she let out a loud, “Rawr!”

“Oh, dear, I am very frightened,” Sylus said, barely able to hide his amusement, “Whatever will I do…if only I have Miss Hunter here to protect me…but alas, she is currently prioritizing Linkon City over her husband…”

The girl sulked when she realized her scare tactic didn’t work. She stepped closer and started to push her whole weight against Sylus’ leg, grunting and whining as she tried to free her captured tail. Sylus started laughing when his daughter began to beat his leg with her little fists.

“Alright, alright, enough of the love taps. I’ll move my foot, baby,” he said, lifting his leg, but before the little girl could run off, Sylus used his Evol to lift her into the air. He manipulated his Evol to carry her closer to him until the toddler was floating face-to-face with her father. He smiled at her adorable angry glare.

“Do I get a kiss before Miss Dino runs off?”

“No!” she crossed her arms stubbornly.

Sylus laughed, shaking his head in amusement. “Is this little birdie angry at me now?”

“Daddy, I’m not a birdie today!” she said defiantly, “I’m a dinosaur! Rawr!”

He laughed again. “Pardon me,” he said, “Then Miss Dino, may I request a kiss before you run off?”

She continued to pout. Sylus took this opportunity to suddenly take her into his arms, tickling her and kissing her cheek without mercy until she was laughing and gasping for breath.

“Daddy! Daddy! Not fair!”

“Mmhmm,” Sylus agreed, planting another long kiss on his daughter’s cheek, “Daddy never plays fair.”

He shifted her in his arms and motioned to his cheek with his finger. “Now kiss.”

He smiled as his daughter reluctantly kissed him.

“Try again, Little Miss,” he said, tickling her again and chuckling alongside her helpless giggles.

This time his daughter smiled and kissed his cheek more sincerely.

“Good girl,” he said, pecking her cheek again before setting her back down to the floor. He gave her bottom a quick playful swat, sighing in feigned exasperation. “Now, what is this little dino doing to my study?”

“We’re keeping Daddy company!”

“‘We’?”

“Uh huh.” His daughter smiled cheekily and pointed at the couch with the array of colorful plushies sitting on it. “Me, Smiley Dino, Sunny Dino, Azure Dino, and Grape Dino!”

“What happened to Grumpy Crow and his friends?”

“Time-out!”

Sylus pretended to look startled by the firm exclamation. “And what crime did they commit to warrant such punishment?”

The little girl huffed angrily. “They were mean to Smiley Dino!”

Without missing a beat, Sylus gasped. “And how were they mean?”

“They said Smiley Dino couldn’t join their group,” the girl answered her father.

“Well, that is truly awful,” Sylus said sincerely, kneeling down to his daughter’s height. He patted her head. “And you put them in time-out, baby?”

She nodded her head furiously. “Smiley Dino was very sad, Daddy…”

“I’m sure he was,” Sylus answered back solemnly, “But you know, baby, perhaps your plushies need to learn to play along together?”

The girl looked down, her hands clasped behind her back as she shuffled her feet reluctantly. “But they don’t want to be friends, Daddy…”

Sylus smiled and gave his daughter’s cheek a playful pinch. She giggled and swatted at his hand until he let go. “Come on, my little dino, let’s go and have a chat with your plushies.”

He picked her up and as he carried her out of his study, Sylus also used his Evol to pick up the dino plushies. Swirls of energy wrapped around each waiting plushie, lifting them into the air to follow after the father-daughter duo. Sylus smiled when he heard his daughter giggling delightfully, catching sight of her waving happily over his shoulder at the line of dino plushies floating behind them.

When they arrived at the little toddler’s bedroom, Sylus was unprepared for the sight of a jail made of pillows incarcerating four crow plushies in the middle of the large bedroom. As he walked closer, he huffed in amusement at seeing the four crow plushies tossed haphazardly inside the jail.

“Well, this jail looks comfier than the one I was in…”

“Huh?” The little girl turned to face her father with a look of utter bewilderment.

Sylus shook his head, chuckling more to himself. “Never mind, baby.”

“Daddy, down, down!” the little girl cried out, wriggling in his arms.

Sylus chuckled again and lowered her down to the floor. “Alright, alright. Impatient little dino today, aren’t you?”

Sylus also motioned with his finger to bring the dino plushies over and they surrounded the pillow jail. He smiled as his daughter looked up, her eyes wide with delight at seeing her plushies floating in the air before they gently descended. She immediately picked up Smiley Dino and hugged him tightly in her little arms.

“Now, is there a reason the crows and dinosaurs don’t get along?” Sylus asked as he knelt down to his daughter’s level. He watched as she furrowed her brows in contemplation.

“Because…because…they said Smiley Dino has a weird face…”

“Well, that is mean,” Sylus quipped. “Do you think he has a weird face?”

She shook her head furiously. “Smiley Dino is very cute!”

Sylus chuckled at her excited exclamation. “Very cute,” he agreed and gave his daughter’s cheek a gentle stroke, “But not as cute as my little dino right here.”

She puffed up her cheeks at him, seemingly annoyed. She hugged her plushie tighter. “Daddy, you’re making Smiley Dino sad, too!”

“I am just speaking the truth,” he answered affably, “Do you think I am like Grumpy Crow?”

Without a single of second of hesitation, she nodded her head.

“Well, maybe I am,” Sylus continued with a smile. He picked up the Grumpy Crow plushie, turning it around to scrutinize. “Perhaps Grumpy Crow and his friends didn’t mean to make Smiley Dino sad.”

The toddler looked at her father confused, and Sylus elaborated further: “Maybe the crows aren’t very good with their words…”

He held the crow plushie close to the dino plushie in his daughter’s arms. “Maybe he meant to say Smiley Dino has a very unique face. He’s special.”

“Daddy, is that…good?” the little girl asked tentatively.

Sylus nodded. “It can be good.” Sylus paused and raised the crow plushie close to his ear, appearing to be listening intently. His expression switched between different emotions, seemingly contemplative one second and then intrigued the next. “Ah, I see. Yes, yes, this is a big misunderstanding…”

“Daddy? What is it?” The girl walked over and tugged at her father’s sleeve. She pouted when he started laughing for seemingly no reason.

“Oh, Grumpy Crow was just telling me they didn’t mean to make Smiley Dino sad,” Sylus explained, continuing, “They also want to be friends with the dinos.”

“They do?” The girl’s eyes widened in astonishment.

“They do, baby,” he answered. He held the crow plushie out to his daughter. “Look, Grumpy Crow wants to apologize and be friends with Smiley Dino.”

The girl slowly smiled and held her dino plushie out. The two plushies ‘hugged’ before the little girl took them both into her arms to snuggle. She looked at her father with bright eyes and a toothy grin. “Daddy, they’re friends now!”

“Splendid,” he answered, “Now you have twice the number of friends to play with, right?”

She nodded happily, and gave each plushie a friendly kiss on the head.

Sylus suddenly noticed something peculiar. In the corner of his daughter’s room, there was a little canopy reading nook. Child-sized bookcases lined the wall filled with different children’s books and underneath the canopy was a soft white fur rug with different sized throw pillows surrounding the area. He noticed a few plushies were also strewn about on the rug.

“Wait, what’s this?” Sylus stood up and walked over to the reading area, picking up one of the peculiar plushies laying on the rug.

“Happy Snowman!” his daughter declared, dropping her two plushies and running over excitedly. “Mommy gave him to me.”

“Did…did she win it for you?”

“I dunno, Daddy,” his daughter answered him with a little innocent shrug. She then excitedly picked up two different plushies and held them up to her father proudly. “Look, Daddy, this is Artsy Birb and Bunbun!”

“They are…cute,” Sylus answered, tone stiff, though thankfully the little three-year-old didn’t seem to notice. Sylus knelt down to his daughter’s height again and smiled forcibly. In as even a tone as he could muster, he spoke, “Baby, why don’t you let Daddy hold onto these plushies for a while?”

His daughter tilted her head, confused, making the hood of her dinosaur onesie drooped to cover her face. Sylus fixed her hood and gave her a reassuring smile as he continued in the same tone as earlier, “Daddy is just borrowing them for a bit. I’ll give them back later…after I speak with Mommy…”

The little girl gave her father a toothy grin and nodded, not particularly caring either way. Sylus answered with another smile and with a wave of his hand, he made the three plushies disappear. He suddenly blinked in confusion when his daughter turned around and ran over to her bookshelf and picked up a seemingly random book, though it seemed to be quite a bit thicker than the other ones on the shelves.

“Daddy, story please!”

Sylus chuckled and nodded. “Yes, Miss Dino,” he answered courteously. He settled down in the reading nook, laying casually on his side with one elbow propped up and his head resting in his hand. Sylus smiled as his daughter scurried over and also settled down, handing him the book.

Sylus blinked in confusion before reading aloud the title of the book he was handed: “Analysis of Firearms Maintenance and Its Practical Applications…” He peered down at his daughter’s smiling face. He huffed in baffled amusement, asking, “Baby, did you take this from my bookshelf?”

She nodded her head eagerly and Sylus laughed. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Mischievous little dino, aren’t you?” He rubbed his nose against her cheek, causing her to giggle harder. “I didn’t realize I was raising a little klepto-dino.”

“Oh! Daddy, Daddy, my plushies…”

Sylus smiled. He motioned with his hand, and swirls of energy wrapped around the crow and dino plushies, lifting them into the air. The plushies all floated over, circling around the reading nook area briefly before one by one, they were gently lowered to surround both father and daughter. Sylus motioned for the Grumpy Crow and Smiley Dino plushies closer and his daughter happily grabbed both to snuggle.

“Happy now?”

The girl nodded, beaming brightly as her hood fell to cover her face again. She giggled and lifted the hood off before she cuddled closer to her father. She pointed excitedly at the book Sylus was holding. “Daddy, the book, the book!”

“Bossy little dino…” He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “Alright, page one…”

As he calmly read the book, his deep, soothing voice seemed to lull the little girl to sleep. After a few minutes, she turned away from the book, yawning, and clung to Sylus’ shirt, her small fingers absently rubbing the fabric for comfort. Sylus pulled her closer and he rested his head on a pillow as he continued to read aloud several more pages. Soon, though, the book was laid facedown, forgotten, as Sylus also found himself drifting off to sleep.

Soft, even breathing filled the room, and dreams of playful little dinosaurs and crows filled a little girl’s head as she slept peacefully, safe in her father’s protective embrace and surrounded by her cherished plushies.

[on-the-clear-blue]

Dead Man's Diner pt 7

Hearing the chime of rhe bell above the door, Danny mentally prepared himself before poking his head around the corner "Heya! I will be with you in one hot sec!"

Rushing around the kitchen, Danny set the chili to simmer and quickly cleaned himself up before coming back to greet his newest customer.

Stepping upt to the bar, Danny put his best customer service smile on and opened his mouth to speak, but the words that came out were not in English.

"Hey there! Welcome to Big C's diner what can i..." Blinking a bit before frowning, Danny looked closer at his customer, his eyes flickering a bright green as he squinted at the man.

Because either this man was the very strong revenant that had claimed Crime alley as his huant, or there some how was a 4th Halfa in the world.

---

Jason found the little diner comfortable, more up to date than the typical dive that was in the Alley, there wasn't even any blood splatter in the back booths!

He kinda didn't like how there was only a single person working there at night, being so close to the Alley and all, but that was easily fixed if he just happened to come around in his Red Hood outfit.

Sending a smirk like smile to the teen that came out from the kitchen, who had the fakest smile that Jason had ever seen outside of a gala.

But his smirk slowly slipped as the kid spoke, his words both sounding clear and distorted at the same time, he could make out words but it was very clearly not words at the same time.

Then, the kid's eyes flashed, and Jason had seen those eyes before, he had seen them in the mirror more times than he was willing to admit.

(Holy shit this kid is about to have a Pit episode in front of me...how the fuck did this kid get in the pits?) Jason thought as he leaned back into his seat, his hand instantly going to where his guns usually were, but only grasped at air.

(Right...forgot those at home...) He thought, settling instead to set his hands on the counter, Jason narrowed his eyes at the teen

But just like that, the green was gone, and the teen cleared his throat, "Sorry about that, um, welcome to Big C's, what can I get ya?"

---

Danny gave a weak smile, he didn't exactly want to throw down with this potential halfa, sure he liked a good ghostly welcome every now and again, but he just cleaned up and he would like his diner to stay that way thank you!

The man across from him glared for amoment longer before shaking his head, "Shit, ugh...gimme a coffee and...what's your special today?"

Reaching for the coffee pot, Danny felt a rumble in the diner cart, and there was suddenly a chalk board on the wall behind him.

Pouring his customer a mug, his brain paused for a moment, translating the ghost script before he spoke "Cadavers chili hotdogs, made with 100% not person meat...I promise neither are made out of people, definitely didnt seen any bodies when I made it my guy."

---

Staring at the blackboard that Jason was very much sure wasn't there a moment ago, he felt his chest tighten and ache as he read the...sigils? Words? They were definitely something and he totally shouldn't know what they mean.

Biting back a snort at the dry comment, Jason focused on him "I will take two...Danny? That your name or just the name on the aprin you got?"

Jason was totally not digging for information, because he totally wasn't a Bat or a Bird, and he totally didn't have an urge to know everything about the person across from him.

Getting a dry chuckle from the guy on the other side of the counter, who could only shake his head, "Sadly, that's my name, I will be back in a sec with your food, no running off tho' ya hear? Already dealt with dine and dashers once this week."

Letting out a chuff, Jason kept his eyes around the room, he knew logically he should be more freaked out by this whole experience, but he couldn't help but feel his body relax and his mind comfortable slow.

Holding the cup of coffee in both hands, he took a long sip and memories hit him harder than a crowbar.

It was his mother's coffee, not the bitch that sold him out but his mama, Catherine, the woman that struggled to keep him happy and fed.

It was the watered down brew, stretched to make it last longer.

It was milky and sweet with sugar packets pilfered form diners such as this and powdered milk he used to steal from the grocery store just for her.

His mama gave up so much for him, why couldn't he just do one little petty theft for her?

His heart aches again, and the intense feel of the pits roar in his ears, but they weren't calling for blood, the pits crooned in nostalgic heart break.

Usually remembering before his death was a trigger, was something that made him rage, but right now? He could only mourn for the mother and son that used to cuddle up together under a ratty blanket, of the mother that whispered stories to him during long quiet nights, of the woman that he had found dead on one such quiet night.

---

Tossing on the last bit of fresh diced onions, Danny had a cheesy grin on his face as he brought the plate to the front, mouth opening to speak before noticing his customers disposition.

He was hunched over on himself, looking small (which was impressive for a man thst looked twice his size and 4 times more muscular)

Tears were streaming down his face as he stared at the now half full mug, for some reason it felt heart breaking to see.

Setting the plate down carefully in front of the man, Danny placed a hand on his shoulder, "It's okay man...your okay bud." Awkwardly Patting his customers shoulder, Danny felt a bit of panic, he wasn't Jazz he didn't know how to like, console people!

It took a few minutes for the man to calm, and Danny handed him a few paper towels to clean himself up, patting him on the back one last time, Danny let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, "Well...um, hope that the coffee is so bad that it made you cry, I-uhh, could comp it if you want?"

The man just shook his head, "Fuckin' hell, ain't bad, just...God damn it..."

---

Rubbing at his eyes Jason huffed, "Sorry for, um....blubbering on ya like that..

don't usually get teary at coffee, that's more of Timmer's shtick, just tastes...tastes like my mom's coffee when I was a kid..." shaking his head, Jason looked at the chili dogs, they still steamed, the cheese now melted on nicely.

Danny just nodded, "Yeah, some reason i have gotten a few comments on that" shrugging his shoulders, he started to figgle with a cloth, wipping down the counter as he spoke "Meh, Gotham is fucked up and I don't want to even begin to try and figure out."

Croaking out a laugh Jason dragged the plate of food closer, "Fucking right about that...though if you keep making it like that you got yourself a regular customer."

Reaching a hand across the counter, Jason gave Danny a weak smile, "Names Jason, nice to meet ya."

Taking the hand, Danny gave a smirk back, "Got it, one sad cup of coffee for you then-" Snapping his head over as he heard a beeping sound, Danny got a panicked look on his face "Oh shit! My cookies!"

---

Storming to the back, Danny ran to the oven, throwing it open, scrambling for the oven mits, he phased a hand through them instead of tugging them on, and quickly pulls the smoaking batch of sweets from the rack.

Plopping them on the counter, he hears the oven snap shut as he sighs, turning to thank the diner, he pauses to see the sight of a man he was hoping that he would never have to see again.

"Oh little Bager, King of the Realms making food for the common folk? How the great have fallen.." Vald said with a viscous grin, his hand reaching up to flip off the oven, "Did you think I wouldn't find you? Thought you could rum off and not tell dear old Uncle? Don't worry Bager, while old Vlad might not come around to vist much..."

There was a flash of black light and where a man once stood was a ghost, his grin pulled back devilishly "I am sure Plasmius will make up for it very...very well."

---

Laughing a bit as he watched Danny scramble inot the back, Jason stared at the food, he was still hungry but...he held an apprehension of sorts, was this going to bring back memories? Would they be good like the coffee or...

His thoughts were cut off as a body was through through the deviding wall from the front of the house to the kitchen.

Bolting up out of his seat, he watched as Danny stepped out of the hole in the wall, shaking out his fist as he did, "I really don't have the fucking time for you Plasmius, don't you see I have a customer?"

Jason stared as the body that was punched through the wall, that looked mangled, twisted and broken start to twitch and crack back into place, limbs bending back from positions they should never be, and then the man sat up, a feral grin on his lips.

(Really fucking bad day for not having my God damn guns.)

[wqnwoos]

⇢ pairing. kim mingyu x reader ⇢ summary. snapshots from your kitchen over the years -- with mingyu. ⇢ genre. fluff, strangers2friends2lovers ⇢ warnings. wc is approx. 1.6k; alcohol consumption; each section is set one year after the previous; gn!reader.

march 8th, 2021

“There you are! Hi!” You call out as you sail past the tall figure standing in your kitchen. You move quickly between the oven, the fridge, the microwave, the work surface, your eyes flitting back to him as you talk. “Mingyu, right? I’m sorry, I know this is our first time meeting but everything’s — ”

“A mess,” Seungkwan offers helpfully from behind Mingyu. Which reminds him that the world keeps spinning, even if he does fall in love the very first time he meets his friends’ friend. Everyone talked about you, but yo'd never crossed paths with him — until now. In the middle of your kitchen, with butterflies swarming his stomach.

You click your tongue and point at Seungkwan with one hand, balancing a bowl of salad with the other. “Exactly. Put this on the table, Kwan.” 

As Seungkwan takes it from you, Mingyu stands awkwardly by the door, following your movements with his eyes, until you suddenly halt in the middle of the kitchen, throwing your hands up. “Okay. Done.” You meet his eyes with a breathless smile, and suddenly he’s breathless too, without even moving an inch. “Sorry,” you say unrepentantly. “I’m ___. But hopefully you know that already, and you didn’t just agree to come to a stranger’s house.”

Mingyu’s too dumbfounded to reply quickly, completely and utterly taken in. Bewitched, almost, staring at your open, cheerful face. “Hi,” he manages at last, and then rubs his nose awkwardly. “You have a little…”

Unfazed, you rub at your nose and examine your fingers. “Flour,” you nod, “from the — fuck, from the cookies!”

You whip round to the oven; simultaneously, the doorbell rings, and you cast an apologetic look over your shoulder, nodding to the front door. “I’m so sorry, do you mind?”

Not at all, Mingyu’s mind supplies. He’s pretty sure he’d run seven miles without stopping if you asked him to right now, but that’s neither here nor there. When he opens the door, it’s Jeonghan and Seungcheol, who both take one look at his dazed self — Seungcheol sighs, and Jeonghan laughs.

“You owe me a twenty,” Jeonghan says to Seungcheol, and lets himself in, calling out to you in the kitchen. 

Seungcheol claps a still-stupefied Mingyu on the back with a sympathetic grimace. “We all saw it coming.”

august 4th, 2022

“There you are!” you call, as Mingyu returns from the bathroom. “I’ve been thinking. You know what I’ve been thinking?” You’re veering out of tipsy territory, heading straight for drunk — Mingyu knows because you’re starting to slur your words, tilting one into the next as you slap your palm emphatically from where you’re sitting, cross-legged on the work surface of your kitchen. 

He, on the other hand, is barely even buzzed. Slightly amused, very much fond, he leans against the counter opposite you and sips his drink. “Enlighten me, wise one.”

You stick a profound finger into the air, and with an air of sagacious intelligence — “Men aren’t shit.” 

Mingyu almost snorts into his drink, but manages to catch himself at the last minute. After all, he already knew why he was here; you were mourning your dating life after dumping your recent match on whichever dating app; it wasn’t anything too serious, but as your friend — maybe even best friend — he knew you’d been hopeful. And so you’d called him up to, quote unquote, drink away your sorrows. 

He’d come, of course. Mingyu always came when you called.

“Men aren’t shit,” he repeats now, with an obedient nod, and raises his glass. 

Your head tilts to the side and you bestow a wide smile on him; he mirrors it automatically, even if he doesn’t know what it’s for.

“Not you, though,” you say, without your previous bluster. “Every rule has an exception, right?”

“Sure,” he says, trying to brush over it. He always finds himself doing that when you compliment him, skimming past it because he knows you mean it, but not in the way he wants you to mean it. “Don’t worry about it too much,” he adds consolingly, circling back to the guy you were seeing. Jaehee or Jaehyun or whatever. “He’s not worth your stress, alright?”

Your buoyant mood has simmered down a little, and you stare thoughtfully at a spot by his ear. “Mm. I guess so.”

“I know so.” Mingyu inclines his head to the side to catch your gaze, and with a start, he realises your eyes are welling up. “Hey! Hey, don’t cry!” He crosses the room in a second, wrapping you into a hug — you’re still sitting on the counter, but you drop your head onto his shoulder with a weak little sniffle.

Bringing a hand up to cradle your head, Mingyu hushes you quietly. “Don’t cry over him. He’s not worth it, you know that.”

“It’s not him,” you say tearfully, hiccuping into his shirt. “I just — I really want to be in love, Mingyu. I want someone to love me.”

Mingyu has to fight the urge to scream. Because he wants to scream, wants to make you hear how loudly he’s been loving you since he met you, wants to make you see that he’s right here. But he can’t do that to you right now. The timing isn't right, and he knows it’s not.

So he’ll wait. However long it takes.

september 24th, 2023

“There you are,” Mingyu says to the back of your figure, after letting himself into your apartment. The spare key was technically only for emergencies, but he rang the bell twice before figuring you were in the shower, and the snacks he brought were too heavy to hold on to for much longer. “I rang and you didn’t answer!”

You whip round like a gunshot, looking startled — as if you didn’t invite him over this very morning. “You’re here!”

“I rang twice,” he repeats, with furrowed brows. “What?” he says, self-consciously. “I know the key was only for emergencies, but my hands were falling off!” 

It’s like you only realise now that he’s loaded with two grocery bags. “Oh,” you say, voice small. “What are those?”

“Snacks. For the movie?” Your face remains blank, and Mingyu’s more confused than ever. “I got your favourites, don’t worry.”

“I didn’t ask you to bring snacks.” Your voice isn’t accusative, exactly — it wavers a little, bordering on touched. Which only confuses Mingyu more, because it’s just snacks.

Foregoing his questions, he moves to dump the bags on the counter — but you mirror his movements, sidestepping so awkwardly that he knows something’s off.

“What are you hiding?” He’s on you instantly, because your eyes always betray you.

And if they didn’t, your voice would. “Nothing!” Pitched a little too high, spoken a little too fast.

 “Behind you, what’s that?” Mingyu almost makes a dive for it, but you snatch it up before he can. “Flowers,” he realises aloud, heart sinking a little as he tries to force nonchalance into his tone. “They’re pretty.” (They’re his favourite too, which only rubs salt in the wound.) “Who got them for you?”

“I got them.” Your voice is still doing that squeaky, nervous thing, but Mingyu feels a sudden rush of relief that he tries his hardest to disguise at your words. 

He hums, feigning normalcy, and starts unloading the snacks. “This one’s limited edition,” he says, holding up a Pocky packet. “It looks kind of — whoa!”

His sentence is cut off when you thrust the bouquet under his nose. “For you,” you say quickly. I got them for you.”

Just like he was in this very kitchen two years ago, Mingyu’s breathless. He takes them on autopilot — everything’s on autopilot, even his bewildered, “What?”

“Turn around,” you say with beseeching eyes. “I’m too scared to say it to your face.”

“Say what?”

“Turn around!”

He turns around, and he waits. He can feel the nerves radiating off you. He hears you shift your weight from one foot to the other. He swears he even hears you swallow thickly. Louder than all of that, he looks at his favourite flowers and hears himself start to hope.

And then, cutting through all the noise — “I love you, Kim Mingyu.”

december 22nd, 2024

“There you are,” you say sleepily, standing in the doorway of the kitchen. You’d taken an impromptu nap on Mingyu’s lap while he was gaming in your room, but when his stomach had started rumbling, he’d carefully draped a blanket over your shoulders and edged his way out to start on dinner.

“Here I am,” Mingyu says, smiling at you from the stove. He lifts the spoon and beckons you closer, feeding you the soup. “How is it?”

Rubbing one eye, you speak through a yawn. “‘S good.” You slide your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your face into his back. Your words come out muffled. “Maybe a little more salt. Why’d you leave me?”

Mingyu can’t help the smile stretching over his face. “Leave you?”

“I woke up alone,” you say sulkily, but you don’t let go of him, even as he shuffles from cupboard to cupboard.

“I thought you’d be hungry when you woke up,” he murmurs, adding a pinch of salt and stirring. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Very hungry.” He lifts the spoon for you to taste it again, and you let out a satisfied sigh. “You’re forgiven,” you declare, kissing his cheek. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too.” Mingyu lowers his free hand to squeeze yours, interlocked over his stomach, before turning you in his arms to face you properly. He smiles when he finds your eyes, finally, cupping your warm face in his warm hands. “Ah,” he says softly, brushing a kiss to your lips. “There you are.”

author's note! since it's my birthday -- it's like a gift of appreciation! thank you all for being here. i know i don't usually make banners for drabbles, but this picture is what sparked the idea in the first place. and it was fun! i might do it again. (<- has already done it for the v-day drabble.)

perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @wondering-out-loud

@tokitosun @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin

@icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars

@immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya

@yepimthatonequirkyteenager @qaramu @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9

@lightnjng @strnsvt @onlyyjeonghan @athanasiasakura

@iamawkwardandshy @twilghtkoo @yuuyeonie @lllucere

@pearlesscentt

@sourkimchi @porridgesblog

[xmunsonlovex]

Somewhere I Belong

Summary: You leave home for a new opportunity in Hawkins. You're on your own, and your first day, you meet your metal head neighbor. Will this be the start of something that you've always been longing for, or will you keep it at a distance, as you always do.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Shy Fem!Reader

wc: 8600+

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. female reader, reader has low self esteem and a lot of insecurities, slight angst, use of pet names (baby, sweetheart, etc) mentions of male masturbation, mentions of oral(f!receiving) reader is inexperienced and a virgin, mutual pinning, idiots in love, eventual smut in later chapter(s), Eddie is little bit of perv, but only for you.

a/n: It's here, guys. A day earlier than I had originally set myself to release it. I had to break it up into multiple parts, which I am currently writing already. I hope to have pt.2 out next week. That'll be the smutty chapter, for those wanting to see these 2 take the next step. Thank you to whoever reads this, I hope you like it. While I've read HUNDREDS of fics from all you lovely loves here on Tumblr, this is my first fic I have ever written. I think I read it over at least 20 times. I'm sure there are still many grammatical errors and things I may have missed. Please let me know if you like it. Please reblog and comment your thoughts 💗

Dividers by: saradika-graphics

You huffed as you placed the last box of your belongings on the carpeted floor. This definitely needs to be replaced, you thought as you looked at it. The move to Hawkins was grueling, between heavy traffic and nasty weather, you were trying to just make it there in one piece. Thankfully you did, and now you stood in the middle of your living room, taking in your new surroundings. It's around 6pm, and it's starting to get dark. You felt lucky to have a nice view of the sunset from your backyard, if you could call it that. It was a small section with enough space for maybe a little garden (you’ve always dreamt of growing your own veggies), and patio chairs. You had found the relatively inexpensive trailer for sale in a community called Forest Hills in Hawkins. Looking at the photos, you knew it needed some repairs. A new paint job too, maybe, but with your new job in the city, you figured you'd make it your own in no time. It was supposed to pay fairly well too, working as an administrative assistant.

You walk over to the kitchen, checking the fridge and stove. All seemed to work fine for now, and with that, you were putting away your kitchen belongings in the cupboards, making note to fix the wobbly door to each cabinet. A box of Mac and Cheese sat on the counter while you boiled some water in a small pot, and then started to cut up some cucumbers and cherry tomatoes, making your favorite salad. You were singing to yourself as you made your food, that you didn't hear the knock on the door. It was soft at first, but quickly became louder after the 4th knock. You grabbed a towel to dry off your wet hands, and walked to your front door, looking through the peephole, but could not make out who was on the other side. You opened the door just a bit, and see a frizzy- haired man, who didn't look much older than you. He sported a denim jacket with lots of heavy metal band patches on it. That definitely caught your eye. 

"Hey Jack-" He turned his head to look at you, then scratched at his cheek. "You're not Jack.." He said. 

"Hi, no. I'm not. I'm guessing he's the one I bought this trailer from though..?" You asked, a small smile on your lips. He was cute, you thought. 

"Makes sense. I haven't seen him in like..2 weeks. I thought maybe he went on vacation then got another car.." he pointed to your shitty car that sat on your driveway, practically falling apart. "You left the trunk open. I um..closed it for you. Don't want any raccoons to get in there.." He chuckled softly, sliding his hands into his pockets. 

You smiled at him, and nodded. Of course you left it open. "Thank you. I was doing a million things at once.." You sighed, and rubbed your forehead. "I just moved in today. I'm Y/N, by the way.." you say, noticing him smile softly when you mentioned your name. "I'm Eddie. I live next door to you.." He nodded towards his trailer and then kicked a rock as he looked down, making sure it went to the side rather than in your home. "Well, nice to meet you, Eddie. I uhm, I'll see you around? I have dinner cooking right now. Don’t want to burn down my new home.”  You said with a chuckle.

 “Yeah. Maybe I can show you around town..whenever you're free." He says quickly. You felt your cheeks heat up as he looked at you. Those big, beautiful brown eyes, they could put you in a trance.  "I'm usually home by 5:30..and I'm off on Sundays." 

“Ok, yeah, I like that idea. I’m off on the weekends, so that works out.” You say.

He felt a giddiness inside him, the thought of making a new friend and even the possibility that the friendship could turn into something more, gave him butterflies. Hope, even. For so long, he was used to being blamed for the events that happened in Hawkins. For so long..he was called a freak and spat at for his taste in music. He wasn't a bad guy, at least he didn't think so. Steve and Robin, and the boys (who were all graduated now) didn't think so. So why was it so hard for him to make other friends? To get a date? He was tired of the meaningless sex that usually transpired at The Hideout, not that it happened often. He wouldn't call himself a ladies man by any means, or someone the girls would seek after. Most times, girls wanted something from it. A little weed. Or maybe the right to brag that they had a quickie with a front man of a rock-band. They never specified which band, though. So when the opportunity arose to show a pretty, new girl around town, he was absolutely going to take the chance to do that. 

"I'll stop by Sunday. I can show you around town, and where to go for all the good food places. Maybe I can take you..to get some groceries, if you need. I don't mind." Eddie offered. 

"Ok, yeah, thank you, Eddie. I uhm...gotta get going though, but I’ll see you Sunday." You try to sound confident, but it comes out a bit shy and timid, instead. He says goodbye, and you watch him jog to his trailer, looking over at you and waving before going inside his home.  You can't help but bite your lower lip, knowing he would be trouble. You weren't exactly looking for a relationship, not romantically anyway. It was embarrassing to think about the fact you had no experience aside from a few pecks on the lips from the 3 dates you had gone on back at home. The dates always ended with a "I had a nice time, but I think we should see other people." You weren't sure if you were maybe too boring for them, or maybe it was your looks? Your self esteem had always been low, even back to when you were in middle school. Kids were relentless and brutal. 

High school was no better. Girls were rude and mocked you for your style, or lack thereof. Boys were cruel too. Laughing when you once tripped over your own feet, nervous around a football player you liked. He looked at you apologetically but it didn't stop the chuckle that left his mouth when your knees and palms slammed on the tile floor. You were 23 now and still remembered it like yesterday. It was the reason you left home. Your mom was sad, she'd definitely miss you but understood the change you needed in your life. She wasn't about to stop you from becoming a better version of yourself. And this was your chance. 

Sunday rolled around way quicker than you anticipated. Between putting away the remainder of your items around the house and doing a deep clean; you were exhausted. But, looking forward to the city tour with your new neighbor. You had woken up earlier than usual to have a shower and a quick breakfast to settle your growling stomach from skipping dinner the night before. After finishing your food, and cleaning up the kitchen, you grabbed your purse and keys, setting them on the small console table by the door as you pace around, growing a little nervous. What if he decided he didn't want to show you around? He probably had better things to do. Your thoughts were promptly silenced as a knock was heard. Giving it a couple of seconds to not seem too eager, you then walked to your door and opened it. Eddie smiled. You could tell he was freshly showered, his hair still a little wet and the smell of soap mixed with some cologne invaded your nostrils. 

"Morning, I have an appointment with Ms. Y/N." He said, with a sheepish smile. You giggled. 

"Good Morning, sir. Yes, I'll be happy to help you with that. Please come in and take a seat. She will be right with you. Could I offer you some water?" You say in your most professional voice. Eddie was in your home now, admiring your decor. It was simple but you. There were some framed photos on the wall; and a light blue couch taking up quite a bit of space in the living room. 

"Huh? Oh yes, thank you ma'am." He said and took a seat on the couch, that intoxicating smile now reaching his eyes. "You're a metal fan." He said, noticing your CD and vinyl collection by the TV stand. "Hmm. Alice Cooper, Black Sabbath...Dio??" He said excitedly, holding the vinyl for Holy Diver. Oh, he's going to have to marry you, now.

"Yeah, I love them. My dad’s a huge fan. Would put the album on when I was younger." You say, smiling at the fond memories, then hand over a glass of cold water to Eddie, who accepts it with a smile. "I fear that you will never get rid of me, now. These are my favorite bands. Not to mention...there is some stuff here that I haven't listened to yet..you have quite the extensive library, sweetheart." He chuckled. The heat that emitted from your cheeks at the nickname was for sure evident, you thought. No way he didn’t see the pink tint on your face. And he did. He proudly gave himself a mental high-five for making you blush. 

"Alright, let's get going. I have loads to show you." Eddie said after drinking the water you so kindly offered him. 

Eddie took you around to all his favorite spots in Hawkins, starting with showing you where your new job was located, then drove back south towards Hawkins again. You learned a lot about him while he drove you around. He was 25, worked as a mechanic at a local auto repair shop, and on some weekends, he'd play with his band, Corroded Coffin, at a bar called The Hideout. You said you'd definitely go see him play and that you were sure he sounded amazing, despite him saying otherwise. That made him blush this time around.  

"So, this is where I went to high school, figured I'd show you since it's on the way to the farmers market you wanted to go to." He tapped on the steering wheel. His hands couldn’t stay still, between either the tapping or him playing air drums to the song that quietly played on his radio.

“Kind of looks like my school...but mine was filled with the most obnoxious and hateful people I'd ever met." You say, your tone a bit softer. "It's the main reason I left home. Everyone I knew...they held this standard of 'I'm better than you.' A lot of people with money. An easy life. Meanwhile, my mom worked her ass off all day and night to keep our mouths fed." You then fell quiet for a bit. "I hated my high school years.." You chuckle faintly and look over at him, who looked back at you while he waited at a red light. "I know all about that.." He nodded. "I wasn't a...popular guy in high school either. I was bullied here and there, but most people left me alone. They didn't want to mess with the one guy who dealt them their weed. Or whatever drug they needed." He said, a little bit of a white lie but you didn't need to know the whole story. With that, he winked at you with a small smirk, and drove to the farmers market. 

"What?! How can you not like cucumbers? They're so tasty! With some salt and ranch. So good." You said, laughing as he made a gagging face while you picked some fresh fruit and placed them in the basket you were holding. "Respectfully darling, they taste so bland. Like crunchy water." 

You scoff and shake your head. "They’re super healthy, though. If you ever come over for lunch or something, I'll make you my special tomato and cucumber salad. It has some dill weed in it. And ranch. You'll love it."

"I take it back. I don't think I can hang out with you anymore. Dill weed? You're killing me here." He joked. The laugh that you let out was now his favorite sound in the world. A genuine laugh at his lame attempt at joking around with you. 

After you paid for the fruits, he gently placed his hand on your lower back, guiding you towards the next stall, which was selling homemade sauces and jams. The older woman on the other side of the table gives Eddie a rather unpleasant look, then notices you. What she can only imagine to be this innocent young woman who is being put under a spell by Eddie the "devil worshipper". This worried her. It took her no time to pull out a pamphlet of their local church, and handed it to you, but you immediately shut that down, and handed it back to her. 

"I appreciate the suggestion, but..I'm not really religious. Thank you. I'd just like to buy-"

"I will not sell my items to devil worshippers like you and Munson, here." Her tone immediately changed to unfriendly and unwelcoming. Eddie felt himself start to get angry, not so much of what she said about him. He was used to that. But because now you'd been given the same treatment as him, and you didn't deserve that. You were sweet. And so beautiful. Welcomed him with a smile rather than spiteful comments and-

“That's OK. I can go spend my money elsewhere. I saw a few stalls that had better prices, actually. And frankly, they also seemed nicer. I can't imagine your jams and sauces taste any good when you have such hate in your heart.” You say. It wasn't meant to be an insult or anything of that nature, you genuinely didn't know why she was being so mean to Eddie. He looked at you, a smile tugging on the corner of his lips. “Come on, I know the one.” Eddie grabbed your hand, leading you to a different part of the market. Near the parking lot. 

“Hi Sammy. Y/N, is this what you're looking for?” He asked you, this vendor was selling lots of different jams. He'd known about him from The Wheelers. Particularly Nancy. “You bring me a new customer? Eddie. How can I ever repay you?” Sammy smiled fondly at him. One of the very few people in town that treated Eddie with some dignity. 

“Yes. I'm new in town. Wanted to check out the local farmers market. See what you guys had.” You smile shyly. Eddie came to the conclusion that you were quite shy by nature. Not that he was observing every small detail of you on purpose. Or maybe..

“Oh, Eddie. She's so sweet! Polar opposites, I see.” He joked and Eddie glared at him, with no real mean intention behind it. “Teasing. Eddie's a great guy. You've made a wonderful friend.” He hyped him up, trying to be a wingman of sorts. 

“I agree.” You simply say, worried you'd start babbling. Wouldn't be the first time, and instead, you offer Eddie a warm smile as you look at him, a look that lingered for a couple seconds longer than usual. “Alrighty lovebirds. What can I get for yah?” Sammy smirked, looking at both you and Eddie, noticing the flustered expressions. Oh, young love. 

“Um, yes. I would like the grape, blackberry and..peach jam, please.” You say, your face is on fire as you stutter your words. Get a hold of yourself. You hadn’t known Eddie for more than a week, and already you were a mess. Stumbling over your words, blushing every time his fingertips brushed your skin or sent a sweet nickname your way. Eddie is definitely going to be the death of you. Sammy hands you the 3 jars of jam, and puts them in a brown paper bag, adding a smaller jar in there with the others. “This one is my famous strawberry jam. My bestseller. This sample is on me. Let me know if you like it.” He says, smiling sweetly as he hands you the bag. You pull out your wallet, and go to grab some money, but Eddie stops you, grabbing his own wallet quicker.  “I got it..” He mumbled with a smile, and before you could put up a fight, he slapped a 20 dollar bill on Sammy’s palm. “I'll see you, Sam.” Eddie says and he guides you two to walk over to his van. 

“Anything else you want to do?” He asked, opening the door for you and watching as you go in, his eyes admiring the round of your ass. He shakes the impure thoughts from his mind, and watches you buckle yourself in.

“We can head home. Maybe I can make you some lunch? At…my place. If-if you want. I don’t want to impose, or anything. I’m sure you’re a busy guy and all-” He chuckles at your rambling, thinking you couldn’t possibly be any cuter than you already were. Oh, he’s in trouble, as well. 

“Let’s go have some lunch. I guess I’ll try this special cucumber and tomato salad you keep trying to sell me on. With the dill weed and ranch.” He smirked, and gently shut the door to his van, then went around and got in the driver side, buckling in. “Ready, madam?” He said, shaking his wild mane side to side. He turned his head towards you, and gave you a goofy smile as he started the van, and then drove out of the parking lot. You softly laughed at his antics, already enamoured with him. “Hey Eddie, can I ask you something?” You cautiously say, not sure whether this would offend him. “Hm.” He replies, turning left to get into the correct lane towards the trailer park. “Do people really think you’re a satanist? I mean..if..you are, I promise I am not bothered by it. I don’t put down anyone’s beliefs. Unless you’re a shitty person. Which I do not believe you are. You’ve been really nice to me.” You say, once again, rambling. “I am. Why do you think the whole town gives me such scared looks? Poor Jeannie, the lady with the jams, was so upset when I sacrificed her chickens and goats. But..I needed them! I wish she’d just understand.”  He sighed, shaking his head and then glanced at you, finding you wide-eyed. “I’m joking, sweetheart.” He let out a soft laugh, and came to a full stop right before their turn. “This town is very stuck on old beliefs. I like metal music, and the media painting it as the devil’s music a few years ago certainly didn’t help my case. I also played dungeons and dragons in high school, still do actually. And this whole place came after me with pitchforks.” He once again left out some important key facts regarding the history of Hawkins. A conversation for another day, perhaps. “Not everyone is horrible, but I’ve kept my circle small for this very reason.” He added.

Once he arrived back at the trailer park, he parked his van at his place after dropping you off at your front door like a gentleman. He said he’d come over in about 20 minutes, saying he had a few calls he had to make. You didn’t ask any questions, and instead focused on getting started on lunch. Your “special” salad, along with some sandwiches, chips and 2 glasses of cold cokes. You hoped he would enjoy it, now second guessing everything you just did. To the paper plates you placed the food on, to the silly Halloween table cloth you had put on your small dining table. It was only March. You thought of earlier as you sat on your couch waiting for him. When he placed his hand on the small of your back. His hand felt like fire on you, over your clothes and yet, you recall the goosebumps traveling all over your body from such a simple and soft touch. You wondered how his hands would feel on other parts. Your shoulders. Massaging out years of tension and stress. Wondered how his hands would feel if he held your cheek in a romantic manner. Or what they would feel like caressing your neck down to your arms, until they were in an area you wanted to feel him the most. You shut your eyes tightly, and lean your head back against the top of the cushion on the couch, letting out a soft sigh.Your insecurities overwhelming you as you sat there alone with your thoughts. 

“Steve, I..I need your guidance here, man.” Eddie panicked over the phone, pacing his small kitchen, playing with the phone cord out of habit. “What are you talking about? You got this. It’s like a damn movie. A cute girl moves in next door. Voluntarily wants to hang out with you. You’re golden!” He tries his best to comfort Eddie in his state of anxiety. “I don’t know. She’s beautiful, absolutely. Is she wanting to hang out, out of pity, though? Because some dumbass called me a freak in front of her? Is she-” Eddie is quickly cut off by Steve. “Yes. She is inviting you over for lunch, after she accepted your offer to show her around town, and laughed at your jokes, because she feels bad that some lonely, old woman called you a freak.” Steve deadpanned. “You really think so?” Eddie sadly sighed. Steve wanted to strangle him over the phone. “Eddie, no! I know your expertise with women isn’t as evolved as mine…but listen when I tell you, she’s into you. To some degree, anyway! Go over, have lunch with her. Be a little flirty. See where it goes. No harm in trying.” Steve smiled. Easy for the Stud of Hawkins to say. 

You hear a knock at your door, one you were now familiar with, pulling you out of your negative thoughts. Something you really had to work on. You’re a little quicker to answer the door this time, and see Eddie standing there with a few flowers he picked from The Wilson’s front yard on the other side of his trailer. They’ll never notice, he’d argue. “Oh wow, those are so pretty..” You say, your attention immediately drawn to the light blue flowers in his hand. He swallows hard. “Just like you.” He smiles softly, and hands them to you, and you graciously take them. He doesn’t miss the crimson blush that spreads over your cheeks to your ears. “Thank you, Eddie. Come in.” You bashfully say, stepping aside to let him in, and then shut your door. “I made us lunch. Um, I hope it’s to your liking.” He watches you walk into the kitchen, grab a small vase and add water to it, then place the flowers he picked out into it. “I’m sure I will love it. Let’s try that salad, huh?” He said and sat down at the table. 

It was close to 6 in the afternoon now, and Eddie was helping you clean up the dining table, his belly full of the delicious food you made. “Sooo…I could tell you liked the salad. Just admit it. Cucumbers are amazing.” You smirk, looking at him. “Whoa. Let’s not get crazy. You’re lucky that I am fond of you.” He throws the paper plates in the trash, with your approval of course. “But yes, it was really good, Y/N.” He smiles, looking back at you. “I wanted to ask you something now.” Eddie says, walking up to you as you stood by the kitchen entryway. You feel your heartbeat start to hammer in your chest at the close proximity. Noticing the faint freckles that paint his upper cheeks. He is so pretty. 

“My band is playing next weekend. At The Hideout. I would…really like for you to be there. We go on stage at 9..Not too late at night. And! You’ll get to meet my friends. Steven and Robin. Possibly Nancy. She doesn’t care for the loud music, so she doesn’t really go to these things.” He said, looking down at his feet, then up at you, trying to read your expression. “What if they don’t like me?” You say, your voice so small, you wanted to curl into yourself and disappear. His features soften, and he places his hand over yours, which was on the kitchen counter. 

“Believe me, they will love you.” He gives your hand a comforting caress, making you a blushing mess for what felt like the 50th time today.

 “I would love to meet them. And to see you perform.” You take in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm your anxiety. He could make out that you were a little hesitant in your response.    

 “Do I make you nervous?” He says suddenly, his eyes boring into yours. You freeze at his question, because it was as if his demeanor changed in a blink of an eye; from gentle to dominating. It was all in the way he looked at you with his dark eyes. 

“N-no. No, not really. I mean, I am just a shy person. I get nervous around new people. As you can tell.” You say. He takes your hand in his, holding it,  and flashes you a warm smile.

“Don’t worry. You’ll fit right in with us. I promise. They don’t bite.” He then leans in, close to your ear, whispering. “Though, I do a little.” Eddie says, and patted your hand, smirking. He learned that he really liked to make you squirm, and see you flustered. Sometimes he would get this burst of confidence that he had to take advantage of. It’s how he got himself more gigs at The Hideout. How he got himself a better paying position as a mechanic at J’s Auto Service. That was a milestone, because he was able to save up enough money to get Wayne his own trailer a few blocks away, in a better neighborhood. He deserved it. 

You open the door for Eddie, smiling as you watch him check the doors hinges, making sure the lock worked well, for your safety, of course. “Well, have a great first day at work. If you need anything, give me a call, ok?” He assures you that giving him a call at work would be the highlight of his day. “And you can call me whenever you want too. You know I’m all alone here.” You giggle, biting your lower lip. The playful flirting that occurred throughout the day really put you in good spirits, giving you a tiny bit of confidence. “I’ll definitely remember that. Sleep well, princess.” Eddie smirks, and walks down your porch, but stops to look over your car. “You’ll need new tires soon. You should bring it into the shop during the week. I’ll take a look at it and do an inspection.” He then waves, giving you no time to answer. 

It’s Friday afternoon, and you had 2 hours left of your shift. Counting the minutes until it was 5:00. You didn’t mind the job, it was practically the same as your office position back at home; filing papers, taking calls and sending out emails all day. While this position gave you a bit more responsibility and tasks, the environment was relaxed and the rest of the staff seemed to be chill. One girl, Veronica, would come over and talk to you on her way back in from her smoke breaks. You remembered Eddie smelled the same. He must smoke often enough.

“Are you doing anything fun this weekend? Not much to do in Hawkins.” Veronica popped her chewing gum, playing with a strand of her long hair as she leaned at the reception desk, looking at you.

“I am, actually! My neighbor asked me to go to The Hideout. To see his band play.”

“Eddie Munson? Ugh. The Hideout is so gross. He always takes all the girls there.” She rolled her eyes, chuckling as she nonchalantly picked her nails, admiring the design painted on them. She’d excitedly showed them to you earlier in the day. Your heart nearly sunk to your ass hearing her say that. Were you just another easy girl to him? No way would you give yourself up that easily to Eddie, or any man for that matter, and you didn’t feel that you gave off that kind of energy. You wondered if his whole shy persona was just a ploy to sleep with you, and call it a day. You were sure you liked Eddie. And you thought he genuinely liked you too. He had been so kind to you throughout the week, you reminded yourself. Everytime you came home, roughly 15 minutes after him, he’d walk over and greet you. Ask about your day. Smile and even hug you goodnight after you two would chat for a bit. It was like clockwork, at this point.

“I don’t think this is a date. Just..him being a friendly neighbor.” You shrug, trying to sound indifferent to the news she just broke to you.

“Y/N, I hate to break it to you, but he most likely thinks it's a date. And will probably end up fucking you in that smelly, tiny bathroom in the back of the bar. He does this every time. Will fuck anything in a mini skirt.” She shrugged. “Just use protection, doll.” She winked at you and walked back to her cubicle, sighing loudly as she sat down. You try to blink away the stinging in your eyes, focusing your attention on your keyboard. You absolutely did not need to cry your first week at work. It would be almost as embarrassing as you falling for your next door neighbor in such a short span of time. 

It’s 5pm and you’re driving home, hoping you arrive before Eddie does. Luck must be on your side because you make it by 5:27, and quickly get out of your car, nearly tripping up the steps to your front door as you rush to pull out your key from your large purse. This stupid, big ass bag. You unlock your door, and shut it behind you, locking it back up. Your breathing is heavy as you let your body fall in disappointment. The sun shines through your kitchen window, illuminating the flowers he had picked out for you. They were still lively and vibrant. You made sure to change the water every couple of days to keep as so. You’re sulking as you decide to go and take a hot shower, to clear your mind. Then you hear his van roll in, music blasting from it. 

Eddie looks at your driveway to see your car parked, in a rather chaotic way. You must’ve been excited that it was Friday. Maybe you were excited to see him and wanted to share how crazy of a day you had. He hoped that was the case, since he was ecstatic to see you. On his way to work earlier today, he stopped by the record store next to the J’s Shop, and saw Alice Cooper’s new album, Hey Stoopid. He recalls you mentioning that you’d been looking for the vinyl, wanting to add it to your collection. He gathered the last few bills he had on him, and bought it for you. He figured he’d make some extra cash anyway at The Hideout before the show, selling to the usuals.

He knocks at your door, practically beaming. He’s so excited to gift you this album, knowing it would make you happy. That’s all he wants and cares about. When you don’t answer after his 4th knock, he tries a few more times. “Hm..” He ponders, and leans to the left, trying to peek into your living room window, but the curtain blocks anyone from seeing inside. “Hey, Y/N?” He calls out. He assumes you're in the bathroom when you don't answer, and decides to possibly try again later. He wouldn’t want to disturb your “you time” in there. You hear him jog back to his trailer, his chain wallet giving him away. You felt bad, but then remember what Veronica said to you earlier in the day. That was why you were avoiding him in the first place. Though, it would be impossible to do this everyday. Well, for now, you're just going to try your best to hide from him. That means, you’ll have to stand him up at The Hideout. You turn on the shower after stripping off your work clothes and stood there for what felt like hours, playing every scenario in your mind. 

Eddie is tapping his foot impatiently on his carpeted floor, his much more worn out than yours. It's close to 8:30p and you still haven't come over. And he's contemplating whether to go over to your house or not. Your lights are not on. He guesses you had a really bad day at work, and instead of bugging you, he leaves you to rest. The album can wait for tomorrow morning.

It’s bright and early, you can hear the birds chirping from your bedroom window. You rub the sleep from your eyes and groan, sitting up on your bed, looking over to look at the time. The clock read 09:47a. You better get up and make most of your Saturday as you do not plan on leaving your 4 walls tomorrow. You stretch as you stand up, and walk over to your fridge, and then jump at the loud knock. “Y/N!” a familiar voice calls out. Fuck. Ok, you need to at least confront him of his true intentions. Whether you were just another girl to him, and nothing more. You close up your robe a little as you drag your feet, letting out a shaky breath as you open the door. 

“Oh, thank god!” He breathes in relief. “ I was worried about you.” He said.

“Right..well. I’m ok. Just trying to rest up.” You said. He notices your tone is a bit more cold.

“Oh. I-I’m sorry. I just wanted to check up on you. I knocked yesterday, but didn’t see you. Did you have a bad day at work?” He said, frowning now. 

“You can say that-”

“Then I have something that will cheer you up! Close your eyes.” He grinned, practically jumping in excitement. You raise your brow, and hesitantly shut your eyes, then feel his warm hands grab yours, pulling them out in front of you. You feel a heavy-ish item now land on your hands and you immediately open your eyes. “Oh shit..” You hold the album, looking at it. It was a special edition one.

“Eddie..how’d you find this?” You say quietly, a smile growing on your face.

“Saw it at the record store. Had to get it for you.” He couldn’t be any prouder. He got you out of whatever slump you were feeling.

“Oh Eddie..I know this had to be expensive. Let me pay you back.” 

He shook those curls you were so crazy about. “Nope. I only request your presence tonight, sweetheart. Steve and Robin are dying to meet you.” He says, crossing his arms. Your gaze travels down to them, admiring the tattoos and oh. He’s caught you staring, that smirk on his face confirms that. “I-I will be there.” You nod, going against everything you said to yourself the night before. “Great! I have some errands to run, but I will see you tonight, darling.” He bows like you are his Queen, and you might as well be at this point. You giggle, and watch him go to this van, wave at you and drive off. Maybe this wasn’t a bad idea after all.

You’re standing in line at The Hideout, waiting to be let in. You assumed that you had to wait like everyone else. There weren't that many people, about 50 all together but judging by the size of the bar, it would be a full house. You dress in a low-cut top, purposely choosing one that showed a decent amount of cleavage. A cardigan rests over your arm, and you opted for black leggings, the ones that made your ass look the best. If Eddie really did intend for this to be a date, you might as well look the best you could, with what you currently had in your closet. You hear your name being called out, and you see Eddie jog over to you. He’s wearing a sleeveless DIO shirt, and leather pants, his combat boots all untied. He looks so good. You’re practically drooling.

“What are you doing here?” He incredulously asks.

“I..you invited me.” You play with your fingers, nails digging into your skin. 

“Babe, I meant in line.” He reaches out, grabbing your hand and pulls you out of the line, where all eyes then fall on you and him. You noticed a few girls eye Eddie, too. Almost like a prey. “You get backstage access, doll.” He whispers as he leanes into you, and smirks. “You’re VIP.” He holds your hand, and takes you to the back of the bar, opening the door that lead you inside. “After you.” He says, eyes falling to your ass. It looked so plump in those pants, so biteable.  

“You look beautiful, by the way.” He says, admiring the subtle make up you had on. It wasn’t much, just some mascara and eyeliner. A little foundation to hide any blemishes and imperfections. “I like this top.” He runs his fingers over the fabric near your collarbone. Your cheeks heat up, as you send him a smile, looking down all shyly. 

“Eddie!” A man calls out, and you look to your left. You assume that is Steve, and a girl walking alongside with him. Robin? 

“Hey, man. Glad you could make it. Guys, this is Y/N. Y/N…this is Steve and Robin. And as I assumed, Nancy did not make it today.”

“Or ever. You know this isn’t her scene. She’s out with Jonathan, anyway.” Steve shrugged and turned his attention towards you. “Nice to meet you. Eddie has talked non stop about you.” He smirks over at Eddie who is internally cussing him out. “Let’s go get some good seats.” Robin smiles at you, and grabs your arm, locking it with hers as she pulls you to the stage floor. 

“Ughhh Steve, why’d you say that? Now she’s going to think I’m obsessed.” Eddie rubs his face, giving him a look.

“Are you not?” Steve smirks, and crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. Eddie shook his head and bit his nails, nervously. “I like her, alot.” He admitted to Steve, eyes following you around as Robin decided which area was the best to stand at. He liked how nervous you were around him. You were the sweetest girl he’d ever known. On the opposite end, he also felt like a creep though. All the perverse thoughts he had about you. They’d come to him when he was in bed late at night, a rhythmic movement of his hand over his aching cock as he'd imagine his tongue deep in your wet, throbbing pussy, satisfying his hunger. 

“I gotta get onstage, and set up.” He says to Steve, wanting to avoid any more of Steve’s banter. He nods, then meets up with you and Robin on the stage floor. Your gaze follows Eddie onstage, where he and the rest of the band finish setting up. He winks at you, and tunes his guitar. Most of all the equipment is there, just had to be connected and set up in the proper place.

“You excited to see the show? They’re actually really good! It’s a shame they haven’t been signed by a record label yet.” Robin says. You are caged in, front row, between both Robin and Steve. “Yeah, I’m excited. I just..don’t want to get my hopes up. Feelings hurt and all.” You say softly, seeing all the people from outside being let in.

“What do you mean? Their songs are not really offensive.” Robin says.

“Well, unless you’re someone with sensitive hearing. They’re loud.” Steve snorts.

“No, I mean. I don’t want Eddie to see me as..like the other girls that he brings here?” You say, a little unsure if you are going to get your point across. Their his friends, obviously they’re going to take his side. 

Steve snorts again. “What girls?” 

“All..the girls..?” You say, feeling a bit foolish at that moment. “This chick I work with knows Eddie. Says he brings all his dates here. And uhm, has his way with them. I'm not-it's not that I'm not attracted to him. He's super handsome, but I don't want it to be that type of date. I like him and don’t want it to be a one night stand type of date..” You nervously chew on the inside of your cheek. 

Steve and Robin both start to laugh, a good belly laugh, which makes Eddie look at you three. What are they telling you about him?

“Y/N. He's NOT like that. At all. I don't know who that chick is, but Eddie is lucky if he's able to get a girl to look his way anymore.” Robin said. 

“I mean, he's had girlfriends and dates, sure. But to say he brings all the girls here like he's some ladies man, is comical.” Steve said.  “But don't tell him we said that.” He smirks. “Eddie is a great guy, Y/N. And I'm not just saying that because he's my best friend.” Steve looked up at him. “Shows starting.” He says to you, nudging your shoulder with his as the lights dim, and a loud guitar note plays. The stage area is packed with all the people from outside, and they cheer.  The band seems to have a large following, people singing along to the songs. A lot of older, trucker looking guys and scattered were lots of girls too, older and younger, like yourself. In the middle of the setlist, you see Eddie grab the mic, placing his foot on the amp as he addresses the crowd, thanking them for coming out and supporting the band. He had a little surprise for you, and hoped you listened to Alice Cooper’s previous album, Trash, because he was going to cover one of the songs on there. He figured he’d take the risk and sing Spark in the Dark.  The lyrics were quite suggestive, and maybe tonight, he’d be brave enough to make a first move. 

You immediately recognized the guitar riff to the song, a big smile forming on your face, as you were by now more relaxed and enjoying the show, just like Robin and Steve suggested.

“Ah, welcome to the party.

It’s only me and you

Tell the world to go away, babe

And I’ll tell you what to do

Come over here and kiss me

I wanna pull your hair

Turn out the lights and hold me

I wanna touch you everywhere”

You sing along, all while your face is burning from the blush that spread over your cheeks, and thankful the stage lights are not pointed directly at you. You were certain you’d combust. You also notice a familiar sensation, one that was directly between your thighs. One that needed to be taken care of. Preferably by the front man looking down at you.

“We don’t need nobody, baby

We don’t need champagne

I’ll take you to the deepest

Darkest, hottest lover’s lane

For a little spark in the dark

Just a little spark in the dark.”

You’re staring at each other as he sings the song. You’re singing along, and he’s so good up there. Your favorite rockstar. You notice his hips move a little with every enunciation during the chorus. He grabs the mic stand, placing the mic on it as the guitar rests over his hips, hiding the semi he’s rocking right now thanks to the song’s lyrics and the perfect view he has of your cleavage. 

“I’ll come ‘round midnight

We’ll be crawling on the floor

Burnin’ with a fever

And yellin’ out for more

But don’t you write in your diary, baby

Don’t blab it on the phone

‘Cause if your dad and mom find out, 

They’ll skin me to the bone.

We don’t need instructions, baby

Don’t you be afraid

It takes a little friction, uh-uh

That’s how our love is made 

For a little spark in the dark.”

You want to melt into a puddle once the song is finished, noticing the sweat that glistens his skin, still sporting that sleeveless tank top. He sings a few more covers, and once the show is over, he bows to everyone, then directly tosses you a guitar pick. You’re giddy, as you’re bouncing on your tippy toes, holding it between your fingers.

“Look at the fangirl, now.” Robin smirks, clapping as the band gets off stage. “We get backstage privileges, being long time friends of the band and all.” She laughs, walking to the back of the bar, noticing the crowd had spread out between leaving for the night, and others to sit at the bar. You follow Robin and Steve, until you reach a room that almost looked like a utility room with all the amps.”Hey!” Eddie says, wiping the sweat off with a small towel. He looks directly at you, as if Robin and Steve aren’t even in the room. “That was amazing! And…the cover was really good, too.” You blush and try not to be too obvious as your eyes scan his body. His shirt is all damp from his sweat, shirt stuck to his body. You could make out his toned stomach. 

“I’d give you a thank you hug, but I smell. And I’m all sweaty.” He chuckles, noticing you shifting a little, your thighs pressing together. He gives you a little knowing smirk, and pulls out a cigarette, but Robin is quick to snatch it.

“No smoking. Especially not around your date.” Robin speaks out.

“You’re right. Bad habit, and manners. Sorry. sweetheart.” He cheekily smiles and puts away the pack of cigarettes.

“We gotta get going, but we’ll see you later, Eds. Come on Steve. Remember…we had that thing we had to do..” Robin says, pulling him on his arm. “OH right! That thing. Yes. Alright, you two have a good and eventful night. Nice meeting you, Y/N! We look forward to seeing you again real soon!!” Steve says as both him and Robin go running out. You let out a soft laugh then look over at Eddie, who is looking at you, not once did his sight move away from you.

“Can we..talk?” You say to him. 

Oh fuck, did he do something wrong? Was it the way he was looking at you? Shit. 

“Of course. We can step outside. It’s hot as fuck in here.” He says and you both walk out into the back of the bar, the loud slam of the door shutting making you jump. Eddie is nervous now. He’s sure you’re about to break the news to him that you don’t want anything to do with him. Maybe you found out of his late night activities, but that wouldn’t make any sense. He was sure you partake in those kinds of solo activities. Maybe you believed he was truly a devil worshipper. How can he convince you otherwise?

“I uhm, almost didn’t come tonight.” You start. 

This makes his chest feel heavy. He’d done something, surely. 

“How come?” His voice is small.

“I was stupid. I believed something someone at my job said about you.” Your stare is focused on the littered and dirty floor, not wanting to meet his eyes. You felt ashamed.

“What’d they say about me?” 

“I-I don’t-”

“What’d they say about me, Y/N? I assure you..I’ve heard it all. I’m used to it at this point in my life.” He says, his tone was a bit more irate and cold than what you were used to him being with you. Your eyes took no time in watering, and now Eddie was ready to throw himself off a cliff for making you feel this way.    He really fucked this up already, as he always does. Good job, Munson.

“She said that…you basically slept around. That you take them here on dates, and..and take them to that nasty bathroom for a quick fuck. Eddie, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have believed something like that. I just, I got scared to have my feelings and emotions played with. I didn’t want to be just another girl added to your roster.” You try to keep your composure as you talk to him, your eyes are for sure still watery, but by some miracle, you didn’t stutter. “If I’m being honest, I don’t have much experience with this. Like, yeah. I’ve done a few dates and all, but I've never had a boyfriend or had anyone touch me, or-”

“Sweetheart, it's ok.” Eddie takes a step forward and grabs both your shaky hands, holding them in his, practically engulfing them. “Look at me.” His voice is low, and he places a finger under your chin, tipping your head up. “I promise you, I am not that type of person. People will say a million things about me, and I can guarantee that most of them are just rumors. I certainly do not sleep around. I can't remember the last time I had a legitimate date with someone, let alone fuck someone.” He risked making himself look a loser just to make you feel better. His hand goes up to your cheek, and caresses it, letting out a chuckle. “Baby, there's no one I desire more than you…and I want to kiss you so bad.” He whispers, taking another step forward, his scent invading you. “Give me a chance to prove to you..I'm not like whatever these stupid fucks said about me.” His lips are impossibly close to yours, making your breath hitch at the close proximity. “Kiss me.” His voice is raspy. You embrace each other, your lips pressing together as the kiss deepens slowly. It was the first time you've experienced a true, deep kiss. You were sure he could tell. You opened your mouth, letting his hot tongue in to glide along yours and the quiet whine you let out makes him want to take you right there and then. You were inexperienced, yes, but quickly learned to breathe through your nose and move your mouth with his. Eddie's hand rested on your hips, and the other was around the nape of your neck, pulling you against him even closer, wanting to hear those  whines again. 

“Alright, get a room, you two.” Gareth groaned, hauling the large amp into the van that was a few feet away from you both. You blush heavily as you both simultaneously pull away from each other. “We will continue this at your place? I got to finish helping the guys..” Eddie breathed heavy, a similar rosy shade painted over his cheeks. 

“Yes, I'll leave my door unlocked. You can just come in..” 

“Hm, sweetheart. I don't think that's a good idea. What if the big, bad wolf gets in? And wants to eat yah?” Eddie smirks. 

“I certainly count on it.”

[sweetbans29]

Mic'd - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You forget that your are mic'd up during practice (based on THIS request)

Warnings: ADHD reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Please don't scold me if I didn't get everything right. I tried my best, I promise.

Your mind never stops going a mile a minute. You were diagnosed with ADHD when you were a kid, it was something that your parents had to adapt to when it came to raising you. It was when you were in 4th grade when they decided to put you into sports. You started as a swimmer but your parents soon realized you were much better on land. That is when they put you in basketball and it just clicked for you. When you picked up a ball and began shooting, everything else began to make sense. It did a really good job of keeping your mind and hands busy on a singular objective.

You were put on a club and travel team when you went into middle school and continued playing through high school. It opened many doors for you including playing basketball in college. You toured a handful of schools and finally settled on Iowa.

Your freshman year was a huge adjustment as it was the first time living away from home. It took some major adjustments but you ultimately got there. The change to college classes was one of the hardest changes you faced. You were always struggling to keep your mind focused on one assignment when you had like 20 others to do at all times. It often resulted in you starting one, picking up another, and then trying to start a third before either of the first two were completed.

One of the girls on your team became your saving grace and one of your best friends. Kate had become someone who helped keep you grounded when the world was spinning and you could not be more grateful. Your friendship with her has helped you navigate the transition into college classes and playing college ball. She was always one to help keep you on task. The two of you have come up with a system to keep your mind focused when it feels like you aren't moving fast enough or don't feel like you have the control your mind needs.

Kate is also the one who was secretly working on getting you and Caitlin together. She noticed how both you and Caitlin would act around each other and took it upon herself to see two of her best friends and teammates come together in what she believed to be a perfect match. One thing led to another and you and Caitlin had begun dating towards the end of freshman year.

When the two of you got together - you decided it to keep it between the team. It wasn't that either of you was necessarily hiding your relationship, you were just both content with the world not knowing. You told the people that mattered in your lives and that was enough for the two of you. Also, nobody questioned it considering how much time the team spent together and how much time the two of you spent with Kate. To anyone looking in, the three of you were like three peas in a pod.

That leads us to today. The media team was doing a series where they were joining different sports practices and putting mics on some of the players. You had watched the series and thought seeing some of the school's all-star players behind the scenes was so fun. You were honored when they came up to you and asked if you would be the mic'd up player of the week.

They get you all set up and you are ready to go.

"Testing, testing," you say holding the mic that was pinned in your shirt up to your mouth. You then look at the camera. "We are here live from Carver-Hawkeye arena with yours truly."

You point to your number on your practice jersey and head into a huddle with the team to kick off practice.

While you are in the huddle you nudge Kate.

"Yo Kate, guess who is mic'd up for today's practice," you ask her and give the camera a knowing look. She laughs.

"Bro, I helped you put the mic on." She says and you let out an 'oh ya'.

"Do you have anything to say to the Hawkeye fans who are watching this?" You ask, pulling your shirt to catch what she is saying.

"You are too much," she begins and you hit her arm. "I would say sorry you have to listen to this one for the whole practice." She says and runs away to begin a drill.

You feign hurt and hold your hand over your heart as if what Kate just said broke you. Not two seconds later you are bouncing over to Caitlin and putting your arm around her waist.

"You ready to crush this practice babe?" You ask as she is finishing up stretching. Before she can answer you continue, "Your legs are looking extra nice today. I likey." She just laughs.

"If I just lift this a little," you say lifting the bottom part of her shorts to reveal her thigh a little more. "The team would see those little love bites you like so much." Caitlin slaps your hand and yells your name. You laugh and let her go, going to start a drill.

During the drill, you keep making comments about how fast you are and how no one can catch you.

"Speed." You say with laser focus as you are the next one to jump in the rotation. "I am speed."

Every time Caitlin does a good job you are caught yelling something along the lines of 'that a way babe' or 'that's my girl'.

During practice, Kate kept giving you weird looks but you think nothing of it.

During one of the water breaks, you walk up to Caitlin who is sipping her water. You lean against the wall.

"So, you come here often?" You ask in a flirtatious tone.

She pushes your chest and rolls her eyes. You come up behind her, wrapping your arms around her, and spin her around.

"You love me," you say as you put her down.

"You know I do," she says, kissing your forehead.

The rest of the practice is filled with little comments to your girl on how good she looks and how great of a job she is doing.

"Have you seen those edits that people are making of pigeons?” You ask one of your other teammates.

"What are you talking about?" they say back with a laugh.

"You know the ones where they draw like stick figure arms on them while they are walking around," you say. "Imagine being a bird and not having arms or hands."

You then stick your hands in your practice jersey and walk around. Someone throws a ball at you and you just let it hit you. It bounces away from you.

"Caitlin! Caity! CC!" You say running up to her with your arms still in your jersey. "Would you still love me if I was a pigeon?" You ask her.

"Of course, babe. You would be my pigeon," she says laughing her ass off.

"Good," you say. "Because you would be mine regardless of the animal you were.”

Not ten minutes later you are back in a drill.

"Oh ya, I got this," you say to yourself as you are going up for a layup. You flip it with your left hand and it banks in. "Money!" You yell and run to the back of the line.

As practice comes to a close, the team is scrimmaging. You go up to Kate and she reminds you of a very key detail you forgot about during practice.

"So, how was being mic'd up?" She asks and your eyes go wide, finding the camera that has been following you around the entirety of practice.

"Shit-fuck!" You whisper as you remember all the things you said during practice. "SHOOT - FUDGE" you yell remembering this was going to be on the media team's Youtube page.

You facepalm yourself pretty hard causing a nice slap sound to echo in the gym.

Caitlin runs up to you removing your hand from your face and kissing the place you just slapped.

"Don't slap yourself that hard babe," she says examining the slightly pink mark developing on your right eye and forehead.

"I fuc-messed up," you say and you point at the cameras.

Caitlin turns and Kate just stands there laughing.

Caitlin joins in on the laughing and brings you into her side, squeezing you and kissing your temple.

"Ehh, it was bound to happen sooner or later," she says.

After practice, you thank the media team for choosing you and you head back to your apartment with Kate and Caitlin.

"I can't believe I forgot about being mic'd up. I am so dumb,” you say as you crash on the couch. Your girlfriend comes and sits next to you, pulling your legs onto her lap.

"Don't worry about it babe - no one is going to care." She says rubbing your legs.

"Well, I don't know about that..." Kate says as she passes her phone to you.

You and Caitlin look at it and both of your jaws drop. The media team posted it and it already had 7,000 views. You scroll down to the comments and see people have attached links to their edits. You click on one and it takes you down a rabbit hole of edits that were already created shipping you and Caitlin.

"This is crazy," you say and hide your face.

Caitlin just laughs and continues to rub your legs.

"I think it's cute," she says with a smile.

"I royally messed up." You say.

"Hey," your girlfriend pulls you out of your thoughts, which she knows are going faster than you can comprehend. "If I would love you as a pigeon, I will love you through this, okay?" She says and lifts your face to meet hers.

"Okay," you say and lean in to give her a kiss.

AN: I would lowkey be the best mic'd up person out there. The thoughts that go through my brain sometimes are epic. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! And as always, thank you for your live and support 🤍

[happysparklingshadows]

A Certain Hunger (4/?)

Chapter 3 ✿ Chapter 5

Summary: It's been a few weeks in this cabin, and thinking about being saved is getting a little bit bleak. So, you have a good idea for everyone to find a job to make things easier for your time being in Canada. You pick up a fishing rod, and everyone else picks up the gun to see who will become the hunter. You reconnect with a childhood friend and start to accept your new home.

Pairing: Surviving!Poly! Yellowjackets x reader (slow burn)

Warnings: Smut, HOMOSEXUAL SEXXX, Lowkey controversial entirely written sex scene with a character yall wouldn't guess lol, Lowkey mean reader, Depiction of a terminal illness and death of a mother, 90s setting with the views of the time, homophobia and internal homophobia, Homophobic slurs, Alcohol/drug use, gore and blood, depictions of mental health, depictions of death, 90s slang is used (411 means giving the tea or details of a situation to someone).

Word count: 13.4k

Notes: I want to apologize for my hiatus, but it was for good reason. I needed to care for my father, who got very sick around September last year when I was going to write the 4th chapter, and he has since been better. Sadly, I lost my motivation, but I have detailed notes for the following 8 chapters, and I will be trying to finish seasons 1 and two of the story as soon as I can before the third season airs! This year, for NANOWRIMO, I have decided to write for this story and see how far I can go within the next month or two. Thank you to everyone who was so kind and understanding about my disappearance and still loves my story!

“(Y/n), what the fuck is a ratio?” Jackie whispers to you loud enough for Shauna to hear beside you in a lull in math class. Mrs. Goldberg had to leave the class for some reason, you don’t remember why. You smile over at Jackie with her lovely brown eyes and take a good look at her. She’s as beautiful as you remember.  

You chuckle as you look into your notes and say, “From what Mrs. Goldmen wrote, an ordered pair of numbers a and b, written a / b where b does not equal 0.” You read from your notes as Shauna and Jackie looked blankly up at you from the obtuse definition. You laugh with them, “Whatever the fuck that means!” 

Jackie and Shauna laugh with you, but Jackie groans in frustration at the last question. 

Taissa, behind you, leans forward and smiles, “What’s wrong?” 

Jackie turns dramatically to Taissa as she pulls her paper over to Taissa; she just wants the answer now. You look at Jackie moving around as Van pulls your attention with a hand on your shoulder. 

“Hey, (y/n), can you help me with the first question? Jackie stole my answer key.” She joked as you turned to help her. 

You giggle at her joke as you look down at the paper. 

It was blank. 

There weren’t even questions printed onto the page like you thought. You looked at your paper again, flipping it around but finding that it had nothing written on it either. It didn’t have the answers you thought you were writing on it.

You furrow your brows as you look up to Van, but the redhead isn’t there. Neither were the others. A chill runs down your spine as you start to remember. 

The door of your old math teacher's class slams open, causing you to squeal and jump from your desk. That then was the only desk in the room. It was as if when your eyes looked away from something, it disappeared. 

Mrs. Goldmen looks at you with a sad, sympathetic smile as she leads you to the hallway; you don’t have any control at the moment as your legs walk you down the hallway with her. Mrs. Goldmen's hand is on your shoulder as she says words that have been etched into the gray matter of your brain. “Honey, your mother has gone to the hospital, and your father is here to pick you up.” 

You remember this. This was the day your mother’s health got so much worse. The day you became her caretaker. 

Fat tears run down your eyes as you walk to the office door. Mrs. Goldman disappears when her hand leaves your shoulder. You look around for her; the hallways of your old high school are empty, and liminal darkness creeps in the corners of the walls. You felt an urge to go into the office. 

You held the cold handle and turned the knob to the left to open the office door. 

It wasn’t right. 

You are met with the darkness of the woods, which has claimed you as its own. You turn, and the hallways no longer protect you from the cold forest. You scream as you are surrounded by woods again; the door stands alone with its hinges.  

 You feel the ripe cold air coming up your legs and arms; you hug yourself. 

Howls from the trees start to chant above you. Every corner was a howl from a freakish, unnatural octave, and you started to feel the snow melt under your toes and the nip of the winter bite at the skin of your arms. Unbearable and cutting is how it felt—hunger in the air. 

You look down at yourself and see something that drops your heart. 

The gold heart necklace from Jackie’s Sweet 16. 

You don’t think before you run. You run straight and away from trees as the howls follow you. Helpless as sticks and bushes stopped you as you rushed through the 4ft of snow. 

You sob and run, knowing you are coming to an end. You are going to die. You should just stay still and watch with open eyes as they slice your throat, shoot you with an arrow, or stab you with a spear. So why would you run? 

But you ran anyway. 

Raw, cold toes feel the crunching of the snow. Twigs tickle between your toes and scratch when you lift your feet. 

You don’t hear anything anymore. You are in the heart of the woods; the tree watches you as you finally fall onto a mound of snow. Nothing makes any sense. You cry and feel yourself shake with adrenaline; you need to keep going. 

A chanting comes to your ears. You freeze in the moment; you hear yourself. 

You crawl towards the song, French humming and chanting from a distance. 

Over the hill, you see yourself dressed in your old headdress, the pink stain furs of a white rabbit made into a cloak with the head of a doe adorn on the top. You circle the campfire that cooks the meat; the others dressed in their cloaks watch with stabbing eyes. 

The queen in the center watches a younger you dance around the fire. The Antler queen nods her head and looks around the circle. 

You watch yourself take a satisfying bite of the fatty meat from the pan that cooked the chunks. The others immediately rush to the pan and take their share of the meat. The grease shines on your satisfied smirk on the younger self, bubbling in your stomach. “Wake up, " you blurt out to yourself in a panic. 

You gag as your eyes fill with tears. 

No. 

No. You don’t want to remember this. 

This wasn’t even the worst of it. 

Stop. 

Wake up (y/n) wake up wake up wake up wake up-

‘21

You wake up violently from your dream. You feel yourself lean harder onto the surface you were on and feel a darting pain from a rod in your neck. You gasp as you look around, realizing you weren’t in your house again. 

The tree whispers to you again. You know it. 

You stand in the wooded area behind your home. It was always comforting to hide in the trees and smell the sun's sweet earth, playing pirates or whispering about boys you never liked with Shauna and Jackie. This was your hideout as a child. You played fox and hounds and painted nails as you watched the sunset. You hate it now. It screams at you, and it itches your skin to be surrounded again; you need a little distance. Your breath is short again. 

Your hands cling to the tree behind you, and you feel something in your hand: your pocket knife. You turn around to look at what you have done again. You stare back at the symbol. Even when you dream, you seem to find a way to protect yourself, even a little bit. 

You put the knife in your nightgown pocket. And you backed away. Slowly accepting the fact that this is something you will never stop doing, no matter the pills, sleep therapy, or drinking, can make you stop sleepwalking to the trees when you think about them. It follows closely behind, no matter the distance. 

Fucking Shauna. 

When you went to her house last night, you weren’t planning on sleeping with her.

You were sitting at her island drinking coffee like you usually do. Ever since you returned from New York to Wiskayok, you reconnected with Shauna because of the brunches with Jackie's parents. You have been coming over for coffee to talk about your lives like regular people. It was refreshing to look at Shauna and see an adult woman instead of the girl you grew up with and survived with. Not seeing Shauna was especially hard after coming home from the wilderness because you were the closest to her before the crash, even before you knew who you were. You still don’t know who you are without her in some ways. 

You both talk about the upcoming brunch, how you'll get a rabbit as a present, and how Jackie’s parents will talk down to you like they always do. But as the conversation continues, Shauna confesses that she and Jeff are in a deep dry spell. They haven’t touched each other in a long time, and how Shauna has not been touched in a long time. Then, without even thinking about it, you two start kissing each other. 

Then, something instinctually comes over you as you kiss and touch each other. The planned 40-minute coffee became hours of love-making.

But as soon as the passion ended, you left. You felt satisfied and a little weird from your desperation with Shauna. You get dressed, kiss them goodbye, and return to your lives like it never happened, like it has always worked. You remember feeling so grateful Callie was sleeping over at her friend's house and Jeff was out of the house for the night for some reason. 

When you drove home, all you thought about was your day with Misty and Natalie, Travis killing himself, and making love with Shauna. It was a blast from the past. As you entered your driveway, an intrusive thought came to mind: the image of a pan over an open fire frying chunks of meat.

You shouldn’t have gone to bed thinking about the past. This only happens when the team creeps into your space; they always do that if you give them a chance. 

You thought grumpily as you walked back to your backdoor. Your cat, Ginger, rubs on your legs when you get into your backyard. Your nightgown has mud at the ends, and your feet are dirty; your toenails have dirt under them. 

A black van passes by as you walk into your home. It hisses in the wind as it drives by. You look at it, worried someone will see the dirt on your nightgown and think you are some senile old woman. 

You get back into your home and sigh. Rubbing the ache in the back of your neck, you start a pot of coffee for yourself before you start your day. You needed a moment for yourself before you had to act all day, masking all your quirks and characteristics to seem normal. 

“You don’t think people can notice you’re a little crazy, right?” 

You froze as you put your cup of coffee on the counter. You know that voice. 

“I mean, I love you for how crazy you are, but you have been losing it a lot lately.” Jackie’s voice says behind you. She always stands in her yellowjacket uniform with curled hair; she looks precisely how she should be remembered. “Don’t want you to bite someone on accident.”

“I’ll try not to, Jackie. But you never know; someone might not know not to put their hand so close to my mouth.” You say back at her. You feel your eyes well; she was always so sad to remember even more when you see her. Her phantom has been long accepted and dreaded, but something that no one could stop. You didn’t know if you even would want her spirit to leave you. 

“Well, you should comb your hair and take a bath. You look like death… smell like it too,” Jackie says, and as if she was never there, she was gone. 

You sigh and rub your eyes. You turn back for your coffee and pour sugar inside of it, “It’s too early for this shit.” You mutter to yourself. You can’t get angry at this. It’s your best hallucination, and you couldn’t get mad with Jackie, never with her. You got to leave, but Jackie never got to the chance to live out of the cedar and butterfly weeds. 

‘96

“Lottie, I know it is… fucking weird as shit. But we can’t pass up a house in the woods, okay? I didn’t see any books wrapped in human skin.” You say softly to Lottie as everyone finishes their breakfast of berries and gossip. You rub the stinging at the back of your neck that can’t go away. 

“I know, but it just doesn’t feel right being in the same house as a dead body,” Lottie says back. 

“Well, maybe we can make something for the house to ease, you know, the energies.” 

“Like charms?” 

“Maybe? I have never dealt with this situation, but I trust you can settle the energies here. You are so good at being a peacekeeper.” You say to her and put your hand on her shoulder; you take it off quickly because you still don’t know where you stand with her after last night's kiss. Because you know if the others were to look at you and check if you were gay, you would be quickly exposed. 

“Thank you, (Y/n)...” She says, looking down at her shoes.”Are we okay? I didn’t mean to make things weird. I don’t even know what I was thinking.”

You smile, hiding the hurt, and quickly say, “Oh, my god, yeah, we are, Lottie. I get it. We have been through a lot, and we just wanted some comfort. It’s not a big deal.” 

Lottie chuckles out of relief and pats your arm; she nods. “Okay, good; I didn’t want anything to be weird.” 

“No, nothing is weird, Lottie.” You reassure her as you move yourself away. You want to peel your skin off, and a sudden loneliness surrounds you. 

The morning moves on quickly. Travis sits on the porch with a gun, and you just stare at him as you walk to the campfire in front of the cabin with the angler's box and pole. 

“Okay, everyone! We need to talk plans!” You announce in your loudest voice. Everyone circles the fire and the porch to listen to you; every morning since the crash, you have made an effort to set goals for the day and get through the days until rescue. “Okay, so we’ve been in these woods for ten days. We are low on food but shouldn’t worry too much longer. We now have a fishing line and a working pole with the help of Lottie and Shauna,” You say as you smile at the two. The others do the same, giving little thanks to the two blushing girls. “So, we’re not hopeless right now; anyone who wants to learn how to fish can come with me and see if you want to do that. But does anyone know how to use the rifle?” You ask the group and consider your list of things to speak about today. 

Couch Ben clears his throat and says, “I went hunting with family before, so I can teach people who want to.” 

You nod your head at him and say, “Okay! Everyone should try it out to see who is the best with a gun. We’ve been out here for a little bit, and I am sure we will have to take care of ourselves until they get here-”

Jackie interrupts, “So, we shouldn’t worry about the food because they must be close by now?” 

You look over at her; you know why she is talking. She doesn’t want a job, and she doesn’t want to worry about getting saved. But it has been 11 days since the crash; you don’t want to kill hope. 

“Well, kind of. We should be prepared if it takes them a few more weeks to find us in these woods. Jackie, we’re in the thick of it right now, so it would be better if we all tried to use the gun and see if we can hunt-” 

“Well, are you going to try out the gun?” She asked you with crossed arms and a well-known tone of annoyance. 

You suck your teeth and tilt your head to her, “No, I am going out fishing. I know I am good at it, so I will do that. You can try to see if you are good at hunting. It’s just a tryout.” To end this small conversation, you say, “Okay, so the goal for today is to find some food and learn some skills tonight. Mari, Laura, and Krystal have already volunteered to clean and do the projects we have started at the cabin, alright? Anything else?”. 

No one else had anything to say. You nod as you hold up the fisher pole and say, “I am going to the beach to fish and make a little project. if anyone wants to come with me, you will find me.” You say this as you see that no one will move to fish with you for some reason. You nod and start heading out of the campsite and walking down Natalie's trail to the lake. A few nights ago, Natalie took the time to crave a path to the beach and plane with small crosses on the trees. She wanted everyone to be able to tell where they were in the woods without getting lost.

The days have gone by quickly lately since you all have found the cabin, and it's been getting to you a little bit. You didn't like the feeling of being able to find your way around the woods, even though it was convenient. It still would never replace your home. You missed home, and you can't tell anyone else about it. 

As you walk down the trail deep in thought, the sun hits your eyes through the leaves, it reminds you of your backyard. It’s precisely like where your tree house stands just outside your home, where you can look out the window and see your mother washing dishes. God, you missed your mom. And as of an hour ago, she should have taken her morning medicine and had her legs messaged because she can’t walk around too much. You feel your throat tighten, and your body has a wave of emotional nausea. 

“Hey, Wait up!” Shauna called from behind you on the trail. 

You stop and smile at her, “Hey, Shauna. You coming with me?” you ask. 

“Yeah, I don’t want to touch the gun. I don’t want to kill anything.” 

“I get it. I hate fish, so I like killing them.” You joke to her with the best deadpan voice you can muster. 

Shauna chuckles and shakes her head softly, “You’re a freak, you know that?” 

“Oh yeah? You’re not going to say that when I get a fish.” You cackled. “You can just journal if you want; I am just going to make you help me make a lazy fisherman.” 

“What’s that?” 

“It’s a heavy stick supported with rocks with a hook and line attached. It just catches fish without anyone doing anything. You just raise the line, and hopefully, a fish is hooked.” 

“We have hooks? What was in that box?” 

“Not a lot, but it had a bait hook and a lure for the pole. It had some rusty hooks and oil for the pole. I made some hooks from the pop things on top of the cans.” 

“The tab?”

“Yeah, I kinda cut them and made them like hooks. I’m thinking about making a net while we’re here.” 

“You think we’ll be here long enough for that?” 

“I don’t know; all I know is I will go crazy if I sit still too much. I overthink, you know.” You confess to Shauna as you come across a wide river a little off the trail from the lake. You and Shauna make some marks on the trees to make a path back to the trail. 

After a while, the two of you settle up after making a lazy fisherman. It was easy to be around Shauna. You’ve been sandbox friends, and that kind of love never dies. You mainly talked about school and the annoying people you knew, like Randy. The biggest meathead you’ve ever met. 

“Randy smells like Salmi and is cold to the touch but also is very hot when you stand near him.” You say to Shauna as you cast a line with a little bug at the end. You sit on the river's edge with Shauna sitting against a tree. 

Shauna laughs out loud as she hugs her journal to her chest. And you keep going on your rant. 

“Honestly, girl, If I ever hear him say the words Faggot or Dyke again, to Misty or Kevin or whoever. I’ll write a story about him eating Jeff’s ass and finally getting to feel Jeff’s sweet touch. Because you can’t tell me he isn’t in love with that guy.” You say with a laugh in your tone as you can’t talk straight. It’s ridiculous, but it was so funny to both of you. Shauna is snorting like a pig next to you, making you fall on your back, laughing. 

“What the fuck?!” 

“He thinks about gay people too much to not be gay!” You laugh louder. Both of you laugh until your sides hurt. It felt nice just to be girls for a moment in the woods, and you pretend you were at the back of your house with Shauna. 

It lulls for a moment before Shauna asks, “Randy called Misty a dyke?” 

“Yeah. At the Spring Fling.” You said with a little bit of sadness going through. You felt so bad for Misty in moments like that. “I remember when me, you, and Jackie got there after getting ready seeing Misty-”

“In that big puffy pink dress,” Shauna says, pointing a finger at you. She remembers, and she smirks a little. At the time, unfortunately, you laughed at her dress for being out of date and seemed to be “trying too hard.” 

“Yeah… But Misty was just there and- I mean, I am not going to say Misty is cool or that she isn’t weird. Sometimes, I don’t know if she isn’t an alien, but she isn’t mean or disgusting.” You say as you gently rile in the line. You feel yourself frown a little bit. “She was standing in the corner without a date and any friends, and Randy just comes up to her and calls her an ugly dyke.” You say a little quieter. 

“Oh my god, that is so horrible; why didn’t you tell me the 411?” 

“I mean, I only knew because she cried when I went into the bathroom. I was a shoulder to cry on; I didn’t want to make it a thing if Misty didn’t want to. I wish I could have done something. Fuck Randy.” 

“Fuck Randy!” Shauna agreed. Shauna looks at you fish peacefully as the sound of gunshots rings in the distance. You look over to her and think about the next thing to discuss. 

“So, Jackie is mad at me, isn’t she? Jackie learning how to shoot a gun?” You ask her, point her to talk to you about Jackie. You love Jackie deeply, but she usually causes drama within the trio. 

“Yeah, she is being a bitch lately.” 

“Yeah, I think she has the worst attitude out of everyone, but I can’t be upset that she is trying to come to terms with the crash.” 

“Okay, but she doesn’t have to fight everything you ask her to do. You’re just trying to help everyone.” 

“Thank you. And yeah, I hope she will stop fighting me every step of the way, but we just don’t know how long we’ll be out here, so I just don’t think we should be so argumentative…” You sigh and look at her with wary eyes, “I’ll talk to her. Like I always do. It’ll be okay. We love each other. No fucking gun will get in the way.” 

“You’re right. It’ll be okay. We must be here for each other before we’re rescued.” 

“You're right.” You say as you keep watching your line in the water. Praying for a fish to take a bite

‘21

You smile as your father laughs at the TV. You rub your hands to apply lotion to his shaking ones. You and he were watching “I Love Lucy” because it was his favorite childhood show. 

He doesn’t have fully solid days constantly anymore, and it's the reason you have him in the nursing home. Somedays, he was just like you when you returned from the wilderness. He wouldn’t eat or do anything but watch TV. He would sit in his chair and watch TV; when it was off, he didn’t know where he was anymore. One day, he forgot where the bathroom was in the home he had lived in for 45 years, and he wet himself before you found him in the living room looking in the china cabinet, thinking it was the bathroom. But other days, he was as sharp as nails, playing chess and talking about things from the 70s like it was yesterday. 

You felt your heart drop to your stomach when he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s and early-set dementia, but you were calm. You were now an adult with savings and a career, and you had the means to care for him now. To repay him for him nursing you after you came back. 

You remember the nights he would pet your hair back after you vomited from episodes of PTSD. How he would sit in your bedroom holding you in his lap with tears in his eyes, listening to you scream in his chest. He just sat there with you and let you sob; no words were needed. He just stood there and let you cling like a little girl again. He let you yell at him and berate him as if he were the wilderness himself because he knew you weren’t yelling at him. He knew when to push you forward and when you needed to be held. 

He helped you through the 5 years of healing after you were found. You had a total of 3 surgeries to make your brain's blood vessels normal again. You had to wear a splint on your neck for 1 year. You had to have countless MRIs throughout your life. Countless painful nights as your neck stabbed at you and caused you to feel no comfort. Your dad was always there with you, sitting beside you at every doctor's appointment and every event. He would only sit outside the waiting room for your therapy sessions. 

Your father looks at you with (e/c) eyes and a soft smile, “I’m so happy to see you, peanut.  How is your job?”

“Well, I'm still stuck around the last few chapters of my trilogy, Trying to fight my publisher for more time," you say as you let his shaking hand down and go to his other to lotion them. They were callous and dry. Your father's hard work was shown in his battered hands, which shivered. “You took a shower already?”

“Yeah, I wanted to look nice for you.” He rasps with a chuckle, his wrinkled face still holding his cheeky smile. He had the same soul as he always had, and moments like these make you think of happy memories of being in the woods with him and your mom. 

“Oh, thank you, dad! I was going to say it didn’t smell like a caveman in here.” You chuckle back with him as you finish rubbing the lotion on his other hand. 

“Oh, hush, you!” He slowly pokes your side and cheek, holding a smile. 

“No.” You giggle back at him as you stand up, your hands moving to comb his hair. “Have the nurses been kind to you?”

“Sweethearts. Kirsta, the night shift nurse, is very kind. She comes in here when I sleep and never has a bad attitude.” He said as he leisurely scratches his nose, “Don’t hate the food.” 

“Well, that's good, Dad.” You say as you look down at him. He looked clean and comfortable in his recliner. “I should get going. I need to get a few words down before I go to bed.” 

“Alright, Peanut.” He says and takes you in. He grabs your hand gingerly and says, “I love you. Be safe. Text me when you get home.” 

You chuckle and nod your head. You find it adorable that your father still wants you to tell him whenever you leave him. Even when you lived with him at your grown age, he wanted to know you were safe. “Of course, Dad! Don’t worry.” 

“You better, " he says as he points at you with a shaking finger. He was so cute to you at that moment. You just laugh and nod your head to him. “I will!” you state back with a big smile.

You leave his room and start walking down the hallway of the nursing home. Walking down the halls, you can hear the other residents talking and watching TV.

You hear a ping on your phone and see Shauna texting you again. You sigh as you click on the notification. 

Shauna  Okay so I did something bad.  You  Like what? Did you rear-end someone again? Shauna  No  Shauna Dinner You Omg you went to the dinner? What happened? Shauna Jeff is cheating  Shauna Jeff is cheating on me, and he isn’t trying to fix some fucking data system. I am just so done. Shauna So I went to dinner.  Shauna  And I stayed for dessert.  You  Omg you didn’t Shauna Yep, and I am going to see him again tonight. You  Shit Shauna!  You I mean, get your lick back but don’t go too far. 

As you approached the front of the nursing home, which had a large circle desk for the nurses, you turned on the curve and accidentally tripped over another woman. 

You look at the woman with a smile, which drops for a second because you know her. It was Misty. You didn’t realize she worked here, where your father is, but you quickly perk your lips up again.

“Oh my god, Misty!” 

“(Y/n)! What are you doing here?” 

“Oh, well. My dad has been here for a while, and I am here to visit! I didn’t know we were going to meet again so soon.” 

“I was picking up my Tupperware, which I left yesterday.” She shows you her red-top Tupperware in her oversized purse. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to have Chocolate Martinis at Antonio’s; they are outstanding.” 

You didn’t want to. You have been seeing the team too much again, and you had sex with Shauna last night. You become increasingly like how you used to be when you get around these women. 

“Sure! You wanna pick me up from my house?” You blurt without a second to stop yourself. You wanted to kick yourself, but you couldn’t stop it. 

“Great!” Misty beams with a big smile as you both leave the nursing home. “I’ll tell you about the Travis situation, " she adds as she walks beside you. 

‘96

You and Shauna sat beside the riverbank for a long time, talking about everything and nothing. It didn’t feel like you were doing anything as you and she gossiped about the others in the wilderness. It was relaxing and pleasing. You kept looking down to your now two fishing lines for any signs of fish. The sounds of gunfire going off in the distance, in an odd way, were comforting because you knew where everyone else was while being far away. 

While waiting for the fish, you started talking about school and dances- anything to keep your mind busy. 

“So, after my mom curled my hair and did my makeup, she left me to get my dress on. You remember the one purple one with the ruffles.” 

“Sophmore year homecoming, right?” Shauna asks as she points to you, trying to remember. 

“Yeah, that one. I don’t know if I have ever told you, but the zipper popped open when I put on the dress.” You said with a smile hurting your cheeks as you laughed loudly from your gut at your story. It used to make you cry thinking about that time, but now it is funny. Shauna bubbled in laughter beside you as you continued, “She was yelling at me, crying and sobbing, that I was going to that dance whether I liked it or not. She just started sewing me into the dress.” 

“No fucking way your mom sewed you into a dress!” Shauna laughed with you as she grabbed your arm. Her eyes water with tears as she laughs with you. 

“No, she did! It was the last time I ever got anything from Macy’s.” You giggle as you glance back to the fishing line one more time. 

Shauna began to chuckle softly, her eyes crinkling slightly as she listened to your story. It made her miss everyday life before the crash. "God, homecoming. I wish we were back there instead of this," Shauna motioned to the wilderness around us with a sigh.

"Yeah, same. I would much rather be crying about being fat over this any day." You sign as you lean on Shauna’s shoulder. You try to keep the good vibes that were made, so you smile and nudge her, "But, hey, we have each other, and people are looking for us. They have to be."

Shauna smiled softly as you moved closer to her. She smiled at you, but inside, she wasn't sure if she believed you'd be found. But she didn't want to worry you. "Yeah, of course. Maybe we're already on the news," she added, attempting to sound optimistic.

"Oh yeah, I don't know how people haven't heard about us,” You said quickly after she finished because you believed you were headline news. “ All our families must be doing everything to find us, and they would have known as soon as the plane didn't land." You added a lump in your throat growing as you said families. You thought about your family's reaction and everyone’s family’s reaction to them being missing. You couldn't imagine the fear and worry they must be experiencing, not knowing where you all were. But you tried hard to push those thoughts to the back of your mind, needing to remain strong.

"I'm sure they're out there looking for us. They'll find us," she said, mostly trying to persuade herself and you. 

"They will, and all we have to do is wait until they do." You nudge her again and smile, saying, “Besides, we have good company.”

As you move your head back, you see the lure dramatically dunking into the water. You quickly grab your pole and start to reel in the fish. As ywou start to move, you can feel how heavy the fish is on the other end. 

“Whoa, oh my god, did you catch a fish?” Shauna asks in excitement as she sits up on her knees beside you and looks at the water. 

“Trying to!” You say back as you keep reeling in the fish. 

Suddenly, after struggling with the reel a little bit, you pull up two fish on one hook. You squeal in happiness as you quickly grab the two fish with pride. Shauna squeals with you as you hold the two big fish. 

You and Shauna hug each other happily as you hold the pole up, “Holy shit! Holy shit Shauna!” 

“They are fucking huge!” Shauna gushed as she grabbed one of the fish and immediately cringed at the feeling of the fish’s slimy-scaled skin. “Gross” 

“I know, right? Come on, let's get this back to the cabin before we get some more,” you say with a big smile. You feel relieved. You all will eat tonight and be full tonight. Your dad would be very proud of you. 

You walk back to the cabin in triumph as you laugh and talk with Shauna all the way up the trail. Before too long, you arrive at the cabin, and everyone starts to finish off firing the gun. 

Van's face brightens like a light bulb as she sees you two walk to the cabin with dinner: “Whoa! Look at you!” 

Everyone’s attention turns to you, and they cheer for you both on for the find. 

“You got a fish!” Jackie squealed as she sat up from her seat on the cabin steps. Mari came over and grabbed the fish with a big smile, holding the fish from the mouth with her finger. “No, they caught two fish!” Mari said back, she looked into its lifeless eye. 

“I didn’t do anything.” Shauna chuckled as you shook your head, wanting to share the praise with her. 

You roll your eyes and look back to Mari. You notice behind Mari that Natalie is looking at you with a serious face that you can’t place in your mind. You couldn’t tell if Natalie was angry, happy, or disgusted by the fish. 

“Yeah, the pole still works, thank god.” You chuckle as you put the pole on the wood seat you all have made around the fireplace. You add, “I think it’s a good sign we got two fish. Maybe it’s the woods telling us we’ll be okay until we’re found.” 

You look up to the group, and your eyes meet Lottie’s as if you were saying, “See, told you so” with your eyes. She warily smiles at you and looks down as you silently converse with just the context from earlier. 

“You are you trying to sound like Miss Cleo? Wanna read my future?” Jackie jokes and snickers at your comments, dismissing them as stupid. You chuckle and shake your head, “No, Jackie, I’m being hopeful! I can overread a thing or two.” You say as you push her shoulder; she looks at you and chuckles. 

You and Mari let the fish rest on the cabin table before you descaled them for dinner tonight. There was more than enough for everyone to eat, and it made you feel so proud to be able to provide dinner for everyone. And because you were going to wait anyway, you both put a bowl on top of the fish to keep it fresh until you return from everyone testing out shooting on cans. 

You didn’t care much for the gun or the loud noise of it going off, it unsettled you deeply. It made you feel uncomfortable and cringe at the ringing in your ears. 

Lottie and Van placed the old cans on a log infront of the group, quickly retreating into the brush of the woods. With your arms crossed, you lean against a tree, waiting for everyone to finish practicing there. 

“Team, this is how this will go down—one final round for all the marbles. You got five targets, five shots each. Mari, can you start us off?’ 

“Um, just a thought. Shouldn’t we be saving bullets, you know?” Laura Lee added with concern in her voice. 

“Uh, yeah, in theory, but lucky for us, the nutjob who lived here before was apparently hoarding for the apocalypse.” Couch Ben reassured as best he could. You could tell he didn’t want to be here, but he was putting up as much of a front as he could.

Mari fires a shot at the cans. You quickly cover your ears as you cringe at the boom. She missed the can, and you recoil before she goes again. 

“The cans,” Travis mocks as he looks at her with narrowed, judgemental eyes. You couldn’t stand him in any way lately. His mere voice made you wish it was a gunshot. “You’re-You’re aiming for the cans.” 

“Shut up,” Mari snapped at him as she cocks the gun, still holding it to the cans. 

“Do you like being this way?” Natalie says to Travis, her eyes slowly rolling to him in annoyance. Waiting for the gunshot, you haven’t moved your hands from your ears. 

“If you shit the bed again, you gonna ask for another do-over?” 

Natalie shakes her head at him quietly as you glare at him. You just want him to shut up with his edgy and macho persona so everyone can get on with this stupid practice. You added, “You don’t ask for a do-over, you just clean your fucking bed, we are shooting cans, idiot.” 

Your hands aren’t as firmly over your ears as Mari fires again. You flinch again as you cover them. Your eyes locked in a broad expression as you looked at the cans; the startling way the sound ripped through you, made you freeze like a deer in the woods, hoping the bullet wasn’t for them. 

And she fires again quickly, this time hitting a can. You smile and nod at her, keeping your hands over your ears. You now see the eyes on you as you react to the sounds. You feel a blush over your body as embarrassment comes over you, but you can’t bring yourself to pull your hands down. “Hey. All right.” Couch Ben says calmly but clearly happy she finally hit a can. “Good job, Mari.”  Everyone slowly claps for her. She smiles, and as she walks back to Akilah, she thrusts the Gun into Travis’s hands. 

Travis immediately starts preparing to shoot at the cans, and he hits four cans until he misses his first. 

“So close, flex.” Natalie teased him from behind. You looked at her with a snicker at her comment. 

Suddenly, Travis turns around with the gun ready in his hand, and he aims it at Natalie’s face. “Don’t fucking call me that!”

“Whoa!” You gasp as you step closer to Natalie out of instinct to protect your friend, your eyes as wide as saucers. 

“Travis! Put the gun down.” Couch Ben shouts demands at him, His eyes wide with panic because he can’t stand and take it away from him. 

You don’t even think as you yell, “Put the fucking gun down, Travis! What the fuck are you doing?” 

He then turns around and shoots at the cans after an intense silence. You cringe again at the sound of his gun. 

“All right, that’s, uh-yeah, that’s good shooting, Martinez. Don’t ever do that again.” Couch Ben says awkwardly as everyone quietly watches on with tension in their shoulders. You felt yourself seething with anger bubbling in your stomach. 

“Don’t choke. Again.” He says to Natalie with an antagonistic glare. 

He then backs away and stands near you. You look at him with disgust as you spit at his feet, “Stand away from me, asshole.” You hiss at him.

He looks at you in surprise that you are still so angry at him that you just keep your mean mug on him, and he steps away. He was surprised at your sudden outburst, as did everyone behind you because you were known for being overly friendly, but you ensured he knew not to be near you. 

You look at Natalie and nod, “You got this, girl.” you say. You cover your ears quickly before she does anything else.

Natalie looks at Travis with the same intensity as you and takes a smooth, deep breath. She then puts the gun to her shoulder and hits each can without hesitation. One by One, they drop to the forest floor. She then smiles slowly as she finishes. Everyone cheers and applauds her for showing Travis up.

You snicker as you look at her. Natalie moves her head towards you first. Meeting your eyes with happy eyes and a big smile, she looks at you quickly over and looks away to the other. You blush quickly, trying not to overthink about her looking for your approval first and your praise, and you don’t think much about her looking you over. She sure wasn’t checking you out. 

After the gun practice, everyone searched for berries and mushrooms in the woods. Travis left to the cabin with his tail tucked between his legs after you kept telling him to go away. He left after you said that you don’t trust him and no one should because he acts like a brat. He looked hurt and looked around at the other girls with eyes that screamed he regretted what he did with the gun, but no one had his back. He just stepped back, and you shook your head as you turned to the others. 

“Are any of these, like, Maple syrup trees?” Laura Lee asks as she looks up at the tall sycamore tree.

“What?” Tai questions as she walks behind her, towards the clearing a few feet away. 

“I don’t know,” Laura Lee mumbled as she walked away. She softly touched your shoulder as she walked by, needing you to stabilize her from the trail's incline. 

You found some chestnuts on the ground. They were fresh and not ready yet, and you put them in your pocket as you heard Akilah smack Misty’s hand. 

“Don’t eat that kind,” Akilah panicked as she pushed the mushroom in Misty’s hand on the forest floor. “It’s poisonous.” 

Misty looks at her with big eyes and a little shaky hands. 

Van says, sarcastically, “Like “Kill you” poisonous, or like, “trip your balls off” poisonous?”

“What? I don’t know. My Girl Scout leader didn’t get all that specific about it.” 

” (y/n)?” Taissa asks as she kneels to the ground with Mari.

You look over to Taissa, looking at tiny button-like mushrooms that grow from decaying animals. 

“Don’t eat that one either. That's a dead mushroom. It is too new to eat if we could eat it. It would be like eating rotting meat. Don’t even touch.” You say as you look for more nuts on the forest ground. “Try to look for nuts. They are on the ground. If it has a hole, just drop it for the animals.” 

“Well, could you just show us something edible so we can get going?” Misty asks kindly, impatiently—this is the first time you have heard her sound like that. 

Taissa looks behind her to Misty, rising to stand over her, “What’s the big furry?” 

“Coach needs a sponge bath?” Van teases Misty with a smirk, and you feel one grow on your lips at the joke, too. Everyone pauses to look at Misty, animals looking down at the runt. As a snicker comes to their lips, Taissa fully laughs, covering her mouth. 

“That’s-That’s so mean.” Taissa laughs as she looks to the ground. Everyone softly holds their laughs as Misty storms off. Van laughs as Misty rushes past and giggles out, “I’m sorry. Whatever.” 

Van puts her arm around Taissa’s shoulders, and you look at them. Jealousy courses through you. Why couldn’t you have someone like they do? 

“Get off me!” Taissa patted Van’s arm away. In response, Van smears a smash berry she hid on her finger on Taissa’s face. “Did you put a berry on me?”

“I did.” Van said, taking her arm off her, and moved herself towards you. 

“Okay, so, everyone, we just need to focus. We know we can’t touch those and those ones.” Taissa spoke to the group, trying to lead them back on track,

“No mushrooms, No mushrooms.” Van says as she starts to look up the trees for the chestnuts. 

“Uh, Guys…” Jackie called out from a few yards away. You all moved quickly to her voice out of concern that she had encountered a wild animal in the woods.

 “Jackie? “What is it?” you called back as you rushed to her. 

“Guys, come here!” Jackie laughed.

“Look! Holy Shit!” Jackie exclaimed. You come over some trees and bushes to see Jackie slapping the door of a small personal plane that has vines and moss growing on it. The woods themselves are almost swallowing it, as it has had overgrowth for at least a decade, only covering and trapping it in place.

“W-what is this doing here?” Van asks in disbelief. 

“It must have been the dead guy’s.” Jackie says as she looks at the wheels being stuck in the mud. 

Laura Lee quickly finds the door and opens it, “I wonder if It still works?” Laura Lee questioned to no one in particular. 

Van gently spins the propeller, “Holy fuck!” 

Laura Lee is inside the plane, messing around loudly. You don’t want to get near that thing. You never want to be near a plane again. You stand away as you watch them touch the plane in excitement, everyone else coming closer to the plane.

Suddenly, as your anxieties manifested themselves to life, the plane started from Van’s spinning the propeller and Laura Lee messing around inside. The engine started with a startling rattle as it crept forward. 

“Holy shit.” Van says as she steps back in shock. Jackie is wholly frozen until she suddenly pushes Van out of the way of the plane. 

“Back away! What the fuck?” Jackie says as she is frozen in place.

“Stop the fucking plane!” You scream out to the plane. You feel yourself planted to the ground. You didn’t even react when Van fell to the ground. Everyone yells to stop the plane, and Laura Lee panics inside the plane, crying out, “I’m trying! I’m trying!” 

The plane stopped just in time to avoid harming Jackie. She looked at the plane with buggy, big eyes and took a deep breath of relief. 

Everyone pauses after the intense change of events. You stand frozen in silence as you look down at the wheels and wings. You had an intrusive thought creep into your mind, but you quieted quickly before speaking it out. 

Lottie looks on, almost disassociated, as she says, “It didn’t want him to leave.” 

You turn your head to her and look at her deeply concernedly. She says what you had thought. Maybe the wilderness didn’t want the mummy to leave. That's why he did what he did in the attic and why the air was so suffocating. 

‘21

You giggle at Misty’s goofy joke about old men as you try not to spit out the chocolate martini in your mouth. Earlier today, Misty called you to ask how you were doing after the road trip because she thought the air between you and Natalie was off. She just wanted to check up. It ended up with you sitting across from her at an Italian restaurant. 

“Yeah, so I just turned off the oxygen tank.” She says to add on to the joke, which kind of makes you laugh harder because you can see her doing that. 

“Stop, you didn’t!” You giggle again as you try to hide your face with a napkin; your face is red hot. 

“I didn’t-” Misty laughs with you as she sips on her chocolate martini. She says, “I wouldn’t do that to anyone.” 

“No, you wouldn’t.” You say it with some sternness from Misty’s character. You make her feel more supported if you sometimes reaffirm what she wants to be seen as. You see her in that way. No one likes to be told who they are. 

You notice her laugh, look slightly behind you briefly, and note it. 

“Well, So, How is your work? Any new boos” Misty asks as she takes another sip of her martini. You feel yourself smile at the question and know she asks for more profound reasons. 

“No, no, nothing special about work. And just little flings here and there. Keep the bed warm,” you say as you look at Misty’s eyes intently. You feel a little tense when you ask, “And you? How is it going with Kevin?” You ask with a soft joke about the last time you saw each other. 

Misty became slightly flustered momentarily and shook her head, “I was trying to get Natalie out of her comfort zone.” Looking behind you again, she says, “But more or less the same. No one special enough to say they dated Misty Quigley.” 

You chuckle and smile at Misty’s last comment, but you look behind you as soon as she finishes talking out of curiosity. You see behind a window of the inside of the restaurant. Dressed up nice, Misty is holding her head on her fist, listening to the man across from her, Natalie. Misty is following Natalie. 

“Misty-”

“I can explain!” Misty says as she blabbers on, “I was trying to keep an eye on her and make sure she is okay after seeing Travis because she might do something crazy or relapse.” 

You quietly listen to Misty explain herself with a soft smile as you scoff softly, pulling out your phone, “And here I thought you wanted to spend time with little old me.” 

Misty squeals, “I did want to see you. I wanted to get a drink.” 

“It’s okay.” You chuckle softly and say, “Sometimes you trade friends out for a night out. It’s alright, girl.” 

Suddenly, Misty straightens her back and smiles softly. She lifts her drink to her lips as Natalie rushes to your table. You lean back on your chair with wide eyes, holding your chocolate martini. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Natalie hissed to Misty, standing in a black dress. She was clearly on a fate tonight, and you couldn’t help but feel a mumbling jealousy in your stomach as you looked at her.  

“Okay, so, don’t look now, but,” Misty lowers her voice to a whisper and says, “that reporter, Jessica Roberts, is sitting at the bar right now. She’s watching you.” 

“And what are you doing?” Natalie tilted her head to the side as she looked at Misty with suspicious eyes, her tone clear of annoyance. 

“I’m having your back.” Misty stated. 

“Y-you’re having my…” Natalie is in disbelief. “How did you even know I was even here?” 

“I’m a citizen detective, " Misty said, looking at Natalie with big, innocent eyes. 

“I hate to break it to you, but we’re not Rizzoli and Isles. I don’t need you.” 

“Yeah, but, Natalie-” 

“Go the fuck home.” Natalie spat. 

“Alright, you need to stop talking to Misty like that-” You finally cut yourself into the conversation.

“Who are you speaking to?” Natalie snapped her head to you and said, “I expect this from Misty, but you? I don’t understand why you are here.” 

“I’m here, having a drink with Misty. I saw her at her job, and we decided to get drinks.” 

“Oh please, you came here to spy on me! How fucking pathetic. Don’t you have to write a book about rubbing off a genie?” She hissed at you and looked daggers into you. She went too far in your eyes now, and you lean on your elbow on the table as you look back into her eyes. 

“Oh, aren’t you so strong and high mighty?” You hiss lowly to Natalie. Ever since the night in the woods with Natalie, you have had difficulty holding back your teeth when you feel cornered, even a little. “Misty is here protecting you and having your back like always. Because Jessica,” You point to the bar, Jessica looking to the bartender to order another drink, “Is here waiting for you to relapse to spill the beans about it. Stop biting at people trying to be there for you; you might not be so alone. Now go drink, and go on your date with goth freak Kevin Tang.” You cut coldly as you look into Natalie’s blue eyes. You grab your drink, lean back in your chair, take a sip.

“Make sure you don’t go too far. You might need to get another one of your coins, right? What does that make it 9 times you have gotten a sobriety coin?” you stab at her and mention her many times in AA. You didn’t care how hurtful or unnecessary your anger was to her. You must say it to her, and she needed to hear it. She needed to back off Misty. 

It was intense, and it was real. 

You didn’t need to bite so hard. But she didn’t need to bite first.

You two hold a glare as Natalie steps back and scowls at you. She doesn’t say a word. You know why. 

It’s because you are right.   

You feel Misty touching your hand and saying, “Are you alright? That was pretty harsh.” Once, Natalie returned to her table with a perfect smile mask. 

“I’m alright. But I think we should go now.” You say softly as you touch Misty’s hand back, 

Misty holds your hand with a squeeze quickly. She wants to hold you. You have protected her yet again from the wolves in the group. 

You both held the heavy silence as you softly panted a bit.  You felt it in the car; it was surrounding and whole. You were happy and open, as always. 

In the car, you look over to Misty, noticing the flustered face she holds. She was always awkward, but you always found her adoring. As you both drive down to your home, the trees that pass hypnotize you into a calm place. You feel your body, and with each breath you take, cold air enters your nose, and an image of last night's dream comes to your mind. Running past trees, you felt as if you were back there somehow. Maybe it was because of the anniversary, the reporter, or Travis’s death; you couldn’t pinpoint it, but you felt a forgotten hunger you hadn’t felt in a long time. You let it take over like it did them because of the exciting thrill of it all again. It felt youthful and intense. 

“Misty.” 

“Yes?” 

“Do you miss me?” You ask her as you softly touch a lint off her shoulder.

“W-what do you mean? I have been with you for the past two hours.” She says as she drives down your street. 

“No. No, Misty.” You chuckle, and the hunger comes over you. You want to feel warm; you have been far too cold lately. “Have you missed me and the warmth we shared?”

You don’t understand yourself. You sound like you did all those years ago in the woods. How sexual you became without trying. It felt like the air around us darkened into lustful wants and licks. How natural you were with your body. 

Misty was caught off guard by how quickly your words changed the car's atmosphere. The memories of the wilderness and how you looked her over suddenly brought back feelings that she thought were long gone. Misty’s throat tightened, and her heart quickened as she glanced over at you, taking in the expression on your face as you asked her the question. She slowly parked the car, her hands gripping the steering wheel tight “Y-yeah, I did…”

Your hand snakes onto Misty’s inner thigh, and your thumb rubs the fabric of her jeans. Your eyes stare down at your hand. 

“Would you like to feel my heat again?” you whisper, feeling your hot breath hitting off her cheek. You don’t understand the tingling and desperatiness your cunt feels at this moment. You shouldn’t have touched her, spoken to her, or even considered thinking about her. You knew better than to let yourself cave into your primal instincts, instincts you have because of the wilderness with them. All the hurt in the woods manifested into want as it always did.   

Misty’s breath hitches at the feeling of your hand on her thigh, and her heartbeat quickens in her chest as her skin tingles under your touch. It's almost as if no time has passed at all. Your words and desperate tone send a shiver down her spine as she glances over at you, her eyes darkening with lust and need. “Yes… please.” She whispered back, her voice filled with want. Your hand moves up her thigh and softly rubs the fabric at the crotch of her jeans. You could feel her heat underneath. 

You lunged at Misty, cupping her cheeks with your hands. You pulled her into your face and kissed her. Your lips met and mashed together as your hands moved closer to her, pushing her back against the driver’s side door. Thank God you live on a dirt road. 

Misty lets a small gasp into the kiss as your hand moves up her thigh. Her body already feels as if it's on fire. She responds to the kiss passionately, her desire for you growing with each passing second. She reaches up and grips your hair, pulling you closer as she deepens the kiss, her tongue exploring your mouth with desperate need.

(y/n) hands quickly work to unbutton Misty's jeans. You move your kisses off Misty's lips to her jaw and neck. Misty lets out a small moan as your lips move down her jaw. She leans her head back and closes her eyes, surrendering herself to the feel of your lips on her skin. The feel of your tongue moving down her neck, sending small licks and nips here and there, makes her shiver in pleasure. You softly growl in lust as you start to pull the jeans and underwear down her pale legs, your thumb touching the bare skin. She spreads her legs farther apart, allowing you to pull her jeans and underwear down, her breathing getting more labored with each passing second. 

You quickly push your two fingers inside of Misty’s weeping cunt, and she dramatically moves her leg to the center console for you to have more of her. You move her head from her neck and just look at her as you push inside of her, a gasp rattling the car escapes from her. 

You look into her brown eyes for a moment as you see when pleasure takes over her being as you feel her walls tighten around your fingers. You feel her pink, wet hole flex and twitch to your fingers; it feels like she hasn’t had sex in a long time as you start to pump your fingers into her. 

Her hand locks into your hair, or more so your head, as she rubs her other hand on your shoulder. She softly pushes you down to her cunt as she rolls her head back in a deep moan. You feel the vibration on the pads of your pointer and middle fingers. You feel the hotness of her cunt as you lean down, her musk clouding your judgment and making you think of only one thing. 

You lean down, pushing your body to the floor of the passenger’s seat, licking her cunt. You taste her flavor and wetness leaking from her clit. You circle your tongue around the bulb with reckless abandon. You feel her gushing onto your fingers, and her loud moans only encourage you to go harder. 

“(y-y/n)! Honey- right there, yeah!” Misty’s needy, desperate moans fill the car up with hot air. Her legs shake as she rolls her eyes.  She panted like an animal as you tongue into her, sucking up all her wetness as you could. You felt throbbing in your wrist as you curled your fingers up to touch her soft spot. You could have been here for days and not cared. 

Misty grabs her breast as she arches her back to your mouth. She moaned louder and louder to tell you she was going to cum, but you didn’t care. You kept licking and sucking her juices. 

“Sweet Jesus!” Misty whispers to the air as she feels you fuck her harder with your mouth. She finally lets out a high-pitched, needy groan as her feet curl, legs twitching. Her eyes closed as her head hit the glass of her door, and she leaned back to relish in the feeling. You bury yourself in her folds, looking up from her lap, and watch as she shivers, as your tongue doesn’t stop. 

You move your mouth up to her clit again and your fingers into her hole, pounding her with an elemental need to feel your fingers caress her cervix. You don’t move again. You don’t care how uncomfortable it felt as your legs were pinched into the floor, or how the cupholder stabbed into your rib, or that your neck was throbbing so that you could hear your heartbeat. You wanted her, and you wanted to feel her ultimately come undone to your fingers again.

‘96 

The clattering of some forks and spoons scrap across the plates, people talking over everyone else, and the heat of the fire warm the cabin’s first floor. Everyone was in a better mood after shooting practice and settling for the night. Travis sits alone in the corner of the room, rejected by everyone tonight as punishment. You felt yourself thinking about him being sad and alone in the corner. “Good.” 

Jackie and Shauna sit beside you at the table, your attention entirely on them and their discussion about how Pamala Anderson’s sex tape scandal. 

“I mean, she shouldn’t have been a slut and done it, is all I have to say.” Jackie shrugged and took a bite of the white fish, and her face cringed when she pulled out a small bone. 

“No!” You say with a chuckle and shake of your head, “Someone shouldn’t have robbed their safe and sold the sex tape.” 

“She shouldn’t have even done it. Like, who just does a porno if they are not a slut?” 

“She was with her husband. Who else are you supposed to have a sex tape with?” Shauna asked as she shook her head at Jackie.

“No one! No one should ever do a porn! It's so degrading.”  

“I don’t know, I don’t know how someone would want to make one, but she wasn’t with a whole lot of guys.  She’s married to Tommy Lee. And it was supposed to be his thing for tour.”

“Yeah, who wouldn’t think a Mötley Crüe member would have a sex tape? I wouldn’t be surprised if they taped the many other women they have fucked,” You say as you delightfully eat the fish. It was fresh and delicious after days of only eating berries and leftover snacks you could find from the crash. You are having meat, and it feels like a real treat as you haven’t tasted anything as delicious in weeks. 

Before you could continue, Van touched your shoulder as you looked at Jackie. You turned to her as she said, “Hey, do you have a sweater I can burrow? I don’t think anyone else has anything I can wear.” 

You smiled big at Vanessa, nodding your head, and stood up. “Yeah, I have a few.” 

“Where are you going?” Jackie asks sassily as you get up. She tilts her eyes at you. 

Shauna looks up at you and is slightly confused, but she also asks, “Are you coming back?” 

“Yeah, just getting something for Van, hold up.” You say as you start to walk away. 

“Thanks, (y/n). You're a lifesaver.” Van beams as her smile moves with you. You touch her shoulder as you walk past her, and you walk over to the other side of the cabin to the bags. 

You were one of the lucky ones that found all your luggage. You had your carry-on, luggage, and purse still intact and untouched from the fire. You were so happy to have your journal and book you haven’t finished, but you felt bad for everyone still looking for their things. Van could only find her carry-on; some didn’t have anything they packed. You all carried every bag you could find, but some still had missing clothes. Because of that, Van has been coming to you to burrow clothes as the only other heavy girl much smaller than you, so you let her burrow your shirts and hoodies since the crash.

 A small sandwich bag falls to the floor as you open the bag and grab the heavy yellowjackets sweatshirt. It was your stash of weed with the rolling papers and filters. You blush as you quickly grab the bag from the ground and put it into your jeans pocket. You look behind you to see if anyone has seen that, with embarrassment painted all over your face.

You walk back over to Van and hand her the hoodie. You smile widely as you sit down. You didn’t want everyone to know you had weed, but you think that tonight would be the best night to do anything. You smile as you whisper into Jackie’s ear, “I have weed.” 

She stops eating instantly, and her eyes bug out. She looks over at you and laughs, “What?” 

You hit her shoulder softly as she laughs again, “You have what?” 

“What?” Shauna asks, besides Jackie, and when you two make eye contact, it makes you laugh. 

You whisper in Jackie’s ear again. “I have weed. Would we like a joint?” Jackie laughs and hits you on the shoulder, her mouth wide open in shock and amusement. She nods her head and whispers to Shauna, and you turn your head to Van, “Hey, I have a joint-” 

“What?” Van asks as she leans her ear towards your lips. Your lips accidentally graze her ear, and you say, “I have a joint. Tell the other seniors. Don’t be suspicious; don’t tell the underclassmen.” 

Van smirk grew wide on her freckled face as she nods her head, she says. “Okay, I’ll let them know. When are we doing this?” 

“When everyone is asleep, " you tell her, knowing that if anyone overhears you, they will not understand what you are discussing. 

 You light the joint with a twig, puffing the air out of the end of the filter. You hear muffled giggles from Jackie and Shauna beside you. " Stop laughing,” you snicker back and pull the joint from your lips. You pull Shauna and Jackie to the back of the cabin and show them the weed you packed on the plane. You all decide to roll one out. 

“Didn’t know you would have the good stuff,” Jackie smirks with an amused laugh in her voice. She takes a puff and hands it to Shauna with a muffled cough. 

Shauna laughs softly as she also smokes and coughs in response to inhaling the smoke. She covers her mouth with her elbow, and you laugh at her. 

Van moves behind the cabin's hunter shed, and Taissa, Natalie, and Lottie follow her. 

“Hey!" you say to them as you take a hit of the joint and blow the smoke quickly.

Natalie says to you, “Damn, (y/n). Didn’t know you were such a criminal. Hand that over to me.”

You giggle happily as you hand it over to Natalie. You look up at her from your spot on the log. She looks down at you with heavy eyes as she takes a hit. She slowly looks over your face again before handing it over to Van. You felt a blush come over you again as you felt her eyes scan over your features, and you didn’t know what to do. You felt insecure and flattered at the attention but still deeply hesitated to meet her eyes. 

Natalie, who never passes up a joint, reaches out her hand to take it from you while Taissa eyes it. Lottie looks at the joint and then at you with a tiny bit of concern; the others knew she’d probably be the one most concerned about the joint.

“Where’d you get that from?” Nat asks as she inhales the joint.

You felt yourself joke, “Where do you think I got weed from?’ 

“I don’t know. A drug dealer.” Van jokes to you with a scrunch of her freckled nose. 

“Sort of. My mom is the one who has the weed. She has a weed card since she got diagnosed with cancer.” You said without realizing the words from your throat. You hadn’t thought about your mom almost all day, “She grows some behind our house in the woods, Natalie,” You point at her jokingly, “Don’t get any ideas. You have to buy that shit.” 

Everyone laughs loudly at your joke. Lottie takes the joint and smiles, holding the smoke in her mouth. You look at your feet, and suddenly, your mother comes to mind. You think about your mom, and a lump grows in your throat. Did she take her night medicine? Is she watching Frasier? Is she worrying about you?  

From the side of the shed, there is a crunch of leaves and twigs, and a petite figure comes from behind the shed. Natalie turns herself and turns back to face you. She gives you a face of “fuck it's her again.” 

Misty comes from the shed, pushing a curl behind her ear as she looks at the group. You smile at her as Jackie rolls her eyes, smoking the joint beside you. 

“Hey Misty! What are you doing here?” 

“H-hi. I was going to the bathroom. What are you guys doing?” she asks nervously as she approaches the group. 

“Drugs.” Lottie says as she looks at Misty with a humorous tone. 

You laugh as you take the joint from Jackie and wave your hand to Misty to enter the circle, “Come closer, it’s okay; it’s legal here.” You joke, and it makes everyone laugh with bloodshot eyes. Misty chuckles and looks around at everyone in approval. Sometimes, it was painful to see her so desperate for some kind of friendship that it made you feel bad, so in your intoxicated state, you pulled your hand out for her, “You can try it if you want to, Misty. Sit.” 

Misty’s eyes looked wide as everyone turned their head towards you as you invited her into the smoke circle, but no one stopped you. They seemed also to want to see what Misty does. 

“I-I can? Is it safe?” she asks as she approaches the log beside you. 

Jackie snickered and looked at Misty with narrow eyes, “No, that’s why we are all smoking on it.” She condescended. 

You shake your head and take Misty’s hand. “Ignore her. Just don’t take a huge hit. You gotta get used to it, then you’ll want more,” You told Misty gently. You puff the joint before it goes out in the wind. Your body is starting to relax and calm in the woods, and your neck doesn’t hurt as much as it did earlier. 

You hand Misty the joint, and everyone watching the scene plays out with amused eyes. You gently hold your hand over hers to guide her. “Have you ever smoked a cigarette?” 

“No, they’re bad for you.” 

You chuckle and nod, “Yes, but they are just like weed. You take small inhales, not like you're trying to breathe it in, but sip on a drink with a straw, okay? Baby puff.” You say, pulling the joint back to your lips and showing her. 

Your lips wrap around the filter softly as you take a quarter breath in. You then dramatically hold it out and show that you take the rest of the breath through your mouth. You hold the smoke in for a moment and then let it out for her to understand. “You get it now?” you cough. 

“I-I think.” she says as she takes the joint from you, holding it between shaky fingers. She takes a puff and then starts coughing furiously. Natalie took the joint from Misty’s shaking hand before it fell to the ground, she takes a puff inbetween her laughs. 

Misty holds her fist to her lips as she tries to get all the smoke out of her lungs. Everyone laughs happily and claps for her when she does it, enjoying seeing Misty try something for the first time. You put your hand on her back to pat it gently. She seems to relax at your touch momentarily before finally getting her coughing under control.

“You finally tried marijuana for the first time!” You exclaim and rub a circle on Misty’s back, her cheeks crimson. 

“It was amazing,” Misty breathlessly says as she looks at everyone else. Everyone is very high now, and their eyes are bloodshot and dry. You smack your lips, longing for a drink. 

“Misty, have you ever drank?” Lottie asks as she sits with her knees to her chest. She tilts her head to the sides and watches Misty’s facial expressions. You didn’t understand the feeling you felt from her eyes. It felt almost like she was studying and calculating Misty. You have never seen that look on someone. 

Misty studders and says, “Y-Yeah, I have. I stole some sherry from my mother’s cabinet.” 

Van laughs a little “whoa” out as a joke about how mild Misty’s confession was, the smoke of the joint coming out of her mouth like the hot breath of a hunger wolf, and she says, “I’ve done crazier.” 

Taissa looks at Van with a playful glare and says, “Like what?” 

“I stole a whole bottle fo whiskey from my mom. And she didn’t even find out. She didn’t even realize she didn’t drink it, so she just got more for herself.” Van confesses with a smug smirk on her face, and Natalie chuckles and nods her head like she’s done that before to her mom. You felt a little wrong about what Van said because it made you feel like her mom had a nasty drinking problem. 

“I did that before with my mom’s cigarettes.” Natalie says, “They never notice if you just take a few here and there.” 

Jackie smirked and said, “I know every one of my mom's pills in the bathroom cabinet. I took a few for the trip. She’s never caught me before.” 

“My dad is very strict with those things. I don’t think I can do anything without my parents knowing,” Lottie said, looking to the ground with a severe expression. You couldn’t put your finger on it, it her confession felt like it had a little more then she was letting on. Lately she has been off and talking more vague about things, and confessing more things about her life. Lottie’s parents were strict but the more you hear about them it sounds like they hover over Lottie’s every move.  

“My mom just grows the shit, and I just take it.” You blurt out with your words softly slurring because you are high, and you realize you talked about your mom again. Was she okay? 

Everyone laughs at how you talk and starts to laugh at their words sounding like yours—slurred and funny to hear. 

You felt a sudden wave come over you as you laughed with your friends. It felt good—maybe too good—so good that it made you think about your mother. Was she okay? Did she get her pills on time? Did she bathe? Did she go to chemo?

In your laughter, your laughs turn to sobs in a second. You cover your mouth as heavy sobs leave your throat. You couldn’t help yourself. You couldn’t stop yourself. 

Everyone slowly realized that your sounds weren’t in glee anymore; they were out of sorrow and a moment of weakness. 

When you look, you see brown eyes, concerns, and worry on all the faces. You let out one thing that you knew was going to hurt them. Your body didn’t stop itself from letting out deep-seated sorrow. 

“I’m sorry. I really miss my parents and momm- mom so much.” You whimpered as you wiped your tears. You had a full belly and a fire keeping you warm. But inside, you have never been so cold and helpless in these woods. 

Everyone’s faces soften and twist in their sadness. We all know what we are feeling, and they also start tearing up. Everyone missed their parents, and you felt like an asshole even saying anything. 

You sniffle and try to stop your tears. Being strong has worn you down, but you have a “strong shoulder.” Like your father always said, you can handle the hurt. 

You say to everyone, “I think we all need some love right now. Group hug. Please.” Standing up, throwing the dying joint into the fire, moving your plush arms around to urge them to you.  

One by one, they stood, hovered over you, and hugged you and each other—a moment of shared pain and joy. Being strong was hard, but as you felt them hold you, you felt a second wind. You have to get yourself and the others out of here. Out of these fucking woods. 

Note 2: Sorry to anyone who wanted to be on the taglist and I couldn’t add you! I hope you still find this fic!

❀ A03 ❀ wattpad ❀ spotify playlist  ❀

Taglist: @zhivaxo @h-doodles @homopheli @bigtimesalt8196 @juniperjean @scatorccioz @juniperjean @yaakooi @lottieswebs @juchily @freezinggay @deathly710-blog @ghostoflesbianism @marvelous-wandanatangel @errriiie @anskkks @deathvidal @slutforhotpeople @thursdayygrrrl @day-ziez @evewasheretoday @mayasaurusss @captainbabybear @eleanormall @mommyeater2000 @leonchef @mikititta @tigersarrcool @nyasbae @dykepvppy @jax1118 @oakwave @mmiah @dvrkhcld @swiftin0f @opheliadeservedbetter-27 @psychicdreamwonderland @pinkmoonzzz @under-your-bed-not-in-it @sadsapphic-rose @fictitious-sapphic

[esotericalchemist]

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐱 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲 - 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⋆.ೃ࿔*

TikTok (Matrix of Destiny) - Masterlist - YouTube (subliminals)

The Cash Flow Point in the Matrix of Destiny highlights the energy and strategies that influence financial prosperity. It reveals how an individual can activate abundance by aligning with their unique strengths and overcoming potential blocks. Each Arcana at this point offers specific guidance, from cultivating creativity to embracing change or finding balance. Understanding these energies provides valuable insight into creating opportunities, managing resources effectively, and unlocking the flow of prosperity. By tapping into this knowledge, one can align with their financial potential and achieve greater harmony in their material life.

Calculate your Matrix of Destiny here:

Matrix of Destiny calculator

( if that one does not work, use the following link: alternative calculator)

! --- LOOK AT THE NUMBER LOCATED IN THE BLACK SQUARE IN THE IMAGE BELOW --!

So in this case it is 15!

𝟑 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬

Money flows easily to you when you tap into the energy of the 3rd Arcana—creativity, beauty, and harmony. Whether it’s designing, organizing, or bringing people together, your ability to make things flourish is your financial gift. Creating something meaningful, no matter how small, opens doors to abundance.

A big part of your success comes from nurturing what matters most. So, stay hands-on and let your ideas grow into something wonderful. But here’s the catch—if you let doubt creep in or ignore your talents, that flow might slow down. Taking too much on at once can also drain your energy, leaving you stuck.

Stick to what inspires you, give your projects love and attention, and trust that your creative energy will keep your financial garden thriving!

𝟒 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐫

Building stability is your key to unlocking cash flow under the influence of the 4th Arcana. You’re at your best when you create order, set a strong foundation, and stick to clear, steady plans. Whether it’s organizing your finances, creating a budget, or setting long-term goals, your ability to stay grounded is what attracts prosperity.

But watch out—being too rigid or resistant to change can block your progress. If you cling to routines that no longer serve you or shy away from taking calculated risks, your financial flow might stall.

The secret? Balance structure with flexibility. Stay disciplined, but keep an open mind. A solid foundation doesn’t mean you can’t adapt, and that combination will keep your cash flow steady and growing.

𝟓 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭

Your cash flow under the 5th Arcana thrives when you embrace learning and sharing knowledge. You’re naturally skilled at guiding others, and this ability to teach, mentor, or communicate your expertise can open financial doors. The more you expand your mind and help others grow, the more abundance flows back to you.

That said, one thing that might slow you down is overthinking or hoarding knowledge instead of putting it into practice. Success isn’t just about learning; it’s about applying what you know.

So, don’t hold back. Share your insights, stay curious, and keep building connections through your wisdom. The more you lean into your role as a guide or expert, the more financial opportunities will come your way.

𝟔 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬

With the 6th Arcana influencing your cash flow, love and harmony are at the center of your financial success. When you invest time and energy into meaningful relationships or projects you truly care about, the rewards—both emotional and financial—naturally follow. You’re at your best when your heart is in your work and your decisions feel aligned with your values.

What might get in the way? Overgiving or prioritizing others’ needs over your own can drain your energy and resources. Staying in unbalanced partnerships or ignoring your emotional instincts could also block your flow.

The key is balance. Honor your heart, nurture your connections, and ensure you’re giving to yourself as much as you give to others. When your life feels harmonious, abundance follows naturally.

𝟕 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐭

Under the influence of the 7th Arcana, your cash flow thrives on movement and determination. When you set a clear direction and pursue it with focus, success has a way of finding you. You’re someone who gains momentum by taking action—your drive and persistence are your greatest financial assets.

What could block you? Spreading yourself too thin or rushing without a plan. Impulsiveness or trying to control every detail can also slow your progress.

To keep the flow strong, stay disciplined and channel your energy wisely. Keep your goals in sight and trust that steady, intentional movement will lead to financial breakthroughs.

𝟖 - 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞

Money finds you when you embrace balance and fairness—that’s the vibe of the 8th Arcana. It’s not about being overly cautious or taking wild risks. Instead, focus on making decisions that feel fair and aligned, both for you and others involved. When you stay centered and thoughtful, your financial flow becomes steady and reliable.

However, there’s a catch: overthinking can slow you down. If you get stuck trying to make everything “perfect,” you might miss chances to act. Another pitfall? Letting unfair situations slide, which could drain your energy and resources.

So, aim for balance. Trust yourself to make the right calls, keep things fair, and let that inner sense of justice pave the way to financial growth.

𝟗 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐭

When the 9th Arcana influences your financial flow, patience is your greatest ally. This isn’t about racing ahead; it’s about taking the time to dig deep, learn, and grow. You might find that your wealth comes from skills or knowledge gained through quiet persistence rather than flashy moves.

On the flip side, withdrawing too much or getting stuck in analysis can block progress. If you avoid sharing your work or hesitate to take action, opportunities might slip by.

Here’s your takeaway: Trust the process. Stay focused on what you’re building, but don’t forget to step out of the shadows and let others see the brilliance you’ve been quietly creating. That’s when your flow really begins.

𝟏𝟎 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞

The energy of the 10th Arcana spins the wheel of your financial life, bringing opportunities through cycles and change. Your key to success lies in adaptability—when the tides turn, ride the wave instead of resisting it. Luck often finds you when you stay ready and open to what’s coming next.

But beware of complacency. Sitting back and waiting for the wheel to turn in your favor could keep you stuck. Equally, fear of taking risks can stop you from grabbing the opportunities that come your way.

Think of your finances as a partnership with destiny. Take inspired action when opportunities appear, trust the natural flow of change, and let the wheel guide you to new heights.

𝟏𝟏 - 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡

Strength is your foundation for financial flow when the 11th Arcana is in play. Your success grows as you face challenges head-on, calmly navigating obstacles with resilience and focus. You’re the type who can turn a tough situation into a stepping stone simply by believing in your ability to handle it.

However, pushing too hard or doubting yourself could slow things down. If you let fear or external pressures overwhelm you, your flow might falter. Balance is key here—don’t try to control everything; let things unfold naturally.

Remember, your inner strength is your superpower. Stay grounded, trust in your abilities, and use your steady determination to keep your finances moving in the right direction.

𝟏𝟐 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐧

With the 12th Arcana influencing your financial flow, letting go becomes your greatest ally. Sometimes, stepping back and surrendering control is the most powerful move you can make. True abundance comes when you trust the process, even if progress feels slow or unclear.

What could stall things? Holding too tightly to old patterns or fearing the unknown. If you resist change or try to force results, you might miss the natural flow of opportunities.

Your secret weapon is patience. Look at your situation from a fresh perspective, stay open to shifts, and let life guide you to the right financial opportunities. Sometimes, stepping away is exactly what allows success to find you.

𝟏𝟑 - 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

The 13th Arcana teaches that financial growth comes through transformation. Clearing out the old—whether it’s outdated habits, lingering doubts, or an unproductive job—creates space for something better to emerge. Letting go is never easy, but it’s how you pave the way for abundance.

What gets in the way? Fear of change is a big one. Holding onto what’s familiar, even when it no longer serves you, can block your flow. It’s also easy to mistake endings as failures, rather than seeing them as necessary for new beginnings.

Your power lies in embracing change. Trust that every ending is part of a cycle leading to renewal. When you welcome transformation, you’ll find the opportunities waiting on the other side.

𝟏𝟒 - 𝐓𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

The energy of the 14th Arcana brings financial success through balance and steady effort. Your best strategy is to take things one step at a time, blending ambition with patience. Think of your finances as a recipe—each ingredient added thoughtfully leads to a perfect outcome.

The pitfalls? Acting too impulsively or becoming overly cautious can disrupt the flow. Extremes, whether spending too much or saving too rigidly, might throw you off course.

To keep the flow alive, aim for moderation in all things. Be mindful, adaptable, and trust that small, consistent actions will create long-term abundance. Balance is the key to keeping your prosperity steady and fulfilling.

𝟏𝟓 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥

The 15th Arcana connects your financial flow to ambition and desire. You’re a natural at manifesting what you want, especially when you set clear goals and focus your energy. Success for you often comes from tapping into your drive and fearlessly going after what lights you up.

On the flip side, getting too caught up in materialism or unhealthy obsessions can block your flow. Letting fear, guilt, or excessive control guide your decisions could also create setbacks.

The secret to keeping your cash flow thriving? Stay aligned with your values and channel your ambition into meaningful pursuits. When your desires are in harmony with a higher purpose, abundance follows naturally.

𝟏𝟔 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫

The 16th Arcana brings financial transformation through sudden shifts and breakthroughs. It’s the energy of tearing down old systems to build something more aligned and lasting. Change might feel unsettling, but these disruptions often make room for opportunities you couldn’t have planned for.

What can block this flow? Holding on too tightly to the past or resisting change out of fear. Trying to rebuild with the same old patterns can keep you stuck in a loop, preventing new possibilities from taking root.

To thrive, embrace the changes and trust the process. Even when the path feels shaky, know that it’s clearing the way for a stronger, more prosperous future.

𝟏𝟕 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫

The 17th Arcana shines a light on hope and inspiration as the key to your financial flow. When you stay connected to your dreams and believe in what’s possible, opportunities align effortlessly. Your optimism and creativity are powerful tools for attracting abundance, so let your vision guide your actions.

What might hold you back? Losing faith in yourself or your path can dim that light. If you scatter your energy across too many ideas without focus, your progress might slow.

Keep your eyes on the horizon, take consistent steps toward your goals, and let your belief in the future fuel your journey. Your faith in what’s possible is your strongest asset for creating lasting financial success.

𝟏𝟖 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧

The 18th Arcana ties your financial flow to intuition and trusting the unknown. Success often comes to you in ways that defy logic—through gut feelings, synchronicities, or following a path that feels right even when it’s unclear. Leaning into this energy helps you uncover hidden opportunities and keeps abundance moving.

What could block you? Overthinking and ignoring your instincts. If you try to force logic into every decision or dismiss the subtle signals around you, you might miss out. Fear of uncertainty is another potential roadblock.

The lesson here is to trust yourself and the process, even when things feel murky. Your intuition knows the way—listen to it, and let it guide your financial journey.

𝟏𝟗 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐧

The 19th Arcana connects your financial success to radiance and positivity. Your warmth, charisma, and ability to inspire others naturally attract opportunities. When you step confidently into the spotlight and share your talents, abundance follows.

On the flip side, holding back or doubting your worth can block your flow. If you shy away from showing your full potential or let negativity creep in, you might miss out on opportunities meant for you.

Your path to prosperity? Shine brightly and trust in your abilities. Let your confidence and optimism lead the way, and you’ll find that your success inspires not only yourself but also those around you.

𝟐𝟎 - 𝐉𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

The 20th Arcana connects your cash flow to awakening and stepping into your purpose. Financial success comes when you embrace change, leave the past behind, and align with what truly matters to you. It’s about seeing your potential and moving forward with renewed clarity and confidence.

What can hold you back? Clinging to old ways or doubting your ability to start fresh. Fear of stepping into the unknown can also delay your progress.

Your secret is to trust the process of transformation. Let go of what no longer serves you and embrace the opportunities waiting on the other side. This is your chance to rise into a new chapter of financial abundance.

𝟐𝟏 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝

The 21st Arcana links your cash flow to completion and expansion. Financial success for you often comes when you take your work or ideas to a larger stage, connecting with the world in meaningful ways. You’re at your best when you bring projects to completion and celebrate your progress, all while staying open to new opportunities.

What might get in the way? Holding back from stepping into your full potential or feeling unworthy of success. Another challenge could be fearing the end of a cycle, which may stop you from starting something even bigger.

Your key to abundance is trusting in your ability to grow and expand. Embrace the bigger picture, celebrate your achievements, and know that every ending is a stepping stone to something greater. Prosperity comes when you confidently take your place in the world.

𝟐𝟐 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐨𝐥

The 22nd Arcana opens your cash flow through freedom, creativity, and a willingness to embrace the unexpected. Your financial success comes when you take risks, think outside the box, and let life’s possibilities inspire you. You thrive when you trust your instincts and explore uncharted territory, knowing that abundance is found in the journey.

What could block you? Fear of stepping out of your comfort zone or letting doubt keep you from pursuing bold ideas. A lack of focus or direction can also slow your progress—freedom is powerful, but it needs purpose.

Your path to financial flow? Stay open, flexible, and curious. Trust your ability to adapt, take inspired leaps, and find joy in the process. When you let your sense of adventure guide you, success follows naturally.

TikTok (Matrix of Destiny) - Masterlist - YouTube (subliminals)

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Comfort Headcanons for Frank, Matt, and Mikey

A/n: so I am ridiculously overwhelmed by personal and political stuff right now. And I told myself I was going to write every day this week if possible, but my brain was being difficult today. So instead of working on a longer fic I wrote some self-indulgent headcanons about Frank, Matt, and Mikey caring for an overwhelmed partner. I hope you all enjoy. Please feel free to send me other headcanon requests!

How would they’d react to you being overwhelmed

Frank

Frank would pick up on this IMMEDIATELY

the second your self care habits change, he’s onto you. You stay up later than normal two nights in a row, or run out the door with a granola bar instead of eating a real breakfast, and he is concerned™️

He’s willing to entertain it for three days max. He knows life gets tough sometimes, and he doesn’t want to encroach on your process—but we all know that once this man is worried, he’s minutes away from taking control. He has issues but we love him for it.

On the 4th day, when you’re waking up exhausted after far too little sleep and rejecting his offer to take you out for breakfast, he puts his foot down.

“Gonna order in for dinner tonight, ok? We can watch that movie you wanted to see and turn in early.”

You hastily agree, bolting out the door before you end up late to your job.

When you finally arrive home, he’s all over you in an instant. Murmuring his hellos while helping you out of your coat and shoes, ushering you over the couch.

He’s insisting that you sit in his lap while the two of you pick out dinner, offering suggestions for restaurants instead of leaving the choice open-ended. Given how tired and generally stressed you seem, he wants to take as much weight off your shoulders as possible.

Once dinner has been ordered, he tucks you close to his chest, practically burying you in a jumble of muscular limbs, humming appreciatively when you nuzzle further into his space. His hand is cupped around your nape, thumb gently brushing over your spine as you hunch toward him.

“Ready to talk about what’s botherin’ ya, doll?” The question leaves room to decline, but his stern tone suggests you choose to answer.

He listens carefully as you tell him what’s on your mind, brushing silent kisses against your forehead whenever your breath wavers around a stifled sob. His hands never move from your skin, cradling you to him like he’s trying to absorb your pain.

He wouldn’t let you lift a finger the rest of the night. Retrieving the take out, dishing it up for you, drawing you a bath, tucking you into bed

When you’re beginning to drift off atop his giant shoulder, he’d rest his forehead against yours.

“I know it’s tough right now. But we’ll get through. I promise.”

“Please don’t leave, Frank.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, babydoll.”

Matt

Matt isn’t as observant of your habits and routines, but he can sure as hell pick up changes in body language.

Gritting teeth, blinking back tears, frustrated sighs—he notices all of it. He might not act on it immediately, brushing it off when you explain that you just had a bad day, but when your fatigue and growing apathy persist…

I think you hiding something from him would spook him for sure, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be determined to get answers out of you. He’d set his personal anxieties aside and prepare for a serious talk.

He’d leave the office somewhat early, asking you to meet him at his apartment. He’d offer you a beer, or whatever you were in the mood for (if his lacking fridge and pantry allowed for it), and he’d ask you the big question.

“You aren’t yourself lately. What’s going on?”

He’s not happy when you start crying, but he’s definitely relieved when you collapse into his arms and explain your recent mood. Even more so when you confess it had nothing to do with him.

As always, he harbors immense guilt for not being there, not being endlessly supportive, not being able to solve the issues gnawing at you with his own two fists.

But what he doesn’t realize is that he’s helping just by being there. By being present and absentmindedly squeezing you with his tree-trunk arms. By acknowledging your struggles and offering what he could.

He’d cut his patrols short for a few days, nearly begging you to sleep at his loft instead of in your own bed, so he could keep a metaphorical eye on you. He sleeps better with you by his side anyway.

Mikey

You’re Michael’s whole world, so he’d know you were overwhelmed before you realized it yourself.

As soon as he spotted the stress lines on your face, he’d be on his feet, trying his best to lighten the burden.

He’d walk you to and from work, as always, maybe even stopping by to keep you company on your lunch hour.

When he wasn’t with you, or ignoring his family, he’d be constantly cleaning the house and working through your joint to do list, taking task after task off your plate so you could properly decompress.

He wouldn’t pressure you to talk to him about it, but he’d give you the option.

“I’m here if ya want to talk, pet. Anytime ya need.”

And, of course, you’d take him up on it. Explaining that you could handle everything and you didn’t want him to overwhelm himself trying to help you because it was just a pile of small things that were wearing you down. But he’d have none of it.

“I wanna do this fer ya. Let me help, love.”

He’d bundle you in a knit blanket on the couch and set the tv to your favorite show, kissing the top of your head before heading to the kitchen to clean up after dinner.

I hope you enjoyed! And I hope you’re all doing ok this week. It’s rough out there.

[freshxsturniolo]

JULY 4TH PT3 - chris sturniolo x reader

pt1 pt2

you pull up outside the triplets house later than evening, admittedly feeling a lot fresher than you had this morning. after your first initial texts with chris, you ended up falling asleep for another hour or so before being awoken by jake, who was begging you and tara to help him clean their apartment. you reluctantly got out of bed, but after a coffee (or two), you felt the movment had helped you come alive slightly, but in and out was still the only thing you wanted to eat after nibbling on a slice of toast all day.

keeping your date a secret however, you should have known was not going to happen. when you annoyed your departure from the three boys house finally, you were met by a load of stares. in their hungover states they were all planning on watching movies and order takeout, so you had no choice but to tell them.

"im meeting a friend" you had said when jake had given you an eye. you notice the smirk from your best friend tara as the words leave your mouth but you do your best to avoid eye contact, but a smirk comes over jakes face immediately.

"his name chris by any chance?" he says.

you eyes divert to tara immediately, and she holds her hands up in surrender. "dont look at me" she laughs, and you cant help but chuckle as you turn around to leave, knowing that tara would likely fill the 3 boys in, but as you leave you're only met with a chorus of claps and woops.

"so annoying" you mutter, which they hear as they all erupt into laughter.

you spend the next hour at your own place, panicking about what to wear. you're dying to text chris but the lack of communication since your earlier messages felt exciting, making you giddy almost. so you settle for a comfortable pair of shorts with a baggy tee, your favourite earrings and a small subtle amount of make up with some lip gloss. giving yourself a once over in the mirror, you smile before putting your converse on and head to your car.

so now you sit here, waiting for chris to emerge from his house, you lean across to look in the mirror and apply another layer of lipgloss just to keep yourself busy before you drum your fingers across your steering wheel, turning up the song you were playing through the bluetooth before you finally see him walking down the driveway.

you smile as you take in him in. sweatpants and a black tee, casual but somehow cool, hair so clearly freshly washed. his stubble from yesterday now gone. and he gives you a smirk as soon as he sees you looking, but you already feel so comfortable in his presence so smirk back, causing him to laugh and shake his head. when he finally gets to your passenger side and open the door, you bend your head to see it.

“your carriage awaits. in and out was it?”

he ignores you, gets in the car, shuts the door, and then finally swivels his head to look at you.

“you’re worse than matt. and i’ve been in the car 3 seconds”

you laugh, throwing your head back causing a chuckle to escape his lips.

“sorry” you say, looking towards him again. “i couldn’t resist. but seriously, in and out?”

“i’m starving” he mutters, and you nod in agreement with a smile on your face, putting the car back in drive and setting off down the street.

the nearest in and out is only a 5 minute drive away, and you spend those 5 minutes chatting about the night before. laughing about certain moments you had forgotten about till he has bought them up. by the time you pull up for food, your stomach hurts from laughing and your fear your mascara has likely leaked down your face. turning off the ignition, you lean to look into the rear view mirror to double check, and you become aware how dangerously close you are to chris. he’s quite as you wipe at your under eyes, and when you finally move back to your original position and turn to him, he’s smiling.

“you’re beautiful, ya know?”

“chris” you laugh, suddenly feeling flustered, your cheeks going a tinge of red.

he smiles as he looks at you, before looking out towards the restaurant. it’s busy, you notice. the line is long and there’s people sat on almost every table. even from sitting in your car and looking through the window you can hear the hustle and bustle, people likely in the same hungover state as you.

“i got an idea” chris says, and you snap your head back to look at him.

“go on?”

he looks back at the resturant one more time, before looking to you again.

“why don’t we get it to take out, and come back to mine? we can eat on the sofa, we can watch a movie …”

your hearts racing at the thought. truthfully, a night in sounded a lot better than sitting in a stuffy burger place and you tried to keep calm as you answered him.

“will you brothers mind?”

chris smiles. “they’re not in.”

you look at him for a second, his plump lips all of a sudden looking super inviting, but you smile.

“okay.”

“yeah?”

“yeah” you smile.

“perfect. come on” he says now, opening up the car door and stepping outside.

you follow his actions, grabbing your phone and keys and stepping outside, locking the car and putting all your belongings in your pocket before you walk around the car to meet chris who’s waiting for you on the sidewalk. when you reach him you smile, and you realise in that moment you had never formally even said hello, so you smirk.

“hi” you say, and his eyes divert straight to your lips.

“hi” he mutters, and that force is back. you can feel it, he can feel it, and then he finally takes a step towards you.

“this is possibly the least romantic place in the world, but can i kiss you?” he whispers, and you let out a laugh as you step closer to him too.

“you don’t even need to ask” you whisper back, and it takes him no time at all to press his lips to yours. soft, gentle, just a peck that lingers for a couple of seconds before he pulls away again. you can feel your heart beat racing as you look back into his eyes, before a laugh escapes you both.

suddenly, your appetite for food is completely gone and been replaced by something else.

TAGLIST : @spencerstits @chrissturnsss @slut4chriss @valkatriee @sturnsjtop @viiiwwwee @gwennysturniolo @melanch0lybby @sturnioloblues

[angelsleepinggurl]

𝙞 𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙞 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. stepping into your early twenties you move to live on your own. A couple months later you're surprised when family man Miguel O'Hara moves next door. How do you manage to get this sex symbol into your sheets?

wc . 7,625

tags . miguel o hara x reader.miguel o hara x reader smut. all characters are 18+ years old. alternative au. non spiderman au. family man Miguel. dad Miguel. husband Miguel. swearing, cunnilingus, praise kink, blowjobs, phone sex, masturbation, shower sex, squirting. age gap. 18+ mdni!

.⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒.⭒☆━━━✰━━━☆⭒.⭒☆

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : your girl by lana del rey

0:57 ————|——— -2:10

° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . +

June 21st

You remember it clear as day. June 21st when they moved in. You’d just come back from practice and you were about to head downstairs to check for any mail when you saw it go down. The moving van pulled onto the street, tailed by a red family-sized car. Curiously you peer out of your bedroom window. Out stepped a tan middle-aged woman in a floral sun dress and a woven hat. A girl with her hair in pigtails and a lollipop in her sticky little hands. Then came him.

Him in all his beautiful glory. Him in his staggering height and muscular frame. His hair dark, curly, unruly falls against his well-defined cheekbones and, further highlighting his strong jawline. Just his appearance alone has put you in a trance, you’re glued to your window and you daren’t leave until he disappears from your sight. Even the way in which he moves speaks volumes about the silent authority that he carries.

July 1st

Temperatures rise gradually, and clothes get skimpier, at least yours do. But it’s all part of your plan. With a couple of failed attempts at making cookies, you’d finally nailed it, once your friend did it for you. You arrange them neatly on a plate, trying to ignore the little voice in your head that questions your motives. But you’ve already decided, and there is no turning back now. You let yourself in by opening his front gate, before closing it behind you, walking down the grassy lawn and in front of his door. The soft click of it closing behind you sounds like a finality as if crossing an invisible line.

You can feel your heart in your mouth. Tempering with a family man, you were up to no good, but you can’t help that you wanna have a little fun and see what you can do. A couple knocks on their door and you don’t wait long before the door opens, revealing the little girl and woman previously.

Fuck. Not who you wanted to see.

“Hi.” you greet cheerfully, hiding your disappointment behind a friendly facade. “I’ve noticed you guys have moved in next door, I’m Y/N and I wanted to give you these cookies as a welcome gift.” The woman smiles a warm smile in gratefulness and her child seems to be eagerly staring the plate of goodies down.

“Thank you so much, I really appreciate this, It’s so nice to see a friendly face out here.” she chuckles, pulling her child’s head close to her and stroking her dark hair.

You nod, your smile widening as you make small talk, though your mind is still on him. “It’s hard to get these guys to open up, takes a while, but I didn’t want y’all to have a bad impression of the area and I'm sure you’ll all love it here. Especially you.” you say, pointing to the child, who shyly turns away from you.

“Gabriel saluda a la simpática dama.” her mother gently prompts her and the little girl mutters a quiet welcome. For a brief moment, guilt twists in your stomach. This woman, her child—they’re kind and welcoming, and they see you as nothing more than a friendly neighbour. But the guilt is fleeting, replaced by a sense of determination. He’s set, devoted, maybe—but how devoted?

“She’s so precious.” you coo.

Sure, part of you feels bad, the man has a wife and a kid. He’s set and devoted, but you want to test the waters and see how devoted he is. So when they invite you to a barbeque night for the 4th, you seize your chance. Because while part of you knows this might be wrong, another part of you is already imagining what might happen if he looks at you just a little too long, if his smile lingers just a little too much.

The game has begun, and you’re ready to see just how far you can push it.

4th July.

The day tumbles into night dragging along its excitement and heat of the sun-soaked hours before into the darkening, night. Dense smoke from the barbecue rises slowly, curling and rolling into the night sky, wrapping itself around the gathering like a veil. It’s almost as if a hazy filter has been cast over the whole series of event, from the moment you step foot into their garden to the moment he offers you a drink. You can feel it—this strange, heady mix of anticipation and tension His significantly larger hand over the cool glass bottle, mimicking your cold sweat.

You take the drink from him, swinging it to your lips, feeling some of it trickle past your mouth and down your chin. A practised thumb swipes over it as your eyes reunite with his. “Thanks for introducing yourself to my wife. ” he thanks you, breaking the silence between the both of you- finally. “She really appreciates it and she’s glad you pointed out places for our Gabriel to play.” he finishes, eyes pulling away from the distance and back down to you.

“It’s nothing, don’t think anything of it.” now it’s your turn to look off into the distance, soaking in the scenery of others gathered near the table of roasted food. Their laughter mingling with the music that drifts from the speakers filling up the night. You’re unsure of when, but there is an eager flame dancing in a corner, adding a subconscious thrill to this gathering. The couple seem to have invited friends and family members and you start to feel a little out of place, like a fish out of water.

“Didn’t catch you name by the way?” he asks, widening his current stance, flexible in the subconscious hierarchy.

“Y/N, Y/N L/N.”

“Well, Y/N, you’re always welcome here, drop by if you need anything, we’d love seeing your face around.” perhaps it’s pure delusion or mere obsession with fantasy, but the tonality of his voice is hinting towards something. Towards something deeper and secretive than what the world has to know. Before you can thank him for his kind gesture, you’re interrupted by Gabriel running towards her father screaming “Daddy!”, and hugging his leg fondly.

Of course. You remember your place in this scenario. You’re simply their neighbour, nothing more, nothing less. You see it in his eyes as he bends down to pick up his daughter, his expression softening as he sways with her in his arms. He apologises to you, saying he has to leave for a moment. And you're alone again, placing the bottle to your lips once more.

And your heart shifts uncomfortably when the couple stands together to make an announcement, his arm wrapped around her waist comfortably,of course. As if she belongs there, and she does. You see where you stand in this.

10th July

You like to keep yourself busy when you aren’t drowned in school work, practising or doing your

part-time job and you accomplish that by journeys to the club with your friend, never intending to stay long or do anything of an impact, so this night when a new fellow accompanies you back home, you’re left with the tough decision of rejecting his advances.

“I’ve got a busy day tomorrow. “ you explain, leaning against your car, not entertaining his attempts.

“Well I can be quick baby, in and out.” he pleads, his voice slurring slightly as he leans closer, his hand resting on the hood of your car. The stench of alcohol clings to him, and you can tell by the way he’s using your car as a crutch that he’s far too intoxicated to be thinking straight. You sigh inwardly, already knowing this is going nowhere.

“I don’t like sloppy hurried work, I’d want for you to take care with me.” You explain, glancing at your nails bored, waiting for him to tire himself out and head home, so you can head to bed.

“I won’t be sloppy baby, promiseee.” he whines, his voice taking on a childlike quality that makes your skin crawl. The desperation in his tone only solidifies your resolve. This is exactly why you’re drawn to older men—men who know what they want and don’t need to beg or plead for attention. Men like him.

Almost as if on cue, out walks the man, his hair failing in front of his fair, this time much more unkept and messier than usual. Curious eyes observe his frame hidden under the loose-fitting shirt he’s wearing. The sound of the guy next to you complaining and begging again perks his attention and when he lifts his head to peak at the commotion he makes eye contact with you. There’s a certain satisfaction in knowing that he’s seen you, that he’s aware of your presence even in this awkward situation. your focus is elsewhere now, on the man who just drove away, leaving you with a lingering sense of longing. The night suddenly feels colder, and emptier, as you watch his taillights disappear into the distance.

23rd July

Blue skies overhead and the sun pressing down on you heavily, aggressively biting into your skin. The sun beats down relentlessly, turning your skin warm to the touch and making the air shimmer with heat. Your friends and you have hosted a pool party, to cool off and catch up. So you’re wearing your strappy swimsuit when you realise that your hose won’t turn or budge. You try with all your might but to no avail. No matter how much you twist and pull, the stubborn thing won’t budge. You put your full weight into it, your muscles straining as you give it another try, but it’s no use. The hose refuses to cooperate. Only one thing left to do.

You find yourself in front of your neighbours’ door, this time in a two piece piece swimsuit, that seems to hug you in all the right places, and the colour makes your features pop even more. You spend a couple of quick seconds adjusting the fabric only your body as finalising touches and fixing your hair, before lightly knocking on the door. It doesn’t take long before the door swings open wide, revealing a shirtless Miguel.

Bingo.

His broad chest glistens slightly with a sheen of sweat, and for a moment, you lose your train of thought. You flash a charming smile, “Hey, I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you could help with my hose?” you ask, your voice sweet and innocent, leaving the question hanging in the air. You can see the moment he registers your outfit, his eyes widening slightly before they travel slowly over your body, taking in every detail. It takes him a few seconds to pull his gaze back up to your eyes, and when he does, he leans casually against the doorframe, trying to play it cool.

“What hose?” he asks, his voice a little rougher than usual.

“The hose in my backyard,” you explain, your tone light. “I need it to fill up my pool.”

“Your pool huh?” his eyes keep drifting all over, he’s clearly distracted and your plan is set in motion.

“Yeah,” you continue, feigning a bit of helplessness. “I’m having a pool party with my friends, but I can’t seem to get the hose to turn on.” You pout slightly, batting your lashes at him, hoping to nudge him into coming over, even if it’s just for a few minutes.

“I can help you turn it on.”

“Great!” you exclaim, clapping your hands together, a smile on your face. You lead him to your back garden and the short journey there is filled with silence. He makes his way over the knob of the hose, effortlessly twisting it successfully, however, no water comes out.

“Oh no. Is the water broken?” you ask, lightly shaking the hose in hopes of getting a trickle of water to emerge.

“It probably needs a minute.” he explains, staring at the green hose in your hands in anticipation. The two of you wait the minute, patiently waiting for any spurts of water, but nothing.

“I guess, my water system’s broke. I’ll just call the-”

“I can help you. It’ll only take a minute, it may just be a connection issue, no need to ring them up.”

“Really? Thank you.” you gasp, ecstatic. You exaggerate your relief, letting it show in your eyes, hoping to make yourself seem more appealing, more in need of his help. Now, he’s in your territory, your domain, and you’re determined to make the most of it.

He nods and asks you to lead him to your kitchen sink. He crouches down on the ground and opens the cupboards, hands going into the darkness searching for something.

“Can I get you a drink or something?” you ask him casually, but he refuses, saying he’ll be in and out. To your disappointment. But even as he works, you can’t help but notice the little things—the way his brow furrows in concentration, the way his fingers move with precision as he checks the pipes.

Minutes pass, and though you try to make small talk, he remains focused, determined to fix the problem. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he emerges from beneath the sink, wiping his hands on a rag.

“There, that should do it,” he says, standing up and giving you a satisfied grin.

You walk back outside with him, feeling a little defeated, but as he tests the hose one more time, water suddenly gushes out, splashing onto the ground with a force that catches you off guard. You can’t help but laugh in surprise, the sound is bright and genuine.

“Well, I guess I owe you one,” you say, turning to him with a playful smile.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it. Just doing my job as a good neighbor.”

But there’s something in the way he says it, in the lingering look he gives you, that makes you think this might not be the last time you find yourself needing his help.

2nd August

The days stretch on, each one hotter than the last, as the relentless sun beats down from a sky that’s perpetually clear, leaving the air thick with humidity. The heat has sapped the energy out of most people, turning every movement into an effort and leaving them sluggish, sticky, and desperate for relief. Miguel, too, feels the weight of the summer pressing down on him, the heat wrapping around him like a heavy blanket as he decides to spend his afternoon lounging on the chair in front of his house.

He’s settled in with a cold beer, the bottle sweating in his grip as he takes a long, slow sip, savouring the coolness against his lips. The golden sunlight bathes his skin, and for a moment, he lets himself relax, trying to enjoy the simple pleasure of the day. He’s asked his family to give him some space, just an hour or so to himself, away from the noise and the demands of the household. But even as he reclines back, sunglasses shielding his eyes from the harsh glare of the sun, he can’t seem to shake the feeling of restlessness that’s creeping in.

The heat is relentless, and the boredom is worse. The occasional car zips by, blasting music that fades as quickly as it comes, leaving him alone with the sound of his own thoughts and the distant hum of cicadas. Irritated, Miguel lifts his sunglasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if that might alleviate the discomfort. The overstimulation of the day—the brightness, the heat, the monotonous sounds—is getting to him, and he’s on the verge of retreating inside when something catches his eye.

His gaze drifts across the yard, past the sidewalk, and up to the window of the house next door—your window. His breath hitches slightly as he sees you there, your bedroom window wide open, allowing the summer breeze to flow in and caress your skin. You’re standing in the middle of the room, bathed in the golden light of the late afternoon, and you’re slowly, deliberately, peeling off your clothes. One item at a time.

Miguel’s grip on the beer bottle tightens as he watches, his heart beating a little faster. You’re completely unaware of his gaze, lost in your own world as you remove each piece of clothing with a languid, almost sensual grace. Your movements are slow, unhurried as if you’re savouring the act of shedding the layers, of freeing yourself from the constriction of fabric. Each piece falls to the floor in a soft heap, and with every discarded item, more of your skin is revealed, glowing in the warm light.

He’s hooked, his eyes fixed on you, unable to look away. There’s something hypnotic about the way you move, the way you seem to bask in the sunlight pouring through your window, your eyes closed in what looks like pure bliss. It’s as if you’re performing a private dance, one meant only for yourself, and yet here he is, captivated by every second of it. The way you twirl in front of the mirror, the sunlight catching on the curves of your body, makes his pulse quicken. He watches, entranced, as you take a moment to admire your reflection, your fingers trailing over your own skin, before you disappear from view, leaving him breathless.

For a moment, Miguel just sits there, his body tense, his mind racing. The image of you, so free, so unguarded, is burned into his memory, and he knows it’s something he’ll replay over and over again in his mind. He tries to shake it off, to convince himself that it was nothing, just a fleeting moment—but the truth is, he’s in awe. He can’t believe what he just saw, and yet he can’t let it go.

He refuses to lay back down, to pretend as if nothing happened. His heart is still pounding, his skin tingling with the remnants of the sun’s heat and something else, something far more dangerous. He sits up, wide-eyed, replaying the scene in his mind, letting it linger. There’s no escaping it now. The image of you bathed in sunlight, every movement deliberate and intoxicating, will haunt him. It’s a secret he’ll keep, a memory he’ll revisit again and again, long after the sun has set and the heat of the day has finally faded.

5th August

Adulting means spending heaps of money on things which you’d rather not, like new appliances. You start to wonder where the money goes after, and why so much of it goes too. Today is one of those days. After making a painful dent in your bank account on a new appliance, you finally pull into your driveway, the stifling heat inside your car practically cooking you alive. The summer sun has turned your vehicle into an oven, and as you open the door, a wave of heat rolls out, making the sweltering air outside almost feel cool in comparison.

With a sigh, you climb out, your body already slick with sweat. You circle to the passenger side, pulling open the door to retrieve the heavy cardboard box that holds your new purchase. The weight of it nearly sends you toppling over, and you grimace as you try to get a better grip. The box is bulky and awkward, the edges digging into your arms as you begin the slow, torturous journey to your front door.

Every step feels like a challenge as the heat presses down on you, sweat trickling down your back. You’re already dreading the short walk, and as you glance at the distance between your car and your front door, you can feel the sweat start to gather at your hairline, your muscles straining under the weight. With another heave, you start to shuffle forward, side-stepping to keep the box balanced, your arms already burning from the effort.

Just when you think you might have to drop the box and rest, a familiar gruff voice cuts through the oppressive heat.

“Need some help with that?”

You look up to see Miguel, your neighbour, stepping out of his car. His timing is impeccable as if he appeared just when you were about to collapse under the weight of the box.

“I saw you coming out and thought you might need a little help,” he says, his tone casual, but there's a hint of concern in his eyes as he takes in your struggle.

You can’t help but tease him a little, despite the sweat dripping down your face. “Why? Don’t you think I can do it on my own?”

He doesn’t seem to catch the playful tone in your voice, instead taking your words at face value. “No, it’s just that you’re bent over double and practically becoming best friends with the ground with how far down you’re crouching.”

“Ouch,” you reply with a mock wince.

“Sorry,” he says, though there’s a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You chuckle, shaking your head. “I mean, if you don’t mind, I would appreciate the help.”

Without another word, Miguel steps forward and effortlessly lifts the box from your hands, making it look as light as a feather. You can’t help but feel a little envious of his strength as he carries it with ease toward your front door. You quickly rush ahead to open the door for him, grateful for the assistance.

“Where do you want this?” he asks as he steps inside, the cool air from the house hitting his face.

“Just on that countertop will do, thanks,” you reply, pointing to the kitchen.

Miguel sets the box down carefully, and before you can even think to ask, he’s already heading back to your car to grab the remaining items. He makes a couple more trips, hauling the heavy boxes as if they weigh nothing, and your mind can’t help but fawn over his effortless strength. There’s something undeniably attractive about the way he moves, the way his muscles flex as he carries each load inside without breaking a sweat.

With the last of the boxes shuffled onto the countertop, Miguel turns to leave, but you’re not quite ready to let him go just yet.

“Hey, would you like something to drink? It’s the least I can do to thank you,” you offer, flashing him a grateful smile.

He hesitates for a moment, but then he nods, a smile softening his features. “Sure, why not?”

You grab a couple of beers from the fridge, handing one to Miguel as the two of you make your way outside to the backyard. You find a spot on the steps, settling down side by side as he gulps down the cool drink, clearly appreciating the refreshment after the heavy lifting.

“You old enough to be having this beer?” Miguel asks, a smirk playing on his lips as he glances at you from the corner of his eye.

“It’s not mine,” you quickly explain, feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze. “A friend left it over.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying your explanation entirely. “How old are you then?”

“Twenty,” you reply, your voice steady, though you can’t help but feel a bit exposed by the question.

“Right,” he says, his tone neutral, but you can sense the wheels turning in his mind.

The age gap between you is significant, but oddly enough, it doesn’t seem to bother him. Not at all. In fact, there’s a certain tension in the air, a silent understanding that something unspoken hangs between you both. The way he looks at you, the way he’s been lingering a little longer than necessary—there’s something there, something neither of you has acknowledged yet, but it’s growing stronger with every passing moment.

“You know,” he begins, his voice low and smooth, “you’re pretty resourceful, handling all this on your own. But if you ever need help again... you know where to find me.”

His words linger in the air, heavy with implication, and you feel a shiver run down your spine despite the lingering heat of the day.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you reply, your voice soft, almost a whisper.

Miguel stands, his eyes never leaving yours as he steps away, but there’s a promise in his gaze, something unspoken that leaves you feeling warm and slightly breathless.

10th August

It’s late when he’s in your car round the corner of your street. The outside world is still- void of movement. The only two being existing are the both of you. Concealed under the inky blackness of the night, that its shade has to conceal. It's thrilling, almost like a sparkler on your touch, ready to crackle at any moment. The moonlight basks him nicely, highlighting his masculine and broody features, and capturing his captivating essence. His dark curls run past his deep eyes that call to you from the other side. His lips, which lick themselves with sin, are ready to taint yours too. You’re finding it harder and harder to contain yourself.

The lights of the streets, aligned perfectly, flicker and twinkle before you, igniting your motives even more. Even the distance between the both of you is electrifying, scared that one singular brush of a finger or shared gaze between each other would cause worlds to collide and collapse. His deep chuckle, fills the small car, snapping back into the present moment. It’s like your body has a mind of its own the way your fingers retract when he calls your name. This is dangerous territory. The scene set up for you is seductive and alluring.

“You got a boyfriend?” he asks you, his gaze ever so slowly rising from the edge of your car seat into your calling eyes, and he holds it. He freezes time by holding the connection.

“No.” you crack a smirk, your fingers playfully dancing on the centre console, keeping your tone light and flirty, your soft voice barely coming out above a whisper, drawing him in.

“Really? A girl like you doesn’t have one? That’s new.” he replies, looking ahead of him, the curls atop of his head tickling the roof of your car, further highlighting his enormous build.

“A girl like me? What does that mean?” Every sentence shared between the two of you is mere foreplay and the both of you know it. It’s sick. Every syllable spoken is dragged out slowly and stretched by rising smirks.

“You know, a pretty girl.” he’s smiling at your reaction, your failed attempt of muffling the smile spreading across your face and the heat rising through your core to your face.

You’re charmed, “You think I’m a pretty girl?” you ask, a twinkle in your eyes.

“Very.” he responds, the both of you staring at each other’s lips, imaging each other’s flavour and the way you both taste. Not a sound passes through the vehicle, it’s deadly silent, the only sound is the ringing of your own heartbeat in your head, a signal of your misbehaving.

“Well,” you start off, your voice as thick as honey, eyes latched unto his lips. “I’ve never had a older boyfriend before.”

“Oh yeah?” it is slow and reverberating when he says that.

“I bet he would treat me so good, and look after me real well. Don’t you?” you play with your lips between your teeth, biting and tugging playfully.

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had a younger girl under my care. But I assume, he’d treat you real good. Who ever he may be be.”

You hum, “How good? Tell me.”

“He’d make you feel things you’ve never felt before, make you see things you’ve never seen before, give you the attention you deserve.” his voice is low and grungy, he’s falling into your stick trap and you love it. You fail to realise the distance between the both of you diminishing, faces drawn closer and closer.

“Sounds good to me. Such a shame there isn’t a hunky older man to teach me these new things.” you’re whispering now. “Would you show me, Mr O’Hara?” The temptation. The beginning of his fall. You. Teasing him shamelessly in your car, you're displaying faux innocence, dripping in arousal. The use of the formality, ‘Mr O’Hara’ a name to which you’ve never referred him, flips the switch from within him.

Your lips crash unto his, finally bridging the distance between the both you. The kiss is fiery and hot, when your lips tangle with each other, breathing each other in, from the sheer desperation in the kiss. Sounds of lips smacking fill up the car very quickly, and the taste of faint liquor coats his lips, it's intoxicating and you’re reeling. His hand wastes no time cupping your face, holding you close to him. Finger’s nestle in his curly dark locks and the kiss deepens.

The only time the both of you separate is for air, gasping quickly as you pant for air, resting your forehead on his, and keeping him close by keeping your fingers interlocked in his hair.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” he breathes out, refusing to look up at you, knowing he’ll fall for the trap again.

“I know but you know you want to. It feels so right, doesn’t it?” you’re breathless and your lips have darkened in colour slightly, appearing rosier and more tempting.

“Fuck kid, the things you do to me.” he groans and he dives in again.

17th August

“Ngh- fuck.” you’re crying out as he thrusts into you mercilessly, drilling you deeper and deeper into your sheets. You're writhing and wriggling under his weighted grasp, as he uses one firm hand to pin your wrists above your head. Hair clings to your face, as you’re worked up by the intense pleasure. Back arching off the mattress as one stroke out the other’s seems to hit you just right, causing an involuntary reaction. Miguel is living for this, his eyes trained on your every move and shift, his ears memorising every one of your whimpers and cries. He’s relentless.

“Being such a good girl f’ me y’know that?” he says, his curls in disarray from the strenuous act, clinging to his forehead, his abs glistening in the sheen layering of sweat, from his dedication to making you feel like heaven. “You look so pretty like this princesa. Tan bonita. “

You’re fevershingly rolling and grinding your hips against him, eager and desperate for a sweet release. “Hold on, patience,” he growls, focused on getting you to cream all over him regardless. He can picture it now, your trembling figure spewing out a hot burst of yours and his warm white cum, making a mess of yourself. The thought of it alone nearly sends him over the edge.

“’ M gonna come Miggy.” you mewl out, toes curling from the heightened anticipation. You’re dripping and drenched. It’s absolutely filthy. From the moment you invited them into your home and tolerated the incessant foreplay, you’ve been needy and begging to feel him, to get a piece of him. So the moment when those lace panties came off, the man was met with a glistening, slick cunt, which is now responsible for the soppy sounds filling up the room. The sounds of your arousal. He’d call you a bad girl, for thinking of him so naughtily to get your pussy so needy, but he isn’t as innocent either.

“I know baby, I know, just hold out f’me, kay.”

“Fuuuckk.” tears are running down your cheek when Miguel lifts up of your legs, placing it over his broad shoulders. Your head falls back in pure bliss.

“Looks like we got a dirty mouth on our case. You’re gonna have to open wide for me.” he instructs and like a puppet you obey, opening your mouth more waiting for his thick fingers to invade. You’re slobbering all over the shamelessly, making eye contact with him as he ruts into you. “What a messy girl, is this how you behave when you get fucked, hmm?” his movement and sharper and faster and your body is limp, mind fogged. You forget to respond to him, too dicked dumb to do so.

“I asked you a question, you’re gonna fucking answer, is this how you act when you get fucked? Huh, princess? Like a sloppy slut? Or is it just with me?” you nod lazily in response, still moaning over the fingers in your mouth. Your eyes go wide when you feel yourself tightening, your walls gummy hot walls clamping down on him harder. Miguel removes his fingers from your mouth and his hand from your wrists, freeing them, his hands slipping down to your hips.

You can’t even scream about about your close approach because he can feel it and it's fast coming.

“Wanna come Miggy. Wanna feel so good.”

“Want me to make you feel good? Wanna come.”

“Yes, please,please,please,please.” you’re screaming and chanting ‘please’ as you feel your high incoming, and arch your back even further.

“Cum baby, come all over.” you screw your eyes tight as the knot in your stomach finally breaks and you’re cumming. With a couple of thrusts, Miguel follows soon after, his groans and your moans mixing together in the room. His dick is coated in a creamy white, leaving a ring around his base. You’re twitching as you come down from your high, gasping and trying to catch your breath.

With a soft kiss on your forehead, he congratulates you, “Did so good baby.”

23rd August

Sounds of the conscient stream of water fill up the soundscape of the bathroom, hot water, rushing down your back as you’re pressed against the wall, bent over for Miguel and his thick cock. You’ve got no stable supports, and your fingers are slipping off the wet wall, as you try to grip anything for support. It was a mistake for you to drag him along with you into the shower. What were you thinking? Expecting for him to remain composed upon seeing you all when and soapy, no chance. That’s how you find yourself screaming out his name as he places his large hands on your hips, using them to pummel you.

Beirfely, you turn to look back at him. A man on a mission, focused on your ass jiggling repetitively, it was hypnotizing.

“Go slower, slower.” you plead, dreading cumming early, having all of this fade so fast. But of course, the man refuses to listen to you, instead speeding up. Your words are cut off when he reaches deep, feeling as if he’s brushing against your cervix. You drop your head, your mouth following and you scream silently, thanking the Lord above for this blessing of man. One of his hands runs up your back, his thumb slowly stroking it. Bouncing back on his dick, your hips push back every time he pushes in, making you go dizzy.

“Atta girl, just like that, you eager to come on my dick huh?” he says lowly. You’re biting your lip as you nod, that is all you can think about. Your back arches as he speeds up, clenching down on him, warm walls giving him a tight squeeze, making him drop his head back as he lets out a low guttural groan.

“Fuck you’re sexy. Think you can come for me?” Not much else is aid when after three more strokes you're crying out his name, sounding like a sweet melody in his ears.

24th August

“Nice and slow princess, you sure you can handle it?” you’re gargling around his thick cock as he pushes your head down, forcing you to take him all. Making a mess as your saliva coats and lubes his hard-on. Your eyes are shut tight and your hands are gripping his thighs as he uses your hair to bob your head up and down his length. “There we go, such a pretty girl.” he coos, staring down at you, in awe at your determination and persistence to carry this through. Initially, he would’ve been fine with directing all his attention to you, but you didn’t want to seem like a quitter, you didn’t want to prove to him that you were a kid after all and he wasn’t right for you.

“You like that? Yeah, take it all in baby. Fuck” You feel a familiar heat pool in your panties, slowly dampening them. You fail to notice, that one of your hands has slipped down to soothe the building ache until he chuckles. “Don’t worry baby I haven’t forgotten about you. Gonna take real good care of you real soon.” He leans his head back, feeling his high approaching. His incessant repeating of your praise intertwined with praises of your good work seems to be working you up even more, the ache from before now developing into an urgent and deep throb. You moan, just thinking about it.

“Dirty fuckin girl.” he groans, taking his hands off your head and putting you in charge, his hand instead collecting all your hair. You hollow your cheeks and bob your head up and down, turning it to the side occasionally to sensually glide your tongue up his length, maintaining eye contact with him through watery eyes. “Fuck princess.” he groans. “ Want me to cum all over your face princess?” you moan in agreeance, feeling yourself throb in anticipation.

He hisses before pulling out of your mouth at the last minute, helping himself by finishing with a couple of strokes from his own hand. “Open wide baby.” You stick out your tongue ready, and hot spurts of coming land on your face, some coating your awaiting tongue too.

“Fuck you look good like this.”

26th August

You would say that you’re surprised that this man is a master pussy eater, but you’d be lying. He has successfully proven numerous times that he’s simply a sex god. So when your fingers are pulling on his hair for dear life, he isn’t surprised. With every flick of his tongue over your sensitive clit, you’re rolling your hips, getting his nose to nudge against your clit too in the mix. “Can’t go anymore, baby.”

“Why not, just wanna see you cum all over again, you look so perfect when you do it.”

His tongue laps over your sensitive bud again, slurping up and collecting all your juices and you’re crying from the intense pleasure wriggling and writhing again.

“So good.” you groan, leaning your head back and falling into the pleasure, letting it consume you. His hands are grabbing your thighs forcefully whilst his thumb is simultaneously grazing the flesh. He’s passionately making out against your soaked cunt, not minding that you’re dripping unto his chin. He loves it.

“Wait, wait, I’m gonna come, ‘M gonna come, gonna come.” you tell him too late, because when you do, you’re not creaming like you usually do, but instead a clear liquid sprays out. Everywhere.

“Well, you may you didn’t come, but you definitely squirted.”

28th August

“Rub that pretty pussy for me. Just like that.” his voice says through the phone, watching intently as your fingers repetitively circle over your clit, your speed slow and teasing, you bite your lips to suppress your moans, your drenched hole fluttering around nothing. Miguel has finally got himself a free house, but his wife’s suspicions are arising, not towards the two of you, but towards Miguel’s new sneaking out habit and leaving the house more than he usually would. Usually, you would feel bad for the mother, getting neglected by her husband and watching him distance himself from her, leaving the burden of their child unto her, but you were having too much fun with his married man. With the way he fucks you, and holds you and whispers dirty things in your ear- tainting your innocence. Your head is reeling from all this new attention, so you don’t think you’ll stop anytime soon.

“Fuck.” a soft groan comes from his side as he watches you devilishly slip your finger into your warm, desperate cunt. “Did I tell you you could put you’re fingers in, huh?” Miguel on the other end is pumping himself to the sight of you, needy and depraved. No matter how many times he’s been all up in your cunt, or had your gummy walls wrap around him, he can never seem to get enough. There’s something about you that pulls him back, you’re not just some option on the side for him anymore, but now more like a drug, the things you’re doing to him.

“Don’t care.” you giggle softly, pumping your fingers at a faster pace, rolling your head to the side. “I’m horny and you’re not here to do anything about it.”

“Watch it. We’ll see what I’ll do when I get back.”

You arch your back as your fingers finally graze your G spot, causing you to moan out. Your fingers are covered in your slick. “Wish you were here to fuck me, Miguel,” you whine, not knowing the effect this has on him. If he could, he would run out of the house take you right then and there, stuff you full of him and watch as you get fucked dumb by him. You’re teasingly moaning louder than usual to work him up, but your mind can’t help but fill with a picture of him having his way with you, fucking you rough. “ Fuck Miggy, need you right now.” you moan out, your fingers pumping into yourself faster.

“Maybe if you come all of those pretty fingers I might consider it.”

“Mmhg shit, I can come for you, I can come real hard.” you put your other hand to good use, to circle your clit, the feeling immediately increasing my tenfold, now you’re really crying out, head getting clouded by pure lust and the urge to reach your high.” With a few more pumps and circles of your fingers, you release all over your fingers, laying back on your bed to catch a breath as warm cum ooze out of you.

“Come here and show me the mess you’ve made baby.” you don’t hesitate to sit up and grab your phone, angling it to reveal your white fingers. “Put em in your mouth and suck real good.” you follow his command, swirling your tongue around your fingers and sucking them clean, before taking them out of your mouth to show him the finished result. “Atta girl.”

“Look at the mess I made.” you bring your phone to your glistening cunt, absolutely covered in your arousal, your hole still leaking cum from your high, and your puffy clit.

“What a good girl.”

August 31st

The both of you knew this day would come. The last day before you returned back to college, the day where you’d have to say goodbye, but it happened all too soon. You almost wish that something, anything would happen to not have to pull you out of this situation and from the ecstasy you’re feeling. The room has picked up the scent of sex after all the rounds the both of you have endured, fucking for hours on end. The sounds of skin slapping and bed creaking has filled the room with pap, pap, pap’s. Your nails are digging into his back, definitely leaving him marked up with your scratches against his board back and he pummels into you, your body practically clinging unto him as he fuck you into oblivion.

“Gonna miss you, baby, you know that?” he says, placing gentle kisses on your hot forehead, some strands of your hair clinging to your face.

“Gonna miss you too,” you respond, pulling him closer as he reaches deeper and deeper, further and further into you. You place your lips on his neck, passionately sucking on it, with the intent of leaving a mark.

“You naughty, naughty thing, what have I told you about shit like this.” you ignore him anyway. Miguel has always had a problem with being evidenced. The last thing he wanted was for his wife to catch an accidental glimpse of it and start pointing fingers, but as this was a farewell gift, he let the scratching slide. Once successfully leave your mark, you giggle. “We’ll see who’ll be laughing in a second.”

In a second you’re moaning louder. There’s something that he’s doing that's working even better than a couple of thrusts ago, and you don’t know what it is. You thought you were already at 100% with him, but you suppose you truly underestimated him. Now he has you screaming his name, pleading and begging like prayer- music to his ears.

“Oh fuck. oh my fucking God.” One thing Miguel loves about you is how vocal you are, it fuels him, so whenever he hears your pleas to keep going or to stop because it’s too much, he carries right on. You’re high up with the way you’re being fucked, his hips rut into you and soon you’re unable to even scream out loud, all of them turning silent.

“Yeah, who's laughing now.” he chuckles, as you lay back on the bed, gripping the sheets beneath you. He takes his hand to your face, brushing the hair out of it before placing a is on your lips and you’re melting into it. The two of you don’t usually kiss, keeping it strictly to fucking, but this time it’s different, this one is different. Contradictory to his pace, you lips are slow and gentle as he savours your taste and your lips for the last time.

This truly is the end.

SEPTEMBER 1ST

+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . +

count how many times i said fuck. miguel is sooooooooo sexy oh mi god. please give this the love it deserves i acc spent ages writing this.

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Requestion: Renee x Reader where Reader, Renee’s gf, finally gets to see Renee play Regina on broadway for the first time. Reader thinks it’s the hottest thing ever and Renee notices after the show. She’s all smug and teasing about it, being a bit mean to Reader in a playful way. Smut in the dressing room ensues

Embodiment of Mean Girls

|| Reneé Rapp x fem!reader

|| Warnings; smut, degrading, reader called slut/whore, Reneé using reader, knee riding, fingering, dom Reneé sub reader, control kink, mommy kink, mentions of praising kink, choking kink, mentions of being used/treaded like a toy, Reneé slaps reader a few times, orgasms, soft Reneé at the end for after care, public ish sex

|| Summary; when reader watches Reneé as Regina George for the first time, she's turned on... to say the least.

Requests closed!

Started; December 4th

Finished; December 8th

~~~

Broadway. Your girlfriend, Reneé Rapp, was a broadway star. Sometimes you still struggled to wrap your head around that. When she first told you she was Regina George, you thought she was messing with you. Like, okay Reneé where's the camera? Kind of joke. Only she was completely serious. You were floored. How could your silly, chaotic girl be Regina George? The embodiment of mean girls? It didn't make sense to you.

Until you saw her preform for the first time and oh my God. Your life was changed. Like, seriously. Changed. From one performance. Your eyes had been on her the entire time, watching her every movement. Hanging to her every word, every song. She was incredible. And so... so damn hot. If you weren't already gay, well. You definitely were now. She would have been your awakening. You couldn't wait to get to her after the show.

When you do finally get to see her, Reneé's in her dressing room. Scrolling through her phone. Just taking a moment to collect herself after the adrenaline rush of being on stage. As the door opened, she glanced at you with a smile. It didn't take Reneé long at all to see the way you were looking at her. There was lust and desire in your eyes, which amused the star.

She stood from her chair, setting her phone on the desk and walking over to you. Hands resting to your shoulders with a grin," hey, baby. You doing okay?" Reneé couldn't help but tease. Her tone whenever she called you 'baby'... well, it only made your desire for her worse. You gave her a nod in response and brought her flush against you. Kissing her deep. A small moan left Reneé and her lips danced with yours in perfect rhythm. God, she couldn't get enough of you either. Her hands cupped your cheeks, trying to deepen the kiss impossibly further.

All you could do was moan and let her take control. There were few times where you submitted to Reneé, because Reneé usually liked you having the control. But having just played someone with a very dominant personality on stage, it's clear it hasn't fully gotten out of her system yet.

The kiss broke and you brought Reneé to the chair. You took a seat, then looked up at her with a grin," degrade me?" You requested. Which caught Reneé off guard for a moment. It wasn't usually something you asked her to do. She knew you had a praising kink, but she never considered that you might also have a degrading kink.

"You want to be mommy's slut?" She replied, her hand going to your throat. Straddling herself in your lap. All you could do was nod and whimper for her, begging her to do more. To use you, make her your personal toy. It happened before you even realized what was going on; Reneé's other hand slapped you across the face. Her hand on your throat growing tighter.

A gasp left you, squirming in the seat. Reneé's eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation or unwanting. When all she found was desire, she continued," you liked that, didn't you? Such a filthy little slut.." She slapped you again. Grinding her clit down against your knee. You tried to speak, but all that came out was a breathless moan. Needing her to touch you in your core. The more she seemed to refuse, tease you, edge you. The stronger the need for it came. Until you were begging under her.

"Neé-" you'd started to say, only to be met with another slap and sharp eyes. Looking at you expectantly. Like you'd done something wrong. Your mind was too foggy to catch onto what she was saying. Hinting at. It wasn't until she spoke did you understand.

"What's my name?" Reneé asked, your whole body shuddered. Trying to avoid her eyes. Looking at literally anything else in the room, even taking the time to read some of the show posters on the dressing room wall. When she noticed your eyes wandering, she forced your attention back to her with a bruising kiss. And when your eyes opened again, Reneé looked into them," well?"

"Mommy," you murmured. Reneé seemed satisfied. She used your knee until she came. Taking her damn sweet time. Messing with you. Prolonging your turn for as long as she could. Until she finally caved and gave you the touch you wanted. Your eyes rolled back, head slumping against the back rest of the chair as Reneé fingered you.

"Such a good little whore, aren't you?" Reneé smirked, trailing bruising kisses along your neck," keep your moans quiet, baby. Wouldn't want the stage crew to hear, would you? Unless you're into that kind of thing.. maybe you're more of a slut than I thought," Reneé continued her tease. Loving the way it seemed to take effect on you. How you just melted into her.

It wasn't long after until you were cumming onto her fingers. Making a mess she knew they would have to clean up, not wanting someone to realize what they did in here. But for now, her focus was on you. Easing you down from your orgasm. Relaxing your breathing. Encouraging you through your breaths. A complete 180 from how she was behaving only moments before.

Reneé helped you drink some water from the bottle she had after her show. You didn't care that it was hers, after all. It wasn't the first time the two of you shared liquids. Pulling away when you were done, Reneé sat herself in your lap. Examining your cheeks, making sure you were okay from when she'd slapped you. She didn't want to have caused actual harm to you.

"I'm okay," you assured her. Taking a breath between your words. Her eyes locked to yours and Reneé relaxed.

"You sure, baby?" When you nodded, she didn't press further about it. But did still keep an eye on you.

Just in case.

[cherryblossomcowgirl]

Safe Haven Hangman

WC: 3.3k

Warnings: cheating; unplanned pregnancy; swearing; smut; angst

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I’m laying on the couch and stupid romcoms blare from the TV. For some reason, my eyes glance down to the coffee table. They land on our wedding photo. Bradley is cupping my face with his hands, about to kiss me as I beam up at him. “AGHH!” I throw the remote at the frame and watch it fall to the ground, shattering. Tears fall down my cheeks as I think about the events of the past few weeks. Our 4th wedding anniversary. How he was so happy, showering me with presents and affection. After the months of emotional distance, I couldn’t believe it. The next day was when my world came crashing down. A letter in the mailbox that was addressed “Mrs. Bradshaw”. A long, handwritten confession from a young woman. Tear stains marked the page. She said she never knew about me. She said Bradley told her he would leave me when they found out she was pregnant. That was 4 weeks ago. I haven’t spoken to Bradley yet, but the front door lock has been changed. He hasn’t tried to come home. He has tried to call a few times and has left hundreds of texts. I texted him this morning to come over to grab his things, but he hasn’t answered. I have felt angry, sad, vengeful.. every damn emotion under the sun. There’s a knock at the door and I yell, “Not right now, Bradley!!” There’s a soft voice on the other side of the door, “Y/n, it’s me. Please let me in.” I wipe my cheek and walk to the door. “Jake, I am fine.” “No you aren’t.” I open the door and he throws his arms around me. I breathe in his scent, cedar wood and jet fuel. Jake and I met a decade ago, the same night I met Bradley. I was the new tech guru at Top Gun. Phoenix had invited me out to the Hard Deck with the squad. Jake caught my eye, but Bradley made the first move. Before I knew it we were dating. Then engaged. Then married with a house not too far from base. Jake was there for everything. He wasn’t just Bradley’s friend, he was mine too. He was the first one I’d call if something happened when Bradley was deployed. He’d drop whatever, or whoever he was doing to come help. He has been trying to get a hold of me for weeks, but I have shut myself in the house since the letter. Maverick approved my last minute leave, no questions asked. Jake pulls back and scans my face, “Y/n, talk to me.” I walk to the office and hand him the letter. He reads slowly, like he can’t believe what he sees. After a few minutes he sets it down, “Has he been here?” I shake my head and I see a muscle in his jaw twitch, “What do you need me to do?” I shrug, “I put everything of his in boxes. My attorney already sent over paperwork. I just need to have him come over and sign it. Can I ask you something?” Jake nods and I look down at my hands, “Did you ever see him with her?” Jake puts his hand on my shoulder, “No. I noticed he was acting strangely, but if I saw anything I would’ve told you.” Without thinking, I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face into him. His scent calms me down. I hear keys try the lock and then the doorbell rings. I look at my phone. Bradley had responded.

B: Anything you want. On my way.

Jake grabs my hand as I walk towards the door, “Do you want me to be here for this?” “Please. Just stay in the office for right now. I’ll let you know if I need you.” He nods, turning back into the office.

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I open the door and Bradley is staring at his feet. I motion for him to come in and he follows me to the kitchen. He looks over to the pile of his things in boxes. I sigh, “It’s all there.” His glassy eyes meet mine, “You changed the locks.” I scoff, “You got another woman pregnant.” “Y/n, I never meant for any of this to happen. You know how much I love you. How much I always will.” I slide the folder filled with paperwork towards him, “If you love me so much you can sign these, take your things, and leave.” He opens the folder and tears spill down his cheeks. Bradley reads through it all and I hand him a pen, “Once you sign this, everything is done. No court, no drama. You owe me this, B.” He takes the pen and signs, “Are you gonna sell the house? I see here that’s all you want. You can have whatever, Y/n. I mean it.” I shake my head, “I just want the house. I don’t need your money. I’ll be just fine.” “I’d be okay to pay spousal support. Or give you half of my retirement? After everything it would make me feel-“ I laugh, “B, I don’t care what will make you feel better. Your money means nothing to me. Your money won’t help me. You broke my heart. You are building the life I wanted with someone else. I want you to be as far away from me as possible.” He nods and silently walks boxes to the Bronco. When he grabs the last one he turns back, “So this is it?” I nod and grab my rings out of my pocket, handing them to him. “You can keep those. Really I don’t mind.” Tears sting my eyes, “B, I don’t want them. Please take them back.” Bradley slides them into his pocket and gives me a weak smile, “I’m sorry, Y/n. Take care of yourself, okay?” I nod, “You too.” I shut the door and slide down until I am sitting on the floor with my head in my hands. Jake walks over slowly and sits beside me, “You okay?” I can’t even look up, “10 years. 10 years went down the drain in what, a few weeks? And he is the one crying? He started a whole new life with her! And then he asks me if this is it? Who does he think he is?!” Jake pulls me into his chest and holds me tight while I sob. My body is shaking and it feels like I can’t breathe. I’m not sure how long I cry for, but it feels like forever. Once I calm down, we stand up and Jake wipes a tear off of my cheek, “Hey, how about I order your favorite take out and put on a movie? Just like we would during deployments?” I smile and nod my head, reminiscing on all the times Jake was there for me. How kind he always was. How he always noticed the little things. Bradley meant well, at least at first he did. He was always wrapped up in the next mission or training. Part of me always hoped he would retire young and we could actually live. Travel. Enjoy each other. But now I know how our story ends, and it is far from anything I imagined.

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When I get out of the shower, Jake is on the couch with our takeout on the coffee table. He chuckles, “I kind of ordered too much because I didn’t know what you wanted.” “Thank you, Jake. You really don’t have to do this for me.” “Yes I do. You have been one of my closest friends for a decade, Y/n. I hate seeing you like this.” I nudge him with my elbow, “I’ll be okay. I’m thinking about going somewhere far away, rural. Maybe getting some cattle. And a couple of dogs.” “Okay while that does sound great, you don’t have to leave. You know how much Top Gun relies on you.” My eyes get watery all over again, “I know. I don’t want to leave y’all. Y’all are my family. I’ll think about it.” He turns on a comedy and I try to turn my brain off. I don’t know when I fell asleep, but I wake up to the sun shining and I am in my bedroom. There’s a note on my nightstand,

Y/n,

Didn’t want to wake you. Have an early morning, but call if you need anything. Hydrate.

Jake

There’s a glass of water beside the note. I smile and put the note in my top drawer. Jake may be known as the jerk of the squad, but he has always treated me so gently. My mind starts to wander. What would have happened if Jake made the first move? Does he ever think about when we first met? He had been flirty and sweet, but Bradley was bold. He swept me off my feet. But what if it had been Jake? I shake the thought out of my head and log onto my computer to start chipping away at all of the paperwork that has piled up in my absence.

.

.

Friday morning rolls around and I throw on my uniform. I have to go back at some point, so I might as well get it over with. The engine of my truck purrs as I make my way to base. Once I park, I walk quickly to my office. There were some hello’s from the squad. I smile and wave. After a few minutes, there’s a knock on my door. “Hey Mav, come in.” He sits down on my couch, “Was wondering when I’d see you again! How are you, kid?” “As good as you’d guess.” He shakes his head, “Hangman talked to me. And Bradshaw. I want you to be the first to know, Bradshaw will be PCSing to Norfolk. He’s reporting Monday.” I feel a pit in my stomach. Tears sting my eyes, “Oh, okay. Thank you for letting me know.” Mav stands up and puts his arms out, “Come here.” I hug him tight and he pats my back before going to the hangar. I look out my window to see a banner that says, “Bon Voyage, Rooster!” Rolling my eyes, I sit back down and keep working. A few hours later, Jake walks in. “Ever heard of knocking?” “I thought friends didn’t have to knock?” “How was the going away party?” He shrugs, “Stupid. Everyone knows what he did. Doesn’t feel like we should be celebrating him.” I laugh, “Let me guess, The Hard Deck tonight?” He walks over and leans on my desk, “Bingo. I’m not really in the mood for that though.” “When are you not in the mood to go drink and pick up women?” He fiddles with my cup of pens, “You know, Y/n, maybe I am finally growing up.” Jake hits me with his shiny white smile and I laugh, “Well I’m going to go by the water to look at the stars tonight, if you wanna join?” “I’ll look for your lantern?” I smile and nod, remembering the first time he found me on the beach. Jake bought a house a few down from ours and Bradley was gone on a very dangerous mission. I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to go listen to the waves. I had taken my lantern with me and Jake saw it from his back porch. When he came down to check on me, he found me crying and curled up in a blanket. Jake sat there with me until the sun came up. Back then, I wrote it off as him being a good friend. As I sit here with him leaning on my desk, I wonder if that’s all it was. His fingers brush mine, “See you later.” I gulp, “See ya, Jake.”

.

.

When I get home, I take a long shower to wash off the day. Thankfully Bradley stayed far away from me. I go through my closet, wondering what to wear. I settle on a cute little matching set. I make sure to spray my favorite perfume, it smells sweet and floral. I fix my hair in the mirror and then it hits me, what am I doing? Trying to look cute for Jake? A wave of guilt washes over me and I wonder if Bradley felt it when he was with that woman. The sun finally sets, so I grab my blanket and lantern. I head out to my favorite spot right past the dunes. When we bought the house, I was so excited to have the beach as my backyard. It quickly became my getaway. I lay down and gaze up at the stars. The sound of the waves soothes my soul. It isn’t too long before I hear someone walking my way. Jake’s deep voice and southern drawl brings me back down to Earth, “Hey there, Y/n.” He sits beside me and his hand rests on mine, “Hey, Jake.” “See any constellations tonight?” “Ursa Major is right over there.” I stare off at the stars and when I turn back Jake is staring at me. I giggle, “What?” He gently tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, “Right now you look like.. you. You haven’t looked like yourself in a while.” I raise an eyebrow, “What do you mean?” Obviously I know what he means. I knew something was wrong in our marriage. It weighed on me for months. Jake takes a deep breath, “You stopped laughing. And smiling. You stopped being you. I love when you are you.” His eyes meet mine, green and sincere. I smile, “You do?” “Always have, Y/n.” Jake moves closer, just enough to make my heart jump into my throat. I try to collect myself, “You have?” I feel his breath as he responds, “Yes ma’am. Remember that night? At the Hard Deck? Bradshaw got to you first. I have been kicking myself for the last decade.” His eyes are locked in to mine and my heart is pounding out of my chest. Jake’s lips are less than an inch from mine. I thought this would feel wrong, but every part of me wants him. My head is telling me to stop but my heart wins the argument. I lean in just a touch, our lips brushing. Jake’s green eyes turn dark and he whispers, “Are you sure?” I whimper, “Please, Jake.” Our lips meet. He starts off gentle, sliding a hand into my hair. Then his kiss grows hungry, greedy even. It is like he can’t get enough. His hands explore my waist and the curve of my hips. I nibble on his bottom lip and he smirks. His lips move down my neck and he decorates my collarbone with sloppy kisses. I moan, “Mmmm, Jake.” He pulls back and cups my face in his hands, “I have wanted this for so long.” I smile and push him back into the sand, kissing him in a way I never have before. It’s every ounce of tension that has been bottled up between us. It’s an amount of passion that I have never known. We roll around in the sand and I feel like a teenager again. His hands explore under my sweater and he grins, “A lacy bra? For me?” Heat spreads to my cheeks, “Maybe.” He kisses my neck, “Lacy bra. Perfume. You’re really spoiling me, aren’t you darling?” The pet name makes me crazy. I grab the back of his neck and pull him down to me, kissing him like it is my source of oxygen. The creak of my back gate makes us jump apart, fixing ourselves quickly and turning to see who it is.

.

.

An all too familiar voice calls out, “Y/n! Baby! You out here? The front door is locked!” I stand up with the lantern, “Bradley? You don’t live here anymore.” He walks closer and notices Jake, “Hey! Hangman! What’s up dude?” He is obviously hammered. Someone from work must’ve dropped him off, not knowing he’s moved out. Bradley starts wobbling and I go to his side, steadying him. “Thanks baby. What are you up to? You look so pretty.” I sigh, “B, you need to go back to wherever you’ve been staying. Can I call you an uber?” He shakes his head, “Nooo. I want to sleep at home tonight. I miss home. I miss you.” “Bradley, you can’t sleep here. Where have you been staying?” Bradley looks between Jake and I, his drunk brain trying to process what he sees. He finally asks, “Hangman, why are you with my wife? It’s late. You should be out drinking. Lots of ladies at the bar tonight.” Jake shakes his head, “I’m good. Let’s get you back to Bob’s so you can go to bed.” Bradley shakes his head, “No no no. I don’t wanna go. Tell me why you’re with my wife!” I put my hand on Bradley’s chest, “You need to leave, okay?” I order an Uber to Bob’s and we walk him to the sidewalk. He turns to me, “Have you been sleeping with Jake?” I shake my head, “No, B. The only one that cheated in our marriage was you.” He hangs his head and the Uber arrives. We load him in, then head back to the water. Silence surrounds us. Jake finally clears his throat, “I understand if you want me to go.” I shake my head, “Please don’t.” He kisses the top of my head. I take his hand and lead him inside my house.

.

.

This past week I decided to redecorate. Jake looks around, “I like it. Very you. Very Texas.” He motions to my Longhorn memorabilia and I chuckle, “You know, if you weren’t so damn old we could’ve met in college.” Jake rolls his eyes, “I’m only 8 years older than you. We could always take a little trip and go to a football game.. if you wanted to.” I smirk. Jake Seresin. Hangman. Talking about a trip. The man who I have watched avoid relationships like the plague for the last decade. “I’d like that. You know how much I love football.” We sit on the couch and have a couple of beers. Our conversations switch from work, to our friend group, to our families. I’m starting to yawn and Jake stands up, “I can head home.” I stand up and take his hand, “Or you could stay? If you wanted to.” He tilts my chin up and kisses me deeply, “Of course I do.” As he follows me to the bedroom, I realize how nervous I am. We lay beside each other on the bed and watch a lighthearted romcom. I play with his hair, “Can I tell you something?” “Anything.” “I am so nervous. The way you touch me.. and look at me.. I..” “You haven’t felt this before?” I shake my head, “Not even close.” He smiles and kisses me gently, “Me either.” Jake continues kissing me, his hands roaming my body slowly and deliberately. He nibbles on my ear and whispers, “You are breathtaking.” My breath hitches and I run my hands over his abs, “Did you mean what you said? About the first night we met?” He nods, “Every word. Have you thought about it, too?” I blush, “I shouldn’t have, but I did.” Jake kisses my neck sloppily, “When would you think about it?” I moan, “On the nights he wouldn’t touch me.” Jake’s eyes grow darker like before, “Oh really? Did you think about me any other times?” “Way more than I’d like to admit.” I smirk and bat my eyelashes. Jake’s voice is almost a growl, “Fuck, Y/n.” I kiss his jawline and down his neck. We finally take a breath, and he pulls me in close to his chest. I look up at him, “Didn’t think you’d be the cuddling type.” He chuckles, “Usually I am not.” He plays with my hair and I could get used to this. The affection. The spark. It could be the newness. It could be the guilt. But, I am going to savor every moment of this feeling.

[winwintea]

encore

PAIRING ↬ actor!park sunghoon x fem!reader

TAGS ↬ thriller, romance, action, mystery, suspense, body swap au, supernatural au, musical theatre setting, everyone is pretty sus, sunghoon is a sassy king for like 5 seconds, he also breaks the 4th wall randomly

SUMMARY ↬ you aren’t giselle.

so why do you look like her? are you in giselle’s body right now? then where’s your actual body? and where in the world is the real giselle? is the lead actor who seems to be the only one to recognize you actually on your side? or will you get caught by the others and perish in a body that isn’t your own? so many questions and so little time.

WORD COUNT ↬ 8.1k words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ my official enhablur debut 🥺🥺 (ignore the jay fic i wrote last year i’m pretending like it doesn’t exist) thank u @polarisjisung my love for encouraging me to post as well as beta read <33 we stepping out of the comfort zone with this one!

PLAYLIST ↬ fatal trouble - enhypen; marionette - red velvet; masquerade - chung ha; swan - miyeon; head over heels - abba; fairytale - alexander rybak; judas - lady gaga; mystery lover - taemin; encore - purple kiss

THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICED WAS THE SMELL.

It wasn’t the usual faint scent of your lavender body wash or the stale coffee from your tiny apartment. No, this was something richer, more expensive—like jasmine and vanilla, with a hint of stage makeup and something metallic. Your head throbbed as you blinked your eyes open, the world spinning into focus. 

You were lying on a plush velvet chaise lounge, the kind you’d see in old Hollywood movies. The room around you was bathed in soft golden light, the walls adorned with framed playbills and bouquets of roses. A vanity table sat in the corner, its mirror reflecting the cluster of makeup brushes, lipsticks, and a half-empty bottle of champagne. 

“What the—” You started, voice catching in your throat. That wasn’t your voice. It was smoother, more melodic, with a slight edge of authority. You froze, heart pounding as you stared at the mirror. 

The reflection staring back at you wasn’t yours. 

It was Giselle’s. 

You scrambled to your feet, nearly tripping over the hem of a silk robe that definitely wasn’t yours. You gripped the edge of the vanity, leaning closer to the mirror. The face staring back at you was flawless—high cheekbones, perfectly winged eyeliner, and lips painted a deep crimson. You reached up to touch her face, and the reflection mimicked you perfectly. 

“No, no, no, this isn’t happening,” You muttered, voice trembling. You pinched her arm, but the sharp pain only confirmed this wasn’t a dream. “Okay, okay, think. You’re Y/N. You’re not Giselle. You’re… not Giselle. So why do you look like her?!”

You paced the room, mind racing. Someone had told you about a special VIP experience backstage. Which led you to wander into a locked dressing room, and then… nothing. Just darkness. And now this. 

A knock at the door made you jump. “Giselle? You in there? We’ve got a run-through in ten.” 

You recognized that voice. It was Sunghoon, the theatre’s lead actor and famous heartthrob. Your stomach churned. If anyone could tell something was off, it would be him. 

“Uh, yeah! Just… give me a second!” You called back, cringing at how unconvincing you sounded. 

The door swung open before you could stop it, and there he was—Park Sunghoon, in all his unfairly handsome glory. He was dressed in a fitted black button-up and tailored slacks, his hair perfectly styled. His sharp eyes narrowed as he took you in. 

“You’re not Giselle,” he said flatly, crossing his arms. 

Your heart skipped a beat. “What? Of course I am! Who else would I be?” 

Sunghoon stepped closer, his gaze piercing. “Giselle doesn’t slouch. She doesn’t fidget. And she definitely doesn’t look like she’s about to pass out from panic.” He tilted his head, studying you. “So, who are you, and what did you do with Giselle?” 

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words caught in your throat. You slumped back onto the chaise lounge, burying your face in your hands. “I don’t know! I don’t know what’s happening! I’m not Giselle—I’m Y/N! I was just… I was just a fan, and now I’m… her!” 

Sunghoon’s expression softened slightly, though he still looked wary. He sat down beside you, keeping a careful distance. “Okay, let’s say I believe you. How did this happen?” 

“I don’t know!” You groaned, running a hand through your hair—err well, Giselle’s hair. “I was backstage, and I found this weird dressing room with a mirror, and then… bam! I woke up like this.” 

Sunghoon frowned. “The locked dressing room? That’s been off-limits for weeks. Jay said it was under renovation.” 

“Well, it wasn’t locked when I found it,” You muttered, glancing at him, eyes pleading. “You have to believe me. I’m not crazy.” 

Sunghoon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re definitely not Giselle. She’d never admit to being crazy, even if she was.” He stood, offering you a hand. “Come on. We need to figure this out before anyone else notices.” 

You hesitated before taking his hand. “Why are you helping me?” 

He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Because if you’re telling the truth, this is the most interesting thing that’s happened in this theatre in years. And if you’re lying… well, let’s just say I’ll enjoy watching you try to pull this off.” 

You groaned. “Great. So I’m stuck in Giselle’s body, and my only ally is a guy who thinks this is funny.” 

Sunghoon’s smirk widened. “Welcome to the show, Y/N. Let’s see if you can survive Act One.” 

Sunghoon leaned against the vanity, arms crossed, his sharp eyes scanning the room as if it might suddenly reveal its secrets. 

You were still trying to process the fact that you were now living in Giselle’s body—and apparently her life. Which you didn’t even know was possible. This is the type of situation you only read in stories or watched in movies. Not real life. You paced nervously, Giselle’s silk robe swishing dramatically with every step. No biggie, I’ve just swapped bodies with  someone! Perfectly normal Tuesday! Maybe if I fall asleep again I’ll wake up and this will all be a dream!

“Okay, let’s start from the beginning,” Sunghoon said, his tone calm but laced with curiosity. “You’re Y/N. You’re not Giselle. You woke up in her body after messing with a creepy mirror. Did I miss anything?” 

“Uh, yeah,” You snapped, stopping mid-pace to glare at him. “The part where this is a literal nightmare, and I have no idea how to fix it!” 

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Right. Well, while you were busy freaking out, I was thinking. Giselle’s been… off lately. Like, really off.” 

You frowned. “What do you mean?” 

He shrugged, picking up a tube of lipstick from the vanity and twirling it between his fingers. “She’s been missing rehearsals, showing up late, forgetting her lines. And she’s been weirdly secretive. Like, she’d disappear for hours and then act like nothing happened. I tried asking her about it, but she just brushed me off.” 

Your eyes widened. “So you’re saying something was already wrong with her before I got… swapped into her?” 

“Exactly,” Sunghoon said, setting the lipstick down. “And now you’re here, which means whatever’s going on, it’s bigger than just you.” 

You scowled again, sinking back onto the chaise lounge. “Great. So not only am I stuck in someone else’s body, but that someone might be in some kind of trouble? Fantastic. Just fantastic.” 

Sunghoon smirked. “Look on the bright side. At least you’re stuck in the body of a gorgeous, talented star. Could’ve been worse.” 

You shot him a withering look. “Oh, yeah, because this is such a privilege. I’m living the dream.” 

Before Sunghoon could retort, your  eyes landed on something tucked under the edge of the vanity—a small, folded piece of paper. You reached for it, your fingers trembling slightly as you unfolded it. The note was written in elegant, cursive handwriting: 

“The mirror knows the truth. Trust no one.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You held the note out to Sunghoon, who took it with a frown. 

“Well, that’s not ominous at all,” he said dryly, handing it back to you. “Any idea what it means?” 

“No, but it sounds like Giselle knew something was going on,” You said, your mind racing. “Maybe she found out about the mirror and whatever… this is.” You gestured wildly at yourself. 

Sunghoon nodded, his expression serious now. “Okay, so here’s the plan. We figure out what’s going on, reverse whatever this is, and get you back to your body. But we have to be careful. If anyone finds out you’re not Giselle, it’s game over.” 

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who has to pretend to be a world-class actress and singer.” 

Sunghoon grinned, leaning closer. “Relax. I’ll help you. I’ve been acting alongside Giselle for months. I know her better than anyone here.” 

You peeked at him through your fingers. “And why should I trust you? For all I know, you could be the one behind this.” 

He placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Ouch. You wound me. If I wanted to piss off and mess with someone, it definitely wouldn’t be Giselle. Too much drama. I already have enough trying to deal with her on a daily basis.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, despite the absurdity of the situation. “Fine. But if you double-cross me, I’m taking you down with me.” 

“Deal,” Sunghoon said, holding out his hand. You hesitated for a moment before shaking it, his grip firm and reassuring. 

“Alright, partner,” You said, trying to sound confident. “Where do we start?” 

Sunghoon’s grin turned mischievous. “First, we need to get you through rehearsal without blowing your cover. Then, we investigate the mirror and figure out who else might be involved in this. Sound good?” 

You sighed, running a hand through Giselle’s perfectly styled hair. “Sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. But what choice do I have?” 

“That’s the spirit!” Sunghoon said, clapping you on the shoulder. “Now, let’s get you to rehearsal before someone starts asking questions. And try to act like Giselle. You know, confident, flawless, and just a little bit terrifying.” 

You sighed, but followed him out of the dressing room, the cryptic note clutched tightly in your hand. As the two of you stepped into the bustling hallway, you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching you. 

“Sunghoon,” you whispered, glancing over your shoulder. “What if someone here already knows?” 

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Then we’re in bigger trouble than we thought. But don’t worry. I’ve got your back.” 

You nodded, though your stomach was in knots. You couldn’t help but feel like you were stepping into a role you were nowhere near ready for. 

The moment you stepped out of the dressing room with Sunghoon, the weight of Giselle’s life crashed down on you like a poorly rigged stage light. The hallway was alive with activity—crew members rushing back and forth, actors rehearsing lines, and the faint hum of the orchestra tuning up in the distance. You clutched the mysterious note in your hand, your heart pounding as you tried to remember how to walk like someone who belonged here. 

Sunghoon leaned in, his voice low. “Remember, you’re Giselle. You’ve got this.” 

You shot him a look. “You’re setting the bar a little high, don’t you think?” 

He smirked. “Just channel your inner diva. And try not to freak out.” 

Before you could respond, a voice called out from behind you. 

“Giselle! There you are!” 

You turned to see Jay striding toward you, his signature easygoing smile plastered across his face. As the owner of the theatre and Sunghoon’s best friend, Jay was the kind of guy who seemed to know everyone and everything. His sharp eyes scanned you, and you could feel the weight of his curiosity. 

“Hey, Jay,” you said, forcing a smile. Your voice sounded too high-pitched, too nervous. You cleared your throat and tried again, lowering your tone to match Giselle’s smooth, confident cadence. “What’s up?” 

Jay tilted his head, his smile never wavering. “Just checking in. You’ve been… different lately. Everything okay?” 

You froze. Different? Of course you were different—you weren’t Giselle! But you couldn’t say that. Instead, you forced a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound as fake as it felt. “Different? Me? Nah, I’m just… prepping for the big night. You know how it is.” 

Jay’s gaze lingered on you for a moment too long before he nodded. “Right. Well, if you need anything, you know where to find me.” 

As he walked away, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Sunghoon nudged you. “Not bad. But next time, try not to sound like you’re auditioning for a horror movie.” 

You glared at him. “Oh, shut up.” 

Your next encounter was with Yangyang, the theatre’s logistics manager. He was leaning against a stack of prop crates, scrolling through his phone, but his eyes flicked up the moment you approached. 

“Giselle,” he said, his tone casual but his gaze sharp. “Heard you’ve been spending a lot of time in the locked dressing room. Find anything interesting?” 

Your stomach dropped. How did he know about that? You forced a smile, channeling every ounce of Giselle’s confidence. “Just looking for some peace and quiet. You know how it is.” 

Yangyang’s lips curled into a sly smile. “Peace and quiet? In this place? Good luck with that.” He pushed off the crates and walked away, leaving you with the distinct feeling that he knew more than he was letting on. 

Sunghoon leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. “He’s always been a little too nosy for his own good. Watch your back around him.” 

You nodded, your nerves fraying with every interaction. 

Then came Soyeon and Yunjin, the theatre’s supporting actress and stand-in, respectively. They were huddled together near the stage, whispering furiously. As you approached, Yunjin’s eyes narrowed, her dislike for Giselle practically radiating off her. 

“Well, look who decided to show up,” Yunjin said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Finally gracing us with your presence, Giselle?” 

You swallowed hard, trying to channel Giselle’s trademark coolness. “Nice to see you too, Yunjin. Soyeon.” 

Soyeon smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “We were just talking about how… dedicated you’ve been to the role lately. It’s inspiring, really.” 

The way she said “dedicated” made your skin crawl. You forced a smile, though your palms were sweating. “Thanks. I try.” 

Yunjin rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, try harder. Some of us actually care about this production.” 

Before you could respond, Soyeon linked arms with Yunjin and pulled her away, shooting you a look that was equal parts pity and disdain. 

Sunghoon appeared at your side, his expression grim. “Yunjin’s never been a fan of Giselle, but that was… intense. What did you do to her?” 

“Me? Nothing!” you hissed. “I’m just trying not to get caught!” 

Your next interaction was with Belle, the theatre’s makeup artist and Jay’s confidant. She was waiting for you in the dressing room, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable. 

“Giselle,” she said, her voice smooth but with an edge that made your stomach twist. “Jay mentioned you’ve been… distracted lately. Anything you want to talk about?” 

You forced a smile, though your heart was racing. “No, everything’s fine. Just prepping for the show.” 

Belle’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you were certain she could see right through you. “You know, if there’s something going on, you can tell me. I’m here to help.” 

The way she said it sounded more like a threat than an offer. You nodded, trying to look grateful. “Thanks, Belle. I’ll keep that in mind.” 

She studied you for a moment longer before nodding. “Good. Don’t forget—we’re all counting on you.” 

As she left, you sank into the nearest chair, your legs trembling. Sunghoon appeared in the doorway, his expression serious. 

“You okay?” he asked. 

You shook your head. “No. Everyone’s so… suspicious. And Belle? She’s terrifying.” 

Sunghoon nodded. “Yeah, she’s not someone to mess with. But you handled it well. Just keep your guard up.” 

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This is impossible. How am I supposed to keep this up?” 

Sunghoon crouched in front of you, his voice softening. “You’re doing better than you think. Just remember—you’re not alone in this. I’ve got your back.” 

You looked up at him, his steady gaze grounding you. “I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

He grinned, standing and offering you a hand. “Probably get caught in, like, five minutes. Now come on—we’ve got a mystery to solve.” 

After the nerve-wracking encounters with Jay, Yangyang, Soyeon, Yunjin, and Belle, you were starting to feel like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap at any moment. Sunghoon had disappeared to “do some digging,” leaving you to navigate the rest of the theatre’s cast and crew on your own. You took a deep breath, straightened Giselle’s silk robe, and stepped back into the fray.

You found Shotaro in the costume room, meticulously organizing a rack of elaborate gowns. He jumped when you entered, nearly dropping a sequined dress. 

“Giselle!” he said, his voice an octave higher than usual. “What are you doing here?” 

You raised an eyebrow, trying to channel Giselle’s trademark coolness. “Just checking on my costumes for the show. Everything ready?” 

Shotaro nodded quickly, but his hands were shaking as he adjusted the hangers. “Y-yes, of course. Everything’s perfect. Just like always.” 

You hesitated, then decided to push your luck. “By the way, have you heard anything about the locked dressing room? The one near the west wing?” 

Shotaro froze, his face paling. “N-no. Why would I know anything about that?” 

His reaction was so over-the-top that you almost laughed. Almost. “Just curious. It’s been off-limits for weeks, right?” 

He nodded vigorously, avoiding your gaze. “Yes, totally off-limits. No one goes in there. Ever. Definitely not me.” 

You narrowed your eyes. “Right. Well, let me know if you hear anything.” 

As you left, you could feel Shotaro’s anxious gaze burning into your back.

Winwin was Giselle’s supposed confidant, but the moment you approached him, you could tell something was off. He was leaning against a wall backstage, scrolling through his phone, but his eyes flicked up the moment you got close. 

“Giselle,” he said, his tone casual but his gaze sharp. “You’ve been… different lately.” 

You forced a smile, though your heart was racing. “Different? How so?” 

He shrugged, slipping his phone into his pocket. “I don’t know. Just… not yourself. You’ve been avoiding me.” 

You blinked, caught off guard. “Avoiding you? No, I’ve just been busy with the show.” 

Winwin’s expression softened, but there was something in his eyes that made you uneasy. “You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever’s going on, I’m here for you.” 

The sincerity in his voice threw you for a loop. Was he genuinely concerned, or was this some kind of act? You nodded, trying to look grateful. “Thanks, Winwin. I’ll keep that in mind.” 

As you walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that his loyalty wasn’t as unwavering as Giselle might have thought.

You found Woozi in the rehearsal room, hunched over a notebook and muttering to himself. He didn’t notice you until you were standing right in front of him. 

“Giselle!” he said, his eyes lighting up. “Just the person I wanted to see. I’ve made some changes to your solo. I think you’ll love them.” 

You forced a smile, though your stomach was in knots. “Changes? What kind of changes?” 

He handed you the notebook, his excitement palpable. “Just a few lyrical tweaks to better reflect your character’s inner turmoil. I think it’ll really elevate your performance.” 

You glanced at the page, your heart sinking at the sight of his intensely scribbled revision notes. “Uh, great. Thanks, Woozi.” 

He leaned in, his gaze intense. “You’re the heart of this production, Giselle. Without you, it’s nothing. Don’t forget that.” 

The weight of his words made you feel like you were carrying the entire theatre on your shoulders. You nodded, trying to look appreciative. “I won’t.” 

As you left, you couldn’t help but feel like Woozi’s obsession with Giselle’s performance was more than just professional.

Your final encounter of the day was with Mark and Heeseung, the theatre’s stuntman and stage control, respectively. They were huddled near the lighting booth, deep in conversation, but Mark’s face lit up when he saw you. 

“Giselle!” he said, grinning. “You’re looking… uh, great as always.” 

You smiled, though your nerves were frayed. “Thanks, Mark. What’s up?” 

He shrugged, his enthusiasm undimmed. “Just going over some stunt sequences for the big fight scene. You should come watch sometime—it’s pretty cool.” 

Before you could respond, Heeseung stepped forward, his expression serious. “Giselle, can I talk to you for a second?” 

You nodded, your stomach twisting. “Sure.” 

Heeseung pulled you aside, his voice low. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you lately, but you need to be careful. Not everyone here has your best interests at heart.” 

You blinked, caught off guard by his bluntness. “What do you mean?” 

He glanced around before leaning in closer. “Just… watch your back. Everyone here… They’re not as trustworthy as they seem. I’m worried about you.”

Before you could ask for more details, Mark called out, “Heeseung! We’ve got work to do!” 

Heeseung gave you one last meaningful look before walking away, leaving you with more questions than answers.

As the day came to an end, you retreated to Giselle’s dressing room, your mind spinning. Everyone seemed to have their own secrets, their own agendas. The only person you could trust was Sunghoon—and even that felt like a gamble. 

You sank into the chaise lounge, staring at the strange note in your hand. “The mirror knows the truth. Trust no one.”

“Easier said than done,” you muttered, closing your eyes. 

You were still staring at the cryptic note when the door to the dressing room creaked open. Sunghoon slipped inside, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said, closing the door behind him. “What happened?” 

You held up the note, your hand trembling slightly. “I talked to everyone. And by ‘talked,’ I mean I barely survived a series of increasingly suspicious and terrifying interactions.” 

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, taking the note from you. “Let me guess: Shotaro looked like he was about to faint, Winwin was weirdly intense, Woozi tried to rewrite the entire show, and Heeseung gave you some cryptic warning?” 

You blinked. “How did you know?” 

He smirked, leaning against the vanity. “Because I’ve been working with these people for years. They’re all… unique.” 

“Unique?” you repeated, incredulous. “Sunghoon, everyone here is either hiding something, hates Giselle, or is way too obsessed with her. I don’t know how she does this every day.” 

He shrugged. “She’s Giselle. She thrives on drama. Speaking of which…” He gestured to the note. “The mirror, huh? ” 

“Yeah, no kidding,” you muttered. “It’s the only lead we’ve got. We need to figure out what’s going on before someone realizes I’m not Giselle.” 

Sunghoon nodded, his gaze shifting to the locked dressing room door. “Alright. Let’s start with the mirror.” 

The two of you made your way to the locked dressing room, the hallway eerily quiet now that rehearsals were over. Sunghoon pulled a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door with a soft click. 

“Where did you get those?” you whispered. 

He grinned. “Let’s just say I have my ways.” 

The room was exactly as you remembered it—dimly lit, with the antique mirror standing ominously in the corner. You stepped inside, your heart pounding as you approached the mirror. 

“It’s… kind of creepy,” you said, staring at your reflection—or rather, Giselle’s reflection. 

Sunghoon stood beside you, his arms crossed. “Yeah, it’s definitely giving off ‘haunted antique’ vibes. But why would Giselle be so interested in it?” 

You shook your head, your eyes scanning the room for clues. “I don’t know, but there’s got to be something here.” 

As you searched, your foot caught on the edge of a loose floorboard. You crouched down, pulling it up to reveal a hidden compartment. Inside was a torn page from what looked like a diary. 

“Sunghoon,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Look at this.” 

He knelt beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours as he read the page aloud. 

“I made a deal with them. I thought it was worth it—the fame, the glory, the lead role. But now I’m not so sure. The mirror… it’s watching me. I can feel it. If something happens to me, it’s because of them. Trust no one.” 

You looked up at Sunghoon, your stomach churning. “A deal? What kind of deal?” 

He frowned, his brow furrowed in thought. “I don’t know, but it sounds like Giselle got herself into something dangerous. And if the mirror is involved…” 

“Then we’re in way over our heads,” you finished, your voice trembling. 

Sunghoon placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding you. “Hey, we’ll figure this out. Together.” 

You nodded, though your mind was racing. “But where do we even start? Everyone here seems to have their own agenda. Who can we trust?” 

He smirked, his tone lightening. “Well, you can trust me. Mostly.” 

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile. “Mostly? That’s reassuring.” 

“Hey, I’m the one helping you navigate this mess,” he said, standing and offering you a hand. “That counts for something, right?” 

You took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. “I guess it does. But seriously, I’ll kill you if you throw me under the bus.”

He laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Already noted. Now, let’s get out of here before someone catches us.” 

Back in Giselle’s dressing room, you sank into the chaise lounge, your mind spinning. Sunghoon sat beside you, his presence a comforting anchor in the chaos. 

“So,” he said, breaking the silence. “What’s the plan?” 

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t know. But we need to figure out who Giselle made this deal with and what it has to do with the mirror. And we need to do it fast.” 

Sunghoon nodded, his expression serious. “Agreed. But for now, you need to focus on not blowing your cover. The show’s opening night is in two days, and everyone’s counting on Giselle to deliver.” 

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Great. No pressure or anything.” 

He chuckled, nudging you with his shoulder. “You’ve been doing pretty great already. You got this. And I’ll help if I can, remember?” 

You looked up at him, his steady gaze calming your nerves. “Thanks, Sunghoon. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

He grinned, his tone teasing. “Now get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.” 

As he left, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope. Despite the danger and the mystery, you weren’t alone. 

You were backstage, nervously rehearsing Giselle’s lines under your breath, when Yunjin cornered you near the prop storage. Her arms were crossed, her expression sharp enough to cut glass.  

“You’re slipping, Giselle,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain. “Forgot your blocking during the ensemble number yesterday. Missed your cue today. What’s next? Forgetting the lyrics to your precious solo?”  

You forced a laugh, though your palms were sweating. “Relax, Yunjin. It’s called acting. Maybe you should try it sometime.”  

Her eyes narrowed. “Funny. The Giselle I know wouldn’t need to ‘act’ like she knows what she’s doing.” She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “If you’re not up for the role, just say so. Soyeon’s been ready to take over since day one.”  

Before you could retort, Sunghoon materialized at your side, his tone light but edged with warning. “Yunjin, don’t you have an understudy rehearsal to prep for? Or are you too busy auditioning for the role of ‘villain’?”  

Yunjin scoffed, shooting you one last glare before storming off.  

“You okay?” Sunghoon asked, his hand brushing yours briefly.  

You exhaled shakily. “Remind me why Yunjin hates Giselle again?”  

He smirked. “Giselle stole her solo in last year’s production. And her ex-boyfriend. And, according to rumors, her favorite coffee order.”  

You groaned. “Of course she did.”  

Later, while Sunghoon distracted the crew, you slipped into Jay’s office. The room was eerily tidy, save for a stack of financial ledgers on his desk. You flipped through them, heart pounding, until a voice froze you mid-page.  

“Looking for something?”  

Belle stood in the doorway, her posture relaxed but her eyes cold. You dropped the ledger like it was on fire.  

“Just… admiring Jay’s organizational skills!” you said, forcing a smile. “Who knew spreadsheets could be so… thrilling?”  

Belle stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her. “Curiosity is dangerous in a place like this, Giselle. Especially when it’s not your business.”  

You swallowed hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  

She leaned against the desk, her red nails tapping the ledger. “Let me be clear: whatever game you’re playing, stop. This theatre survives because people stay in their lanes. You’d do well to remember yours.”  

The threat hung in the air like smoke. Before you could respond, she turned on her heel and left, her parting words slicing through the silence: “Stay out of the dark, Giselle. It’s easier to get lost there than you think.” 

That night, you met Sunghoon in the empty auditorium to compare notes.  

“Belle’s definitely hiding something,” you whispered, pacing the aisle. “And Jay’s ledgers had weird entries—large payments to ‘Anonymous Benefactors.’ What does that even mean?”  

Sunghoon frowned. “It means we’re dealing with someone who’s got money—and secrets. Did you—”  

A sudden clatter of scaffolding made you both freeze. Mark emerged from the shadows, his face pale.  

“Giselle? Sunghoon?” he said, glancing between you. “What are you guys doing here so late?”  

You plastered on a smile. “Just… rehearsing! You know how Sunghoon is about perfection.”  

Mark hesitated, his gaze lingering on the file in Sunghoon’s hand. “Rehearsing… with financial records?”  

Sunghoon stepped forward smoothly. “It’s method acting, Mark. Giselle’s character is a corrupt CEO. Very gritty. Very real.”  

Mark blinked. “Oh. Cool, I guess? Just… be careful, okay? Heeseung said there’ve been weird noises backstage at night.”  

As he walked away, you slumped into a seat. “We are terrible at this.”  

Sunghoon grinned. “Nah. We’re just… creatively challenged.”  

By the time you returned to Giselle’s dressing room, exhaustion and panic had merged into a dizzying haze. Sunghoon followed you inside, his usual smirk replaced by genuine concern.  

“We’re running out of time,” you said, sinking onto the couch. “If we don’t figure this out before opening night…”  

“We will,” Sunghoon interrupted, crouching in front of you. “But you need to breathe. Freaking out won’t help Giselle—or you.”  

You met his gaze, his steadiness anchoring you. “What if we can’t fix this? What if I’m stuck like… this?”  

He hesitated, then reached for your hand. “Then I’ll teach you how to hit Giselle’s high notes. And how to glare at Yangyang without laughing. And—”  

You snorted, swatting his arm. “You’re impossible.”  

“But you’re smiling,” he said softly.  

The moment hung between you, charged and fragile—until a sharp knock shattered it.  

“Giselle?” Jay’s voice called through the door. “We need to talk. Now.”  

Sunghoon squeezed your hand once before slipping out the window, leaving you alone to face the storm.  

The moment Jay stepped into Giselle’s dressing room, the air thickened with tension. He closed the door softly behind him, his usual friendly demeanor replaced by a chilling calm.  

“Let’s skip the act, Giselle,” he said, leaning against the vanity. “You’ve been digging where you shouldn’t. Ledgers. The mirror. Our deal.”  

You froze, your pulse roaring in your ears. Our deal. The words from Giselle’s diary page flashed in your mind. I made a deal with them. You forced yourself to meet Jay’s gaze, channeling every ounce of Giselle’s steel.  

“You think I’d forget our arrangement?” you said, your voice steady despite the storm inside. “I’m just making sure you’re holding up your end.”  

Jay’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, I’ve held up my end. You’re the star, aren’t you? The spotlight, the adoration—all because of me. But now you’re sniffing around like a lost puppy. Why?”  

You crossed your arms, mimicking Giselle’s signature icy poise. “Maybe I don’t like being kept in the dark. The mirror, the payments to ‘Anonymous Benefactors’… What’s the price you mentioned in our deal, Jay?”  

His expression darkened. For a heartbeat, you saw it—the flicker of fear beneath his polished façade. “The price,” he said slowly, “is silence. You wanted the role, I gave it to you. But if you keep pushing, that mirror won’t be the only thing that disappears.”  

He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “Finish the show. Play your part. Or I’ll make sure you regret ever stepping into this theatre.”  

The door slammed behind him, leaving you trembling.  

You found Sunghoon in the prop loft, sorting through dusty set designs. The second you relayed Jay’s threats, his playful smirk vanished.  

“A deal for the lead role,” he muttered, pacing. “That explains why Giselle’s been so paranoid. But what’s the mirror got to do with it?”  

You pulled out the torn diary page and the ledger notes. “Jay’s been funneling money to someone—or something. And Giselle wrote that the mirror was ‘watching’ her. What if the deal wasn’t just with Jay? What if it’s… older?”  

Sunghoon’s eyes widened. “The theatre’s original owner disappeared decades ago. Rumor was he made a pact with some cursed object to keep the place running.” He grabbed your hand, urgency in his grip. “The mirror. It’s not just a prop—it’s the source. Jay’s using it to control things… and Giselle was part of it.”  

You stared at the diary entry. “If something happens to me, it’s because of them.” “She was going to expose him,” you realized. “That’s why she was acting strange. Jay found out, and he—or whatever’s tied to that mirror—swapped our bodies to silence her.”  

Sunghoon cursed under his breath. “And now you’re stuck in the crosshairs. If we don’t break this curse before opening night, you might be trapped like this forever… or worse.”  

Back in the dressing room, you and Sunghoon spread the clues across the floor: the diary page, the ledger, a faded newspaper article about the theatre’s cursed history.  

“So Jay’s the middleman,” Sunghoon said, tapping the article. “But the real power’s in the mirror. It demands a ‘price’—probably souls or some messed-up supernatural rent.”  

You grimaced. “Giselle paid with hers, didn’t she? That’s why she’s gone. And now the mirror wants… me?”  

Sunghoon’s jaw tightened. “Not if I can help it. We need to find the original pact. If we destroy it, maybe we break the curse.”  

You hesitated. “What if it’s not enough? What if we’re already too late?”  

He turned to you, his gaze fierce. “Then we’ll burn the whole theatre down. But I’m not losing you to this.”  

The intensity in his voice made your breath catch. Before you could respond, a crash echoed from the hallway—the sound of shattered glass.  

Sunghoon pulled you to your feet. “Time’s up. Let’s move.”  

You and Sunghoon stormed into Jay’s office, the ledger and Giselle’s diary clutched in your hands. Jay looked up from his desk, his expression unreadable.  

“We know about the mirror,” Sunghoon said, his voice colder than you’d ever heard it. “And the deal. How could you do this, Jay? To Giselle? To us?”  

Jay leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “You think I wanted this? The mirror’s curse has been hanging over this theatre for decades. I didn’t create it—I inherited it. Giselle knew the risks when she made her deal.”  

You slammed the ledger onto his desk. “Risks? You sold her soul for a lead role?”  

Jay’s calm cracked. “I didn’t swap her!” he snapped, standing abruptly. “I tried to protect her. But she got greedy. She wanted out of the deal, and threatened to expose everything. And then—”  

The door swung open. Belle stood in the doorway, her smile sharp as a knife. “And then I stepped in.”  

Sunghoon stiffened. “Belle?”  

She strode into the room, her heels clicking like a countdown. “Jay’s too sentimental. He couldn’t stomach what needed to be done. But me?” She laughed, cold and hollow. “I’ve been cleaning up his messes for years.”  

You stepped forward, fists trembling. “What did you do to Giselle?”  

Belle’s gaze locked onto yours, venomous and triumphant. “That night she tried to destroy the mirror? I caught her. And I gave her a taste of her own medicine. Why let her soul vanish when I could trap it somewhere… quieter?” She pulled a small, ornate compact from her pocket—a shard of the mirror glinting inside. “Like that nobody body of yours.”  

The air left your lungs. “You—you swapped us. You’re the one who put me here.”  

Belle smirked. “Guilty. Though I must say, watching you fumble around as Giselle has been delightful. Almost makes me want to keep you here forever.”  

Sunghoon moved in front of you, blocking Belle’s path. “Where’s Giselle’s soul now?”  

“Somewhere she can’t cause trouble,” Belle said lightly. “A body with no connections, no power. A nobody.” She turned to Jay, her tone hardening. “You’re welcome, by the way. I saved your precious theatre.”  

Jay looked away, guilt etched into every line of his face.  

Sunghoon lunged for the compact, but Belle jerked it out of reach. “Ah-ah,” she tutted. “Break this, and Giselle’s soul shatters with it. Along with your little friend here.”  

You froze, panic clawing up your throat. Sunghoon shot Jay a searing look. “You knew. This whole time, you knew.”  

Jay’s voice broke. “I tried to stop her, Sunghoon. But the mirror… it demands a price. If it wasn’t Giselle, it would’ve been someone else. Maybe you.”  

Sunghoon recoiled like he’d been slapped. “We were supposed to be family.”  

“We are,” Jay pleaded. “That’s why I kept you out of it. Belle’s right—I’m weak. But I never wanted this.”  

Belle rolled her eyes. “Save the drama for the stage. The show goes on tonight, and Giselle—or whatever’s left of her—will play her part. As for you two?” She nodded to the security guards looming in the hallway. “You’ll stay out of the way. Or I’ll make sure Y/N’s body ends up in the river.”  

Locked in a storage closet, you sank to the floor, trembling. Belle said she would let the two of you out soon. She just couldn’t have you telling others and needed you to learn your lesson, whatever that meant. Sunghoon paced like a caged animal, his usual composure shattered.  

“All this time,” he muttered, “Jay let her do this. He chose the theatre over us. Over everything.”  

You hugged your knees to your chest. “We can’t let her win. Giselle’s still out there—trapped in my body. We have to find her.”  

Sunghoon crouched in front of you, his eyes blazing. “We will. But we need a new plan. And we need to move fast.”  

You glanced at the door. “How? Belle’s got the mirror shard. And Jay’s under her thumb.”  

A slow, defiant grin spread across Sunghoon’s face. “Then we play their game. You go onstage tonight as Giselle. We’ll find the compact. And when the curtain falls…”  

“We destroy the mirror for good,” you finished.  

He nodded. “Together.”  

You hesitated, then reached for his hand. “Sunghoon… Thank you. For not giving up on me.”  

His fingers tightened around yours. “Always.” 

The theatre buzzed with the energy of a packed house, the orchestra tuning up as the audience settled into their seats. Backstage, chaos reigned—actors in glittering costumes darted past, crew members shouted over headsets, and the scent of hairspray hung thick in the air. You stood in Giselle’s sequined gown, clutching Sunghoon’s arm like a lifeline.  

“You ready?” he asked, adjusting his cufflinks with forced calm.  

“To sing a solo in French while secretly planning a magical heist? Totally,” you deadpanned. “What’s the worst that could happen?”  

Sunghoon grinned, though tension lined his eyes. “Don’t answer that. Just stick to the plan: distract Belle, find the compact, smash the mirror. ”  

“And try not to die,” you added.  

“Especially that.”  

You found Belle in the locked dressing room, her back turned as she polished the cursed mirror with a reverence that made your skin crawl. The compact containing Giselle’s soul glinted in her hand.  

“Leaving so soon?” she said without turning around. “The show hasn’t even started.”  

You stepped inside, channeling Giselle’s icy confidence. “I thought we could chat. Girl to girl. Demon to… whatever you are.”  

Belle smirked, snapping the compact shut. “Cute. But you’re terrible at bluffing.”  

“Good thing I’m not the one bluffing,” you said, nodding to the doorway.  

Sunghoon lunged, tackling Belle to the ground. The compact skidded across the floor as the two grappled, Belle’s nails clawing at his arms.  

“Traitor!” she hissed. “You’d choose this traitor over your own family?”  

“Girl, you are not my family. And family doesn’t sell souls,” Sunghoon shot back, dodging her swipe.  

You scrambled for the compact, but Belle kicked a makeup case into your path. Lipsticks and powder exploded into the air, coating everything in a shimmering haze.  

“Sunghoon.” you yelled, choking on glitter.  

“A little busy here!” he grunted, pinning Belle’s wrists.  

You dove for the compact, your fingers brushing its edge just as Belle wrenched free. She slammed into the mirror, her reflection warping grotesquely in the glass.  

“You want Giselle back?” Belle snarled, clutching the compact. “Then take her!”  

She hurled it at the mirror. The glass rippled like water, and for a heartbeat, you saw your body—Giselle’s soul trapped inside—staring back, terrified.  

“NO!” Sunghoon tackled Belle again, but the compact shattered against the mirror’s surface. A deafening crack split the air, and the room plunged into swirling shadows.  

You stumbled forward, grasping for Sunghoon’s hand. “The mirror—it’s breaking!”  

“Then let’s help it along!” he shouted, snatching a fire extinguisher off the wall.  

You grabbed a prop sword from the corner, swinging it at the mirror with a battle cry that was more terrified than terrifying. Flames emerged, stretching across the drywood flood, seemingly out of nowhere. The blade struck the glass just as Sunghoon slammed the extinguisher into it.  

The mirror exploded.  

You woke with a jolt, your head throbbing as if you’d been spun through a tornado. The world came into focus slowly—sticky theater seats, the murmur of an impatient crowd, and the faint scent of popcorn. Your hands flew to your face, your real face, and you nearly sobbed with relief.  

“Oh, thank god.” you muttered, staring at your familiar hoodie sleeves.  

Onstage, the orchestra swelled, and the curtain rose to reveal Giselle—the real Giselle—commanding the spotlight in her sequined gown. She moved with effortless grace, her voice sharp and clear, no trace of the chaos that had nearly destroyed her. For a moment, your eyes met across the auditorium. She gave the faintest nod, her gaze lingering with unspoken gratitude, before launching into her solo.  

After the final bow, you lurked in the shadows backstage, unsure where to go now that you were no longer the star. Sunghoon found you first, still in his stage makeup and looking like he’d fought a war.  

“There you are,” he said, breathless. “I’d recognize that bad posture anywhere. You okay?”  

“Fuck you.” You scowled, but couldn’t help but grin, holding up your hands. “Ten fingers, ten toes, and zero cursed mirrors. I’d call that a win.”  

Before he could reply, Giselle swept into the wings, her presence magnetic even without the spotlight. The cast and crew froze, sensing the storm in her eyes.  

“Belle,” Giselle said, her voice cutting through the silence. “You owe us all an explanation. Starting with why you trapped me in a stranger’s body and tried to bury the truth.”  

Belle stepped forward, her composure cracking. “You were going to ruin everything! This theatre survives because of that mirror—”  

“It survives in spite of it,” Giselle snapped. She turned to the stunned crowd, her tone softening. “Jay and Belle made a deal with something darker than any of us realized. They used fear to control us. But tonight?” She gestured to the shattered remains of the mirror, now being wheeled offstage by stagehands. “Tonight, we break the cycle.”  

Jay emerged from the shadows, his face ashen. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice breaking. “To all of you. But especially to you, Sunghoon.”  

Sunghoon crossed his arms, his usual smirk absent. “Save it. You don’t get to play the victim here.”  

Giselle stepped between them, her glare silencing Jay. “You’re done. Both of you.”  

Later, as the crew dispersed and the theatre emptied, you lingered by the stage door with Sunghoon. Giselle approached, her regal demeanor softened by exhaustion.  

“Thank you,” she said, clasping your hand. “You risked everything to save a life you didn’t owe me.”  

You shrugged, awkward but earnest. “Just… try not to steal anyone’s coffee order ever again.”  

Giselle laughed, a rare, genuine sound. “No promises.” She turned to Sunghoon, her gaze knowing. “Take care of her. She’s braver than she looks.”  

Sunghoon saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”  

As Giselle left, you elbowed him. “Take care of me? You literally threw a fire extinguisher at a mirror tonight instead of using it to put out the fire..”  

“And you swung a prop sword like it was a pool noodle,” he shot back. “We’re a mess. But hey—” He nudged you, nodding to the stage. “You never did get to perform. Want to try that solo?”  

You snorted. “In this lifetime? Absolutely not.”  

He grinned, pulling you toward the exit. “Smart.”  

The theatre’s grand lobby buzzed with nervous energy as the cast and crew gathered for Jay’s announcement. He stood at the top of the staircase, his usual charm replaced by a somber resolve.  

“Effective immediately,” Jay said, voice steady but strained, “I’m stepping down as owner. Sunghoon will take over.”  

A ripple of surprise spread through the crowd. Sunghoon, leaning casually against a pillar, straightened up like he’d been electrocuted. “Wait—what?”  

Jay tossed him a set of keys, a faint smirk breaking through his guilt. “Don’t look so thrilled. You’ve been complaining about my leadership for years. Now fix it.”  

Sunghoon caught the keys, staring at them like they might bite. “You’re insane. I don’t know the first thing about running a theatre.”  

“You’ll figure it out,” Jay said, clapping him on the shoulder. “And… try not to burn it down.”  

As the crowd dispersed, Sunghoon turned to you, panic flickering in his eyes. “Help. Please.”  

You grinned. “Only if you promise free popcorn for life.”  

Later, as the two of you surveyed the empty auditorium, Sunghoon nudged you with his elbow. “So. Audition slots are open. You’ve already survived being Giselle—might as well try being yourself onstage.”  

You snorted. “Tempting, but I think I’ll stick to not nearly dying in cursed mirrors, thanks.”  

He tilted his head, studying you with a sudden intensity. “You know… I never actually saw what you looked like before. Giselle’s body was all… Giselle. But you?” His gaze swept over you, lingering on your face. “You’re… distracting.”  

You raised an eyebrow. “Distracting?”  

“Yeah. Like, annoyingly pretty. How am I supposed to focus on rebuilding this place if you’re just… standing there?”  

Your cheeks burned, but you rolled your eyes. “Wow, Park. That might be the worst compliment I’ve ever heard.”  

He stepped closer, his smirk softening. “I’ll work on it. But seriously—stay. Even if you don’t audition. The theatre needs people who aren’t obsessed with cursed antiques. And I…” He trailed off, uncharacteristically hesitant. “I need someone to keep me from setting fire to the prop room.”  

You laughed, the sound echoing in the empty space. “You’re hopeless.”  

“Hopelessly charming,” he corrected, grinning.  

“Debatable.”  

Before he could retort, you grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him. It was quick, impulsive, and left him blinking in stunned silence.  

“There,” you said, stepping back. “Now you can’t talk.”  

Sunghoon touched his lips, his ears turning pink. “…Okay, that worked better than I expected.”  

Weeks later, the theatre hummed with new energy. Rehearsals for the next production were underway, and Sunghoon’s leadership—though chaotic—had brought a fresh, unjaded spirit to the crew. You’d taken a part-time job managing schedules (and keeping Sunghoon from accidentally hiring a ‘magician’ for lighting design), but tonight, as you passed the old west wing, a flicker of light caught your eye.  

The locked dressing room door stood slightly ajar.  

Heart pounding, you pushed it open. The room was empty, save for one thing: the mirror, whole and unbroken, its surface gleaming like it had never been shattered.  

“Sunghoon!” you yelled, backing away.  

He skidded into the room, fire extinguisher in hand. “What? Where’s the fire—oh.”  

You pointed at the mirror. “We broke that thing! I watched it explode!”  

Sunghoon set down the extinguisher, staring at the glass. “Guess some curses don’t stay dead.”  

“That’s not comforting.”  

He slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “Don’t worry. We’ve got time. And this time?” He kissed your temple, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m charging the audience extra for our trauma.”  

You elbowed him, but couldn’t suppress a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”  

“And you’re stuck with me,” he said, steering you out of the room. “Now come on. We’ve got a theatre to run… and maybe a sequel to avoid.”  

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @yizhrt @polarisjisung @multifandomania @spacejip @peterm4rker @viasdreams @mango-bear

[joosthead]

summer song || j.k. x f!reader

WARNING #1: explicit real person fiction ahead, dni if below 18. dni if anti-rpf

WARNING #2: explicit rpf/real person fiction content ahead. read at your own risk. dni if anti rpf, dni or read ahead if you simply don’t like rpf lol

₊˚⊹⋆ after such a lovely day, you want to repay the favor.

₊˚⊹⋆ set the night of tt, the day after jtsfaoi

₊˚⊹⋆ reader: f!reader. notfamous!reader. normal au a.k.a. reader has an office job and attends university. reader is not dutch

₊˚⊹⋆ word count: 5.6k

₊˚⊹⋆ cw: smut (established relationship, rimming, frotting, pegging, f sitting on m face, subby joosti:3), let’s pretend butts and buttholes exist as sterile environments ok, genuine cbat reference

WARNING #3: rpf ahead—don't like it, don't read it. do not repost this on any other platform, screenshots or text alike. do not click ahead if you don’t want to read rpf. do not interact if you are below 18. how to block tags/words on tumblr.

₊˚⊹⋆ track(s) of the fic: “summer song” by remy bond, “we’ve only just begun” by the carpenters

₊˚⊹⋆ junote: harness (nsfw? lol it’s…a harness) i started my fic writing career writing gay fanfiction—i very much missed writing m!receiving anal <3. i would really recommend having google translate out for this one!! i dont tend to provide translations 😅 unedited and cheesy as per usual. @howisjoostfanfictionforfree partner in crime yet again!!

18+ only — explicit rpf content ahead, minors dni, anti rpf dni. 4th and final warning!

After such a relaxing, sleepy day with Joost, you should be more tired than you feel—instead, you lie awake, legs hanging over the long side of your bed in silence as you wait for him to come to bed. 

You’ve just dried off after a shower together—washing Joost’s back, washing his hair for him even after he whined about the soap getting in his eyes, kissing and kissing until your mouths tasted like lavender and chemicals and the water had run cold. 

Before that, right after you’d had your day in the sun next to the pool, Joost cleaned you up, and you dressed back up in each other’s clothes, kissing up the stairs back into your house, bumping into your door, stumbling over the droplets of water his hair dripped all over your hardwood and into the kitchen. 

Joost flung the refrigerator open and you scolded him for treating it so roughly—he apologized to it, and you smiled when he did, getting things out of the pantry for you two as he rummaged through it. 

When you first got to know Joost, he said he couldn’t cook or clean; you said that wouldn’t fly with you, and now five years later, there he was, humming his own tune as he chopped ingredients and assembled open faced sandwiches with whatever you had left in the fridge, overloading both of them with what you liked and putting what you didn’t like (usually food he loved) on his own sandwich. 

The two of you finished making your meal, you took them outside and sat on the loungers together for a bit before you ran back in for a bag of chips to crush up and crumble over your sandwiches—“You’re a genius, I think,” he said after you’d sprinkled the crumbs over his, and you laughed as you fed him another chip. 

For a few hours, you napped on the couch in a messy pile on top of each other, deep in slumber from your full stomachs and hearts and shared exertion from your session on the lounger, a few hours worth of Dutch cartoons, a few hours of your cat making muffins on Joost’s back and him pretending not to like it, a few hours of sweating on each other until you felt gross and decided to take your shower together.

Joost comes walking in, white towel low around his waist, water still dripping from the tips of his hair as he stands in front of your shared dresser, in front of the mirror. You sit up on your elbows to watch him; a pink towel in his hands and rubbing his hair out of the extra moisture. This must be torture, you think, how he’s got you on the edge of your seat with nothing but his back and shoulders on display for you. 

He shakes his hair out of the pink towel; drops the white one and opens the drawer. “You’re staring again, lieverd,” he says, rummaging through. 

You truly can’t help it; the curves of his hips and ass, the dimples at the base of his spine, every spot and freckle on him you know by heart all for you to observe. His shoulders are pinkish—not as bad of a burn as you thought, but still enough to earn you some whining from him for the next day or two. 

“Turn around.” 

He does for you, and you move to sit on the edge of the bed, and he stands in between your legs. Joost is impossibly beautiful—you place a hand on his waist, rubbing your thumb over his Rayquaza tattoo, scanning his body with your eyes. 

You are lucky, and you know it. 

Thighs dusted with hair so blonde it almost looks invisible—you could almost forget that he has a tattoo of a minion in a maid costume on his right leg as it stares you in the face. 

“Still can’t believe you got that,” you say, even though you fully believe it. 

“Can't believe you let me.” 

Soft and hanging heavy between his legs, thick blonde hair at the base of it—under the gaze of you, he’s starting to harden, and you look up at him. Joost averts his eyes, looking to the side as the blush creeps up his neck, down his chest. 

Usually so eager, never one to hide—your boyfriend the performer rendered bashful and almost hiding behind his arms as you lower your hand to his hip and squeeze, the silvery thin marks and stretched lines of his growing under your fingertips. You like running your fingers over them, the way he likes touching yours. 

“You make me shy when you look at me like that, schat.”

“Now you know how I feel.”

He nods, placing a hand on your cheek. “I guess that is fair, hm?” 

You melt into his touch, so warm even with the fan on high and the windows flung wide open—if you hadn’t been so relaxed after earlier, you two would be part of the droves of clubgoers tonight walking and laughing past your house on the way to the center of the action. 

His touch isn’t the only thing that’s warm—you’re wearing one of his big t-shirts that reaches down to your thighs, a skimpy pair of old cotton underwear, legs bare but your chest and neck are hot with what it feels like to look at him in this state. 

“Joosti,” you say softly, cupping his half-hard shaft. “I want you again,” looking up at Joost as he cups your face in his hands. 

Bending down to kiss your forehead, he mumbles, “We will get dirty again. You don’t mind?”

“We can take another shower together.”

“If you say so, mijn schat.” Straightening up, Joost brings the pendants of your necklaces from the back of your neck to your collarbone as you wrap your hand around his cock—you didn’t even know they were displaced. “Aren’t you tired?” 

“Not tired at all,” you say, alert as can be as you tighten your grip around him just slightly. He sighs when you jerk him once, twice, getting him harder with every moment. “Can we make up for yesterday?” Leaning forward, you lap at his nipple and he sighs, eyebrows furrowing but face filled with pleasure at your slick hand, your eyes on him. You want him like this more than anything 

“Cover your eyes,” Joost says, placing his two fingers over the eyes of his maid minion and you laugh. “We already made up for yesterday.” You hum in acknowledgement as you push him to step back slightly with your fingers on his thigh. “And also, there is nothing to make up. You needed your time, that’s okay.” Absentmindedly, you nod as you pet at his cock, feeling it grow with your grip on him, how you stroke him up and down so he reaches full hardness. He’s fully hard in little to no time, your mouth on his nipple, swirling around it, the soft sounds falling out of his mouth now. “Can I remind you, you have work tomorrow? We can’t stay up too long.”

“We can.” You decide in an instant—you’ll down a Red Bull tomorrow morning or something, call out maybe. Anything for this. “Lie down.” 

Despite Joost’s previous refusals, he lies down so easily, so lazy, flopping down on his back against your pillows and giving himself a few slow strokes as you crawl between his legs, lying stomach down.

You lay your cheek against Joost’s soft thigh as he gazes at you, as you gaze at him. He cups your cheek with the hand that isn’t jerking himself, and you nuzzle into it, kissing his palm, his fingertips, sucking around his thumb when he hooks it between your teeth, pupils blown, the light mood between you two all but forgotten when you move to his cock. 

A stream of pre spurts out of the sticky tip and you lap it up slowly, keeping Joost’s eyes on you as lick at the slit, the taste salty as you mouth and lick where the crown and the shaft meet, earning you a few breathy moans. 

“Je bent een droom,” Joost says softly as you kiss along his length.

“I’m a dream?” you ask, knowing the answer. You knew what he said. 

He nods—“You’re a dream,” he says, and you believe it. 

“Do you say that ‘cause I have my mouth on your dick?” 

“Don’t be so crude,” he scolds, rolling his eyes and sounding like you, and you laugh. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too,” you say softly, kissing him on the downy skin between his cock and his navel, nosing against his happy trail. “Thank you for today.” 

“You’re saying thank you enough today.” Joost’s breath hitches as you take the tip in your mouth and suck, hollowing your cheeks around him as you take his inches into your mouth. He brushes your hair out of the way; you swallow around him and he groans with the tightness of your throat when you get half down. 

“Like that, fuck,” Joost breathes as you bob your head, lips wrapped around him and trying to take more until you can’t, until your eyes water and you have to come off of him with a quiet gasp, letting the extra spit drip out of your mouth and onto his cock when you jerk him. 

“Too much?” he teases, and you roll your eyes. Joost takes your chin in his hand and squishes your cheeks, making a happy little sound which you know is a substitute for him calling you cute. 

“Never enough, honestly,” you sigh, a smirk playing on your lips as you stroke him. “You’re changing the sheets by the way.” 

“Mean!! You’re so mean!!” he laughs, poking your forehead gently in fake annoyance. “I was always going to change the sheets after this.” 

“Always enough, mijn schat,” you say quietly, slinking back up to him to have your faces close together. “I tease, I know, but I’m so thankful for you.” 

Joost presses his lips to yours, one hand around your waist. “Stop with the thank you, I’m serious—I don’t need it, I want to do this for you,” he says when you pull away. 

You brush back his hair and press another kiss to his lips, gazing at him. “I’ll be saying thank you for the rest of my life, Joost, I’m not gonna stop now.”

For some reason, he looks surprised—so many years together, not a lot of things to be surprised about anymore, and especially not that sentiment. It took a while to get here, yes—but you’ll spend the rest of your time together proving you mean it. You admire Joost’s face and his strong nose, the stubble along his jaw, the pink lips you’ve kissed all the time since that day in December 2019, his hay colored eyelashes batting at you in wonder. 

“The rest of your life, lieverd? You mean it?” 

“Always,” you smile, nodding. “Get used to it, you’ll hear it forever.”

You come back down between Joost’s legs, a small pool of precum on his stomach from how long you've neglected his cock. It twitches when you look at it, spurts more of the clear fluid when you wrap your hand around it and slap it against your tongue gently. “You’re fucking crazy,” he breathes, and you laugh as you feed it into your warm mouth, hollowing your cheeks and sucking around him. 

Joost is pathetically loud almost all the time, and he’s no different now, mewls and happy sounds tumbling out of him, the slurp of your mouth and your attempts to get the spit from spilling out the sides of your lips.  

Once you come up off him, you lick along the underside of his shaft, the length of his cock, taking time to lap at his slit again. 

You come down and lick at the seam of his balls, popping one into your mouth momentarily as you jerk him; you let go, and then you come down even further, nudge his legs back, lick at his perineum to watch as his cock twitches with every lick of your tongue on his skin, watch as he sucks in a hiss through his teeth and then throws his head back and laughs.

“What are you doing, baby?” you smile as you kiss at the soft skin there. “Fuck, I can’t believe you sometimes.” 

“Testing the waters,” you say simply, kissing at the base of his shaft. 

“For what?” 

“You know what.”

You look towards your dresser—three drawers down on the right is one filled with toys over the years, many duplicates, one for each of you. There’s only one kind of toy that’s for Joost only—the assortment of anal toys and straps that you’ve got mixed in there, relatively new to the arsenal but already well loved by both of you. 

“You shouldn’t start something you can’t finish,” Joost says, even when you lick once over his hole and it makes his entire body spasm, how sensitive he is. 

“You think I can’t finish it?”

“You wanna?”

“Do you want to?” you press a few wet kisses to his perineum, stroking him as you do. 

“How could I say no to you, lieverd?” 

You get up off your stomach, squeezing his thick thigh as you shimmy down your underwear, leaving it on the bed—“If you want it, get me off first.” You don’t need an answer to sit yourself where you belong; your thighs on his cheeks, your knees near his ears as he grins up at you, laughing. “What is it?” 

“You say it as if it’s a punishment to do this—I’ve been waiting since morning to eat you out again.” 

Shaking your head, you adjust so you won’t squish him so bad, but he pulls you closer, kissing your inner thighs. “You say I’m crazy.” 

“We can both be crazy,” Joost says, gazing at you between the legs so intensely you might scramble off him and hide. “Now sit.” 

Gently, you lower yourself down onto his mouth, sighing when he licks through you, insatiable. Joost hooks his arms around your thighs, big blue eyes looking up at you, fingers parting your lips so he can have direct access to your clit—he wraps his pink lips around it, sucks hard, earning him a succession of loud moans out of your mouth. He flattens his tongue against you, drinking you in, the wet sounds of his mouth and your pussy making your cheeks burn. 

Your hands grip at his hair as you keen, losing control with how well he’s eating you; one arm unhooks itself from your thigh, but you pay it no mind when he fucks his tongue into you a few thrusts in, the sensation filthy. You sigh out, eyebrows knitting together with the effort it takes to stay upright, one hand in his hair, the other on the wire bed frame. Turning your head around, you watch and see—see Joost’s hand wrapped around his cock, stroking himself, and you turn back to click your tongue at your poor, misbehaved boyfriend. 

“Mm-mm,” you say, shaking your head. “Did I say you could do that?” You lift up off his mouth to let him get a word in and he shakes his head, lips glistening. 

“No, schat, you didn’t,” he breathes heavily, smiling up at you. 

“That’s right,” you say softly, smiling when he moves his hand from his cock to the meat of your ass. “Good boy. Don’t do that again.” 

Again, you sit yourself on Joost’s tongue, having to stifle back a moan immediately when he sucks on your clit again, a few minutes passing against the background of your heavy moans, the smack of his mouth against you.

You’ve no composure now, your bucking hips allowing you to grind on his tongue, losing yourself with your impending orgasm, your breaths and whimpers at how good he feels under you—you cum hard, having to hold onto the bed frame with both hands as Joost keeps sucking on your clit, sobbing out his name as you ride his tongue and ride it out. 

Once you’ve made it through, Joost switches to licking through your folds, tasting you, slow and methodical. The overstimulation makes you wince, squeezing his head between your thighs, and he laughs, the vibrations of his voice making you twitch and lift up off him as you catch your breath, gazing down at him. 

“The longest we have gone without bickering, schat,” Joost says, licking his lips of your wetness, his chin and cheeks glistening in the light. 

“Mm, you’re not wrong,” you laugh, limbs light as feathers with how blissful you feel as you climb off and go between his legs again, his neglected cock hard as ever. “Let’s take care of that,” you purr, and Joost nods profusely, making you laugh as you push back his legs, as you press a wet kiss to his hole, a lick over it as he moans out your name. 

Slowly, you flatten your tongue against it, letting your spit pool as you lap at his entrance. Joost throws his head back in pleasure, groaning when you pull back and spit on it, rubbing over it with your thumb, pushing in slightly and licking around his rim to a loud whine from him. 

“Get the lube,” you say, pulling away from Joost as you wait for the top drawer to open and shut, his hushed cursing when he has to rummage around for longer than he’d like. He’s the one who threw it in haphazardly after last time—you’d tease him about it, but he has enough things to worry about with his twitching and angry pink cock. 

Finally, Joost gets it out and hands it to you, breathless; you uncap it, drizzling it onto your fingers, spreading it over his hole as he hisses through his teeth at the sensation. When you push in with your middle finger, it makes him shudder, sigh out—he gives so easily to you, strokes himself but has to stop as soon as he starts because it’s all too much. You stroke your finger inside of him once you push in to the knuckle, rubbing at his perineum with your other hand. 

Joost pants out your name, hand around the bed frame as he looks down at you, eyebrows scrunched, mouth open and contorting soundlessly when you add your ring finger, teasing his hole—maybe it’s too much all at once, but you know he’ll take it. 

One finger and you’ve gotten him so flushed, so pretty, his platinum bangs sticking to his forehead, the sheen of sweat on his chest and stomach. You’re not even moving them quickly, slowing down the curling so you’re petting over his spot gently, almost tantalizingly, at least to you.

For Joost, you’re sure it’s a blur—his voice so shaky, the inside of him is hot around you and squeezing your fingers as you watch him almost in your own state of wonder as he inhales and exhales so heavily it’s as if he’s calming himself down for you. This angle must be nice, right? Is it so different for him the way it is for you? Is this what you look like, writhing and hungry for you and what you’ll do inside? 

The squelch of your fingers, wet, weird because it isn’t coming from you for once; the grip of your other hand, tight, strange because it’s your hand around his hip keeping him from squirming so much and not the other way around; the stuttering, whiny exhales falling from his mouth, familiar and breathtaking, raspy and deep still because it’s Joost, your Joost. 

“Yes, right there, schat,” Joost moans, closing his eyes when you curl your fingers where you know his prostate is, scissoring them and opening him up more so he’s comfortable and ready for your strap, your favorite out of the ones you own—silicone, the color of your skin and around 6 inches long, Joost’s favorite, too. 

You’ve worked up sizes over the past year: small silicone plugs to slightly longer, ribbed glass dildos, and finally, the several straps of varying sizes you've both been keen to try out on him now that he’s ready—he brought it up over your 3rd anniversary dinner in Aruba, tipsy and blushing and beautiful, and it caught you off guard. How shy he was, how he could barely get the words out until you begged him for 10 minutes to tell you because you wanted to know so badly what it was, exactly what he wanted. 

Joost tells you what he wants now, no waver in his voice, no hesitation as he sobs out your name, clutching onto sheets, clutching onto metal when you add a third finger and keep your rhythm curling them, his hips thrusting into the air and then fucking back onto your fingers. 

Outside your open window, the commotion has quieted down—you’re sure that your boyfriend, crying out and desperate is the only sound echoing on these Amsterdam streets, but neither of you mind. They’d be lucky to hear him anyways. 

A few minutes of this, opening him up further until he’s groaning out, practically crying. “Mijn liefste, wees niet gemeen, wees alsjeblieft niet gemeen tegen me,” he pants, shaking his head at you when you pout at him teasingly. “I’m serious, give it to me.” 

“I’m giving it to you right now, aren’t I?”

“You know what I mean, please, please, please,” Joost breathes, and you nod, pulling your fingers out and getting off the bed, even as he swears at the absence of you inside of him—what he gets, you guess as you rummage around the drawer for your black leather harness and the strap. 

You set it all up for yourself—for him, feeling Joost’s eyes on you at the side of the bed, tightening straps and setting things into place. You strip off your shirt; it’s too hot now, even as you turn around and a breeze comes in through the window, running over you. It’s strong enough, he’s sensitive enough that the wind makes his hips buck into the air. 

That look on his face—shy and sheepish, one you earn every time you show up at a show unexpected and he’s humped yet another speaker, said your name accidentally on purpose during “Ome Robert,” yelled “SCHAT I MISS YOU I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU SOON!!!!!!!” knowing you’d see it on Twitter or somewhere and running off stage and bumping into you almost knocking you over. That expression appears now when you turn back and catch him so needy that even the wind keeps him going while he waits for you. 

With both hands, Joost covers his face and laughs—another familiar expression, this time one of yours—as you straddle him, and wait for him to come to you fully. You let him take the seconds he needs to bear with how much of a display being with each other is, laid bare completely to one another. Every confirmation you get that he feels it too feels like a blessing, somehow. 

Settling higher up on his thighs, you’re forced to pause—“Wait, wait, schat,” Joost pants out, and you do, fingertips on his stomach as he wraps his big hand around both of your shafts. “I want to try something.” 

“What do you wanna try, baby?” you ask softly, brushing his bangs back and looking down at his leaking cock. He still dwarfs you by an inch, and he’s thicker, but watching it happen… the slide of his foreskin against the soft length of your strap, the weeping head of it providing more than enough lubrication for his stroking hand and his bucking hips into his tight fist. 

If you weren’t in awe and watching him and his closed eyes, his beautiful eyelashes spread out across his pink dusted cheeks, you'd tell him to stop, save his energy for later. For now, you watch and listen and wait for those wondrous and higher pitched moans of his, the composure he had all thrown to the wall and in his own hands now.

“Ik wil het binnen,” Joost moans. “Laat me niet wachten,” he says, still stroking himself, eyebrows furrowed and eyes half-lidded with want, biting down on his lower lip—his eyes roll back in his head in pleasure when you cup his cheek, when you touch him of your own volition again. 

“Who’s the one making you wait, hm?” you ask softly. “You or me?” 

“Me,” he replies, so good for you. You smile as you move back a little, coming free from his grip and coming to find the discarded lube bottle on the bed. Uncapping it, you squeeze out more on your palm, hoping it’ll warm more with a thinner layer.  

“Can you…I wanna feel…” you tilt your head at him, waiting for the rest. “Can you add more lube, maybe? I want…I want to feel wet, I don't know.” He can’t even look you in the eye when he confesses it to you, and you don’t want to push him too far—he treats you gentle when you’re like this, you’ll treat him the same. 

“Alright, baby, we can do that,” you purr, squirting more lube on your hand, on the shaft of your strap itself. You spread it around, stroking it; he gives himself a few lazy jerks as you tease the wet tip of your strap against his hole. “That wet enough for you?” 

“Mhm,” Joost nods, sighing out when you push your hips a little further, watching as the head pops in with how open he is already. He smiles at you, entrancing and gorgeous, eyes half-lidded, lips curled in a small smirk and bitten pink. He looks down when you inch a little more, mouth dropped open slightly with his mewls. You both watch as it enters him, slowly, stretching around you. 

In the heat of the moment, you almost let out a moan yourself like you can feel the sensation through the strap—maybe you can. Joost makes you feel so strongly all the time, it wouldn’t be a surprise to you. 

“I love you,” Joost breathes, strong thighs loosely wrapped around your hips as he beckons you over to him for a kiss, his arms around you as you lick into his mouth, fuck into him. “Fuuuuckkk, Daddy, you’re so deep,” he moans exaggeratedly, biting his lip and winking at you when he pulls back, and you laugh, “Shut the fuck up,” as he cackles. 

You straighten back up so you can have an easier time moving your hips, Joost already shuddering with the heightened sensitivity he surely has. The rhythm is awkward, barely there at all; you’re still learning how to thrust and wondering how he does it so well—to make up for it, you wrap your hand around his cock and stroke him faster than your slow and shallow thrusts inside. 

Joost sighs, “You’re holding back—why? Even if you thrust like Cbat, I would love it, come on, please.” 

Rolling your eyes—both at being called out and how needy he is—you start, “Do you realize, Joost—“ you let go of his cock, and he shoots you a look, “How much I love you? I don’t think you do. I'm not holding back.” 

“You’re holding back,” he says flatly, and you roll your eyes again. Such a brat. “I can tell, I know you. I know how much you love me,” you pull your hips back, pulling out almost completely and the sensation makes him waver, you know it, “And I know you are holding back. Simple as that.”

You pull back, slow, and then drive your hips forward harshly, bottoming out inside and dragging against his spot in the process, forcing a choked out moan from him. 

Joost has his head thrown back on the pillow as you start your thrusts, focusing hard on a rhythm that’ll have him go crazy; it seems like it won’t take much, a series of “ah ah ah” falling out of his mouth with every movement. 

For a few moments, it’s just that—your thrusts, his heavy breaths, the sound of lube and skin and your thighs meeting his ass, the leather and the soft plush of his legs against each other. 

Joost is gorgeous and you’ll admire this for the rest of time—just the beautiful sight of him, flushed, one hand wrapped around the wireframe of your shared bed, the other jerking his drooling cock as you fuck him open. 

The breeze rustles your curtains, your ceiling fan going as fast as if possibly can, rickety alongside the squeak of your mattress and the panting from Joost’s pretty mouth—you’ve never felt warmer, more turned on in your life thrusting into him as he whimpers out your name, holding onto your forearms as you seat and unseat yourself from inside him. 

“Fuck, schat,” he whines, the hollow slaps of skin against skin the background noise to your perfect summer night. His eyebrows are furrowed as he looks down at himself, watches what's happening to him, how you have him in your palm.

“My pretty boy,” you coo, brushing his bangs out of his eyes, though you can’t quite move the ones stuck with sweat on his forehead. “You’re being so good for me, schat, I can’t believe you’re mine.” 

“I can believe it,” he smiles weakly as you smooth your hand over his chest, pinch his nipple. 

You rock into him, over and over, sweat forming on your skin, the slide inside easy, leisurely. On his back, legs spread, your fingers running over his tattoo of Belgium and LINK IN BIO and the maid—your mattress squeaks with your movements, and Joost only gets louder with every movement, moaning out “Yes, yes, yes,” “I love you, please give it to me,” “Ik wil het, ik wil het alemaal,” nodding, rambling with how drunk he is off your strap. 

“Naughty mouth, Joost,” you remark, snickering at how talkative he gets in this state. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, eyes closed as he takes it so well. 

“Nothing to be sorry for, my baby,” you say as you push down on his thigh, opening him up further so you can get deeper, Joost taking you to the base, his cock twitching wildly with pleasure in his hand as he strokes himself, weeping milky white precum as he gets closer and closer to his climax. 

Lucky, lucky, lucky. You are lucky to have him, lucky to see him like this. A comet in the sky, once in a hundred lifetimes, his spilled Bacardi cola down your dress and the rest of your life as its wonderful puddle on a sticky club floor. Your purse with the faint brown edges of the stain and its fraying hems from continued use hangs on the coat rack downstairs. 

How lucky to have met each other. All those nights made worth it by this and his smile and his art and him. 

You fear looking too sappy, but either way—he’s too distracted by the way you’re fucking him to care. 

“Schat, I’m gonna cum,” Joost moans, and you nod, keeping the pace of your hips steady, angling so it’ll hit his prostate just right. Again and again until he’s a whining mess, not even saying anything comprehensible, groaning and watching you with his mouth dropped open in pleasure, holding his legs open for you like a good boy. “Ik vind het geweldig, ik hou van je,” he breathes, his breath hitching as he jerks himself off. 

Joost is so gorgeous overwhelmed, pink cheeks as you run your hand over his soft stomach, his chest, his arm until you reach his hand which he intertwines his fingers with yours. You never get to see him in this state much—losing himself getting off. Normally, you’re the one in this position, being caressed, talked through, taken care of. You decide in an instant that you’d like to see this more often than not. 

A few more strokes of yours and Joost’s, and he cums, loudly, shooting all over his stomach and chest. “Stop touching yourself,” you say softly, and he whines in protest but takes his hand off, the last few drops of white dribbling out of his cock as you continue fucking him through his climax, forcing his moans out of his mouth, face contorted with the overstimulation you're giving him. 

“Give it to me, right?” you ask as you keep thrusting, Joost’s whines low when you adjust your position so you’re half-lying on him, grinding into him as you hover over his face. “You want it all, you said?” He nods, and you kiss him deeply as you rut into him, milking him for everything he’s got. His hands roam your back, your ass, and you smile into it, licking into his mouth; you’re interrupted by him sobbing out your name and you look down, his cock spurting clear fluid pathetically with your final sloppy thrusts.

You’re breathing heavy and you don’t even realize until Joost brings your lips to his and you have to take a few to catch your breath into his mouth, stilled inside of him, lying on top and your stomachs sticky with his cum. Your thighs are wet with your arousal; he’s sure to take care of that later, but for now, you pull back and gaze at him, stunning in this afterglow, blonde hair sweaty, chest rising and falling at the same rate as yours. 

His eyes are closed, blissed out and smiling—”It’s hard, isn’t it? So tiring.” 

You laugh and nod, “So tiring, but worth it.” 

Getting up in the morning will be so difficult, especially when you know Joost will be right here next to you, sleeping and peaceful. You’re still inside, and frankly, you never want to leave. 

“Bedankt voor alles, mijn liefste,” he whispers, and you kiss over his eyes, his cheeks when he does. 

“Ik hou van je, Joost.”

i so appreciate everyone's patience with this fic as well :''') i hope you enjoyed!! special shoutout to @catholicfacade because u motivated me to keep writing this fic LOLOL <3 thank you so much for reading! likes, comments, reblogs always so so appreciated <3 : ) askbox anon on hereeee - juno

[chiyuuchu]

sharing is caring <3 (4th August 2024)

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Prompt! Bakugou and Y/n gets their laundry mixed up

It was a Friday night, and the Bakugou Squad—comprising Bakugou, Y/N, Kaminari, Kirishima, Mina, Jirou, and Sero—had decided to hang out in Y/N’s room for some much-needed relaxation after a tough week. Y/N had texted everyone earlier, inviting them over for snacks, movies, and some casual chatting.

As everyone gathered, the room quickly filled with laughter and conversation. Kirishima and Kaminari were arguing over which movie to watch, while Mina and Jirou were busy setting up a makeshift snack bar on the floor. Sero was lounging on a beanbag, already munching on some chips.

Bakugou, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, was watching the chaos unfold with a small, almost hidden smile. He enjoyed these moments with his friends, though he would never openly admit it.

Just as the debate over movies reached its peak, the door swung open, and Y/N walked in. Bakugou’s eyes widened when he saw her. She was wearing one of his old t-shirts, slightly oversized on her smaller frame. His brain short-circuited for a moment, taking in the sight.

“Where the hell did you get that shirt?!” Bakugou barked, his face turning an interesting shade of red.

Y/N looked down at herself, then back up at Bakugou with a casual smile. “Oh, this? I found it in my laundry. Must have mixed up with my clothes. I can give it back if you want.”

Bakugou’s mind was racing. Inside, he was definitely simping, though his expression showed only flustered annoyance. “That’s mine, you idiot! How could you not notice?”

Y/N giggled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Relax, Bakugou. I’ll give it back. It’s just a shirt.”

Mina, catching the interaction, burst into laughter. “Looks like Bakugou’s got a favorite shirt thief!”

Jirou smirked, nudging Y/N. “Nice fashion choice, though. It suits you.”

Kirishima, ever the supportive friend, added, “Yeah, looks cool on you, Y/N.”

Sero chimed in with a grin, “I’m just glad Bakugou isn’t blowing up over this... yet.”

Bakugou growled in frustration, his glare now directed at his friends. “Shut up, all of you!”

Kaminari, trying to diffuse the situation, waved his hands. “Alright, alright, let’s calm down. It’s just a shirt. Let’s get back to the movie.”

Y/N smiled at Bakugou, who was still fuming but trying to hide his flustered state. “Seriously, Bakugou, I’ll wash it and give it back. No big deal.”

He huffed, crossing his arms. “Fine. Just… don’t make it a habit.”

As the night went on, everyone settled into their usual banter and activities. Bakugou, despite his earlier outburst, couldn’t help but steal glances at Y/N. She looked so comfortable in his shirt, and a part of him couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of pride seeing her in it.

The following week, Bakugou had been looking for his favorite pair of sweatpants. After checking his room and the laundry room with no luck, he decided to ask Y/N if she had seen them. He stomped over to her room, knocking firmly before entering.

“Hey, Y/N, have you seen my—” Bakugou started, but his words trailed off when he saw her. Y/N was lounging on her bean bag, comfortably reading a book, wearing his sweatpants.

Bakugou’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Are you serious?!” he yelled, making Y/N jump a little.

She looked up at him, blinking innocently. “Oh, hey, Bakugou. What’s up?”

“What’s up?! What’s up is that you’re wearing my sweatpants!” he barked, pointing at the offending article of clothing.

Y/N glanced down at the sweatpants, then back at Bakugou with a sheepish smile. “Oh, these? I found them in my laundry again. They’re super comfy. I thought they were just mixed in with my stuff.”

Bakugou was fuming, his face turning red. “How do you keep mixing up our laundry? Are you doing this on purpose?”

Y/N giggled, closing her book and sitting up. “Maybe I just like your taste in clothes. They’re really comfy.”

He crossed his arms, trying to maintain his stern expression despite the fluttering feeling in his chest. “You can’t just keep taking my clothes! What’s next, my hoodies?”

Y/N shrugged playfully. “If they’re as comfy as these, maybe.”

Bakugou groaned, rubbing his temples. “You’re impossible. Just give them back when you’re done, alright?”

She smiled up at him. “Sure thing, Bakugou. Thanks for letting me borrow them.”

He grumbled under his breath, turning to leave her room. “Yeah, yeah. Just… don’t do it again.”

As he walked away, he couldn’t help but feel a mix of frustration and something else—something he wasn’t ready to admit to himself just yet.

The next week, Y/N headed to the common room, a perplexed expression on her face. “Hey, guys, has anyone seen my white shirt with a strawberry on it?” she asked, looking around at her friends.

Everyone looked at each other and shrugged, except for Kirishima, who was stifling a laugh. “Uh, Y/N, you might want to look over there,” he said, pointing to the corner of the room.

Y/N turned to see Bakugou standing there, wearing her white shirt with a strawberry on it. The shirt was clearly too small for him, stretching tightly across his broad shoulders and chest.

Bakugou crossed his arms, attempting to look nonchalant despite the obvious discomfort. “Oh, this shirt?” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Found it in my laundry. Thought I’d give it a try since you seem to like wearing my stuff so much.”

Y/N stared at him in disbelief for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Bakugou, you look ridiculous! That shirt is way too small for you!”

He huffed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite his best efforts to remain serious. “Yeah, well, maybe now you’ll think twice before taking my clothes.”

She shook her head, still giggling. “Alright, you win. You can have your sweatpants back. Just give me my shirt, please.”

Bakugou uncrossed his arms and started to pull the shirt off, struggling a bit as it got stuck. “Fine, but this is the last time you take my stuff without asking.”

Y/N stepped forward to help him, tugging the shirt free. “Deal. But you have to admit, it’s pretty funny seeing you in my shirt.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in them. “Yeah, yeah. Just keep your clothes out of my laundry.”

As Y/N finally managed to pull the shirt off Bakugou, she looked up at him with a grin. “Thanks for the laugh, Bakugou.”

He grunted, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “Whatever.”

A few days later, Bakugou found himself wandering into the laundry room. As he sorted through his laundry, he noticed a pile of Y/N’s clothes on the counter, waiting to be washed. An idea formed in his head, and he smirked mischievously.

He quickly rummaged through his laundry basket and pulled out his favorite hoodie. It was a little worn but incredibly comfortable. With a final glance around to make sure no one was watching, he casually tossed his hoodie into Y/N’s pile of clothes.

A couple of days later, Bakugou was lounging on the couch in the common room when he heard someone approaching. He looked up and tried to hide his excitement as he saw Y/N walking in, wearing his hoodie.

“Hey, guys!” Y/N called out, plopping down on the couch next to him. “Is anyone missing a hoodie? I found this in my laundry, and it’s super comfy.”

Kirishima raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Nice hoodie, Y/N. Looks familiar.”

Bakugou tried to keep his cool, giving a nonchalant shrug. “Yeah, that’s mine. But you can keep it if you want. Looks better on you anyway.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, giving him a suspicious look. “Oh, really? You’re just giving it to me, huh?”

Bakugou avoided eye contact, pretending to be interested in the TV. “Yeah, whatever. It’s just a hoodie.”

Mina, who had been listening in, burst into laughter. “Wow, Bakugou! Didn’t know you were into sharing clothes now.”

Y/N giggled, pulling the hoodie tighter around herself. “Well, thanks, Bakugou. It is really comfy.”

He finally glanced at her, a small, satisfied smirk on his face. “Yeah, whatever.”

Y/N playfully nudged him.

As the rest of the squad joined in the laughter, Bakugou couldn’t help but feel a little triumphant. Maybe sharing wasn’t so bad after all.