#Brain Gym Classes for Kids

[cabinetofotherthings]

i thought i'd reached a state of resigned equanimity but my work is really into celebrating christmas and every day i feel myself drifting back towards jewish rage

[norrisainz33]

Champ || MV33

☆ summary: Max is chasing down another wdc while his partner is competing for gold at the olympics

☆ pairing: max verstappen x olympian!reader

☆ fc: ilona maher

☆ warnings: some haters and mildly suggestive but other than that none

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ynuser made a post

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ynuser: i’m on the road to paris 💙🏅🏉

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user1: yes y/n/n!!! you are THAT girl

yourbff: THATS MY BEST FRIEND

maxverstappen1: an unstoppable force 💪🏻

verstappencom: try not to say goat challenge failed

user2: y/n master class incoming

yoursibling: beauty, brawn AND brains 😫

user4: every 4 years i get possessed by a bald eagle and find the patriotism i never had. USA USA USA LETS GO Y/N

maxverstappen1 made a post

liked by redbullracing, verstappencom, ynuser, danielricciardo, and 345,123 others

maxverstappen1: the grind never stops! getting in some final reps before y/n heads off to paris 💪🏻🏅

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redbullracing: good luck at the olympics y/n!

user3: the way she’s lifting more than him,, iconic

user4: i’m foaming at the mouth something about the max gym pics get me

danielricciardo: hot

maxverstappen1: mate don’t talk about my partner like that

danielricciardo: max im talking about you

maxverstappen1: oh 🤭

ynuser: am i interrupting something?

user18: MAXIEL MAXIEL MAXIEL

ynuser: i’m going to miss you

maxverstappen1: bring me back that medal baby

ynuser: on it 💪🏻

redbullracing posted a video

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user14: max melts every time someone mentions y/n

user5: notice how his face lights up, oh he’s so down bad

user6: MAX IS SO WIFEY MATERIAL

user8: wife? what is he.. a girl?? like ik his gf looks like a man but? this is ridiculous redbullracing

user6: did you see the part where max got offended?? yeah i didn’t either gtfo of here

user9: user8 just because she’s strong doesn’t make her less feminine. good bye loser

user10: a man can be a wife stfu!! also y/n is perfect do not even try me

user12: MAX AND Y/N ARE BOTH GOING TO WIN TODAY I JUST KNOW IT

redbullracing: that’s the spirit! 💪🏻

user14: making one of these for my partner rn

user99: whoever made this - i love you

maxverstappen1 has made a post

liked by ynuser, redbullracing, charlesleclerc, verstappencom, and 674,441 others

maxverstappen1: great job today by the team and everyone back at the factory. huge win on the board to close out the first half of the season (featuring a very important radio conversation). see you all in zandvoort!

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user24: max emilian the man that you are

charlesleclerc: congrats on p1 and for being the best olympic wife

maxverstappen1: thank you, i take my duties very seriously

user88: CHARLES

user55: lestappen crumbs

redbullracing: congrats on p1 max! that’s our world champion 💪🏻

landonorris: great race mate! we’ll keep up the battle in the second half 😉

maxverstappen1: we’ll see about that

ynuser: max 😭😭 you’re crazy i love you

maxverstappen1: i love you more

ynuser: not possible!

maxverstappen1 has made a post

liked by danielricciardo, charlesleclerc, carmenmundt, ynuser, redbullracing, logansargeant and 879,057 others

maxverstappen1: y/n y/l/n - olympic gold medalist, best player in the world, love of my life and soon to be wife

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user44: WIFE RED ALEET WHAG DID HE HUST SAY

user99: THEY GOT ENGAGED?!?!

user65: Y/NMAX GIRLIES WE RISE

user88: when her teammates pointed him out in the stands and she almost fell to her knees (i’m sleeping in the road tonight)

redbullracing: congratulations on a hard fought win y/n 💙 the red bull fam is so proud

ynuser: my maxie, my world champ and my future husband 🤍

maxverstappen1: i love it when you’re possessive

landonorris: there are kids on this app

danielricciardo: YESSSS Y/N!! that’s our girl!

danielricciardo: p.s you gotta warn a man before you publicly announce things like this

charlesleclerc: no really max when were you going to tell us?

maxverstappen1: if you checked the group chat you would know

landonorris: daniel & charles there’s even photos in the gc 🤦‍♂️

user22: quick leak the photos lando im begging

ynuser made a post

liked by iamrebeccad, maxverstappen1, redbullracing, usarugby, danielricciardo, and 101,432 others

ynuser: i won gold in more ways than one! truly an unforgettable experience - congrats to the team and thank you to everyone who supported us on our journey. it looks like next olympic games i’ll be competing as y/n verstappen 🫶🏻🏅🇺🇸

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iamrebeccad: making history!! so glad we got to celebrate with you 💙

ynuser: my love , i’m so glad you made it to paris 💙

redbullracing: we’ve got two world champions now 💪🏻

user22: and one of them is not named checo LOL

user53: i know that’s right!

maxverstappen1: incredible team and an incredible effort!

maxverstappen1: you have inspired me in more ways than i can even express, congratulations mrs. verstappen 😍🤍

ynuser: thank you for the endless support mr. verstappen 🥹

ynuser made a post

liked by maxverstappen1, iamrebeccad, carmenmundt, georgerussell63, yourbff, and 87,980 others

ynuser: when he flies out all the girlies to celebrate your success and your engagement 💅🏻🏅

tagged: carmenmundt, iamrebeccad, alexandrasaintmleux, lilymhe, lilyzneimer and maxverstappen1

view all 345 comments

user20: the most iconic girl group im so jealous

user22: i want to be their friend so bad 😭

alexandrasaintmleux: so happy for you mon coeur

iamrebbeccad: there’s no place i’d have rather been

lilymhe: i am your biggest fan

lilyzneimer: i love love and you

carmenmundt: thanks for inviting us maxverstappen1

user99: max flying out all her friends omg

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a/n: another installment of olympic reader. love the olympics, love rugby so had to put them together and i v much feel like max would support tf out of his strong olympic girly.

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© norrisainz33: please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[lovebugism]

Im a very indecisive person but I guess I'll go with “Surprise, I have feelings and you just hurt them.” with Eddie, if you have any inspiration for this prompt 💕

ty for requesting!! — you get mean when you like someone, so eddie thinks you hate him (grump!reader, enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, shameless succession reference, 1.9k)

“Please, tell me you’re joking,” you mumble through the melting vanilla shake on your tongue.

Robin grins at you across the table and shakes her head. “Nope,” she says, popping the p. “You are officially looking at Vicki Carmichael’s latest odyssey.”

You and Eddie look over your shoulder at Steve. He stands at the front counter and fumbles with the straw dispenser — hitting the lever repeatedly, with an increasingly rougher touch when nothing comes out. He flounders when they all spill out at once. 

He’s lucky he’s so pretty.

“Wait, I’m confused,” Eddie announces from beside you after stealing a sip of your milkshake. He squints and fights off a brain freeze. “Why didn’t he just tell us? He’s screwing the hottest girl in town— it feels like something he’d brag about.”

“I’m sitting right here,” you scoff, mostly kidding.

“‘Cause he knew you guys would totally ream him for it,” Robin answers and pinches fry crumbs into her mouth. Through a mouthful of them, she says, “It’s not like you’re usually supportive about this kinda stuff.”

“I’m all for Steve being a slut, okay?” you defend with your hands up in surrender. “But I do draw the line at my best friend fucking the girl who bullied me in high school.”

“What’d she do?” Eddie asks. You can’t tell if he really cares or if he just wants something new to laugh at you for, but you decide to humor him anyway.

“She cut out the boobs of my gym shirt before class because she knew if I dressed out again, I was getting detention,” you explain, smiling when it makes the table laugh. “I had to run the mile with my bright pink sports bra showing, but at least my record was clean.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Steve wonders aloud when he returns to the table, carrying the only straw that hadn’t fallen to the floor. He slides into the booth next to Robin and looks at the three of you expectantly.

“Nothing.” the brunette girl chirps.

“You,” Eddie deadpans.

You squint. “Real smooth, Munson.”

“Wait, what?”

Eddie laughs. “I mean, Vicki Carmichael? Seriously?”

Steve gapes at Robin, features yawned in betrayal. “You told them?” 

The girl shrugs, taking a big bite of her burger and playing coy.

“She’s hot and everything, but she’s really not your type, man.”

Steve’s eyes narrow across the table. “What’s that supposed to mean, freak?”

“She likes bad boys,” you answer for him, shrugging like it’s obvious. “You know, the Billy Hargrove types. With tattoos and leather jackets and long hair. And, no offense, but you’re the furthest thing from that.”

“I think you just described me, doll,” Eddie laughs.

“Weren’t you screwing around with Billy Hargrove a couple months ago?” Steve wonders with a knowing, honeyed squint.

“Shut up, Harrington,” you bite.

Eddie grins with all his teeth, pink and boyish and proud. “Oh, so you’re screwing guys that are just like me now, huh? I’m flattered.”

“If anything, you’re the dollar store version of Billy Hargrove, Munson,” you retort with a roll of your eyes, turning your attention to the milkshake in front of you. You stab holes in the thick ice cream and try to ignore the sudden attention.

All the eyes on you make you nervous. You were never good at being the butt of the joke. ‘Cause when you get embarrassed, you get mean. Like some kinda hurt dog.

“You have everything but the looks.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie snorts and snatches the frosted glass away from you. He slides it over to his side of the table and sips from the straw that has your lipstick stained on the tip of it. “You can’t insult me—”

“Can’t I?”

“—Not when you’re fucking a carbon copy of me,” he scoffs and tries to ignore the jealousy burning wildfires behind his ribcage.

“He’s nothing like you,” you insist.

“He’s exactly like me. Just blonde. And watered down,” Eddie argues, face twisted with disgust. He smiles when it makes everyone else laugh but you. “I mean, it’s kinda sad, actually. I turned you down, so you had to try it out with Hargrove?”

“I didn’t try it, first of all, I fucking conquered it,” you retort, not exactly joking but grinning when it makes Steve and Robin chuckle to themselves. “And second of all, I never wanted you, Munson. So there was never anything to turn down.”

Your words sting somewhere deep in his chest. Like there’s a knife lodged deep in his heart that aches every time he breathes. He doesn’t know what to do with this hurt other than hurt you back. 

“So that night you told me you liked me after my show— that was all a lie?” he asks, smirking to hide his ache.

Robin’s eyes go wide as she bites into her burger. “What is this? A sleepover?” she scoffs with her mouth full. “Why is everyone telling each other’s secrets?”

“You started it, Buckley,” Steve quips before stealing one of her fries.

Your answer is immediate. A total lie, but instant nonetheless. No one’s gonna out-insult you. Rarely ever do you come out of petty arguments without having drawn the most blood.

“Yeah! You bombed, and I felt bad, and I wanted to make you feel better,” you confess with a sinister giggle. “What I really wanted to say is that I wish your mom had given birth to a can opener because at least then it might be good at something.”

Eddie meets your smirk with a glower, something genuinely pained that makes your chest sting. You refuse to show it, though. Not even when he slides out of the booth. “Yeah, okay. Fuck you,” he mumbles to himself as he goes.

“What?” you scoff a cynical laugh.

“C’mon,” Steve murmurs quietly to you. “That was a little too far.”

“Oh, so he can make fun of me, but I can make fun of him?”

“It’s different. You know that.”

You roll your eyes even though you know he’s right. Eddie’s a clown, but he means well. He’s a dumbass because he doesn’t know how to be serious about anything, but he’s hardly ever outright mean. 

You’re made of something more hardened than that. You set fires all around you, and only when a person walks through it do you know they really care. You don’t mean to be so mean half the time. It’s a defense mechanism more than anything. A time-bomb you never really learned to defuse.

“It was a joke, Eds!” you shout as he storms the short distance to the entrance of the diner.

“Well, surprise. I have feelings—” he grins, though there’s little emotion behind it. The door dings over his head when he shoves it open. He reaches for the crushed packet of cigarettes in his pocket. “—And you just hurt them.”

The diner feels strangely silent with him gone. The air feels noticeably heavy, too. 

You reach for the milkshake he left on his side of the table and slide it audibly back over to you. You don’t sip from it, though. Your stomach’s too much in knots now. You just busy your fidgeting hands with it, holding the frosted glass in your delicate palms until they ache.

“Stop staring at me,” you mumble, not meeting the silent looks Robin and Steve give you across the booth.

“Go talk to him before you give him a complex.”

“Yeah,” the boy hums with a knowing smile. “Go kiss and make up.”

“Shut up,” you bite with a scrunched-together face. You deflate with a sigh. “Fine. I’ll go— but not because you told me to.”

You hear them laugh quietly to themselves as you walk out behind Eddie. 

He leans against the corner of the old building and blows smoke from his lungs. He looks relatively unfazed despite the circumstances. You swallow down the worry that you’re embarrassing yourself by being out here at all.

Your shoes scuff against the sidewalk as you near him. “Eds—”

“I’m fine,” he interjects before you can say anything real. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Well, it’s too late. Steve and Robin already kicked me out here, so…” You trail off in a monotone, despite having already declared that you were out here not because you were told to be. He doesn’t need to know that, though. “…I’m sorry.”

He takes a puff of the cigarette between his fingers, then shrugs on the exhale. “Okay.”

“The can opener thing was stupid— I mean, it wasn’t nice either, but it was a really dumb joke,” you ramble without taking a single breath. You cross your arms over yourself in a makeshift shield. “You didn’t even bomb that night. At your show or whatever. I lied. You were… You were actually really good.”

Eddie turns his head slowly. He blinks at you with chocolate eyes sparkling with amusement.

You cower under his stare. “What?”

“I know what you’re doing,” he insists with a crooked smile.

“What?” you repeat, forcing a laugh.

“You’re fucking with me,” he chuckles and brings the cig back to his mouth. He mumbles through the stick. “But it’s cool, you know? I can cope.”

“I’m being serious, Eddie,” you argue. And then, when your chest starts to sting, it becomes impossible not to make a joke. “I think you’re a… super-talented superstar—”

“You’re such a fucking bitch,” he interjects with a sincere laugh, like honey and gunpowder.

You giggle, and the foreign tension ebbs.

“I’m just kidding,” you assure and prop your back against the wall beside him. “Well, I mean, I’m not, but I…” You stammer when you can’t find the words. You gesture wildly with your hands. “I do think you’re talented, it’s just— It’s hard for me to be serious, okay? But I am sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he assures, tossing the cigarette to the ground and snuffing the ash with his sneaker. “Trust me. I know what you mean.”

You swallow hard. “And I wasn’t… What I said to you that night, in your van after the show… I wasn’t lying.”

Eddie’s head snaps up. He blinks at you with a gaping gaze, even though you’re not looking at him to see it. You’re much more focused on the dumpster across the street, lest you meet his eyes and get embarrassed all over again. 

This is the realest you’ve ever been with him, you think — since you told him you liked him and he all but turned you down.

Being vulnerable has been impossible since then.

“Then why’d you never talk to me about it again?” he asks, then stammers over himself. “You acted like it never even happened— I thought I fucking— like, dreamt it or some shit.”

“Because you didn’t say anything back! I thought you didn’t feel the same way!”

“I was just— I was just shocked. You always act like you hate me!”

“Because I like you, you idiot!” you blurt before you mean to, then huff with impatience at yourself. “Fuck. Sorry. I don’t know… I don’t know how to be nice to people I like.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie laughs, shifting on the brick wall until his shoulder rubs against it. He looks down at you like he’s seeing you for the very first time — glittering with the hope of finally getting close to you, of finally having something real.

“Don’t laugh!” you argue. “I’m trying really hard here!”

“I know,” he murmurs lowly, leaning in until you can taste the nicotine on his breath. In a honeyed tone, he confesses, “It’s a good thing I like you mean, then, huh?”

Your heart lurches into your throat. He smirks when you freeze, and knocks his shoulder against yours when he heads back into the diner.

The game of cat and mouse continues.

[inklessletter]

Happens after gym class. Eddie was held back, and the new gym coach is warned against the obscene numbers of excuses Munson handed over the last one to skip class, so this time, he actually has to go an do shit.

Fucking hates it.

First class of the year comes, and Eddie just tries his best to not engage with the new kids. Former class was a nest of assholes, and that was part of the reason he hated going in there. Hasn't got time to overthink because the coach is in the middle of the basketball court and makes them run thirty laps.

Eddie's sure he's dying at the ninth.

And it's mortifying being eighteen and in such poor shape he can't even run for a few minutes.

He's about to faint, and he knows he's not even running right because his feet don't respond how his brain wants them to. It's the fifteenth lap yet.

Eddie is dying, he's swearing he's going to quit smoking after this shit, when he feels a tap of a hand next to him.

Great, first asshole was taking to long to make fun of him.

It's Harrington.

"Hey, man" he says, and he's carrying himself with a fine layer of sweat that makes him look even good. "Get upright, come on, you're going to kiss the floor if you keep running like that."

"Leave me... a... alone..." Eddie says. Or tries to.

"Just run with me, slow your pace," Steve says. "Just like this. One, two. One, two. One, two."

And maybe it's because those are his last moments of his short life, but he actually decides to do as he's told. Eddie straightens his back and takes a deep breath and focuses on his feet, following the rhythm. One, two. One, two. One, two.

"That's good, keep going, just like that," Steve praises.

And it's fucking odd, and suspicious as fuck that Harrington is being nice to him.

Eddie thinks that maybe Harrington is avoiding Tommy H for whatever reason. Last year they were together all the time, but this year Hargrove seemed to have captured his attention.

Eddie also thinks Harrington is going to ditch Eddie once he doesn't look pathetic, but actually sticks with him the rest of the laps, and the last five he actually is looking like a mess too, but has some breath left for encouraging Eddie, who is deliberately not responding verbally because air is precious.

Then they finish the tirtieth lap and Eddie's knees barely work until he finds a spot to sit and never, ever stand up. His lungs are burning, and his vision is all blurry. He's hot, and sweaty, and fucking disgusting.

Steve is there again, offering some water.

Eddie takes it, and Steve just nods with his head and goes away to the showers.

With the last bit of strength his muscles has stored, Eddie stands up and goes to the showers. He need one SO. FUCKING. MUCH.

The kids are loud and there's a general vibe of complaining and Eddie has no meaning to finish soon to get to class right away.

Fuck next class, he's toast.

There's barely five or six of them still in the locker room when he can breathe almost normally again (his lungs still hurt) when he starts to undress.

Harrington is just going out of the showers, towel around his middle when Eddie is... well. Almost fully naked.

For a reason he's so not going to analyze, he feels a wave of heat going up to make nest in his cheeks. He tries not to stare when Steve takes off the towel, not looking at him twice.

He observes, and thinks that maybe needs to say thanks or something nice for helping him out back there. Anything, actually. But he's there. Staring. Frozen.

Harrington is... well. That. He's been that since a few years ago. They have never interacted before, so him being that was never a problem until he stands there, fully naked in front of him.

Who's also naked.

Steve is dressing, and he's not looking at Eddie, but Eddie, who's looking with no trace of discretion, sees him smiling while he's tying his Nikes.

"You've got no shame, man," Steve says, and then looks at him fully. He's putting his polo on and then working on his belt while looking at Eddie in the eye. "See something you like?"

"Uh... Ah... I'm not-"

Steve's eyes just go south on Eddie's body, and then back up, smirking.

Eddie is suddenly hyper aware that he's hard. Hadn't even noticed. He's got no time to feel ashamed when he feels a dry towel crashing against his face. He grabs it, and looks at Steve, trying to... to what? Apologize?

Steve is smiling when he closes his locker, takes the duffel bag and leaves the room.

"For your modesty, dude."

--

@lawrencebshoggoth

[piedpiperart]

Dick had timed it perfectly. Both he and Danny would have an hour for lunch free at the same time, perfect opportunity to spend time with him. Or ask him out, Dick hoped.

Dick approached Danny as he left the mat, waving a bit to get his attention. Danny perked up at the sight of Dick, and he gave a smile back, adjusting his path to cross with Dicks.

“Hey, Dick, what’s up?” Danny asked, tilting his head a little to the side that reminded the vigilante of a puppy.

“Hey, I was wondering if you’d want to go out to lunch with me during break?” Dick asked, trying to play it off cool, ignoring his sweaty palms that weren’t entirely from the gym equipment.

Danny lit up with a grin,”Yeah sure, let me just get my stuff and-“

“DANNY!”

Both men turned to find six kids, all from Dannys class, crowded around the climbing rope. At the near top of the rope was a small kid, blonde hair and a bright blue leotard with black shorts, shaking.

Another kid with brown hair ran over to Danny, swiftly ignoring Dick, and grabbed his hand to start leading him away. “Danny, Celia is stuck and won’t come down, she needs you!”

“I told you guys to be careful, what were you doing climbing the top? Class ended a while ago,”Danny muttered, but allowed himself to be led away from Dick. He looked back and mouthed ‘later?’ with an apologetic look.

“I could help too?” Dick offered, but was taken aback at the glare the kid- who Dick thought was named Garret- sent him.

“Celia’s afraid of tall people, so only Danny can save her,” the kid sniffed pointedly, turning and dragging Danny closer to the mayhem.

Dick was a bit annoyed he wouldn’t be able to spend lunch with Danny, but he had to admit it was highly amusing to see Danny’s affronted look when the kid implied he was short. Dick covered his mouth to hide his laughter when he heard Danny tell the kid that he really wasn’t that short.

Well, Dick though, turning away from the chaos that was Danny’s class, maybe I can bring him something since he’ll be missing lunch.

Dick came back from lunch with a few pastries, hoping Danny might like some before both their respective classes started up in a few minutes.

Again, Dick waved to Danny, approaching him on the bleachers. “Oh hey, how was lunch?” Danny grinned. Dick offered up the bag of pastries and Danny’s face lit up.

“Stopped by the bakery on 7th, figured you might like some?” Dick asked, and Danny was already looking into the bag.

“Thanks, I haven’t been able to leave this place,”Danny muttered, but lit up at the logo on the bag,”Pipers pastries? I love that place,”Danny added, taking out a pastry,”They have the best cream cheese danishes.”

“Right? I think they’re new in town,”Dick said, but frowned when he spotted something out of the corner of his eye. We’re those kids fighting, he wondered.

A yell rang out and both Danny and Dick turned to the source. There was indeed two kids fighting, some from Dick’s class and some from Danny’s. Most notably was Celia and Garret, yelling at Yelena and Darcy from Dick’s class, who were blocking the door to the bleacher area.

Danny and Dick gave each-other a tired look, but got up to investigate anyways. Dick was a bit amused at the way Danny elegantly shoved the danish in his mouth before they got to the kids.

“What seems to be the problem here?” Dick asked, hands on his hips.

“I need Danny’s help!” Celia poured, face red.

“And I told her you two were busy!” Yelena argued back.

“You’ve been bothering Danny all day,”Darcy glared, and Celia pouted.

Danny laughed a little, trying to defuse the situation. Dick was a little miffed that Danny ended up going to help Celia anyways. It seemed his students were too from the way they sighed dramatically.

Dick was about to comfort them when Yelena turned to him with a serious face.”Don’t worry Dick, we’ll help you get a date with Danny. I promise we’ll try to keep Celia away.”

And before Dick could respond to that baffling statement, the two girls were gone. “What?” Dick whispered, questioning what was going on in his life that he’d stumbled across some weird gym class rivalry.

He didn’t fully notice before, but now that he thought about it, Celia and her class had interrupted just about every one of Dick’s attempts at talking to Danny. On the other hand, Yelena and her class had sometimes seemed to be around whenever he was able to actually talk to the guy.

What the heck is going on, Dick wondered.

Dick and Danny both teach gymnastics, and they meet at work

They hit of instantly and dick gets a big ole crush pretty much immediately and tries to woo Danny instantly

Dick's class tries so hard to help, full support, plans (that are terrible but what do you expect from a bunch of kids) all that

Dannys class on the other hand? Fully against it, one of the girls has a puppy crush on him (once again, kiddie "crush" but what can you do) and of course they are supporting her instead

Its a full war between the classes, dick is going insane because all his plans are falling through

It turns to the worse when damian and Tim find out, they both find Danny really nice to hang out with and Tim is all for them dating while damian thinks Danny should be part of the family (something about duke jokingly saying it's the greatest honour for friends to be worried about getting adopted and damian took that seriously)

So once again, war

Danny finds dick failing at flirting incredible cute btw, but he wants the chaos to go on a bit longer

[loveinhawkins]

a cherished headcanon I keep coming back to is that Eddie is very much invested in the school basketball team right up until the graduating class of ‘85 leaves. By an incredible series of mental gymnastics, he tries to convince himself that this has nothing to do with Steve Harrington’s presence on the team.

(And maybe Eddie avoiding the championship game of ‘86 in the near future will have more to do with Jason Carver being on the team, but that’s a sadder story for another time.)

The thing Eddie can easily admit he loves about the bigger games is the fleeting anonymity: while he’s got notoriety in Hawkins High, as soon as there’s a rival school involved he can blend into the crowd for a couple hours, lost in the roar of support.

It’s nearing the end of just such a tournament game when the ball accidentally goes flying into the crowd. Eddie’s reflexes kick in and he manages to catch it before it can take out the back row of the marching band.

The clock’s been stopped for a timeout—a kid on the rival team is injured—so more eyes are drawn to Eddie than normal as they find where the ball ended up. He feels acutely like a spotlight’s on him—holds the ball to his chest almost like he’s a part of the game himself.

A whistle cuts across the court. Steve Harrington.

He’s looking right at Eddie, raising his hands for the ball.

He has more than enough time to say something, some jeer that would well and truly break the spell of anonymity. But Eddie knows underneath the knee jerk worry that it’s not Steve’s style; it’s more the kind of thing Billy Hargrove and his ilk would do, and he’d thankfully been benched at halftime.

Eddie inhales then throws the ball, praying that he doesn’t end up smacking Steve in the face.

He doesn’t, thank God; Steve catches the ball smoothly, manages a thumbs up in thanks before the spotlight shifts back onto the game.

Eddie quietly sighs in relief, loses himself in cheering again.

They don’t win, but it’s still a good game. It’s like Eddie’s reasoning for campaigns: not everything needs to be an all-out victory for it to be entertaining.

The parking lot is a nightmare so he contents himself with waiting it out by his van while the worst of the crowds clear. It’s only when he hears a car door opening and closing nearby that he realises Steve is parked right next to him. Of course, of course he—

“Good catch back there, Munson,” Steve says, tossing his gym bag into his car. He notices something on one of the seats—Eddie can’t tell what it is, but he hears Steve mutter under his breath in benign exasperation, something about, “Dickheads, I keep telling them not to…”

“Yeah, thanks. All my years of training finally paid off.”

Steve makes a face at the build up of cars, chatting parents leaning out of their windows. “You could’ve been on the sub-team.”

“Kinda resent that you don’t think I’m star player material, Harrington.”

There’s the beginnings of a grin on Steve’s face. He has no right looking that smug for someone who’s just lost a game, Eddie thinks.

“Dude, I can hear you. You’re loud.”

Eddie wills his face not to flush. “You’ve got no proof.”

“Nah, just firsthand experience.”

“What, do you have ears like a bat?”

“Nope. Don’t need that to pick you out.” Steve chuckles to himself as he gets in the car, sits side-on to face Eddie as he speaks. “You’re worse than Tammy Thompson’s singing.”

“Uncalled for,” Eddie says, firmly locking away the part of his brain that’s screaming in embarrassment, because if he’s unable to fire off a comeback, he’ll actually never recover; he might as well go and tell Higgins that next year is already a wash, because he has to go and live in the woods—

“Hey, c’mon Munson, I didn’t say it was bad.”

“You implied it,” Eddie says, totally overselling the entire thing, like he’s been greviously wounded.

It works; Steve laughs, shakes his head.

“I didn’t,” he insists as he reverses out of his space. “I just meant it’s… distinctive.”

“Wow. Thank you.”

“That’s your whole shtick, man, don’t act like that wasn’t a compliment.”

“Sure. Eddie ‘Distinctive’ Munson, that’s me.”

And post-game sentiment must be in the air, because as Steve leaves the parking lot, he calls out the car window, bright and teasing, “Hey, maybe I’ll miss the cheering!”

But Eddie can’t be sure. Unlike Steve, he might be mishearing things.

[jazzsonly]

ꜱɪᴅᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱɪᴅᴇ ֹ⠀⠀✶ ⠀. tara carpenter, scream.

warning(s): fem!reader, use of she/her, fluff(?), smut (only implied. not detailed.), amber is alive and sane, anika is alive, no gf au, talks of the readers body being fit and toned, reader is a gym rat, talks of protein intake and meal prep, talks of the gym, friends with benefits, etc.

HC summary: the one where tara is fucking her gym rat neighbor…

ֹ⠀⠀✶ ⠀. masterslist. ֹ⠀⠀✶ ⠀. ֹ⠀⠀✶ ⠀. ֹ⠀⠀✶ ⠀. ֹ⠀⠀✶ ⠀. ֹ⠀⠀✶

it started off as an innocent crush, really. it really did.

see, when tara and sam first moved into the apartment, tara would see you jogging around the complex.

“woah, she’s hot.”

sam, peaks, humoring her sisters comment. she hated to admit it, and she never would aloud but you were indeed ‘hot’

tara figured you must live in the complex as she’d seen you on your morning jog twice but it wasn’t until the third day she had found out you lived right across from her, she were coming home from her afternoon class and caught a glimpse of you, clad in your black alo sports bra with matching, grey alo sweats, entering your apartment

you had shot her a quick smile as you unlocked your door to step in

tara’s little high schoolish crush grew, in fact so much core four made it a running joke

“there’s your neighbor!” mindy perked up, looking out the apartment window

“where?!” tara immediately jumped up from her macbook that sat on the kitchen table, she searched through the window, met with an empty complex

“i’m just teasing you!”

mindy’s obnoxious laugh turned to a harsh “ow!” being met with a tara’s punch in the arm

“i was just joking!”

“why don’t you just ask the girl out already? i mean, she goes to blackmore too and you live right next door to each other—”

tara cuts off chad, who were laid out on the couch scrolling through instagram, “she goes to blackmore?!”

“yeah we sit next to each other in math. she’s really smart, lets me cheat off her.”

“you have to introduce me to her!”

and that chad did.

it wasn’t odd but it wasn’t particularly normal either that out of the blue chad had asked to hang outside of math—i mean, besides him copying your answer you two discussed gym related things and sometimes video games

you were a simple person and chad was a cool guy. why not?

“here comes chad with your dick drop off”

“you mean pussy drop off?” amber counters mindy.

“hey, you don’t know what she has in her pants.”

“will you two shut up?” tara seethes, as she fixes her hair and straightens her posture.

“everyone, this is y/n. y/n this is core four.”

fuck. you looked so good. tara couldn’t even understand how you could look so good in an oversized beat up t-shirt and black sweats. you just always managed to look so sporty and it really turned her on.

“hey! you’re my neighbor aren’t you? apartment 216.” you instantly recognized tara.

little did the carpenter know, you had been watching her too. developing your own little crush. seeing her come home from classes. her skinny jeans and crop top combos never failed to catch your eye. you liked the fact that she seem studious, yet looked like one of those hot popular bitchy girls in the movies.

“yeah, yeah. i’m tara.” you exchange a hand shake.

“y/n here is really into horror games…i told her that’s perfect because we love horror movies. especially, tara, i bet you could talk her right out of her panties about horror movies.”

both mindy and amber, on either side of chad punch either of his arms at the same time.

“excuse, my brother…he lacks social skills, part of his lumped up brain.”

“it’s fine, i deal with him all day in math.” you joke.

“so, horror movies, huh? what’s your poison? slasher, thriller…”

“physiological. like, the babadook.”

“no way! my brother loves that movie. it used to scare me to death when i was a kid.”

you get close to not only, tara but core four rather quickly.

tara eager to get to know you and get in your pants, invited you to movie night immediately.

of course, leave it to mindy and amber to tease her about the way she would hog you.

“ok y/n’s on her way, said she’s in the shower.” tara reads off the text you had sent her.

“she’s gonna be all over her again.” mindy snickers, wrapping her arm around anika’s shoulder.

“shut up, you literally worship the ground anika walks on.”

“duh, she’s my girlfriend.”

it wasn’t long before movie nights with core four turned into just you and tara hanging. first you started to get coffee together,

“i can’t believe you like your coffee black.”

“it feeds my soul. plus, it’s an appetite curver and i’m on a cut.”

“i’ll never understand your gym talk.”

“and that’s what i love about you.” you joke.

then it turned into walks at the park,

“ya’ know, we could be running right now.”

“not a chance.”

then it turned into tara hanging around at your apartment,

“so remind me what a ‘winter arc’ is?”

you continue you cut of the banana that was set to be put in the blender along with other cut fruit and your protein mix.

“it’s basically, like when you workout and diet all winter so when summer comes you’re all ‘hot’ and shit.”

“huh…maybe i need a winter arc.”

“no you don’t. trust me.”

tara pauses, were you flirting with her?

“that’s a compliment.” you read the expression on her face.

“well, if i don’t need one, neither do you.”

“oh, i’m not on a winter arc, hon. this is a lifestyle.” you tease, before turning the blender on.

it wasn’t until a month after nonstop flirting and banter, you and tara had kissed.

you were both sharing a movie night alone in your apartment, you sat side by side under your comforter on your reclined couch.

tara being comfortable enough with you that her head was on your shoulder, mindlessly ignoring the movie as she admired the feel of your body.

“dude, your arms look so slim but are like rock hard.” she reaches up, feeling your bicep.

“why, i do workout you know.” you tease, letting out a snicker.

tara ignores it, letting her hands childish roaming your body.

“you have got to tell me your secret, you stomach feels amazing.” over your fitted black under-armor shirt, tara runs her fingers and nails over your ab’d stomach.

“handsy much.”

“oh shit, sorry.” fuck. did she just fuck things up? come on too strong?

“no, no…” you grab her hand, placing it back onto your stomach.

“i didn’t say i didn’t like it.”

tara looks up at you like a deer caught in headlights, she swallows the lump that’s in your throat, her bottom lip caught in between her teeth as you lick your own lips and eye her face down.

she doesn’t know why she’s so nervous that she hesitates. this is all she’s wanted for the past two months.

she’s in a trance and it takes you finally leaning in to break her out of it.

she becomes hungry and irresistible to you all at once.

this time, she seriously does let her hands wander. she can’t get a enough of your body, you feel hot and cold all at the same time.

her body feels all hot with your hands on her waist.

you firmly pull her into your lap.

for a second you break the kiss, “tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

tara pants, “god, why would i ever want you to stop?”

eagerly, she goes back in for more.

her hands slid up her waist, pushing your shirt up, indicating that she wanted to get it off and you take the hint. breaking the kiss, you reach for the front neck hem of your shirt and pull it over your head. you are left in a white gymshark sports bra.

hastily tara does the same, sliding over her blue crop top , leaving her in a black bra.

“you have a tattoo?” tara runs her fingers over your mid-torso tat that’s just says ‘love’ in cursive. how didn’t she notice this before?

“yeah, matching family thing.” you brush off, softly grabbing the back of her neck to pull her back into the kiss.

that night tara woke up in your bed, and months worth of nights after that.

it almost became a routine, you’d even given her a spare key to your apartment. tara would wait for you while you finished up at the gym. you’d cooked a little dinner, you two would talk, and then fuck.

you weren’t really sure what to call you two and neither was tara. but to be honest it didn’t really matter, all you knew was that you enjoyed the time you spent together and you were only seeing each other.

when anyone asked sometimes tara would slip and call you her girlfriend but you didn’t mind.

you went along with it.

“you make a sexy gladiator.”

“and you make a sexy pirate.” you lean down, kissing tara.

“you and your girlfriend are gross.” amber fake gags in her raven (teen titans) costume.

“at least i have a girlfriend.” tara teases as she pulls you into the obnoxiously loud and crowed house that held a halloween party.

“girlfriend, huh?”

“i mean—”

“i’m just teasing.” you smirk.

the pirate rolls her eyes, “well tease me in another way, you look really hot in that costume.”

━━━👩🏽‍💻 im back…sorta…kinda. anyways finally out of my depression #backtogetherwiththeloml #winterarc #manifesting this was definitely supposed to be a fic but i was too lazy and turned it into a headcon. yes this is named after side to side by ari.

[hoshifighting]

ok... so i've seen your amazing college fling works for seungcheol, jeonghan, and joshua.... but what about one for hoshi 👉👈

ONCE AGAIN I LOVE YOUR WRITING!!!! ❤️❤️❤️

WARNINGS: freshmen!hoshi, late night practices, burn-out, shyness, sunbae!reader, fluff, a lil bit of angst.

WC: 2.8k of this... judge me 🗣needed to divide this into parts...

part 1 / part 2

college fling!hoshi that you clocked that he was a freshman by the very moment he stepped into the dance practice room. it started with the smell, honestly. freshman reek—like nervous sweat and too much axe body spray, paired with the faintest whiff of fear. baggy-ass hoodie that practically swallowed his arms, hands shoved deep in his pockets like they’d get fined if they came out, sneakers so new they squeaked against the gym floor. he looked young. not in a bad way, just in that “i’m not used to being left unsupervised” way.

he stood in the doorway like he didn’t know what to do with himself. everyone else was stretching, pulling their limbs into shapes human joints probably weren’t meant for, and there he was, swaying on the balls of his feet like a kid waiting to ask if they could borrow a crayon.

“you lost?” you called out, not even looking up from where you were sitting, tying your shoelaces.

“huh? n-no, i’m, uh—this is intro to hip-hop?”

the way he said it like a question had you biting back a grin. “yeah, you’re in the right place. c’mon in before the instructor roasts your ass for lurking.”

he shuffled in, taking a spot in the back corner like he was hoping no one would notice him. “i'm invisible if i stand still enough”, he thinks. but of course, everyone noticed him. new kid energy was impossible to ignore, and to top it off, he had that awkwardly cute thing going on. messy bangs falling into his eyes, face pink like he was one awkward comment away from combusting. his eyes, wide and curious, darting around like he was mentally cataloging every single thing in the room.

“you got a name, freshman?” you asked, leaning back on your hands as you watched him.

he blinked, like he didn’t realize you were still talking to him. “oh, uh, hoshi. i mean, soonyoung. but people call me hoshi.”

“cool. you dance before, hoshi?”

“alright, new guy!” the prof clapped his hands, dragging everyone’s attention. “show us a little freestyle! don't be shy...”

college fling!hoshi who freezes mid-blink, still thinking about your question. clutching his backpack straps so hard you thought they might snap. he turned to you, wide-eyed and panicked, like you could save him from the impending doom.

“relax,” you whispered, stepping closer, your voice low enough that only he could hear. “you do this and sunbae’s buying you dinner. whatever you want. ramen, fried chicken, you name it.”

he blinked, like the concept of being spoiled by you was enough to short-circuit his brain, but there was something there. a spark. like maybe he didn’t wanna flop in front of you.

“okay,” he mumbled, and you gave him a grin that could probably power a small city.

“attaboy,” you said, patting his shoulder as you turned back to the class.

by the end of the first class, he’d loosened up a bit—mostly because the instructor made everyone run through improv drills, and there was no room for shyness when you were flailing around to some experimental old-school rap track. you caught him sneaking glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking.

college fling!hoshi who finally zipped up his backpack after what felt like an eternity, stood up, and immediately knocked over a water bottle with his foot. he muttered a quick, shy “sorry,” barely glancing at the offended plastic, and shuffled toward you. his shoulders were stiff, his hands gripping the straps of his backpack like they were the only things tethering him to this earth. you gave him a once-over, your phone in one hand, and a smirk playing at your lips. “you survived,” you said casually, and his grin was so tiny you almost missed it.

college fling!hoshi who started walking alongside you, a little too close like he didn’t know how to pace himself yet. every few steps, his elbow brushed yours, and he’d shift just enough to make it obvious he noticed. you didn’t say anything—just side-eyed him with a teasing smile that had his ears turning red.

college fling!hoshi who paused outside the building with you, his fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on his sleeve as he asked, “so, uh… what do you like to eat?” his voice was barely louder than the passing breeze. you raised an eyebrow at him, tucking your phone into your pocket. “you’re really gonna let me pick, huh?” he nodded, determined, even as he shuffled his feet. “you said you’d spoil me,” he countered, and for the first time, there was a flicker of sass in his tone. you liked it.

college fling!hoshi who almost tripped on his untied shoelace when you said you’d pick a place, his backpack slipping off one shoulder as he bent down to fix it. he was mumbling something about bad luck when you crouched beside him, yanking the lace from his hands and tying it with a quick knot. “you’re gonna kill yourself before dinner at this rate,” you said, and the way he stared at you—wide-eyed, lips parted—made it feel like you’d just handed him the keys to the kingdom.

college fling!hoshi who sat across from you at the tiny chicken shop, looking at the menu like it was a math test. “it’s just chicken, dude,” you teased, propping your chin in your hand. he fumbled with the laminated page, finally blurting, “but what if I pick something too spicy?” you laughed, shaking your head. “okay, rookie, let me help you out.” you ended up ordering for both of you, and when the dish came, his eyes lit up.

college fling!hoshi who distractly puts too much sauce on his chicken wing and doesn’t notice because he was too busy grinning at your stories. “wait, wait—so you fell during a performance?” he asked, the sauce at the corner of his mouth. you groaned, throwing a napkin at him. “it wasn’t just a fall, okay? it was a crash,” you admitted, and his laugh was so loud the couple at the next table glanced over. “stop making fun of me or I’ll make you pay,” you threatened, and his face instantly sobered. “wait, what?”

college fling!hoshi who insisted on paying despite your earlier threats. he pulled out his wallet like it was some grand declaration of independence, only to hesitate when he realized he didn’t have enough cash. “um…” he started, cheeks burning. you rolled your eyes and handed your card to the cashier before he could protest. “rookie rule number one,” you said smugly, “always check your wallet before acting like a big shot.” he muttered something about repaying you, and you just laughed, nudging him toward the door.

college fling!hoshi who got lost again on the way back to his dorm, despite the fact that he’d been living there for a week. “are you serious right now?” you asked, watching him squint at the campus map on his phone. he scratched the back of his head, mumbling, “it all kinda looks the same at night.” sighing, you grabbed his phone, pulled up the map yourself, and started walking. “come on, hoshi-ya you’re hopeless.”

college fling!hoshi who walked beside you, hands in his pockets, quietly humming a tune you didn’t recognize. “what’s that?” you asked, tilting your head toward him. his eyes widened like he’d been caught. “oh, uh, just something I made up,” he admittedquietly. you stopped in your tracks, turning to him with a grin. “wait, you write music?” he shrugged, suddenly bashful. “a little… it’s not a big deal.” you nudged him with your shoulder. “nah, that’s cool as hell. show me sometime?”

college fling!hoshi who hesitated outside his dorm door, hand hovering over the handle. “thanks for… you know, today,” he said, glancing at you shyly. “and dinner.” you smirked, crossing your arms. “you earned it, rookie. but next time, you’re paying.” his smile stretched wide, and for a moment, he just stood there, like he didn’t want to go in. finally, he nodded, fumbling with the key. “goodnight, sunbae,” he said softly, and you had to resist the urge to ruffle his hair as you turned to leave.

college fling!hoshi who always trails behind you, holding onto the strap of your backpack like a lost puppy. “you’re gonna rip it, you know,” you tell him, but he just grins and tightens his grip. “you’re my sunbae. gotta make sure I don’t lose you.” it’s so dumb and cheesy that you flick his forehead, but your chest feels warmer anyway.

college fling!hoshi who managed to charm his way into your friend group like he’d been there all along. one of your music department friends spotted him loitering outside your lecture hall and asked, “is that the guy you’ve been dragging around campus?” you rolled your eyes, but hoshi smiled like he’d just won an award. “that’s me!” he said proudly, and somehow by the end of the conversation, they were swapping playlist recommendations.

college fling!hoshi who shows up at your dorm one night with a bruised knee and a sheepish smile. “i tripped during practice,” he admits, wincing as you drag him inside. “tripped or collapsed?” you demand, pointing at the ice pack in his hands. he shrugs, trying to play it off, but you’re already crouched in front of him, scolding him as you press the ice to his knee. “you should stop, sunbae its worried about you.” you mutter, and when he mumbles, “i’ll be fine,” you glare at him until he mutters an apology instead.

college fling!hoshi who gets into his first real argument with you after you find him practicing in an empty studio way past midnight. “what the hell are you doing?” you snap, flipping on the lights to find him mid-spin, sweat dripping down his face. “just a bit more,” he protests, breathless. “i need to get this routine perfect.” but you’re not having it. “perfect doesn’t matter if you’re too dead to perform, hoshi!” he flinches, wide-eyed, but you don’t stop. “you can’t keep pushing yourself like this. stop before you break something.” he looks at you, frustrated, and finally, he slumps onto the floor, whispering, “sorry, sunbae.”

college fling!hoshi who randomly shows up with snacks between your classes. “figured you’d be hungry,” he says, handing you a convenience store bag. you peek inside—your favorite drink and a pack of cookies. “didn’t know you were trying to bribe me,” you tease, taking a bite. “is it working?” he asks, grinning, and when you give him a thumbs-up, he beams like a kid on christmas morning.

college fling!hoshi who ends up crashing at your dorm after a long night of studying. he’s sprawled on your bed, one arm thrown over his face, while you sit cross-legged on the floor, typing away at your laptop. “you’re gonna fail if you don’t actually read the material,” you say, glancing up. he groans, rolling onto his side. “then i’ll just ask you to tutor me again,” he says, smirking, and you chuck a pillow at his head.

college fling!hoshi who catches you off-guard one day by slipping his jacket over your shoulders during a chilly walk across campus. “you looked cold,” he says simply, his voice softer than usual. you pull the fabric tighter around you, the faint scent of him lingering on it, and when you glance at him, he’s pretending to be super interested in a tree. “thanks,” you say quietly, and he shrugs, his ears turning pink as he mutters, “anytime, sunbae.”

college fling!hoshi who came back one day to the practice room after a late practice, two cans of soda in hand, humming to himself. “sunbae, I got—” his voice cut off when he saw you slouched on the floor, one hand clutching your forehead. “y/n?” he rushed over, dropping the sodas with a dull clunk. crouching in front of you, his voice softened. “what’s wrong? are you okay?” you waved him off weakly. “just tired. it’s nothing.” but he didn’t buy it for a second.

college fling!hoshi who gently pried your hand away from your forehead, his fingers brushing against yours. “you’re burning up,” he said, his brow furrowing. “why didn’t you say anything?” you tried to sit up straighter, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. “it’s fine, really. just pushed too hard today.” his expression tightened. “this isn’t fine, y/n. you shouldn’t have kept going if you felt like this.”

college fling!hoshi who helped you lean back against the mirror. “stay still, okay?” he murmured, crouching next to you. you gave him a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. “you’re acting like I’m dying, hoshi.” he didn’t laugh, his lips pressing into a thin line. “don’t joke about that,” he said quietly, his eyes scanning your face for any signs of improvement.

college fling!hoshi who let you rest your head against his shoulder when you slumped forward again. “here, like this,” he said softly, adjusting so you were cradled in his arms. his hands were steady, one supporting your back and the other brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “just relax. you’re safe.” he started gently blowing on your face, the cool air soothing your heated skin. “better?” he whispered, his voice close enough to send a strange flutter through your chest.

college fling!hoshi who stayed with you until you could sit up on your own again, his arm still lingering behind your back just in case. “you scared me,” he admitted, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “i thought… what if something happened and I wasn’t here?” you blinked up at him, guilt bubbling in your stomach. “sorry,” you muttered. his hand found yours, squeezing it gently. “just don’t do it again, okay? i mean it, you always scold me for practicing too late...”

college fling!hoshi who refused to let you walk home by yourself, no matter how many times you insisted you were fine. “nope, not happening,” he said firmly, slipping your bag over his shoulder along with his own. “if you collapse halfway there, what am I supposed to do? carry you like a princess?” you snorted, but the teasing tone in his voice couldn’t hide the worry in his eyes.

“you know, I could really get used to you carrying me around,” you said, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. he raised an eyebrow, glancing at you. “oh, really?” he asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “yeah,” you said, deadpan, “I mean, who wouldn’t want a cute guy carrying them everywhere?”

college fling!hoshi who, despite the teasing tone in your voice, caught that little glint in your eye. “alright, then,” he said, voice suddenly serious, as he paused in front of you. “come here.” without waiting for a response, he slid his arms under your knees and around your back. you yelped in surprise, but before you could protest, he had you lifted off the ground like you were weightless. “you wanted it, right?” he said with a grin, carrying you like it was nothing. “not a word out of you until we get to your dorm.”

“you’re a natural at this,” you teased, your chin resting on his shoulder as you looked up at him. “yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep you from passing out on me,” he muttered, but his cheeks were flushed, and his hands felt like they were holding you just a bit too tightly. “this isn’t bad,” you added with a smirk, “maybe I’ll start making demands. like, no more walking for me from now on.”

he blushed at your joke but didn’t miss a beat. “you sure about that?” he asked, glancing down at you with a sly smile. you nodded, playing along. “definitely. I’m a princess now. I’ll need snacks, water, a blanket... and don’t forget the back rubs.” hoshi shook his head, clearly trying to hide his amusement. “I’m pretty sure you’re taking this way too far, but okay,” he said, adjusting his grip on you. “I can do all that...”

“deal. but only if you don’t drop me halfway there,” you teased. hoshi’s grip tightened, his voice lowering a little. “I’ll never drop you, sunbae.”

college fling!hoshi who made it to your dorm room, still carrying you as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “I should’ve known you’d enjoy this,” he said, shaking his head as he set you down on your bed. “enjoy what?” you asked innocently, grinning up at him. “this whole ‘being carried around’ thing,” he said, still laughing a little. you shrugged dramatically.

college fling!hoshi who would come up to you after class, always fussing over you—was your shoulder okay? did you stretch enough? how was your lunch? you’d always brush it off, sulking a little at the way he took care of you like it was his full-time job.

[sweetlyvibe]

PAIRING : Hajime Iwaizumi x F!Reader

GENRE : angst/comfort

WC : 1.3k

SUMMARY : Iwaizumi discovers your love letter, revealing your feelings for him, but Oikawa’s arrival complicates everything.

CONTENT/WARNING : oikawa angst, love triangle, unrequited feelings, friendship strain, confession, character anxiety

Iwaizumi Hajime wasn’t someone who spent much time thinking about popularity. He never cared for the spotlight or the attention, unlike his childhood friend, Oikawa Tooru, who seemed to thrive on it. In fact, the dynamic between the two of them had always been clear—Oikawa was the star, and Iwaizumi was the reliable friend in the background. It didn’t bother him, not usually. He was content being the steady presence, the dependable one.

But lately, something had changed.

It started with you.

You weren’t like the others. At least, that’s what Iwaizumi told himself every time he caught himself thinking about you, every time he watched from the sidelines as you talked to Oikawa. It was easy to assume that you, like everyone else, were drawn to Oikawa’s charm. Who wouldn’t be? Oikawa had a smile that could light up a room, a way of making people feel special, like they were the only ones in the world when he spoke to them.

And Iwaizumi? He was just… there.

Sure, you talked to him too. You’d laugh at his dry comments, ask him how he was doing, sometimes even linger a little longer when you saw him after practice. But Iwaizumi convinced himself it didn’t mean anything. You were friendly with everyone. It wasn’t like you were seeking him out specifically. That was just wishful thinking, something Iwaizumi had long ago trained himself to stop doing.

Because Oikawa was always the one people liked. It had been that way since they were kids. Whether it was volleyball or school or just walking down the street, Oikawa would always be the center of attention. And as his best friend, Iwaizumi was used to stepping aside, letting him have that spotlight. It was how things were, and it was fine.

But when it came to you, it wasn’t fine. Not really.

Iwaizumi found himself thinking about you more often than he cared to admit. During practice, during class, on his way home. He’d wonder if you were thinking about Oikawa, if you liked him the way everyone else seemed to. Why wouldn’t you? Oikawa was everything Iwaizumi wasn’t—charming, effortlessly cool, confident in ways that made people swoon.

It was stupid, Iwaizumi knew. He didn’t have a chance. He wasn’t flashy, wasn’t charismatic like Oikawa. And deep down, he believed that if you had to choose between the two of them, you’d pick Oikawa. Everyone always did.

The day everything changed started out like any other.

Practice had just ended, and Iwaizumi was heading to the locker room, towel slung over his shoulder as he wiped the sweat from his face. His mind was still on the drills they’d run that day, thinking about how they could improve before the next game. Oikawa was already off chatting with some girls near the gym doors, flashing his usual smile, and Iwaizumi shook his head, used to the sight by now.

But when he opened his locker, a small, folded piece of paper fell out, landing at his feet.

At first, Iwaizumi didn’t think much of it. Probably a flyer or some forgotten note. But when he bent down to pick it up and unfolded the paper, his heart skipped a beat.

It was a letter—a confession.

He stared at it, his brain struggling to catch up with what he was seeing. The words were written neatly, carefully, and at the bottom was your name.

Your name.

Iwaizumi felt his pulse quicken, his hands tightening around the letter. Was this real? Was it a mistake? There was no way… but there it was, in black and white. You had written him a love letter. You liked him?

For a long moment, Iwaizumi just stood there, staring at the paper like it might disappear if he blinked. This couldn’t be right. He had spent so long convincing himself that you were just like everyone else, that you had no reason to notice him when Oikawa was right there. But this letter…

It was real. And you liked him, not Oikawa.

Later that day, Iwaizumi found himself walking toward the school courtyard where he often saw you after class. His heart was racing, his thoughts spinning with a mixture of disbelief and hope. What was he supposed to say? How could he even begin to process that you, the person he’d been quietly admiring for months, had confessed to him?

When he spotted you sitting on a bench, his breath caught in his throat. You looked up when he approached, a soft smile spreading across your face as if you had been waiting for him.

“Hey, Hajime,” you greeted him, your voice warm, familiar. “What’s up?”

Iwaizumi swallowed, suddenly feeling awkward and unsure. He wasn’t Oikawa—he didn’t know how to charm people, didn’t know how to make this feel natural. So instead, he just pulled the folded letter out of his pocket and held it up.

“I found this in my locker,” he said, his voice gruff, trying to hide the nervousness underneath.

You blinked, your eyes widening as you recognized the letter. For a moment, you looked like you were about to say something, but Iwaizumi beat you to it.

“Is it real?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “I mean, did you… did you really mean it?”

Your expression softened, and you stood up, stepping closer to him. “Yeah,” you said simply, your voice steady. “I meant it, Hajime. I like you.”

Iwaizumi’s heart was pounding in his chest, his mind still struggling to make sense of it all. You liked him. Not Oikawa, not the guy everyone else seemed to gravitate toward. You had chosen him.

“I don’t get it,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Why me? I mean, Oikawa’s right there. He’s…”

“He’s great,” you finished for him, nodding. “I know. But he’s not you.”

Iwaizumi looked at you, searching your face for any hint of doubt, but there was none. You were serious, genuine, and it was starting to sink in that maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t living in Oikawa’s shadow when it came to you.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa’s voice rang out suddenly, cutting through the quiet moment like a sharp blade.

Iwaizumi turned, and there Oikawa was, walking toward the two of you with that usual carefree grin. But as soon as he saw the letter in Iwaizumi’s hand, his smile faltered.

“Oh?” Oikawa’s voice was still playful, but there was an edge to it now. “What’s this?”

Iwaizumi’s stomach dropped. He hadn’t told Oikawa. He hadn’t had the chance. And now, Oikawa was standing there, putting two and two together. His eyes flickered between Iwaizumi and you, and for a moment, something unreadable passed across his face.

“So,” Oikawa said, his voice unnaturally light, “I guess I’m not the only one with feelings for Y/N, huh?”

Iwaizumi’s chest tightened. He knew Oikawa well enough to recognize the disappointment behind the smile, the hurt that was carefully hidden behind his usual bravado.

“Oikawa, I—” Iwaizumi started, but Oikawa waved him off.

“Hey, it’s fine!” Oikawa laughed, though it sounded hollow. “It’s not like I had a claim or anything.”

But Iwaizumi could see the truth in his eyes. Oikawa liked you, too. And now, things would never be the same.

That night, as Iwaizumi lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the events of the day played over and over in his mind. You had chosen him. Oikawa had hidden his hurt behind a smile, but it still weighed heavily on Iwaizumi’s chest.

But as he thought of your smile, your words, and the way you had looked at him, a quiet sense of happiness settled in. For once, he wasn’t just Oikawa’s dependable friend. You had seen him, truly seen him.

And despite everything, that was enough.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Breakup

Eddie Diaz x fem!reader

summary: Eddie knows you have a boyfriend, but he’s going to do everything in his power to get you to break up with him

Very heavily inspired by “Breakup” by Ashton Irwin

This take place during the beginning of season two

Eddie speaks a little bit of Spanish and I used a translator, so I apologize if any of it is inaccurate!

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (please don’t do this) fingering, miscommunication, emotional cheating

Eddie was the first to admit that he always wanted what he couldn't have. When he was a kid, it always seemed like the other kids had the cooler toys and clothes and Eddie always felt jealous of them. Even as an adult, there were still things that he wanted that belonged to other people. He just never though that one of those things would have been a person.

The second Eddie laid eyes on you, he knew he was a goner. You flashed that million dollar smile at him at the park when you first met and he swore that his knees were going to give out and he clutched onto the jungle gym that was next to him for support.

The first time you saw each other was at the park when his son, Christopher had fallen off one of the swings and you had rushed to help him up, and when Eddie had gotten there, you had already taken care of it by patching the boy up with a bandaid.

Of course, people were always nice to his son, but you took care of him with such gentleness that it warmed Eddie’s heart. He had to know the name of the woman who single-handedly saved his son from potentially breaking a bone.

As a way to thank you, he invited you and your niece who you had been watching for the day out for ice cream and you both gratefully accepted. You, wanting to get to know the pretty stranger and Caroline just wanting ice cream.

“So, Eddie, what do you do?” You asked him as you both stood in line, waiting for your turn.

“I’m a firefighter.” You didn’t like the images flashing in your brain at his words. Of him showing up at your door in uniform, assuring you that he’d put out the fire and you both knew exactly what he was referring to. And you’d press your lips to his, pulling him inside with the intention of having your way with him.

“Wow, that’s really amazing. You save lives for a living.”

“I mean, technically yes. And what do you do?” He asked, pulling you out of your thoughts and you didn’t know why you were suddenly paranoid that he could read your mind. Your thoughts were perfectly safe there and you could think any dirty thing about him and he’d never know.

“I’m a teacher.” That made a lot of sense in Eddie’s mind and the idea of seeing you with your class was an adorable thought.

“Oh, what grade?”

“Kindergarten.” Eddie thought seemed like the perfect job for you despite only knowing you for about an hour. Just by seeing you take care of Christopher, he could tell that you were a natural with children.

“I can see that,” he nodded in response as you both shuffled forward as you got closest to the register.

“What do you mean?” You wanted to know exactly what he had meant by that.

“Just, the way you were so quick to help Christopher. It makes sense that your career would be based around children.” That warmed your heart hearing those words. You had wanted to be a teacher even when you were a small child and hard worked hard to get exactly where you were. So whenever anyone had complimented you in that area, it showed you that you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

“Well, thank you.”

You both ordered your ice cream and Eddie had insisted on paying for yours even though you tried to tell him that you could pay for your own.

The four of you sat at a table by the door and you watched your niece joke around with Christopher and it warmed your heart since you knew that it was always hard for her to make friends. And Christopher was a sweet boy so you knew that they would make the best of friends, hoping that her mother would be okay with them having a playdate. Because you wanted Claire to have a friend and totally not because you wanted an excuse to see Eddie again.

Once everyone was done with their ice cream, the two of you headed to your vehicles after having exchanging numbers with the sole intention of setting up the playdate and neither of you were debating asking the other to meet up again without the children. Totally not.

The second time you ran into Eddie was at the gym. He had just so happened to be lifting weights in the area that was right across from you, giving you the perfect view of him doing some bicep curls. Whether he was doing it to impress your or not, you didn't know. He was, but he would have told you that he wasn't.

You couldn’t help yourself. Before you could stop it, you were turning off the treadmill and making your way over to him. It was as if you were magnets that were always being pulled towards each other and you hardly minded.

"Hey," you greeted and Eddie was so close to dropping one of the weights on his foot at the sound of your voice, but he caught it in just the knick of time.

"Oh, hi," he said, turning around to face you, placing the weights back on the shelf so he wouldn't risk any injuries. There was no telling what would have happened as long as you were around.

"I didn't know you were a member here," you said as you leaned on the rack and Eddie had to stop himself from letting his eyes rake over your sweaty body, finding himself wanting to lick up every last drop.

"Just joined the other day," he smiled. "Guess it's fate," he gave you a wink and you felt like he was purposely trying to fluster you.

"Guess so," you winked back. "Well, I'll let you get back to your workout. It was nice seeing you again, Eddie." You turned to leave, but Eddie couldn’t let you go so soon.

“Wait!” He called after you and you turned around. “Do you think you could spot me?” He asked, nodding his head towards the bench that had the large weight with the plates on each end and you nodded enthusiastically, willing to do almost anything as an excuse to be around him for longer.

“Sure,” you responded and followed him to the bench. Eddie laid down on it and grabbed hold of the weight, lifting it off of the thing holding it.

He pulled it to his chest and lifted it up and down and you had no trouble watching him, seeing his biceps that were shining in sweat flex making you feel wet between your legs. Making your cheeks go hot. You really couldn’t be thinking that way about him, you really couldn’t. Not when you had a boyfriend.

But you just liked that someone was actually paying attention to you. That for once someone was treating you the way you deserved. And you weren’t going to do anything with Eddie, you just liked that he was nice to you. What was the harm in making a friend?

Eddie turned his head to look at you just for a split second, but he got distracted by you getting down on your knees to tie your shoe. It gave him a perfect opportunity to look at your cleavage that had been caused by your sports bra pushing your tits up.

His distraction caused him to lean a little to the right to get a better look and he ended up almost falling off of the bench, but you were quick to catch him and push him back onto the bench with no problem.

“Oh my god are you okay?”

“I’m good, I’m good,” he nodded.

“What happened?” There was no way in hell he was telling you the truth.

“I don’t know, I just lost the grip of it, but I’m good, I promise.”

“Why don’t we put this up?” You asked and the two of you put the weight back where he belonged and you helped him his feet.

“I-I think I should probably go,” he jerked his thumb towards the exit. He had to get out of there before he hurt himself, or worse, someone else. He couldn’t imagine having his coworkers coming to respond to a call because he couldn’t keep his hormones in check.

“I agree. Get some rest. I’ll see you around, Eddie.”

“Yeah, see you,” he gave you a little wave. God, he was so far gone and didn’t even notice.

With that, you turned on your heel and headed back over to your treadmill and Eddie watched you as you bent down to grab your water bottle, giving him a great view of your ass. The ass that he wanted to grab, giving it a tight squeeze as you let out a yelp.

The third time you ran into each other at the grocery store, Eddie was convinced that it was fate. He saw you in the produce section looking at the containers of strawberries, turning them every which way to make sure that they were all good.

Eddie had every intention of asking you out in that moment, but you turned behind you and waved someone over. A man approached you and you showed him the strawberries and he took them before smiling down at you, pressing a kiss to your lips.

You had a boyfriend. You had a boyfriend and had let Eddie shamelessly flirt with you without even a mention of the man you were in a relationship with. He had been convinced that there was something between the two of you, but clearly there wasn’t.

He backed away so you wouldn’t see him, but couldn’t take his eyes off of you and the man with your lips attached. He backed up so much as he ran into a table that had been stacked with oranges, causing them all to fall to the floor in an avalanche, taking Eddie with it.

You and the man with you turned to see what the cause of the loud crash was and you rushed over, only to see Eddie lying amongst the oranges, groaning in pain.

“Eddie!” You called out and rushed over to him. “Honey, help me get him to his feet.” Both you and your boyfriend helped Eddie to his feet and the man felt like it was his own personal hell.

"Are you okay, man?" Your boyfriend asked as he gave Eddie's back a pat.

"I'm good," Eddie nodded. "I'm good." He was feeling a little lightheaded, but he just needed to get out of there as soon as possible. You looked at his face for any sign of discomfort, but all he could do was look back and forth between you and the man, wondering why you hadn't told him about the guy.

Was it because you were ashamed of him, knowing that he couldn't please you the way that Eddie definitely could? Or was it just because you really didn't owe Eddie anything because all you had been was friendly?

"Well, I'm glad," you smiled. "Oh, Eddie, this is my boyfriend, Mark." You grabbed onto the man's arm and Eddie felt his blood boil. What the fuck kind of name was Mark? And he wasn't even attractive. Okay, maybe he was. Maybe a little too much to the point where Eddie was questioning things about himself.

Mark had dark brown almost black hair, pale skin, and bright blue eyes. The exact opposite of Eddie in every way looks wise and he didn't like just how beautiful he thought the man was.

Eddie put his hand out for Mark to shake, but Mark just stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Oh, so you hadn't introduced the two of them because Mark was an asshole. Now Eddie understood and he didn't think he could fault you for that.

Mark just stared at Eddie with a glare and wondered how you knew the guy. You hadn't mentioned an Eddie and he had met all the teachers at your school at all of the events he had gone to with you, so he definitely wasn't a coworker. And Mark couldn't have cared less that you were friend with men, he just didn't like that you had kept Eddie a secret from him.

"Nice to meet you," Eddie smiled awkwardly as Mark just stood there, not saying a damn word. Eddie then glanced at you and you nudged Mark as if to tell him to say something but he didn't. He had never behaved that way and you wondered what was causing to not want to speak to your friend and you had every intention of calling him out for it as soon as the two of you were alone.

“I know you,” Mark pointed at him. “You’re a firefighter, right?”

“Yep.”

“Well, isn’t that cute?” Yeah, this guy was definitely an ass and Eddie was a few seconds from putting him in his place.

“Excuse me?” Eddie asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He was going to say he was a hero or anything, but he didn’t think his job was “cute” by any means. It was hard work and every single day, people’s lives were at stake and he did his best to help save them.

“Running around helping people with their little issues, it’s cute.”

“Little issues?” You asked before Eddie could speak. “Eddie responds to emergencies. He saves lives everyday.”

“And so do I.” Sure, what Mark did certainly wasn’t an easy job, but how was that in any way comparable to being a firefighter? They were two very different things.

“You’re a personal trainer.” Eddie loved seeing you stand up for him, but he almost felt like he shouldn’t have been listening to your argument.

“Exactly.”

"Well, Eddie, we should probably go. It was nice running into you and I hope that fall didn't hurt you too bad."

"Well, thank you and it was nice running into you too." You grabbed Mark by the arm and pulled him back over to your cart. Eddie knew he should have left, but he couldn't help but watch the two of you argue in hushed tones.

You couldn't believe that he had embarrassed you like that in front of Eddie of all people. The two of you had gotten friendly and now he wasn't going to want to talk to you anymore because your boyfriend was a jerk to him. Just your fucking luck.

You rested your hands on the cart and took a deep breath as you felt Mark stand behind you, resting his hands on your waist as he leaned down and pressed his lips to your temple. You turned around in his arms and and pushed his hands off of you as you glared at him.

"What the fuck was that about?" You whispered and Mark only rolled his eyes.

“I just didn’t want to shake his hand. What’s the big deal?” You moved to the handles of the cart and turned it to head towards the check out even though you hadn’t finished your shopping. You just wanted to get out of there and take Mark home so you didn’t have to see his face for a while.

“You didn’t just not shake his hand, Mark,” you corrected him. “You insulted him to his face. You embarrassed him.”

“Whatever, y/n. You seemed quick to stand up for him too.”

You pulled your cart over to the self check out and began scanning your items, shaking your head at the man next to you. Your relationship was already fizzling out and you were beginning to think that the whole situation was the final nail in the coffin.

Mark was as sweet as could be when you met him but as time went on, he had let the city take over his personality and he had turned into nothing but an LA man, suddenly becoming very obsessed with his health and getting spray tans whenever he could, which there wasn’t anything necessarily wrong with either of those things, but it seemed like those were only two things he ever wanted to talk about.

And now he was just like every other LA douchebag and the urge to breakup with him was strong and if he was going to treat your friends like garbage, then maybe it was best if things just ended.

“You know what?” You asked as you finishing paying and all of your groceries were in the cart.

“What?” He spit, turning to face you and the fact that he was angry was starting to piss you off.

“Maybe it would be best if we just didn’t see each other anymore.” Maybe the grocery store wasn’t the best place to break up with someone, but you just had to rip the band aid off already.

“Baby, no,” he whined and you were all for a man being all pathetic for you, but not in that way. He was behaving like one of your students.

“Yes,” you nodded. “It was a long time coming and you know it. You don’t want to be with me anymore. I see the way you look at other women, Mark. That’s not the way you look at me anymore. So, I’m gonna go.”

“Fine,” he scoffed. “Why don’t you catch a ride with your little side piece?” Side piece? You hadn’t done anything with Eddie except be friendly. If Mark interpreted it any other way, that was on him. If anything, he was the one who was most likely cheating.

“Maybe I will.” You grabbed your cart and stomped out of the store to see Eddie getting into his truck. You raced towards him and parked your cart behind his truck so he couldn’t leave. He shut the door to make his way towards you and the sun shining down on your face gave him a perfect view of the anger on your face.

You felt like you should have been crying because of your breakup, but all you were was mad. You were so angry at Mark for treating Eddie the way he did and for brushing it off like he didn’t do anything wrong. You were mad at yourself for staying with him for so long when he had treated you like nothing but garbage. You had put up with that shit the entire six months of your relationship, but now you were free.

“Don’t ask why, but do you think you could drive me home?” You asked and Eddie nodded furiously. He was afraid that he’d find a way to give you the moon if you had asked for it. He was always so down bad for you that he didn’t know how to be around you without telling you how he felt.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Of course.” He helped you put your groceries in the spot behind the front bench then helped you get in on your side before heading to his own.

He started up the truck and you felt the need to apologize to him for what Mark had said about his career. What he did was admirable and you felt like he needed to know that. To know just how important his job was.

“I’m sorry for what he said,” you apologized and Eddie just shook his head.

“No need to be sorry. You weren’t the one who said it. And you stuck up for me. That means more to me than an apology.” He turned to you with a smile before turning back to the road. “Now where do you live?”

You gave him your address and you two spent the car ride talking about everything and nothing like old friends, your now ex boyfriend completely forgotten for your potential new one if you played your cards right.

Eddie was nothing like Mark. He was sweet and kind and funny and he actually cared for you. Something that Mark hadn’t done in a long time. Just in the three times you had talked to Eddie, he actually seemed interested in what you had to say and he didn’t pull his phone out of his pocket to scroll through it as if you hadn’t even mattered.

Eddie’s truck pulled into your driveway, but you couldn’t say goodbye. Not yet. Not when you both were having such a good time. It was a nice day and you felt like the both of you should have enjoyed it. So, you both got out of the truck and you pulled him down the path to the lake that was behind your house.

Eddie blindly followed you like a lost puppy and didn’t even care where he was going as long as it was with you. You could have been pulling him to a spot where you were going to kill him and he hardly minded. As long as he was with you, he didn’t care about a damn thing.

You pulled him to a lake and continued to walk until you go to the short dock that led to where the water was just the right height for swimming. He looked around and wondered why you had taken him there when you had groceries to put away, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to question it.

“Where are we?” Eddie asked and you turned around to face him with a roll of your eyes.

“It’s a lake, Eddie. People usually ride boats around on it or they swim. And I thought that we could swim.” You pulled him towards you and he moved to you just like a magnet. You brought your lips to his ear and he swore he was going to cum right there.

“Without our clothes.” Your voice was so sexy that it was unfair. He wanted you whisper the most dirty things to him and he hated that he couldn’t partake in any of that with you because you had a boyfriend. Or at least, he thought you did.

“Break up with him,” he replied, his voice sounding so whiny, so desperate and it was doing wonders for your imagination. He sounded so pathetic and you felt yourself getting wet as you heard it.

“I already did,” you responded before wrapping your arms around his neck while his went to your waist. You pressed your lips to and he was quick to respond to it, slotting his between yours together perfectly.

He began to back you up, not knowing where he was going, but feeling the need to move. You were getting close to the edge of the dock, but neither of you were paying attention until it was too late.

The edge of the dock was slippery from the water and your shoe slid against it, causing you to fall backwards. Eddie reached for your hand in an attempt to save you, but it only made you take him with you as you both plunged into the water.

You both surface pretty quickly and Eddie reached for you, wrapping his arms around you once again as you both laughed at how ridiculous the whole situation was, knowing that you probably should have gotten out, but you stayed there, wrapped up in each other as the sun slowly dried off your upper halves.

“We should probably get out,” he told you. “It’s not good to wear wet clothes for too long.”

“Well, lucky for you I know a place where we don’t need clothes at all,” you started moving towards the shore and Eddie was eating up every single word. He was beginning to think that maybe you were a better flirt than he was.

“And where’s that?” He knew exactly what you were referring to, but just wanted to hear you say it.

“The shower.” The words sounded even hotter coming from your mouth that he had imagined.

“How’s the water pressure?” It wasn’t like you were going to do much showering anyway, but Eddie still felt like he should have asked.

“Really good.”

“I think I should see for myself.”

“Me too. Now c’mon, Diaz," you grabbed onto his hands and pulled him along.

You both got to the shore and practically ran to your house in a hurry, nothing but giggles escaping your lips as you did so. Your wet shoes had slowed you down so it had gotten to the point where Eddie had picked you up in one swift motion and carried you the rest of the way.

You both took off your shoes and Eddie carried you up the stairs to your bathroom and you had assured him that your roommate was going to be gone all day so you could make as much noise as you wanted. Not that her being there would have stopped him anyway. He had dreamed about this for weeks and nothing could have stopped him from living out his fantasy.

Eddie set you down on the floor and you opened the shower door to turn on the water and let the door close as the water heated up. You grabbed him by the shirt and pressed your lips to his in a messy kiss. It was all teeth and tongues, but it wasn’t like you cared. You just needed his lips on you in anyway you could get them.

Eddie brought his hands up to your jaw and tilted your head back for more access and he opened your mouth up by pulling your chin down with his thumbs. He slid his tongue into your mouth and swirled it around your own as your hands slid up the front of his shirt, making contact with his chest. You pushed the shirt up onto his shoulders and he pulled away just long enough for you to take it off before his lips were on yours again.

His hands slid underneath your sweatshirt with every intention to take off your bra, only to find that you weren’t wearing one. He slid your sweatshirt off and your tits were just as perfect as he thought they would be.

“Jodidamente hermosa,” he sighed and you had no idea what he was saying, but loved the way it sounded in his accent.

“What does that mean?” You asked and he just chuckled, pulling you in for another bruising kiss.

“Fucking beautiful,” he replied against your lips and you decided that you needed him right then.

“Tell me more,” you commanded as your hands went to undo his belt. His lips captured yours as he went to unbutton your jeans as he was getting more desperate to be inside you.

“Quítate la ropa,” he said, his voice authoritative and raspy. You had absolutely no clue what he was telling you to do, but you were desperate to listen to him. He brought his lips to your ear for the translation and you thought you were going to melt right there.

“Take your clothes off,” he whispered as you heard your pants unzip and you were quick to take them off before removing your underwear as well.

As soon as Eddie got his own pants off, you opened the shower door and pulled him inside before he pulled the door, closing you both in. The shower was small, but neither of you minded one bit. It only gave you an excuse to be that much closer.

Eddie pressed his lips to yours once more in a rough kiss and you wrapped your arms around his neck while his went to your waist as he pushed you against the wall. He grabbed onto your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist as he slammed his dick into you, causing you to let out a loud moan that was music to his ears.

He thrusted in and out as fast as he could go and you were afraid that you were already coming undone even though you had just gotten things started. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, but that only encouraged him to go harder.

“So fucking tight,” he said. “Guess your boyfriend didn’t take care of you like he should have, huh?” He asked and you just moaned in response.

“No,” you shook your head and Eddie gave you a devilish grin.

“Don’t worry mí amor, that’s my job now.” His hands gripped your waist and he pounded into you the hardest and fastest he could go while simultaneously trying to fit all of himself inside you even though that wasn’t an easy feat.

“Oh, Eddie,” you moaned and he loved the way his name sounded so filth falling from your lips. Almost as if it was a dirty word.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice sounding even more raspy. “Taking me so well and you look so fucking pretty on my cock.”

“I feel pretty,” you responded with a moan and decided that sex was always supposed to feel like that and you had gaslit yourself into thinking otherwise because Mark was so bad at it.

He was a horrible partner in that area especially because he was always so selfish. He’d do whatever he wanted and didn’t even seem to care so you just got good at faking it. But with Eddie, you didn’t have to fake anything.

Your fingers were digging into Eddie’s shoulder so hard that you were convinced you were going to draw blood as he continued to fuck into you, making you feel like you never had before. He was so good at knowing exactly what you liked without even having to ask. And him praising you was driving you wild, making you feel special even though you were sure he said that to all of the women he slept with.

You could feel your vision go hazy as you reached your orgasm and you let out a loud moan as your back arched in absolute pleasure. At that, Eddie began to slow his pumps and he pulled out of you as you collapsed against him.

“C’mon, mí amor, you can’t go dumb on me yet,” he let out laugh and pulled your head away from his shoulder so you would look at him. “How about we take a break and I clean you up, hm?”

"No," you whined, grabbing onto him. "Need you right now," you told him.

"As long as you're sure," Eddie looked at you and you bit your lip as you nodded and all he could think about was the all the ways he could scandalize you. His fingers trailed down your front until they found your cunt. He shoved them inside you and began to pump them in and out of you as you moaned loudly. You turned your back to him so he hand more access and pressed it to his front as your head fell back onto his shoulder.

Eddie watched you come undone from his touch and felt like he was going to cum himself. The sounds you were making and the looks on your face were so hot that he was having trouble controlling himself. He pumped in and out as fast as he could and it was obvious that you were close. Your back arched as you reached your second orgasm and Eddie pulled his fingers out of you before turning you around to face him, pressing his lips to your in a bruising kiss.

Your hands moved to his hair as he deepened the kiss, reaching behind you to turn the water off. You both exited the shower with your lips still attached and you only pulled away to grab a towel for the each of you and you both quickly dried off before he followed you to your bedroom.

You gave him your biggest t-shirt and a pair of pajama shorts and told him to get comfortable while you threw your wet clothes into the washer. Eddie threw himself onto your bed and let out a contented sigh that not only had he finally hooked up with you, but that you had invited him to stay instead of kicking him out afterwards.

He turned on the tv as you entered the room, looking like something straight out of his dreams in your over-sized t-shirt. You got into the bed next to him and he took the opportunity to lay on your chest, feeling his eyes get heavy as he snuggled into you.

You carded your hands through his hair and felt your heart warm as you watched Eddie drift off to sleep, feeling lucky to have found a man like him. You had hoped that your hook up hadn't been a one off and that you could do it again, after he wined and dined you, of course. And Eddie had every intention of doing just that.

[doberbutts]

@corvus--caurinus

Yup! Per my neurologist, before the mid/late 00s the medical community was sort of, uh, unconcerned about so-called "minor" concussions, because the symptoms didn't seem to last longer than a few seconds and thus it was treated as a non-issue. Most parents didn't take their kids to the doctor for them and the few who did were told to let the kid rest for a day and then get back to life as normal.

Then a breakthrough study happened and revealed there is no such thing as a "mild" concussion. All concussions are concussions and all concussions are brain injuries. And all concussions run an exponentially higher risk of increasingly dangerous and life-affecting symptoms as you knock your brain around more and more. And with each subsequent concussion, you run the serious risk of these symptoms becoming permenant brain damage. Turns out, your brain does not actually like to be jumbled around in there, who knew.

The white flash is usually caused by one of two things: a jarring motion in your retinas (not a concussion) or the impact of your brain banging against the fluids and other matter inside of your skull (that's a concussion). Same if you "see stars"- the "stars" are the damaged nerves that just banged into something firing off electrical impulses trying to figure out how to cope with what just happened. And of course if you hit your head or are shaken to the point of losing consciousness, that's your brain's equivilant of the computer that, when smacked, turns itself off. All of these are concussions, and while it may seem like knocking yourself out should result in a worse concussion than just seeing stars, brains don't always follow that rule. All of these concussions will eventually stack on top of each other and will cause a major TBI once you hit your head a little too hard or perhaps even just one too many times.

So when he said "okay so you were never *treated* for a concussion but have you ever had this happen after hitting your head?" well... yes, actually. I was hit in the head by a thrown baseball bat (accidentally) in gym class and promptly took a nap. I was awake and otherwise fine in a few minutes so besides being sent home that day and having a large bruise/egg nothing really happened. I was doing flips on the gymnastic bars and lost my grip and whacked my head against the ground and, you guessed it, was unconscious. By the time my friends got the recess teacher over I was already awake and just a little dazed- again they sent me home but that's it. I fell through one of those dome monkey bars at a playground with my mom and hit the ground head/neck first. This was before the age of cell phones so Mom told me she was trying to figure out what to do about her very unresponsive child in the middle of the park (it's dangerous to move someone who may have broken their back/neck but she also can't just leave me laying on the ground to knock on someone's door to call 911) when I woke up and outside of a stiff neck seemed "quiet but fine".

In fairness according to my neuro there's not really much a doctor *could* have done medically as I bounced back without any problems except maybe have me take it easy for a couple weeks (I'd've died of boredom with no stimulation) but it still should have been noted that each of those were concussions. Then the amount of times that I've been dazed or saw lights... too many to count. I work with high energy dogs in an impact sport, they headbutt me or punch me or knock me to the ground all the time. I was an active kid and an athlete prior to my heart acting up, so sport-related injuries just sort of come with the package and that includes knocks on the head.

But sitting in his office and hearing him say that, and then recovering from the TBI and examining what it's done to my life... it made me realize how much people take for granted. It just takes one too many knocks on the head. He said the major thing he regrets as an older neurologist is that for a very long time, most of his practicing career and certainly a significant portion of my own life, no one really cared about concussions. But the line between concussion and TBI is very blurred, because in truth a concussion *is* a brain injury, and at some point you will concuss yourself much much worse than you were expecting due to the buildup of damage from not taking hitting your head seriously.

The best way to think of it is breaking your ankle. A broken ankle is a broken ankle, there's no such thing as a "mild" broken ankle. But there are grades of severity- a hairline fracture on a single bone is a broken ankle, but recovery time and process are relatively straightforward in most cases. Completely shattering multiple bones on the other hand significantly lengthens recovery time and the process is significantly more involved with a risk of further complications. If you keep doing whatever it is that gave you a hairline fracture, one day you won't be so lucky, and you will completely shatter the whole joint assembley.

That's how concussions are. Those cute little knocks that cause a white flash and nothing else? That's a warning to stop doing that and be more careful. You get to hobble around in a boot for a while to think about your choices leading up to this point. Knocking yourself out? Well you've snapped a bone. You get a cast and some crutches. Full blown TBI? Congrats, the whole ankle is fucked and you need major surgery now.

[jade-jini]

Student Council president!Chaewon x Little Menace reader Headcanon

Genre: Fluff. Smut.

Warning: this sht is LONG and well as I said there’s a little bit of smut-

I recommend reading Yunjin’s headcanon first since it’s where this chaewon is first introduced. Not necessary tho. I mentioned before that I think this will be some type of series. And yes, but also I might post other student council content but with Yunjin as the romantic interest. Almost the same universe as these but with that difference. Anyway we’ll see how it goes in the future.

-Your dynamic is basically arguing almost 24/7 dbdjdjnd

-Your friends find it amusing most of the time tbh.

-Your routine is based on having breakfast, creating a little bit of chaos here and there, and getting detention/afternoon activities as punishment which were mostly with the student council members.

-Which in your brain translates to having a good day because you had food, went to class, had a lot of fun and spent time with your favorite girl(s) during the afternoon. What’s better than that??

-Chaewon, on the other hand, just can’t believe you.

-How are you always getting in trouble but looking so happy? Aren’t you concerned about anything?! She knows you’re smart, and knows you’re not a bad person neither, but you’re so reckless and impulsive and just a magnet for trouble sometimes and Omg you get on her nerves, you’re like a puppy who never listens!

“Why would you do something like that!”

“It was Yeonjun‘s fault! Why Tf would he say green flavor when red or blue are better!”

“Those are colors, y/n. not flavors!”

“you don’t get it :(!”

-you’d complain with a pout like a little kid. Again, you get on her nerves so easily.

-She’s always scolding you, telling you that you need to tone it down, to learn how to behave, be responsible and to stop being such a troublemaker.

-To respect your school and take some pride on being a student there.

-You just sigh, roll your eyes and complain that maybe you don’t need to tone it down, maybe she needs to tone it up and learn to have fun and to let go of all that seriousness.

-And you guys spend the time arguing about it.

-The rest of the girls look at you in amusement

-You’re sure you heard Eunchae said that you two should get a room.

“Hey! What do you know about those things huh?!” You heard Sakura said while chasing Eunchae down, who ran away to avoid being scolded as well.

-You looked at chaewon, who also heard the whole thing and laughed at how her cheeks turned into a cute pink tone. You winked at her and started walking to the gym to meet with Ryujin and Yujin but

“Hey I’m not done with you! You still have detention today and the principal said you’re assigned to help me move some equipment from a practice room and…”

-But when she’s not scolding you tho…

-Ohoho when you guys are alone

-you’re all over each other kissing until your chests hurt ‘cause of the lack of air.

-You’re sure you’ve kissed her in every secret corner of the school.

-In the library, when you meet up with the excuse of tutoring you.

-You have her against the bookshelves at the end of the hall, holding her so close to you while her arms are around your shoulders. Kissing her like her mouth is more interesting than any adventure in any book in that library.

-And it is! You’re sure about it.

-In empty rooms when you’re assigned to help her with anything the prestigious Stucon president might desire. Lucky for you, very often what she desires the most is you.

-Encounters in the student council’s office when you have detention and Yunjin is not there to watch you. It’s never planned and she always says it won’t happen again because it’s their office and it’s the school! It’s not a place for such acts!

-But it always ends up happening bsjsndjd you just let her talk ‘cause it’s funny. But it really only takes for you to kiss her neck and she’s melting in your arms, ready for you to please her.

-You lift her and make her sit on her own desk, while you get on your knees and eat her out so good she almost forgets where she is.

-She’ll grab your hair and push you closer to her pussy, rubbing herself on your tongue and looking at that pretty face between her legs while she bites her hand trying to keep herself quiet.

“Hurry up! they’re gonna come in any second”

“Hopefully you too”

“Omg shut up…”

-As I said you let her talk ‘cause it’s just comical that she tries to lie to herself when you both know she can’t keep her hands off you when you’re both alone.

-Unless you’re not in the mood to deal with that.

-Either ‘cause something happened and you’re angry or ‘cause you’re stressed.

-You’d be rather quiet for your usual self, surprising her.

“What’s up with you?” she asked with a raised eyebrow (the rock).

-You looked at her, without answering while an idea popped in your head.

-Maybe the dear stucon president could help you destress.

-So you get up and sit on her lap while you kiss her aggressively.

-She tries pushing you, shocked about it.

“Wait ! Not here, somebody could walk in and-”

“Kim Chaewon, shut. up” you said in a rather deeper voice that gave her shivers and made her close her mouth immediately, ‘cause there weren’t many occasions where you’d be actually dominant like that. “I’m gonna fuck you on top of this desk until you can’t feel your fucking legs do you hear me?”

-And she’s scared but is even more turned on ‘cause damn didn’t you look hot af like that bekdkdkd

-So instead of “complaining or arguing” about how you shouldn’t be having sex at school, she follows your each and every order, enjoying how you fuck her while bent over her own desk, the papers she was working on long forgotten. Pulling her hair, spanking her ass and grabbing her tits from behind while focusing all your energy and anger in only one thing: making the girl under you come hard as you fuck her until her brain can’t organize an easy thought besides you you and you only.

-After you’re done and dressed again tho, she’ll ask you why you were so upset.

-You ended up telling her what happened and depending on what is it, she always has a way of making you feel better. (Besides Fuckin, Ofc)

-If it’s a silly thing, then she’ll jokingly scold you a little bit

“Seriously?! You’re angry because Ryujin scored and won against you?!”

“I’m angry because she cheated! I wouldn’t be angry if she’d won fairly but she wasn’t following the rules we stablished ! Not fair” you said with cross arms and a pout, causing Chaewon to laugh at you.

She shook her head to then rest it on your shoulder “fine you’re right, but still I can’t believe you, y/n”.

-If it’s something serious tho, she’ll quietly listen to you as you vent and either give you a little bit of advice if you ask for it or she’ll just let you talk if she doesn’t know what to say, knowing sometimes you just need to let things off your chest.

-And since Yunjin wasn’t there that day, she could do her role as your bestie. Ofc she could, you could always come to her.

-Lowkey jealous and a lil possessive as you can see lol

-Not if it’s her friends tho (well -)

-But like if she sees someone being too touchy or extra smiley with you it’ll show. ‘Cause yeah you’re funny and charming but she didn’t know you was a fvckin comedian to have that girl almost rolling on the floor and choking when you’re just there breathing-

-Anyway!

-You think it’s hot tho. Oh-

-Specially since you know it’ll reflect when you’re alone jddjkfjf. More details here.

-Constantly fixing your tie ‘cause it’s always loose and your shirt sndkdjj.

-You tell her that’s just your style and you like it like that!

-But she says your uniform should always look impeccable because students represent the school. You roll your eyes, but let her have her way because secretly you enjoy the attention and how cute she always looks fixing your tie and shirt collar.

-It’s not like she’s trying to change the person you are. Even if you’re a little bit of a mess, she respects and appreciates you.

-But Ofc you know she’d like you to be a little less of a menace kdndkfh. She knows it won’t happen. Not that easy. But she’s happy to be a little bit of a good influence sometimes (lol).

-And you’re happy to be the one corrupting the oh so well mannered student council president Kim Chaewon.

-It’s a win-win, sex or not related.

-You love your dynamic. It’s fun, it’s interesting.

-Sometimes you wish you didn’t have to watch out for how much distance you had to keep with her sometimes tho. You weren’t good at it anyway, you let yourself be guided by your feelings. Often hugging her close, Ofc with the excuse you guys are friends (even when most of the time people see you arguing shjdkdjf).

-People bought it tho.

-You had that cute golden retriever puppy energy, so they knew you got clingy with your friends sometimes.

-didn’t expect it to happen with the stucon presi who sometimes seem like your enemy more than your friend but oh well -

-Who could say no to you anyway, right?

-You like it like that tho, being each other’s little secret. Maybe eventually the guilt of hiding this whatever-it-is from your friends will invade you two. But for that you’d have to first realize that what you’re feeling is more than physical attraction aaand

-we’re not there yet jdndkdn.

[formulaforza]

oh, simple thing— c.sainz

"the earth laughs in flowers" pairing: carlos sainz x female reader wc: 4.1k notes: guys remember when i used to write? back in january? crazy times. anyways.

You were five years old the first time you proclaimed that you were going to marry Carlos. It came, of course, after the implication that you would also be marrying Prince Charming (as long as he didn’t keep your glass slipper–shoes are a woman’s best friend, your mom had told you once and you never forgot it) and the gym teacher at your primary school, whose crush you’d never admit to anyone but your mom. Can you imagine the teasing? Thinking a grown-up is cute? It’s completely preposterous… or, when you were five, super-duper silly. 

All three of the loves of your life were completely coincidental, coming to your brain while your mom read you a bedtime story completely coincidentally. You’d had gym class that day, of course. Played with the rolling scooters and argued with the older kids about getting a turn on the tube slide. Scooter day was always your favorite, so it was no surprise your teacher was in your good graces that evening. A

After dinner, while flipping lazily through channels on the big square television in the family room, your dad had clicked on the Disney Channel by mistake. Cinderella was halfway through and you threw a fit every time he tried to change the channel. You just thought she looked so pretty, in her big princess dress dancing at the ball. 

Carlos, what had Carlos done to be in your good graces that day…? He wasn’t in your class, so you couldn’t enlist him in the war of the slides or crash into him on the scooters. He definitely wasn’t running around your house after dinner. If he was, your Mom would still be cleaning up after him somewhere in the house. Carlos, Carlos, Carlos… what had he–oh! That’s right! The flower on the way home from school. How could you ever forget the first flower? He’ll give you shit for it later. 

Your mom and Carlos’ mom had been best friends long before you and Carlos burst into the scene. They liked each other more than just about anyone, and you never did understand how Reyes never tired of your Mother’s antics. She was always bossing you around, forcing you to clean up your toys and read your books. Carlos got away with whatever he wanted, his parents would even lie for him on his reading logs. Anyways, stay focused. Because your parents were such good friends, you and Carlos grew up side by side. Parallel play or bust, since neither of you were particularly apt at sharing. Everyday on the walk home from school, your moms would catch up on the gossip from the night before while you and Carlos tried to kill each other with various objects found on the sidewalk. This day, there had been eleven pebbles, two rocks, a stick, and Carlos’ metal water bottle (the one with the HotWheels logo on the side). Now, Carlos was charging at you with… a flower? A bluebell, one he’d picked straight from the ground, root and all hanging from his fist. When he held it out to you, you scowled. There wasn’t anything wrong with it. In fact, it was about as perfect as a bluebell from the sidewalk can get, but, you’re a little shit. 

“It’s dead,” you said, took it from him and tossed it aside. “It’s not nice to pick flowers, Carlito. It kills them.” He burst into tears and your mother scolded you the rest of the way home, even though it was her who always told you to leave the wildflowers wild. After some time and consideration (a plate of dinosaur nuggets, half of Cinderella, and a bedtime story) you’d decided maybe Carlos was right to cry about the dead flower. 

Carlos, it seemed, had gotten over the dead flower incident pretty quickly because, the very next day, he was already making a joke of it. He’d held up the walk home for fifteen minutes while he searched through a field in the park. Both of your mothers and Blanca had already shown him what had to be a hundred or so healthy, perky flowers. Carlos shook his head at each one of them, typical. You sat on the curb of the garden and played with the ants that had built a sandy hill beside your foot. You resisted the urge to stomp it, only because you knew you’d be lectured about leaving the bugs alone in the same way you were about leaving the flowers alone. After a lifetime–or enough time to have an after school snack–Carlos finally settled on the ugliest, most wilted flower you’d ever laid your eyes on. He presented it to you with a laugh and, because you’re just as stubborn as he is, you accepted the gift graciously and let it sit vaseless on your dresser for three days before someone threw it away. 

Truthfully, though, the real reason you probably proclaimed your intent to marry him that night wasn’t some flower. It was that Blanca had defended you from his water bottle strike with a pebble to the back of his head, and you thought that would be a good kind of person to have as a sister. 

Carlos was seventeen when he figured he’d probably end up with you eventually for the first time. There wasn’t anything romantic about it. It was more of an ah, fuck. It’s gonna be her, isn’t it? 

Your families were in Mallorca, touring some vineyard–well, your parents were touring the vineyard. You, Carlos, and all of the siblings had snuck off from the group one by one and met up in the grove just outside the property. Carlos was bumming a cigarette from Blana when Ana finally turned up, stomping her way through the grass and wildflowers annoyedly. Carlos takes a puff of the cigarette and passes it over to you. 

“You’re going to start a wildfire, you know?” Ana says, crosses her arms over her chest and pops out a hip all bratty. 

“Ana,” Carlos groans, “shut the fuck up.” You exhale a puff of smoke through a laugh. 

“If you’re going to be mean, I’m going back to Mom and Dad.”

“Okay,” he says, “have fun.”

“I will,” she proclaims, visibly annoyed that she isn’t drawing a reaction from her big brother. She loves to piss him off, everyone does, because it’s just so easy. “I’ll have sooo much fun telling them about how you’re all in the woods smoking. I’m sure Dad will love that, don’t you think, Carlos?” Blanca rolls her eyes. Sometimes it’s fun to mess with Ana, and sometimes keeping her humble becomes more of a chore than anything else. 

Ana stomps away, her whole sneaky journey wasted, the group’s entire smoke session ruined by the pesky baby sister who can’t decide if she wants more to be included or to be a tattletale. “Don’t kill any more flowers on the way back!” Carlos calls after her, passes the cigarette to you again for one last puff before the lot of you have to make your way back to the winery, to the bathroom you’d all claimed to need to use over the past hour. Ana turns on her heels to make sure Carlos can see her eye roll. He just smiles, and you think if Carlos was your brother you probably would have killed him with your bare hands a long time ago. 

You squat down to put the cigarette out in the dirt and Carlos digs a hole with his heel for you to drop it into, kicks the dirt back over it and stomps on it a couple times. “Fuckin’ snitch,” he mutters under his breath. 

He snatches up one of the stomped on flowers, pulls it from the ground–root and all–and presents it to you. “You really are such an ass,” you say, take the flower and link your arm through his for the remainder of the walk back. “I love you,” you add, “but you’re an ass.”

You were twenty the first time your friendship with Carlos became a threat to one of your relationships. It wouldn’t be the last time. You’d been together for seven months, you and Mateo, Mateo and you. Met at a club in Barcelona and the rest was history. It was a simple conflict of interest, a scheduling woe. You were forced to make a decision. Your boyfriend’s grandma’s birthday party… or Carlos’ debut in Australia. To you, it seemed like the easiest decision in the world. His grandmother isn’t even that old–she’s got plenty of birthdays ahead of her, ones that you’d be happy to celebrate. But Carlos’ debut? Really? That’s once in a lifetime. It’s the shit you just don’t miss, even if you’re in the hospital or literally on your deathbed (which Mateo’s grandma is NOT, by the way. She lived seven more years according to recent Facebook posts). 

“You’re going to Australia?” He’d scoffed when you told him, mentioned it so nonchalantly over dinner. When I’m in Australia, don’t forget to water the plants, or something along those trivial lines. He was just as offended as you were utterly confused. There’s no way he thought– “What about my abuela’s birthday?”

You’d laughed. The wrong thing to do, you know, but it was an action done without thought, without intention. “What about it?”

“You’re supposed to come with me.”

“I never said that,” you shake your head and he pulls a face. You set your silverware down and prepare for the coming argument. Normally, you’d just back down, but this is Carlos we’re talking about. Carlos, and his dream. Carlos, and his reality. “I didn’t,” you reaffirm. 

He leans forward onto the table, elbows shaking the entire thing, rattling the wine glasses and ceramic against the wood. “I assumed you–”

“–I don’t know why you would assume I‘d be doing anything except supporting Carlos,” you say, more defensive than you intend to be. It’s just, you can already see where this is going, even if it’s never gone there before. You’ve watched the girls Carlos brings home look at him the same way Mateo is looking at you right now, or more importantly, how he doesn’t look at you. 

“You know, I don’t either.” He nods, but it’s more of a full body movement, like he’s rocking forward, lips pursed and jaw tight. His eyebrows raise like he’s going to shrug, like he’s surprised with himself. You doubt you read the emotion right. “It’s always about Carlos, isn’t it?”

You lean back in your seat, cross your arms over your chest, close your eyes just long enough to hide the eye roll, and then you’re piling the silverware and the napkin onto the plate and moving the party to the kitchen sink. “I’m not doing this right now,” you say when you grab the wine glass carelessly. 

“Oh, so you know what this is about, then?” He calls after you, gathers his things sloppily and follows you into the kitchen. 

“You just said it’s about Carlos,” you say, slamming the sink on and clattering the plates into the bowl. Carlos had told you about these fights, about the ones he’s had with his girlfriends. You’d laughed about them, always thought it was so funny–the idea of someone left fuming by your friendship. The crazy assumptions, they couldn’t be more wrong if they tried. You and Carlos are nothing but platonic, you’ve always been platonic, you’ll always be platonic. When you know someone as long as you’ve known Carlos, they just become a part of you, build this little home in your soul that blends in so perfectly you could never cut it out with clean margins. It’s not just Carlos, either. It’s Blanca and Ana, too. Hell, it’s even Carlos Sr. and Reyes, but nobody ever seems to understand that. 

“It’s my Abuela,” he says, like you’re supposed to be moved or something, and he sets his dishes in the sink on top of yours. “It’s her birthday, and you’re supposed to come with me. I told my family you were coming.”

“I don’t understand why you would do that,” you start scrubbing the first plate with far more aggression than required. You’re not a good fighter, you get mean, and you get mean quick. “I was never not going to Australia.”

He laughs, leans against the counter with his arms crossed, staring at the ground, at the crumbs waiting to be swept up. “Because you’re never going to choose me over Carlos, right?”

“Mateo.”

“Answer the question.”

You freeze, squeeze the soapy sponge in a fist until there’s nothing left to ring out of it. “I’m certainly not going to choose your Abuela over my friend. Over my brother.”

“He’s not your brother.”

You sigh, go back to cleaning. “He’s like my brother.”

“Yeah, if you wanted to fuck your brother,” he says, and meets your eyes with wide, proud eyes like he’d done something, caught you in some illicit love affair. You resist the urge to grab the wand from the sink and spray him with a jet of water. 

Instead, coldly, you’d replied, “get out,” and pointed to the door. 

His hands shot up in some great defense. Or maybe it was offense, you really never could read him that well. “I see how you look at him.”

In. Out. In, and then out. Deep breaths. “I said leave, Mateo.”

“Because you know I’m right.” In, then out. “You know how fucked up it is that there’s three people in our relationship,” in, out. “Four, if you count Carlos’ girlfriend! What do you think she thinks about all this? You looking at her boyfriend like your favorite candy?” In, then. In, then–in, and then you slap him with a wet hand, the contact reverberating into a splash, coating the walls and the ceiling and the entire fucking room in anger. Anger, and dirty dish water. 

The anger is deafening, the room so quiet that the sink makes the kitchen sound like it’s directly behind a waterfall. 

He storms off into the living room. You return to the dishes, hear the jingle of his keys, the door opening. “Fuck you!” You call after him, but what you really mean is Fuck Carlos. 

When you get the breakup text a few days later, you’re not surprised. You put on your best face and pretend you never read it because while your boyfriend did just break up with you in a seven word text, you’re sitting out the back of the Toro Rosso motorhome watching Carlos pace.

You’ll tell him later, you think, after the race. And then, you don’t dare ruin the celebration, ride the high out until it can’t be ridden any longer. By the time you do get around to telling him, you’re all but moved on, mentioning it nonchalantly amongst the chaos of his first season. It falls away to the backburner, into irrelevancy, and Carlos never does ask what happened to sour the relationship. He does, however, have a wilted arrangement of flowers delivered to your front door with a handwritten note–ugly and dead, just like your relationship. You’d laughed for maybe twenty straight minutes. 

Carlos was twenty-four when he realized he was in love with you, that maybe he always had been. He’d just broken up with a girlfriend, one whose name he hardly remembers now. Alessandra… Alena… Adrianna–oh, screw it. It was definitely an “A,” and if it wasn’t, he’s sure it was a vowel. Not the point. He was twenty-four and had just dumped whatever her name was because it just didn’t feel right. (What does right feel like at twenty-four? And how do you know it when you see it? The world may never know). 

It was three races into the 2019 season, and he’d been having a particularly unlucky start with his new team. He’d spent the offseason relatively alone in Woking, finding his footing in a new place, a new team, a new car. Everything is gray, you’d told him the night he announced his impending move, scrolling through your phone at Google search results for the town. “It’s not gray,” he said, and without needing to say anything or flash him a look, he backtracked. “Okay, it’s a little gray.”

Three races in–an engine fire and two first lap collisions–in, and everything is feeling pretty gray, not just his rainy apartment (flat, he’s been taught to call it) in Woking. The cards felt stacked against him, and reluctantly, he’d called in reinforcements to Baku, a couple of good luck charms in the form of the people he loved. You, Ana, and Blanca flew in together and made Carlos come pick you up from the airport himself. 

You climbed into the backseat and were anything but gray. You were glowing, completely and utterly sunkissed, and your hair was messy from travel but it reminded him of what you’re like after a good nap. Groggy and sleepy and desperate to stretch out like a cat. He hates that he knows how you like to stretch after a nap, the exact pattern of movements you do. Do you know how much time you have to spend with someone to memorize their post-nap stretch routine? Too much time, that’s how much. 

You got into his car, all bright and sunny, and sure, his sisters were there and he loves them so much. But, you’re here, and you’re bright and sunny and everything feels just a little less gray. He pulls out from the airport and while he doesn’t realize that he loves you just yet, he knows something in him has been chemically altered by your smile, irrevocably so.

It’s Sunday when he realizes, somewhere between the checkered flag and the team debrief when you and the girls appear, practically crash into him like you’d been dropped down into the garage right from the sky. He hugs you, and you smell like sunshine. He wants to bash his head into the wall of his driver's room, to lay in front of Lando’s car and ask him to run him over because he’s not supposed to take note of the way you smell (unless it’s to call you out for smelling like shit). 

You kiss his cheek and shove his shoulder because you’re so happy for him, because you’re always so happy for him. He doesn’t think it’s fair for someone like him to always have someone this happy for him. He loves that about you. He loves everything about you. He loves you. Fuck, he’s in love with you. 

Lando nearly pees his pants over a tweet the next day. Carlos has reached a new level of Carlos-ing, it read, with a picture of him visibility distracted while being fed to the media pen. He can’t tell his teammate that the reason he’s so distracted is because he’s internally debating the pros and cons of ruining your friendship forever. 

You’re twenty-four when you and Carlos start dating. The two of you drag it out for as long as humanly possible, stretch the patience of everyone around you so thin they won’t be surprised (or concerned) at the idea of you and him getting together. It’s scary. Really, really scary to admit your feelings for each other, to tell the rest of the world about it, but Carlos keeps bringing you these mis-shapen flowers, ones where the dye is soaked up poorly or they’re a couple days too wilted. It’s our thing, he would always say, and kiss you while you cut the stems to fit in your favorite vase. 

He was right, it was something that was just yours. There was nobody else actively searching out dying flowers in the shops or carefully picking the dirtiest wildflower from its root on an evening walk through the city. That was just the two of you, and nobody else understood it. 

“It’s gross,” a friend told you, twiddling one of the half-dead flower stems between her fingers while you shared gossip over glasses of wine. “You got these today and they’re ready to be thrown in the bin.”

“You don’t get it,” you’d swatted her words away. The dead flowers weren’t understood, and they didn’t need to be. They were special to you and Carlos, and when it came down to it, nothing else mattered to you. 

“Seriously, though,” she’d continued, “It’s… I don’t know. Dead flowers, it’s just weird.”

Carlos is twenty-six when you break up. It’s mutual, it is. Even when it doesn’t feel like it’s mutual, when either one of you desperately searches to blame the other for the pitfalls, it’s still mutual, still two people who love each other. Who just aren’t in love with each other anymore. 

There’s a lot of reasons if you want to get into it, but his new drive is the catalyst for pretty much all of them. Carlos is with Ferrari now, which is the dream, but it's also the nightmare. McLaren is iconic and historic but Ferrari… well. Everyone knows the Vettel quote, everyone knows the kid’s car is red. Ferrari’s Ferrari and you’re just… you. Time runs out, patience runs thin, and that’s the end of it. 

You’re twenty-seven when you see him for the first time post-breakup. It’s a setup by your parents. Mallorca and the vineyard, again. You don’t think anything of it, so much has happened in the last decade and Mallorca is half of Spain’s favorite vacation destination. 

He’s sitting with his family at the bar, the whole clan of them sipping from a wine-tasting tray. His eyes shoot up to meet yours with the loud creak of the old, heavy doors. He does a double take, and your stomach turns into a ball of knotted necklaces. 

During the same tour you’d been on all those years ago, you sneak off with the same excuse you’d used. Blanca and Ana don’t follow after you to debate the environmental damages of bumming a cigarette in the grove or to threaten to snitch on you to your parents. They stay behind and listen and you stomp through the wildflowers to get some air. You’re already outside, Carlos would say if he were there. You’re my dirty air, you’d tell him, and he would roll his eyes, shove his hands deep in his pockets and rock on his heels. 

He knows you’re not in the bathroom, there isn’t a single nerve in your mind that thinks he doesn’t know exactly where you are. He doesn’t sneak off behind you. You gather your thoughts in the grove by yourself, leant against a tree older than you’ll dream of being. You pick a wildflower, one that looks picture perfect, snap it carefully from the root and stick the stem behind your ear. 

When you return to your party, they don’t notice you’ve been gone for far too long to use the bathroom or that you’ve got a flower in your hair. Well, all of them except Carlos, who slows his walking pace to drop to the back of the group next to you. “Nice flower,” he comments quietly. 

You nod, watch your feet as they move in synchronized steps with him on the grassy path. “Thanks.”

“It’s dead,” he adds, and you smile dimly. “It’s not nice to kill the flowers.”

Carlos is twenty-eight when he’s perusing the birthday card section at the local gift shop. He’s trying to find one that perfectly sums up his birthday wishes for you. It has to be sunny and happy and so, so sorry for everything (even when it’s nobody’s fault). It has to say, I’ll always love you without saying I am still terribly in love with you. It has to be subtle and obvious and endearing and serious and funny. It has to be everything his words can’t be. 

He eventually settles on one, tucks it into the yellow envelope and licks it shut. He handwrites your name on it messily, like you could get confused about who it’s for and need a label, or like he has a stack of yellow envelopes for dozens of other people sitting sealed on his kitchen counter. He goes to the florist next, picks out a stock arrangement from the fridge and a package of flower seeds. The final stop on his city tour is your apartment. Three knocks on your door, and then you’re undoing the deadbolt. 

“Hi,” you say, confused by his presence on your welcome mat. 

“Happy Birthday,” he smiles. “This is the last time I get you dead flowers.”

You and Carlos are thirty at your wedding. He cries when you walk down the aisle and there isn’t a single real flower in your bouquet. It’s all fake, and one of your friends asks if you’re worried it might look tacky or cheap. Anyone who thinks that shouldn’t be at our wedding, you’d told them. 

[penguinsravioli]

·˚ ༘Crush Confession anthony vaughn x reader

: ̗̀➛⁺ chapter 1 ⁺ next

“Well, shit.” I stare at the map while everyone crowds around it. Heaps for keeping my body count a secret. “Well damn (name), I didn’t know you got down like that ay?” Dusty nudges my side. I frown, I don't think my count is that high in my opinion, but I’d rather keep it on the low you know? This happened during holiday, me and Ant I mean. Didn't mean much to me because we were shit-faced.

But he’s been avoiding eye contact with me since I walked in. I think it's because he’s into Jesus and all that.

“Says here you went at it wiiiiithhhh, Ant and Missy huh? You enjoy getting a gobby?” I rolled my eyes. “Fuck off, cunt...” I shove Spider out of the way. Adjusting my jeans on the way down, they’re seriously starting to ride up my ass. When me and Missy went at it, I didn’t do anything with her. She did go down on me though.

To the gym, we all traveled for an assembly.  I sat down near the back, like 2 rows from. Which placed me behind Dusty, I messed with the charms on my acrylics, stoically staring at my feet when the gym silenced. I look up and see, Harper, with a full buzz. “Pack it up Eleven” Missy shouts. I hold in a chuckle. While Amerie frantically calls out her name. “Sit down Amerie,” Woodsy commands. Shortly after, she begins.

“I am a woke woman.” I sit up a bit straighter, curious on what’s about to come out of her mouth next. Woodsy is known to be a tight stuck-up bitch of a principle, I don't think she's that bad. She just… “I enjoy sex as much as the next person.” …has a way with her words is all.

“But reputation is everything and this map..has jeopardized your reputations” No fucking kidding woods. “And the reputation of our school. On the first day back, we are currently in the process of contacting all the parents of everyone on this map” 

Shit…shit shit shit shit shit- I am so fucked. Woodsy’s voice begins to lessen throughout my brain. “-and have strongly suggested that there are to be no more parties, shindigs, or gathos-” my mouth begins to dry up. What will my parents say? They’ve had the ‘talk’  with me but they're not really understating you know. “Oooi central link is losing her shit” Spider comments. “Shut up Spider..” Ant whispers. “Hey! Hey!-” There's Woodsy’s voice coming in again. My legs begin shaking “-Unsupervised parties equals alcohol. Alcohol equals poor choices. The risk-taking behaviors outlined on this map are unacceptable.” I sigh, lightly pulling at the end of my hair. Trying to calm myself down, I'm so gonna get my ass beat when I get home later. Woodsy ends her speech a bit later and we’re finally dismissed. Well, except Amerie. It must have been her. What a dog. 

Maths passes by excruciatingly slower than usual. I check my phone, no notifications. My legs begin to shake again, and the under of my boobs are sweating, how fun. I put my head on the table, I feel a headache coming up. I look at the clock. Thank GOD. I get up to use the bathroom as soon as the bell rings. I breathe in and out slowly. “You’re good man You're good, chill out” I attempt to calm myself down. When it finally works I walk out of the bathroom. Turn a corner and there in the gym, is Harper beating the shit out of Amerie.

“worldstar material?” I question, weaving myself into the crowd pulling out my phone to record. “Well shit, beat her ass then” I instigate. A small chuckle slips from my mouth when Amerie falls to the ground, Harper leaves, and Ameries nose is bleeding.

“Yikes..” I turn away. My ass is already grass when I get home. Let us not deepen the grave by being late to class.

“Oi (nickname), can we talk?” It’s Ant. I feel just as bad for him as me. I’ve met his mom, she's scary. “About? It seems to me you've talked a bunch” “Listen I’m sorry about it. I know you told me not to spill but Spider kept on prying because he saw us walk out of the bathroom.”  During holiday I had snuck out and went to a party that Sasha So invited me to. Now I don't drink, but I do occasionally take a hit. The last time I had gotten high I almost died of laughter, like so deadass. I'm a giggler, but this time I was dissociating.

—“Oi (nickname) you good? Ant looks at me. He’s a bit high, you can tell because usually when he’s hella high he acts like he doesn’t have a brain. “Yeah bruh, heaps”. We stare at each other for a moment and I begin giggling, he begins giggling too. “You know… you’re real cute when you’re not trying to be like spider and your group leader dusty” I turn my body towards him and get closer. I was wearing this cute skirt, it was pretty tight on me but it made my legs look quite nice. I had paired it with this cute black tube top as well. “Am I? I always thought I was a bit of a ripper” I giggle at his remark. My arms begin to wrap themselves around the base of his neck. “Wanna show me how much damage a ripper like you can cause?” He smirks, “sure mate” he puts his hands down my waist, dropping his arm to grab my hand as he leads me to the bathroom.—

I shake off the memory. “Listen, Um Anthony..” I think to try and find the right words to say. He lifts his head to reveal his puppy-like eyes. Ugh, what an asshole that boy is. “I don't really care anymore. But I think it would just be best if we forgot about it yeah?” His face seems to melt a bit with sadness. “Yeah Yeah, Of course. No biggie”

“Cool, Catch you later I guess” I begin to walk away from the sulking Ant. “Will the following students please meet at classroom 5D”

I continued walking, trying to get away from Ant, who was currently burning holes into my backside. “Amerie Wadia, Harer McLean, Sasha So, Missy Bekett, Dustin Reid, Spencer White, Anthony Vaughn—“ I whip my head around, and his face looks confused. “Well Shiiiit” I smirk his way, he rolls his eyes and adjusts his backpack straps beginning to walk the opposite way from me.

“(name) (lastname), Darren Rivers, Quinni Callegar-Jones, Douglas Piggott—“ He turns around. “HA!” I roll my eyes and follow him out the doors.

[hanadulsetaad]

RICH KIDS OF SK ( HYUNJIN X READER (Y/N) X BANG CHAN

TAGS: LOVE TRIANGLE, ANGST, BREAKUP, BETRAYAL

PART 2 PART 3 PART FOUR part 5 PART 6

SYNOPSIS:

Y/N Seo's life gets turned upside down when her crush, Hyunjin, starts dating her old friend turned enemy, Yeji. Suddenly, Yeji is part of their rich kid's group, even though y/n and Yeji can't stand each other. They pretend to be friends, but it's all fake.

Things get super messy when old secrets spill out, and new faces join the gang. Rumors fly, and trust crumbles as people in the group start leaking secrets, trying to wreck everyone's reputations. With newbies entering the scene, will the schemers in the group get busted for their sneaky plots?

Y/N's in the middle of it all, trying to figure out who's real and who's fake. Will she stick around with the rich kids, or will she find her own way? And what about Hyunjin? Will Y/N win his heart, or will she find love in an unexpected place?

PROFILE ONE

"THE RICH KIDS"

Y/N Seo: Y/N is the brainy YouTuber daughter of a business tycoon, alongside her dropout-turned-millionaire brother, Changbin. Together, they're the dynamic duo of South Korea, known for brains and business smarts. Plus, she's also a college student, balancing academics with her online presence.

Changbin Seo: College dropout turned startup sensation, Changbin is the brother of Y/N and the mastermind behind his own wealth. In a secret relationship with Lee Felix.

Hwang Hyunjin: Hyunjin is the prince of South Korea's elite circle. Son of the third richest man, he's not just a pretty face but a model and dancer extraordinaire.

Yeji Hwang: Yeji is the princess beside Hyunjin's prince. A rising star in modeling and dancing, she's the perfect match for her wealthy beau, Hyunjin.

Lee Felix: Son of a fashion mogul, Felix struts his stuff on runways and social media alike.

I.N: Son of a top doctor and lawyer. Despite his privileged background, he's all about hard work and making his own mark.

Wooyoung: Changbin's business partner in their gym startup, Wooyoung is a college buddy and y/n's roommate.

"THE NEWBIES"

Bang Chan: Born in Australia but moved to Korea at 13 due to his parents' separation, Bang Chan is anything but ordinary. Despite not being from a wealthy family, he's a genius who aced the Korean college exams. On top of that, he's a part-time composer for big idol companies, showcasing his incredible talent.

Kim Seungmin: From a regular middle-class family, Seungmin is Bang Chan's buddy, and he's a riot! He never thought he'd crack the college exams, but guess what? He did, landing at the 200th spot. Even he is surprised.

(more characters will be introduced)

HE IS DATING WHO?

[elioslover]

Afterparties on Tour (One Shot- Italrry x reader).

Premise: Love on Tour is over and Harry needs to tell you how he feels.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: / Other writing

[I'm a little late to the party but here's a little snippet of Love on Tour ending and Harry's vay-cay in Italy. Obviously Italrry! is my favourite, I have a whole fic about it lmao.]

🪐

The moon bounces across the gentle but choppy waves, coming to a crash against the scattered rocks before dissipating and retreating from the shore. It must be loud considering the celebrations behind you, a chorus of cheers and booming base. 

Feet devoid of shoes, toes buried in the cool sand, nursing a drink and gazing out at the ocean, all that dancing has rendered you an unfit kid in gym class. It’s taken longer than you expected to even your exhales, and once it had settled, the feeling of your skin enveloped in the sand has you staying put. At least a moment longer. 

It would help soothe your thoughts about that succubus dressed in only a pair of short-shorts and a loose-fitted button-up, dancing far too close, eyes far too bright, glimmering under the ultraviolet strobes. 

He is so unaware of how unhinged he makes you feel, it seems like he only aims to pull you in further- so unaware, that he couldn’t begin to comprehend the concept of needing space and is already making his way over to your hunched figure. 

You hear him long before you see him, his steps are heavy and uneven, you can just picture the way he fumbles about, a faint and fond smile soothing your frown.

Once he is only a foot away, he announces his presence, 

“Oi! I’ve been lookin’ for ya.” 

He comes to a halt, and as you tilt your head to acknowledge him, your face is levelled with his thigh, bare, unnecessarily thick, and begging to have teeth sunk into its fleshy skin. 

Your brain is buzzing with profanities, ‘Jesus fuck’, ‘fuckin’ unfair.' 'fuck, fuck.' But you hold it together with perseverance, patting the empty spot in the sand beside you an invitation, 

“Hi, Lovie. Have fun?”

He obliges with a loopy, and cheesy grin that obliterates your sense of composure. He is so clueless as he drops to the ground, legs splayed out in front of him, arms stretched out to keep balanced. His finger brushes against your thigh, and you are furious with how easily your skin flares with fireworks. 

Harry takes a deep breath, craning his neck and tilting his face to fix his gaze on your own, his eyes sultry, pupils swollen with celebration. His smile only widens, 

“Much better now.”

He has to know what he’s doing. Surely. You cannot risk looking into his eyes for even a moment, fearful it will end with your lips trailing along his neck, tongue lapping and nipping at the nape. And for obvious reasons, you cannot look at his mouth, instead diverting both your gaze and the topic,

“I like the hat.”

“I’ll give it back, I swear.” He doesn’t want to. 

“Don’t. it looks better on you.” You want him to keep it forever. 

There’s a hopeful look that flashes across not only his green gaze but the crinkles of the corners of his eyes, swelling dimpled cheeks, and dramatically raised brows.  

You don’t like that look; it makes your insides melt into one big ball of overwhelming happiness and hopefulness. He could set you alight with one facial expression, just imagine what would happen if he did even more. 

You cannot will yourself to find out, choosing to commend him instead,

“You’ve been dancing up a storm.” 

“Mm. Wanted you to dance with me.” He nods, eyes lulling shut, his chin tilted to the stars.

“I did. For a good three or four songs.” 

He seems the opposite of satisfied, bushy brows creasing into a furrow and crinkling his forehead,

“Want you to dance with me all night.”

“You’re ridiculous.” You take the risk of brushing your shoulder against his own.

“And you’re beautiful.” He instantly retorts, tainting your skin with blushing berries, thankful that the moon reflects on the ocean instead of your cheeks. 

You’re even more thankful when Harry moves on without your help, inquisitively pointing at the cup still clutched in your palm, 

“Whatcha drinkin’?” 

���I think vodka and cranberry.” You ponder, glancing down and swirling the cup, liquid sloshing against the glass. 

He motions for it, holding his hand out, and you are more than tempted to drop the drink and wrap your palm in his. But he waits with anticipation, and you can only oblige and pass him what he wants, settling for a swift moment of your fingers brushing against his own. 

Tilting back, neck mercilessly on display, Harry takes an unintentionally large sip, swallowing with sudden unnerving panic. His mouth is an explosion of sugar sticking to his gums, sending electric charges straight to his brain, 

“Christ that’s sweet!” He exclaims, eyes scrunching with distaste, his hand blinding stretching out to return the concoction to your custody. 

“Just like me.”

“Just like you.” He mirrors. And he’s looking over at you now, eyelids swelled and intoxicated, lashes wisping, irises flickering in the moonlight. His expression slowly morphs into one of soft sorrow, and he can’t stop himself from speaking the silly truth, "'M gonna miss you, y’know.”

“You’ll still see me.” You attempt reassurance, but you’re almost certain Harry can hear the way your words stay trapped between your teeth, squeaking out with disappointment. You are disappointed if that even begins to cover it. 

“Not every day though.” He whines but before your heart can skip a full beat, he panics and presses on, “You’re the best assistant.” This is partially true- you are the best assistant, but Harry will definitely miss you for much more than that. 

You scoff softly, lacking the courage to take his words as anything other than platonic banter, a culmination of spending a prolonged period together- over two years to be precise. 

In honesty, you hope Harry shares same ache as your already-churning stomach at the thought of spending the unforetold future apart. It's embarrassing, though, knowing you feel far too much for a boy whose only obligation is to be shared with the world. 

“Oh, please. You’re just gonna miss being waited on hand and foot.” 

“That too.” He teases, hardly able to hold any sternness in his words, more focused on proving his feelings of fearing the distance from you. He needs to make sure you know. Before it’s too damn late, “But I'm gonna miss you more.”

“I’m sure you’ll survive.” You try to rationalise and lighten the mood for both of your sakes. 

“Hardly! My heart’s been breaking for days.” He flails his arms with a flair of dramaticism, even stomping his foot into the sand with extra emphasis. Dramatic display aside, Harry means every word, just the statement has his chest closing in. 

“I think that’s all the Scotch talking.” You say in an attempt to stop your own chest from aching the same. 

“I’m serious!” He defends, frustrated that you seem to have mastered the art in denseness… or diversion… which is worse?  

It’s obvious to Harry that you’re gonna need a little more convincing, and he is happy to oblige, turning his torso to face you, eyes fixed on your nerve-ridden ones, 

“Gonna miss your clumsiness, and your positivity,” he likes the way your face tilts down with shyness, lips pressing together bashfully, “and your sweet laugh.” He’s heard it once, he wants to hear it on a loop for all of eternity. 

His truthfulness is almost believable, but even if it was, you aren’t sure what to do with the information. He’s just begging for you to smother him in kisses at this point, and the conviction that he is simply unaware of the effect his words have on you is encouraging you not to indulge. Instead, you are rerouting the conversation again, 

“None of that has to do with me being your tour assistant.”

“Still.” 

Contradictory to his tongues distaste, Harry wants to touch your hand again, even for just a second, so he reaches for the glass of reddish liquid, skin sizzling when your hold lingers, taking an extra gulp for good luck, a small droplet of cranberry slipping down the slope of his bottom lip. 

The silence, though comfortable is deafening, and Harry needs to hear your velvety voice again, 

“Say it.”

You turn yourself to accept his authoritative switch, eager to see where he plans on going with this. Ignoring the desperate temptation to rub your thumb across his peachy, puckered lips, absolving him of the merciless sweetness, you take back the drink and finish its contents with one swift, throat-swelling swallow. Eyes crinkling from the candy cruelty, you discard the glass and give him your all,

“Say what?” 

“Say it!” 

He persists, looking at you with the most darling of pouts, a glimmer of mischievous knowing- wanting you to confirm his wishes. And, who would you be to deny him such an obvious confession?

“I’m gonna miss you too, Harry.”

“How much?” 

“You really are ridiculous!” Your eyes roll in sync with the huff that slips from between your teeth. 

“And you’re beautiful.” He says like it's old news, “We’ve been over this, how much are you gonna miss me?” 

Your stomach is in your head, your head is in your heart, and your heart is in Harry’s hands, unsuspectingly holding your entirety between the creases of his palms. 

He cannot know. So, you gesture your thumb and pointer finger together in matrimony but leave the tiniest of spaces in between- the false space in which you hold your sorrows for his soon departure, 

“This much.”

“So little?” He playfully pouts, and unbeknownst to you, his pupils are swelling with desperation for you to miss him as much as he, you.  

“Hmm, maybe this much.” With little leeway, you expand your two fingers as far as they will stretch, allowing your longing to settle in the gap. 

Harry's eyes light up with some sort-of satisfaction, his forehead raising, creases disappearing as his dimples swell from the force of his fiery smirk,

“Just as I suspected.”

“What’s that now?” 

“Oh, nothing. It’s just that… I win.” He concludes, boyish grin only growing- if possible- and with as much grace as one could have after two Scotchs, Harry stretches his arms out, swerving to miss you, his muscles spanning like that of a proud swan, “Cause I’m gonna miss you thisss much.”

His body is starting to stiffen and then loses all rigidity, he can’t stop- well, even if he could, he wouldn’t- his arm from wrapping around your shoulder, tugging you down with him as his body starts to tilt back, threatening to sink into the sand. 

“Harry!”

And your bodies are pressed to the trillions of pearly grains, giggles escaping through your parted lips. Your hair is surely sprinkled with sand, as must Harry’s, bodies awkwardly pressed together, his chest criminally close to your own. 

“Y/n.” He mocks, confirming his cheeriness over pulling you into his grasp, your back balancing on his stretched-out arm. 

The party plays on in the distance, the sea is still singing, and you can hear the soft and stable breaths of the prettiest boy on earth, his face tilted towards your own, freckles flickering under the silver sky. Harry is looking at you with an unreadable gaze- one that you have curiously noticed the past couple of months- it may be fondness... But whatever it is, it quickly dissipates into a woeful stare, and he glances away from your wondering gaze in favour of the sky. 

It's quiet for a moment- theoretically only a minute, but it feels like an eternity. Your eyes are tracing the curves of his chiselled jaw, swooping cheekbones, softly kinked nose. He seems miles away, leaving you alone on the beach just as you feared the future would be. 

But he is back on earth, and his eyes are back on yours right before your body threatens to rip itself apart. His brows are furrowed, and his chest hurts so carelessly that he wonders if you might feel it too,

“’M a little sad, y’know?”

“Would be weird if you weren’t.” You reassure, from a practical point, this is true. But from an in-love point, you need to ensure he understands you mirror his melancholy, “I am too.”

“Cause you’re gonna missss me?” Harry coos.

Harry wants to hear you say it in your own words, and the only way he knows how is to sugarcoat his words with a sweet and playful demeanour, scared of what might happen if it turns out that his feelings truly are one-sided. You wish he had said it seriously; you want to tell him that you’re being more than serious, that you will miss him, and that you’ll spend the rest of your life missing him, everything about him, everything he makes you feel, 

“Have you always been this annoying?” 

“I think you’re mistaking annoyance for attraction.” He tries a new tactic. 

“Even so…” You concede. 

“Even so…?”

“You’re both, alright. And you already know it.” Perhaps you’re giving away too much. 

To Harry, not enough. He doesn’t know what he’s expecting to happen; did he really think you would confess your devout attraction for him? Did you even feel the same way? You give him the tiniest of hints, always so cautious and thoughtful. He knows this; he feels your fondness, feels the fiery connection… there has to be more, and how much longer can he wait? Threatened by the reality of the two of you going your separate ways, Harry is fighting this obstacle, fearful that this is his only and final opportunity, having to give you something more, some sort-of encouragement,   

“Just like to hear you say it.” 

What are you supposed to say to that? It has to be obvious that you feel so much more for him than mere attraction. Stumbling on words, a blushing mess, tripping over your own toes whenever he expressed his endearment or wonderment. 

It was certainly easier to chalk his affection up to close proximities, homesickness, and maybe even pining over another woman. Theoretically, Harry had more on his mind than spending his time seeking out your affection. 

Your lips are sealed, unwilling to separate and spill your secrets- the only thing stopping you from saying every little thing you love about him.  

But Harry is watching and waiting, carefully checking out the way your forehead furrows, eyes darting with some deep thoughts that he just wishes you would share with him. He’s seen this look before- sometimes showing up during difficult days on tour when you were challenged with a particularly gruelling or complicated task, and on occasion, Harry had noticed this conflict in your eyes during the duet of late-night conversations. 

He knows you’re stumped for words. He knows you don’t plan on speaking up. He needs to know what you’re thinking about, his face leaning forward, trying to close some of the merciless gap preventing him from being able to peck your cheek,

“Tell me a secret.”

“Yeah, right.” You can tell this is a trap. 

You’d be a fool not to know what he was trying; this was his last resort in deciphering your hidden agenda, and the last thing you need is the humiliation of finding out that this little thing going on between you two would remain just that; a thing of the past. 

“Tell me, and I’ll tell you one in return.”

He insists with such sweet innocence that could surely coax you into doing whatever he wanted,

“Okay.” You’ll go with the thing that’s been torturing you for weeks now, “I think you should grow out your moustache.”

“Done.” He answers so quickly, with such authority that your heart is doing somersaults. Before you can overthink his hastiness, he continues, “Tell me another.”

“Hey, that’s not how this goes.” 

“I make the rules. Tell meeee.” He’s a needy little one and he has you trapped, nowhere to go but nowhere you would rather be. 

What’s the point of keeping anything from him when it’s clear his persistence will only be soothed by your obligation? 

Harry is as Harry as ever, so welcoming and understanding before even hearing what you have to say. As far as you’re concerned, he’s been seeking you out for a reason, wanting to make sure that this ending isn’t eating away at you. 

It is eating away at you, though. You both know without verbalising it. If it remains unaddressed it may very well result in severing the ties you so tenderly share, 

“I’m nervous about going home.”

“Had a feeling.” He needs you to know that he knows. “‘M sorry, darling. Promise we’ll see each other, okay?”  

“Pinky swear.” Your eyes are like a puppy dog. 

“I’ll come over, and we can watch Normal People and… pretend we are.” Harry wants that more than anything.

“I’d like that… a lot.” Your eyes lull with the promise of his loving presence, “I’ll make you a warm cuppa.”

“You’ll have hot chocolate.” He notes proudly. 

“And I’ll let you use my fluffy blanket.” You do the same. 

“Ugh. I love you.” 

He whines dramatically, eyes rolling back, deliciously biteable lips parted and glossy. He really does though- love you. You loathe the flippancy with which he uses these words, substituting playfulness for the failure of his reciprocating your feelings, 

“It’s hard not to.”

“That cranberry’s giving you a big head, huh?” He nudges himself against you.

“Don’t be mean.” Also nudging against him in an attempt to reprimand his cheekiness.

“I could never be mean to you.” He pouts cutely, hoping you can tell that he certainly means it.

He’s close- too close- churning your common sense into a spiral of neediness to nearer his face, scatter kisses wherever his skin forfeits. Shuffling back slightly, you miss the way his brows twitch with misunderstanding, and you misdirect the conversation once more,

“Did you see the video I sent you?”

“That puppy was so cute I could have cried.” His features turn to mushy lovability.

“Don’t cry, you’re too pretty.” You tease. 

“Too late.” He tries to add a convincing pout. 

“Such a crybaby.” A cute, fuckable little sulk. Your diversion has certainly worked, but now you long for the back-and-forth of will-they-wont-they, and you cannot resist letting the words come out, “So, what’s your secret?” 

“I already told you.” He says it like it should be apparent. 

“You did?” Had you missed something? 

“Yep.” 

Harry’s certainty is cast-iron, peering over at you with palpable perceptiveness. If his secret was that he planned on growing a moustache, then he had done a marvellous job at fishing you onto the hook. A simmer of frustration bubbles in your belly, shyness and foolishness teasing you for falling into his trap with such ease. Your tone reflects this, retreating to the sanctity of defensiveness,

“Your secret is that you’re a crybaby? We already knew that.”

“Not that.” He rolls his eyes. 

“Alright, well, tell me again.”

“Ask me nicely.” He keeps you baited. 

“Y’know what, I don’t even wanna know.” You tilt your nose to the sky, giving him the perfect sight of your neck craned, cheeks like apples, lips pouted and puckered. 

“Yes, you do.” He informs.

“Nope.” Your lips pop at the P. 

“It’s gonna eat away at you.” He sing-songs. He’s right. 

“Glad to see you’re getting off on this.” Grumbling, you avert your gaze. 

“Would rather get off with you.” He torts, muttering, sudden arousal slipping from his lips and settling anxiously in the already-small gap separating your bodies.  

“Filthy boy.” You friskily reprimand.

“And you haven’t seen the half of it.” He promises.

“Is that your secret?” You press on curiously, “Not a surprise. I’ve seen your ‘fuck me’ eyes before.”

“When I was looking at you?” 

Harry knocks the breath out of you, not even out of you- it’s trapped if your throat, body stilling like a statue, tied and bound by the predicament he seemed to so blatantly provide,

“Not me in particular…”

“Apparently I have two secrets then.” He muses. 

“Just tell me!” You are clearly too focused on secret number one to notice that he just revealed secret number two.

“Hmm… Maybe.” Since you seem so clueless, Harry thinks he should drag this on a little longer, becoming more-and-more discouraged by your blatant dismissal of his attempts to express his affection. 

“Harry, I swear-”

“Alright, missy.” He can hold out no longer. “I love you.”

“I know that-”

“Love, love you.” 

“Oh.” You finally let the realisation sink in, and it sinks in slowly whilst Harry patiently watches the way you process both his feelings and your own. 

The fear of rejection humidifies the air around him, but the relief of having you hear him say it aloud is something he had not known he needed. 

Your entirety is like electricity escaping a plug socket, shocking you with such passion that the only thing left to do is give in,

 “Well, I guess I have another secret, too.”

“Tell me.” He need not know because you have said it in your own words. But, how nice would it be to drizzle your ‘I love you’ like honey across his aching heart. 

You will; coat him in so much caramelised molasses that he will have no choice but to understand that you love him... Right after you make him play a round of his own proven-pointless little game,

“Hmm. Maybe.”

—