#Flowers Making With Plastic Carry Bags

[215-luv]

“OH GOD, IT’S NOT FAIR OF HIM TO MAKE ME FEEL THIS MUCH!” (HQ BOYS)

ATSUMU: says things out of nowhere that it makes you feel butterflies. it’s so sudden that it hits you like a tidal wave that knocks the air out of you. the two of you could be laughing at some random thing and suddenly, he opens his mouth to mention something, “your smile.” he says, almost out of nowhere, eyes looking at you with so much fondness that you refuse to believe that someone could ever look at you that way. “my smile? what’s wrong with it, tsum?” you question, and he chuckles, “oh, there’s nothing wrong with it.” a goofy smile plants itself over his face, “it’s just.. it’s so pretty. i want to see it more.” he says, resting his forehead over yours. “wanna be the person who makes you do all that—smile and laugh. you’re so beautiful.”

AKAASHI: “you were saying?” he questions as he’s scribbling over his notebook, studying for a test he’ll take the next day. the question almost surprises you. “i was saying..?” you ask, eyes on him as he looks busy enough writing over his notebook rather than listening to your nonstop blabbering. “yeah? you were talking about the book you just finished reading.” he says, and you sat there surprised, silenced and unable to fully process what you just heard. “well?” he ushers you to speak, the tone of his voice coming out as if he wants to hear more from you. and you couldn’t help but stare at him in disbelief. “you.. you were listening?” you respond with a timid voice. your boyfriend lets out a chuckle, dropping down his pen to look at you with interest in his eyes. “of course i do. i’m always listening to you, honey.”

KUROO: you weren’t sure what just happened, but all you could process was the fact that you’re suddenly lifted by the strong arms of your boyfriend as you walked through the hallway of the campus. it was supposed to be a normal day. you sighed, trying to ignore the stares of the students around you (and yaku, literally staring at the both of you in disgust). “tetsu, what are you doing? what’s all this? what’s happening?” you throw your boyfriend a wave of questions, unable to get a glimpse of the motive behind his actions. the deep chuckles from him reaches your ears, and you almost had to be grateful for being carried bridal style so as to not feel your knees weakening from the sound he just made. “am i not allowed to care for the love of my life?” he says, almost as if it’s an obvious fact. you roll your eyes, not convinced. you open your mouth to say something, but he beats you to it—“you mentioned you walked home yesterday, right? you know, it’s pretty convenient to take the bus sometime. your house is pretty far from here. your feet must have been aching. let me take care of you, alright?”

OIKAWA: “delivery for the most beautiful person in the world!” he knocks on your classroom door, catching the attention of your classmates. you mildly panic, a rush of embarrassment flowing over you as you’re greeted with teasing smiles and chuckles. you see, tooru always had the tendency to do these things. and it honestly surprises you ‘till this day. he makes you feel so openly loved that it scares you it might disappear someday. your heart beats at a fast pace as your boyfriend nears you, eyes never leaving your figure as the corners of his lips are raised upwards. he places a bouquet of flowers on your desk, along with your favorite food on a plastic bag, and you almost choke a cry. “what’s all this?” you question, looking at him with suspicious eyes. he chuckles, “is there anything wrong with a boy simply wanting to show his love to his favorite person in the world?” his hand reaches to cup itself against your cheek, his warmth cascading over you. “let me show you what you deserve. i’m right here.”

USHIJIMA: you let out a sharp breath as you’re suddenly being pulled to collide against a strong chest which happens to be your boyfriend. you’re about to ask what just happened when he speaks first, “be careful. you were about to hit a lamp post.” your eyes widens, looking to the side to notice that you were, indeed, about to bump against one. guilt quickly begins to rush over you. “o-oh.. i’m sorry, i get really clumsy and bad at these things—“ you try to explain yourself apologetically, but your boyfriend cuts you off before you could finish your statement, “please don’t apologize. these are simply trivial matters.” he tells you. it’s only ‘till then you notice his arm wrapped around your waist in a protective manner while he keeps you steady. “matters like these are the reason why i’m here. let me be the one to keep you out of danger.”

KITA: “this one’s wrong. you messed up the formula halfway, that’s why the rest of the equation is wrong.” your boyfriend explains to you as he compares his math homework with yours. you couldn’t help but chuckle in embarrassment, inwardly beating yourself up for being dumb infront of him. you scratch the back of your head, “s-sorry, i could really get confused over these things.” you apologize, and your boyfriend could only nod in understanding. “in this number too, you got the formula wrong. you’re supposed to use this.” he then adds, pointing to a certain number on your paper. you couldn’t help but feel small under his gaze. “r-right.. i’m sorry, i promise i’ll do better.” you reply apologetically. but your discomfort doesn’t go unnoticed by shinsuke. his eyes worriedly looks at your figure as he quickly slides an arm around your waist, “hey, it’s okay. don’t worry about it.” you could feel his thumb rubbing against the fabric of your shirt as a way to assure you. “you’re doing amazing, believe me. just let me know if you’re confused anywhere. i can always help you. you’re okay.”

[willows-peak]

*･ﾟ✧ How the JJK characters show their love for u (love languages)

tags: multi character x reader, gn! reader, fluff, just overwhelming amts of fluff

word count: 1.3k

a/n: im starting off with some fluff, bc they all deserve some soft loving <3

⋆｡˚ ♡ PHYSICAL TOUCH: light squeezes of your hand, hugs from behind, leaning on your shoulder on the train, holding your wrist while you walk together, no matter what their hands are on you. they just love you too much to keep away from you, can you blame them? the feeling of you against their skin makes them feel happier than they could ever expect, even when they're coming across as clingy sometimes.

nobara will tug on your sleeve until you oblige and follow her around the mall, your hand either taken by your girlfriend's or the brightly colored shopping bags she'd acquired over your trip. some for her, some for you, because she was just dying to put you in some of the shirts she'd seen around the mall. and she's smile and kiss your cheek when you went with her requests with no fuss

yuuji will take no liberties in picking you up at any point. greeting you? you're up in the air before you can say 'hello'. god help you if you even mention being tired, because he will carry you in his arms without a moments hesitation, holding you close to his chest and claiming he can't in good conscious let you walk while tired! as your boyfriend, its his job to take care of you

gojo will never ever hesitate to embarrass you with how doting he can get. dramatically gasping whenever he sees you in his kitchen making a snack and rushing over to you, pressing kiss after kiss to your face and squeezing you while praising the heavens he's able to see you today, ignoring how you turned your face away and whined at him to lay off

⋆｡˚ ♡ WORDS OF AFFIRMATION: with someone like you, how do you expect them to keep their mouth shut? they can never get enough of the way you blush or laugh at their compliments, or their daily vows of love. "you're a great cook, dear." if you made them a meal, or fawning over how great you look today, despite you being dressed in loose pajamas with a messy bedhead. they need you to always know how in love they are, constantly.

sukuna, surprisingly, can offer quite a few bits of praise to you through the day. while you may have to pause and figure out his wording to actually receive a compliment at times, that doesn't change how he'll always show his approval of you in his own way. he never fails to acknowledge your effort in something, patting your shoulder and congratulating you on whatever you did.

nanami is always straight to the point when he speaks, wasting no extra time to dance around a subject and often being more blunt than necessary with his words. and that carries over to how he loves you, of course. kissing the temple of your head, murmuring about how lucky he is to be with you, brushing hair out of your face while you lean in for a proper kiss.

⋆｡˚ ♡ GIFT GIVING: plastic charms, figurines, hair clips, clothes, jewelry, stuffies, flowers, games, they're never ending. you're never not on their mind, so it's really impossible for them to be out and about without seeing some beautiful roses in a shop window and not hesitate at all with buying it for you. a single off handed comment about how you're a fan of something, and suddenly your arms are full of different kinds of merch. you've had to reorganize your room countless times to fit everything they've gotten you in there, and you're starting to look like a hoarder. but, it makes them happy, so what choice do you have?

getou could plant acres of flower fields with how much roses he'd gotten you. you can't even remember when you'd told him your favorite flower, the innocent seeming question still forcing you to fill up vase after vase of beautifully picked red roses. the amount of times getou had shown up to your door, hands behind his back with a smile plastered over his face at your weary sigh. "what did you get now, sugu..." "i don't have a clue what you mean, my love."

maki will take the extra step and take you with her when she gets a gift idea, finding the way you'd fret over her funds as she casually bought you yet another scarf she caught you eyeing much cuter than surprising you with it. this happens so often that she's caught you snapping your head forwards when letting your eye linger on something too long, making her laugh and peck your cheek before snatching it up before you could notice.

⋆｡˚ ♡ QUALITY TIME: quiet nights, spent curled up next to each other simply enjoying the others presence. sitting next to you while you play your favorite game, throwing occasional questions at you and smiling when you eagerly answer them. sometimes they get sheepish at how in love they are, that you simply being there makes them feel happier than anything. but when you're cozied up next to them, snoring softly against their chest, they can't seem to care too much about anything else

megumi is the king of silent time together, claims it helps him study and plan for missions when nothing is happening around him. and while that's true, often times he will replace 'feeling lonely and wanting your company' with 'studying for an exam'. he's sure you aren't aware of what he truly means when he asks to come over though, even when he shows up with no textbooks or notes to 'study from', and immediately goes to cuddle up against you when you usher him inside your room.

choso is..very clingy lol. always following behind you wherever you go, sitting next to you with a soft smile even as you aimlessly scroll through your phone. he's so silent that you've forgotten his presence entirely a few times, yelping when you hear a low sigh or a shuffle of his hand against your own. you felt a little exposed at first, always being under surveillance by him, but you adjusted pretty quickly and accepted his way of affection.

⋆｡˚ ♡ ACTS OF SERVICE: call it a hero complex, but they just adore being your knight in shining armor. holding the door open for you, finishing an assignment for you after learning how stressed you've been recently, wrapping their coat around you when it gets too chilly out, making your favorite meal just because they could. why should you have to do things when they're right there?

toji, despite having cast away his family name, was still raised by a traditional family. which meant he'd assigned himself to any hard work that needed to be done. plumbing, cleaning, repairing of any kind, he was on it. at first he did it out of habit, used to being forced to pick up any chore that others didn't feel like doing. but over time, the way you'd thank him and hug him tight when he did something for you made his heart melt. nowadays, he almost gets giddy when he hears your frustrated mumbling from across the room, happy to help you yet again with whatever you needed.

yuuta is really the sweetest thing... he's always ready to help you out, no matter how small the issue is. the mornings are his favorite, though, watching your chest rise and fall peacefully while sunlight slowly made its way across your sleeping form. he loves being able to tidy up your room and get breakfast ready for you while you peacefully sleep the sunrise away. he'd turn his head towards the hall as he heard your footsteps shuffle closer to him, a blanket draped over your sleepy figure as you greeted him.

inumaki, even with your reassurance, still feels guilty at times for not being able to talk with you how you're used to. deciphering rice ball ingredients in response to you asking when his is birthday isn't the simplest task, unfortunately. so, he always makes sure to show his love through simple tasks he can do for you. keeping extra snacks in his bag for when you get hungry during class, handing you his umbrella if he notices the sky beginning to dribble on your way home, even when you insist he keep it. he doesn't mind the rain if it's with you.

[shybunnie20]

BFF!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

friends to lovers

★Locations ★My Masterlist

Summary: Eddie calls on you to help him plan his first date, and you wish that you were the one going on it with him.

Author's Note: This isn't quite as polished as I'd like it to be. But, I'm pushing through my last few weeks of college, so I'm working with the few brain cells I've got left lol. I still love how it turned out and the ending is worth all of the self-loathing, I promise.

No use of Y/N, est. friendship, ages aren’t specified but E & R are approx. in their early twenties & it’s an early 90s AU, Reader has never been asked on a date before. Mild angst with happy ending!

Word count: 8.9k

Warnings: Reader dwells on poor self-worth & feels undesirable, acts of eating and multiple mentions of food, includes swearing.

Nestled in the quaint corner of Campbell Ave and 2nd Street, you’re engrossed in a call with a customer, jotting down an order for two bouquets consisting of pink-white lilies and snapdragons. Your eyes follow the effortless glide of your glitter gel pen across the paper, detailing their contact information.

Similarly to Goldilocks, you’ve found a place of employment where the pace is just right. You can handle whatever tasks Joan, the owner, asks of you. Sweeping the wood floors with a stiff-bristled broom, tending to the plants, and arranging flowers adorned with decorative ribbon and crisp paper are all within your grasp.

This place gets steady business, but the concept of a lunch or dinner rush is nonexistent. However, you do face a unique kind of rush occasionally. Now and then, a frantic lover bursts through the doors, bug-eyed, having realized they’ve forgotten a special anniversary or birthday at the very last minute. 

As you recite the customer’s order and callback number into the phone’s receiver, their confirmational “uh huhs” cut through the buzz of the line. Suddenly, your attention is diverted by the sight of a van pulling into the parking spot out front, slightly askew. A small smile teases the corners of your mouth as you make a conscious effort to refocus on closing the conversation at hand.

The plastic shell of the phone clacks as you hang up, and you watch Eddie hop out of his van, and round the front of it with an unusual pep in his step—more than you’d see his best days.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Eddie’s voice carries across the room, accompanied by a genuine smile that lights up his face. He strides to the register counter you’re currently manning, wearing a vermillion polo shirt embellished with the neatly embroidered String and Strum shop logo on the breast. His hair is pushed back from his face with a black bandana, resembling a biker-like edge, tied firmly to ensure no stray curls disrupt his work as he repairs guitars and sells instruments for commission.

In seconds flat, he’s already scrunching his nose like a bunny, sensing a sneeze on the horizon. Being in a room packed with fresh plants is nothing short of hell, but he’s willing to endure it for the sake of seeing you. While he can handle flowers in small quantities, the confined space never fails to tickle his system like nobody’s business.

Vision blurring with mild irritation, Eddie blinks hard to disperse it. “Hey, how’s today going?”

You shrug, suppressing a giggle at the wiggle of his nose. “As good as it can, I guess. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

Eddie sets a grease-stained paper bag on the counter that separates you, along with a cup of soda. “Figured you could use a midday pick-me-up.”

“Must be my lucky day because I overslept and didn’t have time to pack a lunch. Well, that and I found a penny on the sidewalk.”

Eddie crosses his arms and tilts his head. “Don’t give luck all the credit. I have instinctual powers, y’know. My Munson senses were tingling and I knew you were in need.”

“My hero,” You exclaim, clasping your hands and swinging them to the side like a swooning princess. 

Eddie chuckles with you, watching as you wipe your palms on your apron and eagerly dig into the bag, pulling out a foam to-go box. As you promptly open it and take a bite of your lunch, you can’t help but groan and throw your head back in satisfaction. Your eyes meet his thereafter, causing him to twist his mouth to the side and momentarily look away.

“How much do I owe you?” You ask, your words slightly muffled as you continue to chew.

Minnie, Joan’s cat, gracefully leaps onto the counter to greet Eddie. She perches herself beside the cash register, allowing him to scratch under her chin. “Nothin, consider it a favor,” He says with a wet sniffle, the tingling in his nose unrelenting.

The silence that falls is comfortable for you, but he’s seemingly lost in his thoughts as he continues to pet Minnie. Then, he looks at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Speaking of which, I just so happen to know a way that you can return the favor.”

Having taken a sip from your drink and another bite of your food, the inflection of Eddie’s voice causes you to slow your chewing. “And what might that be?”

“Come over later to find out.”

Your shoulders slump, eyes widened with mock defeat. “No! I can’t stand here and wonder all day. I'll die. The suspense will kill me.”

Eddie pouts mockingly, his sweet honey eyes betraying his faux-frown. “Then I'll be sure to have the prettiest floral arrangement for your funeral. Only the best for you.”

Your brows knit together in an authentic pouting. The irony of needing to meet an untimely demise to receive flowers from a guy isn’t lost on you.

He motions toward the untrimmed bundle of carnations on the workbench behind you. “Actually, if you’re not too busy,” Eddie smirks. “Could you string those up for me quick so they’re ready to go for your wake?”

“Ha-ha,” you leer, taking the next bite of your food rather aggressively. “You’re cruel, you know that?”

“I beg to differ since I surprised you with your favorite from Val’s and all,” Eddie retorts, biting the inside of his cheek.

You grumble, “Yeah, and it’s fucking delicious.”

Eddie checks his watch and huffs, “Alright, I’ve gotta get goin’,” he says, rapping his knuckles on the countertop and beginning to walk backward. “See you later tonight,” He points at you before spinning on his heel and exiting the shop.

The bulky keyring on Eddie’s jeans jingles loudly as he steps onto the sidewalk. Abruptly, he stops in his tracks. For a moment he’s frozen, and then he braces himself against the nearby lamppost. It hits him like a brick wall and he sneezes mightily. 

Heads of nearby passersby turn in his direction, startled by the noise. As he straightens his posture, Eddie remains still, trying to find his center of gravity and regain his composure.

“You good?” You call out, your voice just barely reaching him through the propped-open doors. Taking a casual sip of your drink, you watch as Eddie steadies himself. Still clutching the street lamp with one hand, he manages to stick his other arm out and give a thumbs-up.

True to your word, you arrive at Eddie’s place straight after work. The sun is setting, casting a warm glow through the patio door onto the walls of the living room. The apartment is in its usual state of disarray, expectedly so, since it’s home to three guys who aren’t particularly concerned with tidiness.

Toeing off your shoes, you’re unphased by the subtle smell of dust in the air. What strikes you as odd is how quiet it is. Typically, at least one roommate is home, blasting the TV in the living room or music from their respective bedrooms. But the only sound permeating the silence is the erratic thumping and screech of the water pipes behind the paper-thin walls of the bathroom.  

As you snoop around the kitchen, hoping to find a box of saltine crackers or really anything to stop the gurgling in your belly. Having come up empty-handed, you turn your attention to the resilient plant that you challenged Eddie to care for—Keanu Leaves, as he so proudly named it. 

Finished with your fruitless search of the kitchen, you make your way into Eddie’s bedroom to settle comfortably into the chair that only you sit in; it’s your spot. While you get cozy, the beans rattle as they perfectly mold to your figure. You knock on the wall beside you, signaling your arrival to Eddie.

You resume the magazine left sitting open on the page you stopped on. You occupy yourself in the article about predicted spring fashion trends as you wait. After a minute or two, the pipes go quiet from the shower being turned off.

Eddie strolls into the room wearing nothing more than a clean pair of boxers. Droplets of water trickle down his toned and tatted chest. Harshly ruffling his curls with a bath towel, he smirks at you. “If it isn’t Little Miss Zombie, back from the dead.”

“Less than alive and in the flesh,” you reply, your annoyance at being made to wait all day still evident. You hold grudges better than anyone he knows, and Eddie is well aware that he’s not immune to being subject to it.

Your tummy rumbles loudly, the discomfort only emphasizing the sharpness of your tone. “When was the last time you got groceries? I didn’t see any preserved brains I could help myself to.”

“I’m definitely due for a restock,” Eddie says as he drapes his wet towel over the back of his desk chair. Then, he grabs the bottle of mousse from his dresser and dispenses a foamy dollop into his palm. “Funny you should ask, though. That’s sorta why you’re here.”

You flip the page of your magazine, not pulling your eyes from the glossy print. “You told me to come over to go grocery shopping?”

Eddie rubs his palms together to spread the product and then runs his fingers through his curls. “Not quite,” he starts, his tone cryptic. “I’ve been tasked with providing a meal, of sorts.” 

Finally, you look up at him. Watching him scrunch his damp hair with the remainder of the product that’s making his palms go tacky, you wait for him to elaborate.

Eddie’s eyes flit to the other side of the room, rather than meeting your awaiting gaze. “I have a date.”

You stare blankly at the back of his head, as still as a statue while your blinking intensifies. Dumbfounded, you struggle to survive the bombshell he just dropped on you. It’s as if a nuclear explosion has shattered your eardrums, leaving his continued words to sound muffled through the high-pitched ringing.

A million and one questions swirl in your mind, only adding to the disorienting whirlwind of emotions. Since when is he dating? Why all of a sudden? As you try to piece everything together, you note that he hasn’t had any recent romantic interactions, at least none that you’re aware of.

You always thought he’d confide in you if he was seeing someone, but now you’re not so sure; especially since you’re only finding out about this now. Without a doubt, Eddie has never had trouble attracting attention. But he’s always seemed so content with the ways things are. So why now?

Eddie turns to face you, a splash of desperation in his eyes. “I feel like doing this is the best way to know if she likes me back.”

Your mouth has gone dry, and you try to sound more curious than interrogative, but it doesn’t quite come off that way. “Who is this mystery woman, anyway?” A couple of names come to mind, some of the most beautiful girls in town—none of whom you hold a candle to.

His side of the room falls quiet when he’s hit with your question. Eddie’s eyes drop to the carpet. While it might seem like he’s lost in thought, it’s actually a glaring sign of evasion. You can’t help but feel a little hurt by his reluctance to tell you who it is.

A small smile forms as he leans back against his dresser, as though he can’t keep himself upright during his current daydream. Folding his arms across his pecs and rubbing his jaw, eyes still downcast, Eddie begins to gush about her. “She’s just- god, she’s something else. The way she laughs, it’s like... the sun coming out after a storm.”

“Sounds like quite the catch,” you mutter, trying to keep your tone neutral. You watch closely as blush tints Eddie’s cheeks and his smile threatens to grow. Without saying another word, Eddie walks out and returns to the bathroom.

You’re quick to follow, hopping up from your chair. “Do I know her?”

“Technically, yeah,” Eddie answers. Standing in front of the foggy mirror, he wipes it with the back of his forearm. Then, he starts rummaging through the counter drawer for his pair of shears.

You stand just outside the open door, the lingering humidity from his scorching hot shower kissing your skin as it disperses into the hallway. Leaning back against the wall, you cross your arms like he did moments ago, albeit far more tensely. Technically? It must be one of your ex-friends, then. That would explain why he’s been keeping you in the dark.

It’s your duty to be supportive, but right now, you could hurl. The thick nausea swirling deep in your gut is a storm raging within, overpowering your ability to stay present.

While trimming his bangs over the basin, the shears glint in the hushed light of the wall sconce. Eddie steals a glance in your direction, but his eyes dart back to his reflection too quickly to catch the discomfort etched on your face. “So you’ll help me, right?”

As you watch yourself anxiously wiggling your toes inside your sock, you mumble, “I can't if you won’t tell me who it is.“

“Sure you can, you’re a girl. You know how this stuff works.”

You scoff, your brows shooting up as your head jerks back. You open your mouth to object, but he promptly cuts you off.

“Ah, ah! Slow your roll,” Eddie cautions, pointing the shears in your direction. “I’m not saying you’re all the same, but there’s gotta be some common ground of expectations, right?”

You don’t have the strength to argue, so you reluctantly allow for his generalization. “I guess so.”

“Like yeah, I could just study one of those lady magazines you’re always reading. But then I wouldn’t have a way of knowing what is and isn’t bullshit,” Eddie explains, his tone half-joking. “That’s why I’m going straight to the source, oh, wise one.”

Far too consumed with trying to narrow down who the chick could possibly be, you can’t be bothered to give him a huff of amusement through your nose. “Can I at least have a hint?”

“Nope,” The shears hit the countertop, their metallic resonance echoing against the porcelain. He pivots to face you, hands resting on his hips. “Alright, Sherlock. How about you quit trying to crack the case and help me pick out a tie.”

“A what now?” You squawk, eyes widening in disbelief.

Eddie chuckles softly and rinses the hair trimmings down the drain, then flicks off the bathroom light. “I have to dress for the occasion. This is a big deal for me,” he elaborates as he strides back into his room. “For her and me.”

Once again, you find yourself on his tail, trailing close behind back into his bedroom. You unfold your arms and instead, start to rub the inside of your wrist with your opposite thumb. “Yeah, I get that. Just seems a bit out of character for you.”

Rifling through his closet, Eddie pulls out a hanger with a navy button-up shirt and nonchalantly tosses it onto the end of his bed. “Maybe, but at least she’ll know I’m taking this seriously,” Eddie says while reaching for the high shelf to retrieve a tattered shoebox. Lifting the lid, he presents it to you. “Here’s what we’re working with.”

You step closer, your fingers deftly plucking out the rolled ties one by one, laying them flat beside the slightly wrinkled shirt. Side by side, your shoulders nearly brush. Meticulously comparing the patterns and colors, neither of you seems drawn to any particular one.

“Here, maybe it’s better to do it this way,” Eddie suggests, picking up and beginning to slip into the shirt. His thick fingers falter as he attempts to maneuver each small white button through its corresponding hole. Once halfway dressed—having tastefully paired his plaid boxers with a dress shirt—he smooths out the material from his chest to his belly.

Eddie reaches for the nearest tie and lays it against his shoulder. He faces you expectantly, anticipation evident in his gaze, awaiting your feedback.

Your eyes flit between the tie he’s holding, the array laid out on the bed, and the hopefulness in his round eyes. “These are easily the three ugliest ties I've ever seen. No offense.”

He blows a playful raspberry at your harsh criticism and shakes his head. “None taken, they’re not mine. But Wayne might be a little hurt when I call him next and tell him you said that.”

Shooting him a pointed look, your brows furrow in skepticism. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I just might,” Eddie teases with a smile before turning his attention back to the bed. He tosses the first tie aside and reaches for the mustard paisley one. “What about this one, does it compliment my eyes?” He bats his dark brown lashes.

You clutch your chin in contemplation, carefully assessing the combination of hues. However, the richness of his chocolate irises captures you. You wade in their depths. The hot flash that envelops your body is enough to break the trance he inadvertently put you under. With a disapproving shake of your head, you dismiss this tie as well. “Nope, next.”

Eddie looks at you for a moment longer, even though you’re not doing the same. A faint frown creases his features as he tosses the vetoed tie aside, forming a rejection pile.

You pick up the remaining tie and drape it over his shoulder, admiring the harmonious pairing of the navy in the tie with the shirt, accentuated by its white and black diagonal stripes. While you ponder, Eddie watches your face intently, holding his breath.

You nod, a trace of delighted approval in your expression. “We have a winner.”

“Hell yeah, blue on blue it is,” Eddie exclaims. He wraps the tie around the back of his neck but struggles to recall the proper technique for tying it. Attempting a few different nonsensical loopings, he groans, his determination waning. “Stupid son of a bitch, wouldya just-”

“Don’t hurt yourself. Let me do it," You offer. Not receiving protest, you step closer to him.

Eddie uses one hand to gather his product-enhanced curls into a makeshift ball, allowing you to access the collar of his shirt. He juts out his freshly shaved chin, granting you ample room to work. Standing this closely, you catch the clean scent of shaving cream lingering on his skin.

You begin to effortlessly tie the knot. Without pausing to consider what you’re about to say, the words spill from your lips, “Why’re you asking for my opinion on stuff like this, anyway? You should be doing what you think she’ll like, not me.”

“You always know best,” Eddie’s expression softens to something more vulnerable. “When you’re taking the next step in a relationship, you want everything to be as perfect as it can be, y’know?”

It’s common sense to him. No one understands him like you do, making you the perfect person for navigating this nerve-wracking experience. But for you, it’s perplexing. You’ve never been on a proper, formal date. The idea of one remains an unfulfilled pipe dream. Yet, here you are, agreeing to help Eddie plan his.

Your only frame of reference comes from romance movies and horror stories of dates gone wrong recounted by your girlfriends. Of all the things you could be in the world, you find yourself an unassuming tree. Sturdy and dependable, sure. You serve your purpose. But you don’t captivate onlookers with blooming petals like flowers do. Instead, you take pride in your intricately branched personality, valuing it as your true strength that often goes overlooked.

Even so, it feels as though your traits fail to enchant others regardless; nobody seems willing. You go unnoticed, and you’ve come to terms with that.

Beautiful wildflowers get plucked from the ground and carried away to be cherished. Meanwhile, you simply exist, rooted in no man’s land, devoid of admirers. You may stand tall, but you’re easily overshadowed by what other women have to offer.

Perhaps this is why you like working at the flower shop. It’s somewhat cathartic to witness the delicate petals fall from time to time. It brings you a strange sense of satisfaction to hack away at their stems. The best part, though? While it’s a little twisted, you know that those flowers that dazzle in their pristine state are destined to wilt. They’ll shrivel and brown.

Whilst among your shared group of friends in public, you’ve witnessed Eddie getting nudged by one of the guys to direct his attention to a smoke show walking by. You watched as they bit their knuckles and exaggeratedly gawked. You don’t compare, it’s not even apples to oranges. It’s like… apples to rocks. A delicious, shiny fruit compared to you, mere clunky chunks of earth.

If life were an album, you’re the track that everyone skips within seconds of hearing the intro. Except for those rare moments when someone half-listens by accident and they resonate with you—that’s how you and Eddie became friends. He’d stumbled upon his new favorite song, one worth revisiting. What he sees in you is what everyone else overlooks.

Eddie is the only man on the face of the earth who treats you like you’re worth being around. Only an oddball would prefer to spend time lounging beneath the shade of a crooked tree instead of homing a rose in a crystal vase. That’s one thing you love about your best friend; he doesn’t make you feel like you fade into the background.

All fairytale cliché bullshit included, you want to be sought out in a crowd. You want to light up the room for someone. Much to your dismay, that can happen platonically too, and it has in this case.

If Eddie only knew how much the little moments matter to you—the ones where he makes you feel prioritized and valued. You know you’re not anything close to special or remarkable, but he always made you second guess that thought.

Obviously, you hadn’t meant to fall for him. It was kind of like catching a cold; one day, there was a tickle in the back of your throat that you didn’t usually feel. Unsuspecting, the days went on, and that sensation only worsened. You started to panic a little but ultimately continued to deny your worst thoughts.

Before you knew it, you were bedridden, bitten by the love bug. You didn’t go down without a fight. You thought that you could be strong and deny it access to your heart, but it had already invaded. So, all you could do was wait it out.

You tried to distance yourself, hoping to recover and act like nothing ever changed inside of you. But Eddie didn’t let you get too far away.

It wasn’t love at first sight, rather, a creeping plague. There was no swooning and giggling, no struggling to keep your hands to yourself. The change was undetectable. You were a frog in boiling water, unaware of the gradually rising temperature until it was far too late.

It wasn’t until your chest started to ache every time you said goodbye at the end of spending time together that you realized you were in too deep. You genuinely debated going to the doctor to get the pang checked out, but luckily you didn’t. Otherwise, you’d have wasted a good chunk of money to find out that you’re a lovesick idiot.

Unfortunately, this is an illness you’ve been stuck with since, and you’ve at least learned how to distract yourself from it. But when you fail to do so, your imagination wanders. Naturally, you’ve wondered if pressing a mere kiss to his cheek would burn everything to the ground.

The forbidden territory beckons, tempting you to envision breaking those unspoken agreed-upon rules that forbid things like hand-holding and cuddling. The two of you uphold mutual respect, adhering to the expectations of friendship. Both of you reserve that level of touch for expressions of romantic affection. Actions such as those have no place in a true friendship.

That’s the most confusing part of this for you. How did you manage to catch such strong feelings for him when you’ve not crossed any lines? Sure, he’s a tactile person; maybe that has something to do with it. Eddie makes physical contact with those he trusts, but it’s not like he’s hanging off of you at any given moment. You receive the same treatment as the others in his inner circle: a hand on the shoulder, a pat on the back, and a brief gripping of the forearm to get your attention.

You’re not supposed to want the touches to be more frequent, much less of a different nature. The line has to be drawn somewhere, and it’s been plainly drawn in the sand. You understand and accept that. But why, of all lines in the world, does it have to be this one that you want to cross so badly?

Most of your days aren’t all that miserable. But there are those days that are more difficult than the rest, though it’s not his fault. Last weekend, the two of you were at a mall, and some chick waved at him flirtily. He returned it immediately, though playfully enough that it was almost mocking. He was fucking around and had no intention of entertaining the idea of approaching her. Regardless, it was humbling for you, to say the least.

In that moment, the world reminded you that there’s a reason you walk at his side at a respectable distance, not tucked under his arm. If anything, it’s for the best. There’s a sense of liberation in admiring him without the burden of articulating your feelings. There’s no pressure to meet a girlfriend quota or live up to a higher standard. What Eddie expects of you now is what you’re capable of, and clearly, all that you’re good for. You’re good for filling the void, but apparently not so much anymore.

You’re not lustrous and aching to jump his bones, and you’re certainly not desperate enough to kiss him on a whim by not allowing yourself to overthink it. But perhaps you are just desperate enough that a man simply paying your emotions, interests, and existence of any mind can shackle you to him. That has to be what’s done you in; Eddie gives a shit about you.

In reality, there’s more to it than that. Eddie is selective about who and what he lets in. He doesn’t care for conformity and lack of individuality. The idea of blending in with the majority of society repulses him. You find the flawed aspects of the Munson doctrine fascinating and raw. He’s not perfect and Eddie doesn’t care what others think of him, to a degree.

Not unlike you, he’s complex. Eddie is anti-establishment but still prefers a bit of structure over chaos in his day-to-day life. He’s independent and cynical as hell, but he’s also appreciative of his support systems and isn’t ashamed to rely on them. He’s not much of a rule breaker nor is he rebellious, but he’ll happily stir up a little trouble in good fun if given the opportunity.

Eddie is a hypocrite in some ways and a walking contradiction in others. You love that he’s unapologetic about being that way. He owns it for the most part, and you admire that.

His presence overstays its welcome in your thoughts. You’ve often yearned for him to call you in the dead of night, admitting that he can’t sleep without the sound of your voice. Many times, you’ve fought the urge to do that. He owes you sleep, countless nights of it. It’s a debt that will never be repaid, an outstanding balance.

Despite the attempts at trying to talk yourself out of it, you still can’t bring yourself to stop loving him. Even as he’s actively pursuing someone else, you’re unable to shake this. You could be paralyzed from head to toe, and you’d still feel the love you have for him in your bones.

Once Eddie is officially with someone, he won’t have much time or energy left for you. The anticipation of being thrown aside for something new and far prettier has shattered your heart before any changes have occurred. Yet, any fragment of his presence surpasses total absence. The greed isn’t worth it, and you know you should be grateful for getting any piece of him at all.

The phrase fizzles on the tip of your tongue like a smoldering ember, threatening to sear through the muscle… I’m happy for you.

You should say it, but you can’t. Because if you did, that would be a blatant lie. It’s not even possessiveness that has you so bitter, it’s envy. You wish you were in her place.

“There,” you adjust the knot with a delicate tug, ensuring its tightness before letting the material slip through your fingers. Unable to meet his appreciative gaze, you offer a sad smile and take a half-step backward.

Your sigh, cleverly concealed as a deep breath, escapes as you settle back into your chair with a plop. “So, um,” you begin, picking at your cuticles absentmindedly. “Where are you taking her? Somewhere fancy?”

“Nah,” Eddie meticulously revamps his curls one final time in the mirror, wanting them to fall just right. Then, with great care, he tames his bangs to lay perfectly in place. “She’s gonna come over here. I thought it’d be more intimate. Besides, I can’t exactly swing a reservation right now. I’ve been tight on cash this week.”

Your fingers come to a halt, the stinging sensation apparent. Looking over at him, your eyes meet his in the reflection. “Ya big dummy, you shouldn’t have bought me lunch when that money could’ve gone toward buying her a nice dinner.”

“Don’t start with that shit,” Eddie warns as he digs through his dresser in search of pants to wear. “I’m happy to do that for you,” He adds, pulling a pair of dark jeans from the bottom drawer.

“It really did make my day, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Having donned his pants, he nears his desk where his black grommet belt lies on the floor. Eddie threads his belt through the loops of his jeans, the buckle jingling before he secures it in place. “I felt better knowing you were taken care of.”

It’s only now occurring to you what he’s implied, and you think how absurd it is for him to host a dinner when he’s culinarily challenged. “Wait, since when do you cook?”

“Oh, I don’t. But you do.”

“Hardly,” you scoff, downplaying your abilities. Placing your magazine back in your lap, you flip the page despite not having read it. Unexpectedly, you feel the urge to quell his enthusiasm, to set him up for failure by trying to poke holes in his plan. “I mean, food is one thing, but atmosphere is another. Aren’t the guys going to be here?”

Eddie moves the clutter on his desk around in a quest to find something. “I kicked them out for the night.”

Like a spear plunged into your chest, you swallow hard. Not only is he having a girl over for dinner, but he’s gone out of his way to guarantee privacy because he’s hoping to get lucky too. More than likely right there, on that very bed, feet away from you. The cramped twin-sized mattress, where they’ll inevitably be body to body.

He turns to you after locating what he was searching for, fastening the slightly fancier watch around his wrist; it only supersedes his casio due to it being analog, as opposed to digital. “I’ve been wanting to try that dish you keep raving about. You can teach me how to make it. Two birds, one stone.”

“It’s not difficult, you could handle the recipe,” You shrug away the opportunity to cook with him because the domesticity of it would more than likely kill you.

“I wanna do it together,” his voice softens, genuinely asking as nicely as he’s capable. “Please.”

“Sure, yeah,” you maintain your downcast gaze and slump back in the chair, wishing for a black hole to open and swallow you up. “What if she doesn’t like it, or what if you don’t?”

“If you like it then it has to be good.”

Eddie’s seemingly endless compliments cause no sense of flattery. Instead, you’re consumed with persisting nausea as you envision a stunning girl seated across from him while they share laughter and partake in unspeakable activities in this very room.

Abruptly, a wave of heat washes over you, causing the soles of your feet and your palms to grow clammy. The scent of newly sprayed Old Spice floods the room and you’re overwhelmed by it, struggling to draw a breath. “I’ll be right back,” You all but choke on your words, swiftly rising to your feet and hastily leaving. Eddie watches curiously as you do.

In the living room, you push the heavy sliding door aside, stepping out onto the balcony to catch your breath. You inhale as deep as physically possible, and the stirring evening breeze cools the hot tears gathered along your lash line. Cars pass by, and you distract yourself by watching a person leisurely walking their dog. You do everything in your power to divert your thoughts away from him and the impending date.

A few minutes later, Eddie emerges from his room and slides open the door to the balcony, poking his head out to check on you. “Y’ready to go?” The shift in your energy is immediately evident to him, though he can’t quite pinpoint what’s amiss. He figures you’ve had a long day and you’re tired from your shift. Maybe you’re a little hangry, too.

With your arms folded on the balcony rail, you continue to look out into the neighborhood. “Go where?” 

“The store, duh. We’ve gotta get ingredients, do we not?” He says to the back of your head.

You nod meekly before turning to face him. “Right. Yeah, I’m ready.”

Eddie flashes a warm smile before sliding the door open wide enough for you to pass through. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand then, hot stuff. We’re losing daylight,” He says, striding toward the front door.

Arguably, you’re not losing daylight fast enough. You wish the sun would fall from the sky. That way, it would always be dark and you could hide in the shadows forever. You follow him inside and slide the closed with a subdued thud.

His car keys drag and jingle while he swipes them off of the counter. Once he reaches the entryway, Eddie drops the keys on the floor beside him as he kneels to put on his sneakers. A few seconds later, you’ve joined him to do the same. Eddie glances at you as he feels the evening breeze that slipped in finally reaching this side of the room. “It’s a little chilly out, wanna borrow a hoodie or something?”

Quickly tying your shoes to avoid prolonged eye contact, you get to your feet, hugging yourself as you do. “No, I’ll be fine.”

Eddie snorts and stands, his shoes now tied as well. “I’m getting you one,” He insists and heads to his room, gesturing for you to follow.

“I said I’ll be fine without one,” You opt not to follow, instead calling out to him to compensate for the distance and his half-open door.

“Shut up, I’m getting you one and you’re gonna wear it ‘cause I said so,” his tone drips with feigned amusement at your stubbornness. “Come in here.”

As you step into the room, Eddie offers you the hoodie, watching as you just stare at it. “Sweetheart, put it on. You’re gonna freeze to death if you don’t. Then, I’ll have no choice but to cancel my super hot date because I’ll be too busy defrosting my ice sculpture of a best friend with a blow drier. You want me to blow you all night? I know you-”

“Okay, okay! I’ll put the damn thing on,” you say, begrudgingly taking it from him. “Happy?”

“Try elated,” Eddie smiles from ear to ear and winks at you, content that you’re allowing him to do what he deems best for you, knowing you’re too stubborn to do so for yourself. He’s got your back, always. Even if it means enduring a bit of attitude in the process. Eddie likes that about you, he always has. With a final glance, he leaves the room, flicking off the light switch.

Left standing in the dark bedroom, you blindly navigate the article of clothing to locate the opening. However, as soon as you go to put it on, it occurs to you that this hoodie is not fresh out of the wash.

The distant floral scent left behind by dryer sheets mingles with his natural aroma, enveloping you as you pull the sweatshirt over your head. He grabbed whatever was at hand, inadvertently submerging you back into the very sensory experience you fled from. The spicy notes from his cologne turn you into a human lava lamp, effectively melting you on the inside.

The mingling of Old Spice, tobacco smoke, his unique essence, and a hint of spring meadow flood your mind. You consider the idea of keeping the hoodie. You could tell him that you forgot to return it, and he’ll forget about it. Eddie can afford to lose one hoodie, he’d survive.

“Let’s go!” He barks, impatience peaking as nerves gnaw at him with each passing minute bringing him closer to the dinner.

Exiting his bedroom, you find Eddie stationed at the front door, propping it open with his foot. Once within his view, you extend your arms and twist your expression to emphasize your annoyed compliance.

“One last thing,” Eddie withdraws his foot, causing the door to slam shut, its latch clanging twice against the wood from the force. He reaches out and pulls the hood up, adjusting it to cover most of your head. “There.”

You stick your tongue out at him, your grin eliciting one from him in return. “Alright, let’s-” He begins, but instead of turning, he fakes you out and grabs both drawstrings. Eddie tugs them, causing the hood to cinch tightly around your face.

“You’re an ass,” You whine.

“Yeah, well,” Eddie turns around to leave this time and holds the front door open for you. “You’re stuck with me.”

With a narrowed glare, you fix the hood and your hair on your way out of the apartment. Eddie is close behind, closing the door and locking it. You take the opportunity to collect yourself and adopt a supportive, cheerful demeanor.

These are gonna be the longest two hours of your life.

You can’t fucking believe it. You’re preparing a meal for another woman, and doing so willingly. You tried to guide him through the prep process, but he grew frustrated. Now, he’s on dish duty, conquering the mountain of dirty dishes piled up on the counter. 

She may be getting a delicious and intimate dinner, but at least you get moments like these. But soon enough, she’ll have them too. If everything goes to plan, the memories of these moments will be all you have left of Eddie. As you lose yourself in the sound of his voice, the ramblings about a sale he made at work eventually circle back to the topic of his evening.

As he excitedly goes on, his voice carries a boyish enthusiasm. Unseen by you, Eddie bounces on the balls of his feet while standing at the sink. Ten minutes seem to fly by unnoticed as you both focus on your tasks.

After taking the food out of the oven, his demeanor flips like a switch. “Oh, it’s time for me to leave apparently,” you acknowledge, barely having the chance to take off the oven mitt all the way before he’s practically pushing you out of the apartment. “Be sure to heat it up at 375 degrees,” You suggest as you struggle to put on your shoes fast enough.

“Sure thing,” Eddie confirms, “I’ll let you know how it goes!”

“Looking forward to it,” You lie. Eddie waves you off before closing the front door. Left standing alone in the eerily quiet hallway, you feel foolish.

Finally arriving home, you crawl onto your bed. The weight of reality crashes down upon you, and you physically collapse under the weight of your emotions. The pain in your chest burns up the back of your throat as you sob. This was a harsh wake-up call, but it’s what you needed to finally confront yourself.

It’s better this way. Not having to reject you outright or politely turn you down, Eddie doesn’t have to hurt simply because you are. This is best because Eddie doesn’t have to feel guilty or pity you. Just as you’ve loved him in silence, you can grieve the loss of him in it too.

Ten minutes pass and just as you’re starting to drift asleep from exhaustion, your telephone rings. The ringing in the kitchen pulls you from your room. You drag your feet on the way there, clearing your throat and taking a deep breath before answering the phone.

“Hey, uh,” Eddie sounds panicked, “Can you come back over? I forgot the most important fucking thing and-”

You cut him off, “Relax, I’ll be there in twelve,” Abruptly ending the call without another word, you rub your sore eyes, blow your stuffy nose, and splash your face with warm water. The last thing he needs is for his night to be ruined because he notices how hard you’ve been crying. If your feelings get in the way of him having a good time with the girl he’s head over heels for, then you don’t deserve his friendship.

Entering the building and letting yourself back into his apartment, you’re caught off guard by how different the space looks. He worked his butt off to tidy the living room and make certain that everything is presentable. Besides being notably neater, you also notice the faint smell of air freshener.

The apartment is blanketed in darkness, illuminated only by the flickering flames of candles and the light from the table lamp in the living room. Hushed music emanates from the record player in his room. It’s a genre you wouldn’t have expected him to own, because of how slow and romantic it sounds. You wonder whether he bought it specifically for this occasion.

Upon hearing the front door creak open, Eddie halts his pacing in the living room. “Thank god, you’re here.”

You teeter on the heels of your feet, feeling out of place in the carefully arranged setting that isn’t meant for you. “I really shouldn’t be. It’s quarter to seven, she’ll show up any minute now.”

Eddie makes his way over to you, rounding the dinner table and draping his arm along the back of the dining chair farthest from where you stand. “No, no. Don’t worry about that, she’s already here.”

Your eyes flit towards the bathroom, expecting to see a sliver of light escaping from beneath the door, yet the hallway is pitch black. There’s no dolled-up gal standing in his room either. You look back at him with a furrowed brow, confusion etched on your face. “Where, exactly?”

He can’t think of a time he’s ever had to remind himself how to breathe correctly. Eddie holds his hand out to you, his anxiety mounting. With hesitation, you extend your hand and place it in his. He wraps his trembling fingers around yours.

Rarely have you been in this position, and in those instances, it was never an act with deeper meaning. It’s only ever happened in urgent moments, like darting across a bustling street to avoid being separated—a mere safety measure.

Eddie’s attention fixates on your hands, willing them to respond to his touch. Then he notices your puffy, reddened eyes. “What’s the matter?” He asks, instinctively squeezing your joined hands.

“It’s stupid,” You pull away from him, retracting your hand to wipe away the smeared mascara beneath your eyes.

Rather than forcibly turning you to face him, Eddie gracefully moves around to stand in front of you once more. “I bet it’s not,” he says softly, his compassionate expression tinged with concern. He reaches for both of your hands this time, praying you can’t feel his pounding pulse through the contact.

Eddie delicately lifts your hands and peppers velvety kisses across the tops of your knuckles. The warmth of your skin against his lips sends a shiver shooting through his core, goosebumps rising across his body.

You emit a wet giggle from the shock, uncertainty, and embarrassment bubbling within you. “What the hell are you doing?”

He chuckles a little too, his eyes sparkling as they reflect the dancing flames behind you. “What’s it look like? This is all for you,” Eddie presses one more featherlight kiss to your hands before lowering them, but he doesn’t let go, keeping them securely in his own. “It’s our first date.”

You’re the prettiest little package of unusual. From the moment he first heard your song, he couldn’t shake you. Eddie couldn’t get your tune out of his system, but it’s not like he wanted to. Never before had anyone shown him such unconditional care; no one had ever gone out of their way to get to know him like you did. You’re the safest thing he’s ever known, but you’re also the scariest, in the best ways possible.

The thought of confessing how you make him complete, unlike anything he’s ever experienced, is nothing short of terrifying. Yet, the fear of not seizing the opportunity to love you outweighs the fear of rejection. There’s no turning back now.

Your eyes wander to the table, taking in the details: the thoughtfully arranged mismatched plates and silverware, the glasses filled with expensive wine. At the end of the kitchen island sits a teddy bear beside a bouquet. In addition to the flower petals, there are red, white, and pink balloons scattered across the floor.

You turn away before he can see your face contort, biting your lip harshly to suppress the sob rising in your throat. It’s all useless, though. A broken cry escapes your lips.

Eddie’s stomach lurches and pressure builds behind his own eyes. The change he just caused is palpable, the damage has been done. He releases both of your hands and plants his on the sides of his head, stepping away. “Shit, shit, shit. I’m such a fucking idiot. I read this all wrong, I thought-”

“You’re not and you didn’t,” you choke out. “They’re happy tears now.”

His frantic expression mellows out, his arms drop to his sides, and the tension in his body gradually dissipates. “Happy tears?”

You respond with a soft hum and nod, a grin forming as you admire the table setting and gifts once more before looking back at Eddie.

“Oh,” he chirps, wearing a cheek-splitting smile as he brings his palms to your face. He wipes away your fallen tears with his thumbs. Eddie studies your expression intently. “I didn’t mean to make you cry sad ones.”

“It’s not your fault,” You close your eyes, relishing the sensation of his fingers calmingly swiping along the apples of your cheeks.

“It is and I’m sorry,” Eddie inches closer, his toes now touching yours. “I wanted it to be a surprise ‘cause I thought spontaneity would make it more memorable.”

You look at him questioningly. “It’s not exactly spontaneous when you had me cook my own dinner.”

“Fair enough. You’ve got me there,” Eddie thought it was a foolproof plan. If you made the food, there was no chance that you’d hate it. “I went about this all wrong, huh? I should scrap the whole thing and start from scratch,” He becomes distracted, his train of thought shifting to how he’s going to clean this up and figure out a different approach.

“Don’t do that. Just ask me,” you grasp his forearm to regain his attention. “Ask me out and maybe I'll say yes.”

“Maybe?” Eddie scoffs airily, unsure if you’re teasing or genuinely undecided. He clears his throat and theatrically composes himself, gesturing with a downward motion of his hand in front of his face. “Okay, uh, would you like to have dinner with me?”

“No.”

Eddie’s mouth falls open.

“I’m fucking with you,” You smile devilishly and wrap your arms around his middle.

Finally, he can hug you the way he’s always wanted. Eddie brings you in close and tight, his arms encircling your head. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” He murmurs into your hair, inhaling deeply to indulge in every aspect of you he can.

“A little,” You laugh. You remain in each other’s embrace for a moment longer before easing apart, though still connected by your pairs of lassoed arms.

Eddie’s laughter melds with yours, the relief in his tone evident. “Now that the cat's outta the bag, I can finally tell you that I absolutely love when you’re a crybaby.”

You pull a comical expression, raising your eyebrows and widening your eyes. “What, why?” You take in the scattering of freckles across his T-zone while he responds.

“Honest to god, it’s mesmerizing to watch you experience things so intensely. It’s fucking beautiful,” With nothing but adoration in his eyes, Eddie strokes your hair, relishing the way it feels against his skin. “Can I call you my crybaby?”

“No, you cannot!” You swat at his chest and attempt to push him away, but he laughs smugly and brings you back in close. Your hands find purchase on his biceps, surrendering to him entirely. Locked in each other’s gaze, time seems to crawl.

Eddie’s hands, having made their way down to caress your hips, settle on the small of your back. “How about just baby?” he nudges the tip of his nose against yours, his voice taking on an almost sultry tone. “You like the way that sounds?”

All you can do is nod dumbly, watching his eyes fall to your lips.

Eddie mumbles, “Me too,” His hands flex where they lay, tugging you slightly so that your bodies are flush and you have no choice but to lean against him. “Would it be okay if I kissed you?” Eddie licks his lips, his eyes finding yours again, the chocolate pools of his irises swirling.

You nod, slide your hands up his shoulders, and wrap them around his neck. The air was stolen from your lungs, rendering your voice a ghost. Eddie leans in and his lips hover over yours, your eyes fluttering closed in time with his. Then, you feel the gentle pressure of his lips against your own.

For a few moments, you’re out of sync, a mere beat behind due to nerves. But after taking a brief breath, you find each other without trouble. When you slot your lip between his, it’s as though there’s a sunrise in his veins; a new dawn spreads through his body. You tug a fistful of curls at the nape of his neck, your lips clicking wetly with one another, chests heaving in unison.

When the two of you finally have to part to breathe, Eddie whispers, “Holy shit.”

“You can say that again,” You exhale, releasing the grip you have on his hair and soothingly scratching the area with your nails.

“I mean I could,” Eddie borderline purrs, tightening his arms around your waist. “But I’d much rather keep kissing you.”

“Hard to argue with that,” you smile against his lips and give him a quick peck, which he happily returns. Then, your mind begins to wander. “You got me flowers?”

He can’t discern if there’s a trace of disdain or disbelief in your tone. Eddie knows that you consider flowers cliché and overrated; after all, you deal with them all day. But just because you see them that way doesn’t mean he does.

Eddie pulls away slightly to get a good look at you, “Yeah, of course I got flowers for my flower. How could I not?”

Truthfully, he’s bummed about not being able to find a bouquet as exceptional as you. You’re unlike anything from this world, resembling something from his cherished sci-fi novels. You’re resilient, showing up any old rose or daisy. You unfurled your petals solely for Eddie and allowed him to see you bloom. Nothing on earth compares to you. So, a regular bouquet would have to do.

You comment with a slightly teasing tone, “I had no idea you’re a hopeless romantic.”

“Too much?” Eddie bites his lower lip, afraid that you’re offended.

“No, not too much,” you remove your one hand from his hair and rest it on his chest, drawing mindless shapes while you avoid eye contact. “Far more than I deserve though,” You’re slightly taken aback when Eddie cups your face without hesitation, forcing you to look at him. Despite his assertiveness, his touch is tender.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie’s eyes carry an intensity you’ve never seen, brimming with affection and sincerity. “You deserve everything good that this world has to offer. I can’t give you that, but I can give you all of me. That much I can promise.”

Reblogs are greatly encouraged and appreciated! ♡

★My Masterlist

tags:@nj01@tlclick73

[heartfullofleeches]

augh,,, fletcher and his foxboy malewife have given me brain worms, i love both of them so much,,,, , how does the town adjust to fletcher's new spouse?

The town is cautious of outsiders, even moreso of predator hybrids. The only way they're accepted/allowed is if they pull their own weight - or if they're married/close to to a trustworthy person in the town who can vouch for them. Fletcher is one of most valued members of the community considering it's his farm that keeps majority of them fed so when he tell the whole story to friends and family about how his wife was just a poor, starving fox who needed a helping hand and a loving heart they welcome Fox Reader.

There are still those who despise Fox Reader reader for their thieving ways, but they never dare to vocalize their issues. Both because Fletcher is the farmer, and because he can get pretty scary when he's upset. The sheriff is the only one who's allowed to run his mouth when Fetch is around because the sheriff raised him and is known for his "tough love."

Fletcher doesn't want his wife to lift a fiber around the house, but he does teach Fox boy a few dessert recipes he knows are a hit around town and has them past the treats to neighbors to further thin out any bad blood.

-

"One carrot pudding, please."

Picking up one of the readily made serving cups from your tray, you grab next a plastic spoon and a napkin - passing it all off to the hare before you. "One carrot pudding! Sorry about trampling your flowers that one time...."

Beats of sweat pour down your face - tenderly dabbed away by your attentive husband and that old rag he carries around in his pocket. "Good boy.. We're making wonderful progress. Can ya believe my sweetheart did all this baking by themselves?"

His claims had some merit. The stray glares within the crowd liquified the second those still wary of you had a bite of the peace offerings you had whipped up. It was hard to be afraid you with such a large rabbit keeping a close eye on you, but they still had their suspicions. If this keeps up, you'll be a welcomed member of the community in no time.

"Mm... I'll say - might want to keep an eye on that wife of yours. I could use someone around my place who can baking as good as you, Fetch."

A joke, clearly - but someone doesn't seem to get the memo.

Your husband's eyes narrow, a protective arm flying around your shoulders. 'Get the fuck off our property before I have you carried out in a body bag."

[reasonsforhope]

"For generations, the people of Erakor village in the Pacific nation of Vanuatu would pass their time swimming in the local lagoon. Ken Andrew, a local chief, remembers diving in its depths when he was a child, chasing the fish that spawned in its turquoise waters.

That was decades ago. Now 52, Andrew has noticed a more pernicious entity invading the lagoon: plastic.

“The plastic would form a small island inside the lagoon, it was so thick,” Andrew says. “We used fishing nets to pull some of the trash out, but we didn’t know how to get rid of it all. We couldn’t conquer it, there was just too much.”

While residents were struggling to empty Vanuatu’s waters of plastic, the country’s politicians were considering another solution. Could they stop the waste directly at the source?

Small island nations like Vanuatu face a series of unique challenges when it comes to plastic pollution. Many rely on imported goods to sustain their populations, and receive tonnes of plastic packaging every day as a result. Ocean currents pull plastic waste from around the world into Pacific waters, which eventually end up on the shores of its islands.

Few Pacific island governments have adequate recycling or waste management facilities on their narrow strips of land, so rubbish is often burned or left to wash up in rivers or lagoons like the one in Erakor. It is estimated that Pacific countries generate 1kg of waste per person a day, 40% higher than the global average.

In an attempt to drastically limit the amount of waste generated in Vanuatu, in 2018 the government became one of the first in the world to outlaw the sale and distribution of certain single-use plastics – including a world-first ban on plastic straws.

In the six years since, the results have been impressive. Thin, plastic shopping bags are hardly ever seen, with most shoppers carrying reusable bags at their local market or grocery store. At festivals and outdoor events, food is more often served wrapped in banana leaves instead of polystyrene takeaway boxes. Now-banned items used to make up 35% of Vanuatu’s waste, but now make up less than 2%.

Pictured: Pandanus leaves are now used instead of plastic bags at markets, but supply of the crop can be affected by storms and cyclones, vendors say.

The plastic islands that once choked Erakor lagoon are also shrinking.

“Since they started the ban, you can see the lagoon has become cleaner,” says Andrew.

It is a massive victory for a small island nation made up of just over 300,000 people across 83 islands...

In 2020, a second phase of the policy added seven more items to the list of forbidden plastics, which now covers cutlery, single-use plates and artificial flowers.

“It’s quite difficult to enforce because of the very low capacity of the department of environment,” Regenvanu says. “So we try to work with the municipal authorities and customs and other people as well.”

Compromises had to be made, though. Fishers are still allowed to use plastic to wrap and transport their produce. Plastic bottles are also permitted, even though they often litter coastlines and rivers.

Secondary industries have now developed to provide sustainable alternatives to the banned items. On the island of Pentecost, communities have started replacing plastic planter pots with biodegradable ones made from native pandanus leaves. Mama’s Laef, a social enterprise that began selling fabric sanitary napkins before the ban, has since expanded its range to reusable nappies and bags.

“We came up with these ideas to reduce the amount of plastic in Vanuatu,” says the owner Jack Kalsrap. “We’re a small island state, so we know that pollution can really overwhelm us more than in other, bigger countries.” ...

Willy Sylverio, a coordinator of the Erakor Bridge Youth Association, is trying to find ways to recycle the litter his team regularly dredges up from the lagoon.

“The majority of the plastic waste now comes from noodle packaging or rice packaging, or biscuit packets,” Sylverio says. He hopes the plastic ban will one day include all packaging that covers imported goods. “Banning all plastic is a great idea, because it blocks the main road through which our environment is polluted.”

The Vanuatu government plans to expand the plastic ban to include disposable nappies, and says it will also introduce a plastic bottle deposit scheme this year to help recycle the remaining plastic waste in the country."

-via The Guardian, June 20, 2024

[dontexpectmuch]

Hey, Love! If you are still taking requests, I have one! Something along the lines of building one of those Lego bouqets with Jude and maybe having customized Lego characters that both carry around of each other. Such a fan of your works BTW ❤️❤️

side note: i just recently got a lego bouquet gifted for my bday! they are so pretty 🥹

—

“do we need anything else?”

you shake your head as an answer, already eagerly opening the lego box placed in front of you.

jude settled down next to you, eating some of the popcorn from the bowl, while also feeding you a few pieces, his eyes never leaving your excited face. he couldn’t pinpoint what exactly made him feel so good right now as he was looking at you, but that expression on your face, the sparkle in your eyes and your smile that almost reaches your ears, are all reasons he is grateful for taking jobe with him to the mall a few hour ago.

“why don’t you get those lego flowers? everyone loves them.” jobes points to the lego section of the store with his chin, his hands inside his pockets.

“to do what? don’t you think it’s childish?” jude questions, eyebrows drawn together as his body fully turns into the direction of where the section is located.

“i guess it would be a nice gift for an artist, eh? since they already put so mich time into self-made stuff and shit.” jobe explains his thoughts, though he doesn’t really go into it any further, stepping closer to another section in the opposite direction.

without any further ado, jude moves closer to the lego flowers, your face being the only picture in his mind.

“okay, would you like to read the instructions? or should i do it?” your voice cuts him out of his thoughts, making him look back at your face that continues to have a smile on it.

jude takes the instruction papers out of your hand, leaning back on the other. his eyes skim through it as he hums knowingly.

“i guess i’ll read them, you put the pieces together.”

“sure.”

turning back to the different plastic bags in front of your, jude couldn’t help but move closer to you, pressing a kiss on your head. the papers are long forgotten as he sneaks his arm around your shoulder, pulling your body into his.

“should we play with each other first? get a better feeling?” he pushes the blanket off his lap, his lips trailing down your check to your neck.

you sigh, leaning into his touch and moving your head to the side, giving him more access to your neck, “mh, don’t know, jude. maybe finish this first?”

nodding, he pulls away, though the scent of his aftershave still surrounding you.

you put the blanket over your legs, starting to read the first instructions to build your flowers. silence takes a comfortable place in the living room, granting you two a moment to relax and enjoy the presence of one another. scented candles find their way to your nose, dimmed lights and the platter of the rain outside create a small safe haven, only for you to have.

even if you are really happy about the present your boyfriend has given you and you want to focus on it, you can’t help but feel your eyes wander to his direction.

the feeling of adoration settles in your chest, caused by the concentrated look on judes face. his tongue pokes out from his lips, his nostrils are flared, but he looked oh-so good under the dimmed lights, ethereal almost.

“do i have something on my face?” jude looks up from his hands that hold the first stem of the flowers, his eyes wide in question.

smiling, you shake your head, “no, just admired my pretty boyfriend.”

laughing, jude bumps his shoulder against yours, “nah, babe. it’s your prettiness reflecting on me.”

his words make you smile, bumping your shoulder against his this time, “stop being so romantic, it’s making me feel mushy inside, completely ruining my dark and mysterious vibe.”

“i can ruin even more if you’d let me, love.”

you throw your head back, laughing at his attempt, “flowers first, pretty boy.”

“as you wish, captain.”

[aphrogeneias]

7) My ex/family kicked me out into the rain. I have nobody else to call but you.  

Maybe something like post high school and Eddie is your BFF and your living situation suddenly turns bad (abusive family, significant other broke up with you suddenly). He jumps at the chance to steal you away for himself comfort you.

best friend!eddie munson x fem!reader + my ex/family kicked me out into the rain. i have nobody else to call but you.

warnings: hurt/comfort. mentions of a sudden/tough break up.

Eddie is the first person you think of as you’re staring at the thick raindrops hitting the steps of your apartment building, and the duffel bag at your feet, which now held the few belongings you could gather before being pushed out of your apartment.

His apartment — your ex’s — now. You guess you need to get used to calling it that.

You're not thinking about him, though. Your best friend is all you can think of as you walk through the streets of downtown Hawkins, letting the rain soak you through your old hoodie, carrying your bag on tired arms.

You think of his warm hugs, of his narrow waist squeezed between your arms as his are crushing you to his chest. You think of cold afternoons on his couch, each of you with one of Wayne’s mugs warming your hands, sitting in comfortable silence while the rain hit the metallic surface of their trailer. Of his scent, of the soft fabric of his band t-shirts, of ends of his hair tickling your skin.

You think of home.

It's the only thing that gives you enough strength to make your way to the auto shop, where you hoped to find him. With your luck, it would probably be his lunch time, or a day off. Tears stung in your eyes and the cold rose from your soaked feet through your jeans and your shirt, cold from the inside out, all over.

The older lady, who's name is a flower you can't remember, behind the front desk counter smiles at you. You hope she can't see how your lips wobble, you'd sure have to blame it on the cold. She gives you barely no time to state the reason of your visit, ushering you to sit, “Do you want some coffee, dear? You sure need to warm up! Here, I'll get him for you.”

A streaming mug is cradled between your hands in an instant. Her kindness brings more tears to your eyes, but you can't let them fall, not yet. From a distance, you hear her call him over. “Eddie, dear, your girlfriend is here!”

Neither of you have ever corrected her, or any of the men who work with him. To them, you were his girl. It felt right, even if you never said it out loud.

The plastic chair under you is cold, your skin is cold, the room is cold. The mug in your hands shakes with the force of your trembling, but the sight of Eddie entering the reception, long hair in a low bun, dirty coveralls over a long sleeve Metallica shirt he got on their last Summer tour, warms you all over.

“Sweetheart? What are you doing here?” There's no irritation in his voice, just confusion. His eyes are set on you, looking for any sign of trouble.

You don't reply, not with words. The mug you're holding is delicately placed on the chair next to you, and your wet bag is forgotten behind you as you launch yourself on him, and his arms promptly meet you halfway.

Camels, grease and motor oil. Cheap cologne, cinnamon gum. Warmth, soft and gentle. You're home.

Tears flow down your cheeks and transfer into his clothes. You're dirty now too, but you don't mind. His voice is soft when he asks again, “What's going on, baby? You're scarying me.”

The pet name is new, but the hand cradling the back of your neck isn't. It's familiar, safe. You sniffle before you can answer. Still scared and ashamed. “Can you keep holding me like this? Just for a minute.”

A soft kiss is pressed to the top of your head.

“All right. It's all right. I'll hold you for as long as you want.”

[thedevilrisen]

Boyfriend! Girlfriend!

Nova Crosby -

“Could they take any longer?” Nova muttered under breath, peering around the corner of the plane seat to see what was holding her from exiting the plane.

“It takes as long as it takes Novs.” Sidney chided, taking a long sip from his glass of Chardonnay. Flicking through a magazine as he waited to be told he can de-board the plane. “Sit back in your seat, and wait honey.”

With a huff she flopped back into the padded chair, blowing stray hair that had escaped out of her bun out of her face. She flexed her fingers as she gripped arm rests of the chair, stretching her patience wire thin.

“It’s not like I haven’t seen him or anything, it’s just been 6 months, 18 days, 4 hours and 37 minutes.” Nova retorted, swinging her leg out slightly, kicking the carpet with her foot.

Sid just watched with a smile, before leaving Pittsburgh he had spent some time talking to Ellen Hughes, who conveyed a similar impatience in her youngest son wanting desperately to skip time to see his girlfriend of seven months.

"You facetimed him twice before the flight, and texted him until you had to switch off your phone." Sidney stated, looking over at her pointedly.

"It's not the same as actually seeing him Dad!" Nova protested, looking over at him, "i just miss him, he genuinely cares about me and wants to see me too... I hope so anyway."

"Trust me Novs, he wants to see you. I know it's better in real life." Sid chuckled and grabbed her knee, giving it an affectionate rub.

She settled back in the chair and let out a deep breath, closing her eyes momentarily as she attempted to drive her nerves into the ground. Nodding to herself, she opened her eyes and looked down the isle to where it was clearing out and back over her shoulder to her father. He nodded and they both stood up, Sid grabbed their carry-on luggage from the overhead locker and followed Nova out of the plane and into the terminal.

Making their way through the airport and towards baggage claim, Sid stood and waited for their bags while Nova had her head in her phone, texting Luke to try and find out where he was standing.

"Nova!" a young voice yelled "Over here Novs!"

Sidney watched as his daughter narrowly avoided whiplash as she turned around, he watched her shoulder sag as she breathed in, almost dreamily, gaze clicking on Luke standing about forty-five feet away with a small bouquet of gerberas. The brown-eyed girl wasted no time in dropping her backpack and tearing across the slippery tiled floor toward where Luke stands. The poor boy had barely any time to react and move the flowers before he was nearly crash tackled by a young Crosby, stumbling slightly from the force that Nova came hurtling at him with he wrapped his arms around her tightly, rocking the two of them back and forth.

Placing a gentle kiss in her hair, looking up to see Sidney watching like a hawk he placed another staring him down. Daring him to say something and ruin the moment.

Pulling away, the plastic wrapping around the bunch of flowers which Luke managed to salvage from being crushed, crackled as he held out the assortment to her, a small smile gracing his lips as her expression lit up at the flowers.

"Thank you Lukey!" Nova cooed, hugging them to her chest, "Their so pretty!" Nova leaned up and pecked his cheek, slowly coming back to flat feet as her father approached with Luke's mother in tow.

"How's that kids?" Ellen asked, walking along next to Sidney who was wheeling both his and Nova's bag beside him.

Luke had Nova settled into his side, tucked under his arm. Both teenagers grinning like they had just found gold. Nova, cuddling into Luke a little further spoke up.

"Mhm," She hummed, looking up at him and bonking her head into his chest. "Boyfriend."

Luke chuckled, dropping his head to rest onto hers, affectionately bonking her too. "Girlfriend."

[bratz-kitten]

🪴 the signs as mitski lyrics 🍃🌱

aries: ‘i am a forest fire, and i am the fire and i am the forest and i am a witness watching it’ / ‘and i’ll go to work and i’ll go to sleep, and i’ll love the littler things’ – a burning hill

taurus: ‘at night on the rooftop i untie my hair, and watch from my plastic chair as my dark hair unleashes the night / the scent of flowers still in bloom from morning shower, and i say your name in hopes you’ll hear it in the stars’ – carry me out

gemini: ‘i will go jogging routinely, calmly and rhythmically run, and when i find that a knife’s sticking out of my side, i’ll pull it out without questioning why’ – fireworks

cancer: ‘i don’t know what to do without you, i don’t know where to put my hands / i’ve been trying to lay my head down, but i’m writing this at 3 a.m. / ‘i look up at the gaps of sunlight, i miss you more than anything’ – francis forever

leo: ‘i will wash your hair at night, and dry it off with care, i will see your body bare, and still i will live here’ / and while you sleep, i’ll be scared, so by the time you awake, i’ll be brave’ – i will

virgo: ‘your room was square, i once noticed from there, in your bed, as you slept, and i held my breath / everything had it’s own place, and i wondered what space would i take in the order you kept’ – square

libra: ‘if you need to be mean, be mean to me, i can take it and put it inside of me / if your hands need to break more than trinkets in your room, you can lean on my arm as you break my heart’ – i don’t smoke

scorpio: ‘i broke our belongings, they’re all on the floor, the room is now empty, nothing left to throw’ / ‘i broke what you gave me, but you kept giving more, and i’m sorry for taking, but i keep wanting more, more, more’ – humpty

sagittarius: ‘and i was so young when i behaved 25, yet now, i find i’ve grown into a tall child’ / ‘and i don’t wanna go home, let me walk to the top of the big night sky / please hurry, leave me, i can’t breathe, please don’t say you love me’ – first love/late spring

capricorn: ‘i’m all used up, pretty boy, over and over again, my nail colors are wearing off / see my hands, pretty boy, what do they tell you? ‘cause i’ve looked down on them not knowing why’ / ‘i can take a little bit more, let’s shake this poet out of the beast’ – bag of bones

aquarius: ‘oh hunter, if you didn’t want the beautiful so badly, perhaps you would have found it in your spirit singing softly / but hunter you were human, don’t forget it’ – pearl diver

pisces: ‘i cry at the start of every movie, i guess ‘cause i wish i was making things too’ / ‘i always knew the world moved on, i just didn’t know it would go without me’ – working for the knife

[the-kr8tor]

Out of Style

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 6k

Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), Hobie is mentioned taller than the reader, cw food mentions, cursing, cw spiders, tw arachnophobia, hurt/comfort, suggestive content, Fluff.

My Navigation

Thread the Needle Masterlist

CHAPTER 8 >>> CHAPTER 9

Closing the door quietly, you press your sleep deprived head on the wood, cursing your cowardice. You saw him yet you chose to ignore him.

You sit down on your cold bed, books and bag clattering on the floor. Pressing the heels of your palms to your eyes, your mind flips back to five minutes ago. How Hobie lingers on the sideline, waiting for you. From where you stood you couldn't possibly see his face. You have a hunch on what he feels though, maybe embarrassed that you saw him like that? Confused on why you ran from him? Probably. You imagine it, but one emotion you couldn't possibly wish to see: anger. Furious that you didn't let him say his peace, or annoyed that you disturbed his time with that woman.

You sigh, eyeing the package Peter gave you. Grabbing it from the carpet, opening the small paper bag, you see the spider that bit Hobie, body trapped inside a glass square casing.

You feel like that dead spider right now, the bug that bit more than it can chew, ending up hurting itself because it took a chance.

Looking at the arachnid, you spot its silhouette, circular body with eight arms protruding from the sides. You have a lightbulb moment.

Taking the leather vest you've thrifted on your own and tailored specifically for Hobie. You flip it on its back, showing the dreaded empty space. You bite your lip, striding over to your table, grabbing fabric chalk to draw the spider's outline.

Looking at it from a distance, from the spikes on the shoulder, to the various pins and patches you've placed on the leather. Some of them show your influence on the design, scattered flowers and references from your time together. A stereo that looks exactly like the one you two always brought everywhere you went, the pink notebook, a catalyst for the start of your friendship together. Even a green puppet that looks like Terry. You think it's perfect, now to paint the spider.

Excited to get started, you suddenly realize if he still wants to help you. After your dramatic exit, doubt lingers in the back of your mind. Will he even go to the show now that he's got someone? Someone better, someone who isn't so afraid of saying how they feel. Someone who's more like him.

Your heart shudders at the thought of standing alone from now on, fingers tracing over the cherry patch that you've painstakingly embroidered, peripheral glancing over the picture Yuri took of you two on the boat, it's a bit blurry, you're smiling as he carries you in his arms, he matches your expression, eyes closed in delight.

You make the choice, not wanting to cut off ties with your best mate just because you hurt yourself. Hobie doesn't know how much you like him, he's not a telepath that can read your mind.

You bravely face the truth.

Unrequited feelings bubbling to the surface, a sob breaks through, hot tears spilling over on the leather vest. Fabric chalk dissolving in your tears.

You decide, even if it kills you to do so.

—

You ran away again, mentally beating yourself up, lamenting all the things you should've done instead of running away.

You chew your bottom lip anxiously, shifting from leg to leg, playing with the frayed edges of a loose thread on the embroidered flowers that you've painstakingly stitched on your lace cami. Your eyes dart around the backstage of the fashion show, classmates running around to fix any last minute changes on their models. You on the other hand, sit by your lonesome, the plastic chair scrapes on the floor as you stand up by the umpteenth time, pacing around in your heavy platform boots that you've customized yourself. The little red butterfly wings painted on the back of the boots make it look like you're gliding around the wooden floors, chain rattling around the laces as you pace with unease.

The outfit you're wearing is a perfect partner to what was supposed to be Hobie's outfit. You worry that he won't show up, palms sweaty at the thought. But this is Hobie, he won't let you down, right? Unless he's with that woman right now then you have to accept your fate, which is you walking down that blasted runway.

Mrs. Williams peeks behind the curtain, you can briefly see the growing crowd behind her. Fuck, you internally curse biting at your nails, nail polish bitter as your tongue touches your nail.

"Five minutes till show time" Mrs. Williams roams her eyes around her frozen students and partners, eyes stopping on your form. "And only five minutes" she addresses you, your heart stops, fellow designers look at you with pity.

Your hope is dwindling.

You gulp down, lace cami hugging your torso uncomfortably, unbuttoning the sleeves of your white frilly blouse to give you some breathing room. You now regret wearing such an elaborate outfit, it was supposed to be a surprise for Hobie, wherever said man is.

Grabbing the bright red blazer draped on the back of the chair, you hug it against your chest, hand tracing the safety pins strategically placed on the back to look like wings. You calm down a bit, but not enough.

Someone taps your shoulder, hope blossoms, turning around, your hopeful smile fades, seeing your classmate Hannah looking at you apologetically.

"Sorry," she winces, knowing your predicament, bright pink hair noticeable against her darker clothing, "but can you help me with this stitch? Please, it'll only take a second, I just need you to hold this bit." she raises her partner's arm, a loose thread that has come undone in the seams sway slightly in the wind.

"Yeah, of course" you give her a polite smile.

"Thank you, y/n" she sighs, relieved. Her partner looks unbothered around the chaos.

Better be bored than not around, you thought. Maybe you shouldn't have come that day, you might've lived in ignorant bliss to what happened that fateful morning but at least your heart would still be in one piece. You miss him, even with what he did, Hobie is still your best friend after all, before you came to love him, first and foremost he's your friend.

You ignored his calls, too heartbroken to talk to him, even more so seeing him, that's why you told your RA not to let him inside your dorm, giving her the excuse that you're sick and want to be alone. With a raised eyebrow she accepted and understood, not asking any more questions. Maybe that was wrong of you to do, maybe talking to him like an adult was better. You can't blame him for finding someone else to warm his bed, you're not together, the only thing that cements his feelings for you was a very subtle confession and an almost kiss.

Your eyes start to glaze over again, lips trembling at the thought of him lying to you or worse you read the entire thing wrong. You have no idea what to make of everything, it doesn't help that he stopped trying to call days ago. You almost picked up one time, heartache taking over, you let the phone ring to what seemed to be endless.

"And done, thanks" Hannah smiles, you nod at her friendliness. "Don't worry he'll be here, maybe he's just stuck in traffic" she gives you a comforting pat on the back. "Thanks for telling about that embroidery trick by the way, it really helped"

"You're welcome" you don't acknowledge her theory. Turning around, you sit back down. Patchwork jeans made of scrap fabric from Hobie's own outfit uncomfortably scrape against your legs, feet bouncing anxiously. You want to get the show over with and rip your outfit off you. Blinking away tears at the thought of you repeating your final year just because of one (not so small) hiccup.

Watching as your classmates slowly filter out to the audience area to watch their creations walk down the runway, their partners staying behind to line up. You bravely stand up, breathing heavily. Draping the blazer on your shoulder, you make your way towards the line of models, already feeling out of place.

You hear Mrs. Williams announcing the start of the show. Tuning her out, you watch the double doors as if Hobie will miraculously appear behind it. Sniffing, you slyly try to wipe the tears that's been escaping from your eyes. Lining up at the far end, you hear the music starting, one by one they walk down the runway, loud cheers can be heard from the audience as their friends hype them up.

It was supposed to be a happy occasion for everyone, finally finishing the final year with a bang but your frown says otherwise, waiting like you're in line for the guillotine.

Wringing your hands nervously, you jump at the loud bang behind you, metal doors swinging, threatening to fall right off its hinges.

Your teary eyes widen at Hobie in all his glory, sporting the outfit you unceremoniously left on his doorstep.

The white shirt that you've painted to look like it has spray painted graffiti, barbed wire design on the collar, embroidered with silver thread. On top of it, he has a red blazer, matching yours. Numerous safety pins pinned on the lapel, sleeves rolled up to his elbow. The leather vest, the pièce de résistance sways in the gust of wind.

His leg halfway up from kicking the doors open. Ripped jeans in full display, lace peeking out from under the strategically placed rips. An asymmetrical half skirt made from red plaid fabric accentuates the outfit. To your surprise, he even added his own twist to it, wearing accessories that compliments your work. You find your own belt on his hips, belt buckle shining in the light. So that's where it went.

Hobie searches for you, chest heaving, looking like he ran a marathon just to get to the venue. His heart skips a beat when he finally spots you, lips parting in surprise at your clothes.

"Fuck me" he mumurs, glad he didn't yell the words out.

You stare at him flabbergasted, lips tugging into a smile. You don't have time to speak when Mrs. Williams announces your turn, saying Hobie's name instead of yours, like she has a sixth sense.

Hobie gives you a nod, conversing with him wordlessly, I've got this. Eyes staring intently at you as he passes through the curtains, loud roars and claps from the audience rings out. Peeking behind, you watch frozen as he walks like he owns the place, nonchalantly strutting the runway.

"Holy shit" You have no idea how someone can look a hundred times hotter than ever before. From where you're standing, you can see the giant spider you've stitched at the last minute on the back of his leather vest.

Hobie pauses for a second when he reaches the end of the runway, glaring at the photographer where everyone expected him to give a smolder. He turns around, determined to get back to your side.

You squeak when Hobie sees you peeking behind the curtains, Backing away, cherry earrings swinging wildly as you move. You stand alone in the middle of backstage, the place messy with discarded bags, scissors, threads and cloth.

Hobie ignores the cheering behind him, his eyes only on your form, face unreadable, taking long strides towards you. His heavy footfalls thump against the floor, acting like a countdown.

He moves as if a tether pulls him towards you.

Freezing in place, you have no idea what to do, whether to pull the loose thread or leave it completely. "Hobie, I–" he doesn't let you finish your sentence, crashing his lips to yours wordlessly. You hold your breath.

Teeth clashing to yours, Hobie holds your face with both hands, silver rings cold on your skin, afraid you'll disappear from his touch. His eyes tightly closed, he doesn't know whether it's adrenaline or the pressure of his affections for you, finally breaking the dam in one massive blast, pushing him to finally decide and kiss you. He lays his lips over yours, unmoving, waiting for you to reciprocate.

Your eyes are wide as saucers, hands floating right over his chest. Stomach in knots, heat rising to your cheeks. You're too surprised to kiss him back, he notices, pulling away. You see panic blooming on his face, breathing heavily against your lips.

"Fuck, I'm sorry" Hobie steps back, hurt written on his handsome face. Hands flying back to his sides.

"Shut the fuck up–" you quickly grab him by his vest's collar, pulling him with the same force he did, your lips meet his.

This time you kiss back, fervently. The thread is taut, snapping in the pressure.

His eyes widen for a second before he grabs the back of your neck, pulling you closer as humanly possible, his other hand holds yours that's gripping his vest tightly right above his hastening heart. He closes his eyes, savoring your lips. The idea of Unrequited love pops like a bubble in your mind, dissolving as he kisses you back.

Hobie's kisses match yours right to the beat, you pull him down by the scruff of his neck, legs tired from trying to reach him. He chuckles at your tenacity. The room filled with the sounds of your lips smacking against each other. The kiss is messy but steady, teeth gnashing, his lip piercing blocking you from feeling his entire lips, forcing you to tilt your head. The kiss was uncharted territory for the both of you but you're more than willing to explore it, you're sure Hobie feels the same, judging from how he moves with you in tandem, hand kneading at the soft skin of your nape.

Everything seems to click into place.

You don't want to pull away but your lungs are protesting against the lack of oxygen, Hobie feels like he could go on though. Reluctantly ending the kiss, you look at him breathlessly. Hobie has a growing grin on his kiss bitten lips, your lipgloss staining his.

Hobie swipes your lips with his thumb, cleaning the sheen he left on it, red staining his fingertip. "You alive in there?"

"You still have the gall to speak– after that?" You say through gulps of air.

He laughs deeply, pecking your lips once, twice, pausing for a second to admire your flustered face, he kisses again for the third time. He tries to stop again, this time you chase his lips before he could fully pull away.

Hobie chuckles deeply and full of endearment, you can feel his smile as you peck his lips.

Someone coughs loudly to get your attention, jumping away from his body, Hobie holds your hand firmly against him so that you don't fully leave his side. He glares at your professor, tapping her heeled foot impatiently.

"Whenever you're done, come outside and join the others we'll be announcing the top three" she raises a neat brow at you two, a rare smirk on her red lips.

The second she crosses the curtains, you give a knowing look at Hobie, laughing loudly. He lays his head on your shoulder, laughing with you.

"She caught us," you softly say in between laughs.

"And I'll do it again" he softly says against your soft blazer.

"Come on, let's not keep them waiting" you rub encouragingly at his arms.

He hums, leaving a quick peck on your lapel for good measure.

—

His familiar scent wafts on your right, calming your heart to a steadier beat. Hobie's arm is glued to your waist, hip to hip, holding you close. You can feel his lingering gaze on the side of your face, giving him a knowing side glance, a sly smile on your warm kiss bitten lips. For a moment you feel like you're the only two people in the crowd.

"What?" He asks coyly.

"You know what"

"Sure, Gromit" Hobie says against your hair, you playfully push him off with your hips, saving yourself from taking all the attention from your professor announcing the top three. Hobie chuckles, wrapping his arm tighter around your form, playing with the flowers on your top.

You can't seem to concentrate on what Mrs Williams is talking about, mind still reeling from the kiss and his touch. His fingers fiddling with the lace of your cami doesn't help with your attention span.

People start clapping around you, copying them to look like you're listening. By how your classmates stand side by side with their models on stage, Hannah beams in second place. You give her a big thumbs up.

While everyone claps for Flash in third, another classmate jumps excitedly to first place, hugging her partner in a tight embrace.

You don't even care that you didn't win, you've got a better prize right next to you.

"You were robbed, love" He whispers in your ear, the roaring crowd makes it difficult to hear him.

"I don't care, honestly," you say giddily.

"You won in my eyes anyway" Hobie nuzzles his cheek on your hair.

"C'mon" he tugs at your belt loop, leading you towards the exit. You follow, grinning widely.

"Excuse me! You in red!" Someone yells for you, looking over your shoulder, you see a tall man in an expensive looking suit, tailored just for him. "Yeah you, hi"

"Hello," you politely smile, "what can I do for you?"

"Yes, I'm a friend of your professor, Mrs. Williams. You caught my attention with your style and we would love you at our fashion house." He hands you a business card. "It's all in there, I'm sorry I don't have time to talk right now" on cue Mrs. Williams beckons him over, "but I'll be here on campus looking for new designers, so call and let me know. Or just ask Caroline– I mean Williams"

"Thanks, I'll look into it. Mr?" You read the card, recognizing the name of the brand. "Mr. Riley" finishing your sentence.

He nods with a smile, "oh, we're also looking for models, if you're interested–" Mr. Riley gestures towards Hobie who cuts him off before he could finish his spiel.

"Not interested" Hobie grits his teeth, impatiently tugging you away.

"Alrighty! Bye!" Riley looks terrified, walking away with a slouched posture.

"I think you scared him off" You playfully shove him.

"Don't care." He rolls his eyes "Where are we off to? Yours or mine?" Hobie fixes your cherry earrings to face the right side, warm fingers staying on the shell of your ear.

"Ours" you correct him, smiling widely, eyes full of fondness for the man right in front of you.

"Right," He mirrors your smile, beaming at you, "ours"

—

Hobie watches you through his side mirror, grinning from ear to ear at how you tightly wrap your arms around his waist. Your eyes closed in content, a ghost of a smile on your lips.

Hobie stops at a red light, he taps your hand curled around the other, getting your attention.

"Yeah?" You tilt your head to face him.

Hobie wishes he can rotate his head much further just to face you fully. "Checkin' to see if you're still with me. Thought you fell off"

"Bullshit, you would've noticed" you chuckle.

"You got me" he smiles, "hold on" Hobie feels a slight tug, looking up, the light turns green. His new found enhanced senses have perks.

The bike lurches forward, Hobie drives carefully, he has precious cargo after all. You notice, snuggling closer to his back as a thank you.

The wind nips at your face, Hobie makes sure to avoid potholes, slowing down before he hits speed humps. Holding your hand every time he stops at a red light.

Finally reaching home, Hobie gets off first before he helps you down. Hand reaching for yours.

"One kiss and you're suddenly a gentleman" you tease him, taking his hand in yours, palm hot against your cold one; melting the chill right off.

"Snog me more and you'll find out how much of a gentleman I can be" Hobie waits for your flustered face, instead he sees you smirk, a playful glint in your eyes.

"Oh I intend to find out" tapping his chest, you leave Hobie standing dumbfounded on the sidewalk, you step over to the houseboat. Laughing triumphantly.

"Fuckin' hell" he mumbles out, flexing his hand.

"Come on! I'm hungry!" You wave him over, bouncing on the balls of your feet. You can't believe the last time you were here you had your heart shattered, trying not to think about it, you intend to ask him without ruining the mood.

"Yeah, yeah, don't get pissy" Hobie unlocks the door, opening it for you to step inside.

There's tools and mechanical parts on what looks like a new coffee table, stopping in your tracks, you look at Hobie in confusion.

"Huh?"

"What?" He scratches at the back of his neck, looking at you through narrowed eyes, daring you to ask.

"Are you making a robot or something?" You dare ask.

"No, just tryin' to fix my answering machine" he huffs, picking up fallen tiny jagged edged pieces so you don't accidentally step on them.

Unlacing your boots, you take in your surroundings, taking note of the difference since you were last in his houseboat. The door to his bedroom is missing, the wooden floors looked like it was scrubbed till it's nothing but splinters, leaving marks on the wood, the once rickety table now a pile of mess on the corner.

"Should I even ask?" You raise a curious brow.

"Ask" Hobie gestures for you to go on.

"What the fuck happened here? It looks like a tornado wrecked the place. And where's your bloody door?!" You walk towards his room to find sheets thrown about, bed littered with the same metal parts and various sizes of screwdrivers. He's clearly obsessing over his machine.

Hobie sighs, he has no idea how to explain it to you, so he doesn't try. He decides to just lie about it, for now at least. You wouldn't even believe him, right?

"Found out why this place was so cheap" he internally apologizes to Finn for throwing him under the bus. "The door has rotten hinges, faucet's fucked, sprayed water all over the bloody place, that's why the floor looks like that. I slipped and fell to that table, almost broke my hip"

"Oh" you exhale, trying to get the words out. "When was this?" You put two and two together, yet you still ask.

Hobie notices your change in mood, taking a few steps closer to you after he drops the metal objects on the coffee table. He starts the difficult conversation for you. "When you ran" he tries not to make you feel guilty, "it was a misunderstanding, love"

"Shit," you close your eyes as if you're in pain.

"No one was here, it was the damn answering machine goin' haywire." Continuing his explanation, Hobie raises his arms to you, waiting for you to move on your accord, careful not to have a repeat scenario. "No one was here, yeah?"

"I'm a fucking Idiot" you move to embrace him, "'m sorry" sniffing, voice thick with guilt, you hold him closer. "I should've waited–"

"None of that from you. We're both bloody idiots for taking this long" he softly says near your ear, breath fanning over your skin, calming you down.

"I just thought…after the museum–"

"I know," he pulls away, cupping your face in his hand, "you should've seen me in here. It was like some looney tunes shit"

"Oh, I would pay good money to see that" you lean into his touch. After a beat you continue. "I'm sorry you had a shitty morning, then I had to add to it"

"Stop," Hobie shakes you in his arms, "let me get this straight with you, more direct, yeah?" You nod, waiting for him to continue. "You're it for me, no one else matters" your eyes get glassy, "That voice?" He points at the damned answering machine, laying open on the settee. "Absolutely do not care for her. She's just a friend of the band, nothin' more" He makes good on his own promise, committing to it.

"I saw her on you before the concert" you say in a small voice. "I was…" shaking your head, you spot Terry perched on the floor of his bedroom. It would be easy for you to grab him to help find your words but you don't. Bravely choosing to stay in his arms. "Hurt, I know I didn't have the right to be. But…I don't fucking know" frustrated, you thump your head on his chest.

"I know," he understands, embracing you tighter, trying to absorb your pain so that you don't feel it anymore, for your sake. "I'm sorry" Hobie apologizes, voice muffled by your hair. "Sorry" he says much clearer this time, exhaling a shaky breath.

Hobie apologizes for everything, from entertaining Lacey to taking this long to say how he truly feels for you and everything in between. His hand lays comfortably on your back, rubbing softly. You feel at home in his arms.

You don't know what he's apologizing for since you think it's your own fault, but you still accept, not knowing how to ask him. Instead, you savor his warmth, leather scratching your cheeks.

After a few seconds, you pull away, hands holding his face like a fine jewel. You take a few breaths, admiring his face, tracing the lines on his skin, you want to wipe all the worry off his face. Hobie closes his eyes, heartbeat syncing with yours.

He opens his eyes, staring at you like you're the moon in the night sky, out of reach but mesmerizing nonetheless.

"You hungry?" Hobie clears his throat, pulling away. He kisses your knuckles before he heads to the kitchen, no idea that he just stopped you from saying your piece.

You stand in the middle of his room, lips pouting. "I was gonna kiss you, you absolute knobhead"

Hobie stops in his tracks, he plays along, hands on his hips, acting exasperated. "That right?"

"Don't make me beg" you frown, actually serious.

He chuckles at your cute expression, "I just thought you were hungry, can't let my girl starve"

My girl, you're done for. Your breath hitches in your throat, skin on fire. "I am hungry" you sigh, surrendering, you'll get that kiss after dinner even if it kills you. Your Index finger scratches at your nail polish painted on your thumb nail, shyness creeping back again.

Hobie bites his lip, also yearning to give you what you really want. He reels himself in, opening the fridge, cold wafts onto his hot skin. His eyes leave your face for a moment.

"Fuck" he finds it empty besides some bottled water and a half eaten burger.

"Christ, you live like this?" You suddenly appear by his side, grimacing at the bare fridge. "Looks like you need a roommate to keep you in check, huh?" You take a personal mission to rile him up again just to see his rare bewildered face even if for only a split second.

"D'you know anyone available?" He takes on your challenge, standing to his full height, he faces you, closing the fridge door with his foot.

"I think I know someone" you smile prettily at him, making grabby hands over to him.

"If I give you a bloody kiss will you buy us a shawarma?" Hobie steps in your arms, you immediately wrap yourself around his waist.

"Let's just say I'll make it worth your while" looking up at him, your lips curling into a teasing smirk.

"Look how far I've fallen, the things I have to do just so I don't starve" he holds your chin, fingers warm on your already searing skin. Leaning closer to your face.

"You ass!" You laugh, pinching his abdomen, finding a wall of muscle underneath his shirt. Huh, that's new, you thought. Pulling away, you narrow your eyes at Hobie. "Feels like you are starving"

"Hmm?"

"You got leaner, we're definitely ordering extra rice for you" Hobie gives you a thankful peck on the cheek, already on his way to grab the utensils.

—

Metal scraping on ceramic, you run the dirty plates on the sink as Hobie wipes down his new coffee table. You feel eyes on your back, looking over your shoulder, he watches you, eyes full of endearment.

"I'm almost done, Hobs. Need to at least run it with water or it'll stink in the morning" you beam back, eyes crinkling in the corners.

Hobie's heart swells at the domesticity of it all, imagining the house with traces of you in it. He could put your sewing machine in the corner near the window so you could get proper light. He imagines your shampoo side by side with his bottle in the small shower, favourite Mug next to his chipped ones. Your perfume lingering in the air, staying with him wherever he goes.

"Love" he says quietly like a secret to be kept between you. You hum in acknowledgement, rinsing the cups.

He calls your name this time, not love, not Gromit or Cherry, your name. He says it with so much love laced in it you forgot that it's yours for a second.

You turn off the faucet, splashing your hands on the sink. Turning around, you give him a soft smile. "Yeah?"

Hobie pats the cushion next to him, "C'mere" you don't miss a beat, already walking towards the settee. "I can do that tomorrow" he holds his arms towards you.

You place yourself in his hold, enveloping you like warm sunlight. Sitting in comfortable silence, ignoring how the lumpy couch pokes your legs.

"I saw you by the way" you break the silence. He moves his head on top of yours, making a point that he's listening. "In the parking lot, a few days ago"

"Why didn't you say anythin'?" Hobie doesn't sound angry, just forlorn at the thought of you intentionally ignoring him.

"I didn't know what to say" you finally look at him, eyes as big as the plates you were rinsing. "Then Peter came up to me–I," you exhale, "I'm a coward, Hobie. I should've at least tried to talk to you"

"Honestly, I didn't know what I was gonna say to you that day" He rubs a stray eyelash from your cheek. "I wouldn't know what would've happened if we did talk"

"Sorry for not answering your calls and barring you from my dorm" you apologize again, swallowing the lump in your throat.

"Don't be," he kisses the crown of your head, assuring you.

"If it's any consolation…" you sniff, tamping down the tears threatening to spill. "Peter found out that the spider that bit you wasn't a regular one"

"What?"

"Yeah, he's a biology major, really likes spiders for some reason. Met him through an old study group. Anyway, he said it was some kind of mix? Not sure, but he practically gushed about it" you play with the lace on his pants while you ramble.

"Did he elaborate?" Hobie's fully invested, any clues to what's rushing in his veins right now is very much appreciated.

"The thing is, he didn't know what mix it was or how that sort of thing could happen. He called it a freak of nature" you chuckle. "You're fine though, right? You didn't feel weird or anything?" Rubbing his arm in concern, brows knitting together.

"It got a bit itchy but that's it" it hurts him to lie to you, but even Hobie himself doesn't completely know what's happening to his body. Just to be safe, he won't tell you, until he can figure it out at least.

"Okay, good" You lay your head back down on his chest with the intention to finally tell him how you truly feel for him. "Hobie, I–"

"You look good by the way– shit sorry go on" he accidentally cuts you off.

"No, you were complimenting me so please go on" your lips curl into a mischievous smile. Staring at him head on.

Hobie scoffs, rolling his eyes, smiling through it all. "I said you look bloody fit" he eyes your outfit a few seconds longer than he intended.

"You look really handsome," you turn his compliment around, "like holy shit, mate. It's unfair how good you looked on the runway"

"Mate? You havin' a laugh? Who you callin' mate?" He pokes your waist. "I just confessed my undying love for you and you're out here callin' me 'mate'?" Your giggling stops when he says that word.

"You love me?" You ask, face serious. Your pulse beats rapidly, palms sweaty.

"Yeah, too much I think" Too much for you. He thinks, afraid of stifling you with his love. He tried to play it off. Hobie doesn't throw that word around loosely but he has said it in his mind to you a thousand times before, it feels routine by now.

"I don't think it's too much" your eyes are starting to get glossy again. "I think it's the right amount"

You suddenly feel anxious saying it back, yet it's Hobie, your Hobie who taught you how to tie your shoelaces properly so that other kids won't make fun of your velcro trainers. Hobie who was there for you when you had your heart broken for the first time. Hobie who you came to love more with every passing year with him. Your Hobie.

"You don't have to say it back" He says with a small smile, voice thick, "won't force you–"

"You're a fucking idiot, Hobart Brown" you say, clinging to his shirt that you've lovingly made just for him, every stitch you've poured in has love written all over it. "And I love you too"

You lean in, eyes closed, hands placed fondly on his cheeks. This time, you're the one who takes his breath away. Hobie sighs into the kiss, content, feeling your emotions through it all.

This one felt more proper, more familiar than the first one, made sweeter with the love confession. No rushing, no one finally interrupting the moment, and yet still slightly unfamiliar, good thing you have a willing partner to get familiar with. Getting used to the kiss, you swipe your tongue, encouraging him to not hold back.

He kisses back fervently, warm and slow with no ounce of urgency. Hobie's stomach is in knots, hands flying to cup your face.

You move your leg over to his lap, straddling him. Hobie lets out a sound from the back of his throat as his shoulder blade hits the armrest of the sofa.

Pulling away, "Is this okay?" You tentatively ask, waiting for any signs of apprehension from Hobie.

"Yes" He says breathlessly, you can see stars in his eyes. Smiling, leaning down to continue kissing him.

Strong hands steadying you, yet still holding you respectfully, avoiding the bare skin where your blouse rode up. Electricity tingles from Hobie's fingertips, shocking you slightly through your blouse, you take it as your nerves acting up.

You feel a tear escape, it slides down on your cheek, landing directly on Hobie's thumb that's been caressing your skin. He pulls back, worried.

"I'm okay" you say, breathless, eyes roaming his concerned face. Another tear rolls down on your soft skin, "they're happy tears," smiling, more tears flow out of your eyes that's crinkling in the corners.

Hobie looks up at you with so much love, your heart inflates tenfold. He has a lopsided smile, eyes mirroring yours.

"Stay with me tonight?" He wipes your tears for you, careful with his rings.

Your eyes narrow at him teasingly, mustering your best flirty smile, brows wiggling, you wordlessly have a conversation with Hobie.

"Fuck off" He laughs breathlessly, "I didn't mean it like that" you felt the vibration on his chest when he laughed, laying down fully on him, eyes practically shaped like hearts, you follow through with your own laugh.

"I've never thought confessing would be so tiring" you joke, yawning for effect.

it's contagious, he follows your yawn with his own. "It's because we've been doing a lot of snogging"

"Mm-hmm, it's definitely better than exercise. More fun too"

"Wanna exercise again?" He rolls his dice.

"I could burn some calories" You play along, giggling against his waiting lips. Hobie rolls a perfect twenty.

A/N: LET'S GOOOOOO 🎉

Thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed it, reblogging encourages me to write more ❤️

[forestfrolickingfairy78]

Legend LU- Spring Support Bunny x Reader: Part 1 (platonic)

Ok, kind of just had this idea a bit randomly. Will try to keep this to three parts but we'll see where it goes.

I kept thinking about Legend in his bunny form and what it would be like if he runs into the modern world and makes friends with a modern reader going through a tought time at school, basically supporting her through it and giving her a confidence boost. Tbh a lot of my own experiences and personal style tend to come through in my writing so it might show. Sorry if there's any typos or spelling errors, it's kind of late and i just wrote this now

Trigger warning:

does go into mental health/depression and anxiety so please don't read this if you're not comfortable with this content. Will keep this balanced with some comedy/seriousness. ENJOY (If you do read)

Spring Support Bunny

I’d been dragging myself through the summer, finding no rest between the shifts from sunrise to sunset, now deep moons forming underneath my eyes.

The only comfort before school was toast, slathered with melting peanut butter and jam carrying the taste of my childhood spring. Before my friend had passed away, before school wasn’t loaded with the stress of exams and pressure of friends turning whispers. Mum is still asleep, past 7am is too early so I go through the day without speaking to anyone and slip my bag across my shoulder, feeling the weight grow each day. On the way my therapist’s voice carries over the blue sky; forcing me to gratitude in the colours of spring, the cold air against my cheek and to keep taking each step slow, reminding me to journal down the little things. Nothing helped. The lump inside my throat was only swelling with each walk closer, stomach churning as school came into view filling me with anxiety.

So much for being the best years of your life.

I keep my head down, placing my headphones above my ears and listen to the steady, gentle lofi beat to keep me going, but the eyes of unseen whispers linger like pinpricks along my skin. Hands clench and unclenchm twisting fabric between my fingers as I try to breathe, eyes on the ground, glancing between the garden beds and the crowd pulling into their friend groups, gathering with coffee cups and conversations around university. I only smile to people, faces that have grown out of our years together finding new groups to join. I tell myself it’s fine. I don’t need friends. All I need is to graduate, and to get good grades and get the hell out of here.

Nobody’s really paying attention to you, most of the thoughts we have about other people’s perception is just from our own insecurities.

My therapist says, bright hazel eyes and plastic lips smiling with a pen flickering in her fingers. I hold onto her words, slowly nodding to myself and glance up, meeting my friend’s gaze. One brow raised, finger twirling a stray curl of hair around her face that used to be pulled into a tight bun. Years ago when we were little, our smiles were more alike, less grown but I watched her blossom.

I smile, but the edge of her lips curl, turning away before mingling with the others. My eyes sting, so stupid I think. It’s me, not her, I remind myself with my therapists’s voice but my legs turn to jelly, and find my way outside of the school, hands wiping away at my cheeks until I’m away from the building and settle near the park, shuffling my bag to the side and lean against the bench, slumping forward.

Finally I feel my breath steady, letting out a deep exhale and look towards the garden bed, soaking up the sunlight. It’s pretty, dozens of types blossoming at this time of year. It was our favourite spot, me and my friends before one of us left too early. I squeeze my eyes shut, pushing away her face and focus on the sway of the flowers. I keep watching, feeling the knot ease and spot a sudden movement. A bird I think, or perhaps a cat but as I keep watching a small pink bunny wriggles between them. I keep looking for longer, wiping my eyes, unblurring the tears. There were bunnies here sometimes, but pink ones? Never seen. The bunny topples over, clumsily navigating between the garden bed before munching on a daisy and bears a look of distaste, colouring its dark eyes. Slowly, I slip off the bench and make my way, crouching, hoping that I won’t spook it away. Was it a new breed? Or a rare species? I go through all the possibilities and finally crouch to it's height, a short distance away. Spring bunny stops, looking up at me, stifled.

“Hi bunny, are you lost?” Of course it doesn’t understand me, but Spring bunny doesn’t move, lowering it’s form and shuffles underneath a hedge. The act surprises me, compared to others they already run out of sight before I get this close.

“Where are your friends?” I look over for any name tags or collars, but there’s none. Bunny doesn’t move as I approach and lean forward curiously looking down. Bunny slowly meets my gaze, but won’t move. It seems too tame to be wild.

“Are you hungry? I’ve got some food.” I know Bunny doesn’t really understand me but it keeps staring, still in place. I quickly retreat to my bag, looking over my shoulder to keep an eye on it and return with a few small strawberries, placing them in my hand reach towards it. Bunny looks up, eyes cautiously with deep, brown glassy eyes and slowly eats them, still looking at me.

“You’re so pretty, bunny, where are you from?” I tilt my head adoringly, admiring it’s shiny pink fur but it’s too intent on eating. Still, it’s presence calms me, knowing that even though it doesn’t understand me, she listens. Bunny takes all the strawberries, still nestled between the flowers. I reach below, deciding to scoop it in my arms, squirming against my grip.

“If I leave you here, I’m worried someone might take you or hurt you. Can we be friends? I promise to give you lots of delicious berries and carrots. Even proper bunny food!”

Legend’s POV (this suits the vibe from here on)

Let me be clear, there’s many times I’ve felt powerless, down right insulted. A dozen near death experiences that I’ve dealt with, but today’s a topper, and in this form I can’t get over the humiliation against this human.

It’s too exhausting to fight back, and my arms quickly feign with exhaustion, resigning defeat. She won’t shut up, talking to me about strawberries, comparing ME to strawberries.

“Can I name you Rose? You’re so pretty, or how about hmm…Azealia?”

Neither I want to tell her. I want her to shut up and let me go but here’s the game plan: Take her food and then find my exit strategy. If I could find my way around a dungeon and fight blood thirsty monsters, then it should be easy to escape from her. It’s real uncomfortable being squished against my will as she carries me, passing through weird narrow lanes and boxed up houses. Metallic monsters pass down concrete lanes, almost making me jump in surprise from their crystalline eyes. I must be ready for anything.

Yet this girl doesn’t seem phased at all, striding down merrily while keeping a tight lock on me.

“We’re almost home, I promise to take care of you Berry. I think I’ll call you Berry!”

 It’s Link, you stupid girl. Who the hell calls their pet Berry?

Once we’re close to the door, I find all my might and leap out of her arms, racing as fast as I can with my stunted legs away from the door and cross onto the road.

Two giant, crystalline eyes face me, belonging to the metallic monster. There’s too many festering in this world.  Death awaits, but if this is how it ends there’s nothing I can do, staring towards it.

“No! Berry!” The girl screams and steps in front of the metallic monster, hands reaching out and grabs me off the floor. A deafening screech echoes, and the monster stops with an aggressive horn blaring across the fields. Another human emerges, yelling at the girl, hurling a string of curses. She still holds me close, profusely apologising to him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing trying to save that stupid rabbit on the road? You almost made me crash and YOU almost got run over! Just wait till I tell your parents.” She stops apologising, but what stings is the stupid rabbit.

Alright look, I’ve heard worse, seen worse. Fu*k, even Ravio taking over my home infuriates me but I’m used to that bastard. If only I had my sword then he’d regret every word.

“She’s not a stupid rabbit! She’s a living being just like us but you’re too cruel to understand!”

Okay, living being is terrible but acceptable.

The man curses again, slamming the door shut, riding off into his metallic monster. Still inside the girl’s arms I wriggle uncomfortably but pause, fat droplets hitting my head.

Shit. She’s crying.

“I’m so sorry Berry, I promise that won’t happen again, okay? I love you so much.” I stop, defeated.

This is going to be a difficult mission.

[starsstuddedsky]

Slice of Love

Haechan x reader

summary: birthday cake and boyfriend material

genre: fluff, non idol au, not really angst but haechan is so dramatic

warnings: swearing, food/dessert, i dont know anything about art, pls lmk if i missed any

wc: 1.8k (who is she???)

a/n: finally wrote something short and sweet :) it's been so long since i've done that lol. this is heavily inspired by 7dream cafe cake-making and my full belief that none of these boys should be unsupervised in the kitchen. thank you to @chocolatemilk139 for being my beta as always <3 (even though you didnt edit anything smh)

It’s not horrendous.

Donghyuck stares at the cake in front of him. The process started well: he made the tester cake last week week that the council (also known as his friends) approved with generous support (“wait, what’s actually kind of good,” from Jeno, “it’s edible,” from Renjun, “the hint of orange really sells it,” from Jaemin, “it’s not burnt so it’s already better than anything I could make,” from Mark, “you didn’t buy this?” from Chenle, and Jisung, who just stared at him with wide eyes). 

No, the problem isn’t the batter. He slaved over it all last night and chose the two cakes that rose most evenly in the oven. Everything but his tears went into making them. 

“Wow,” Renjun says, leaning over the counter. “You fucked up.” 

Donghyuck smacks him, leaving a trail of lavender buttercream on the wool sweater. 

“Hey, that’s going to be a bitch to get out!” Renjun cries. 

“Cry me a river,” Donghyuck says, “which is a good song, but also, you deserve it. It’s not that bad.” 

Renjun raises his eyebrows but Donghyuck raises a spoonful of extra frosting. Renjun backs off. 

Despite his strong defense, Donghyuck fears Renjun may be right. Though the cake stands tall, crumbs mix in with the frosting on the sides. What was supposed to be an artistically plump edging around the base of the cake and around the top corner looks like it exploded out of the piping bag (because it did, popping the cap off several times). In his head, the center would be filled with flowers and hearts and all sorts of pretty shapes in all sorts of pastel colors—but by the time he got to the center, he’d fully given up on piping bags, meaning he had to get creative for the flowers. Instead of flowers, he made blobs of frosting pushed off a spoon. In some spots he accidentally mixed the colors together, a green one shade away from brown, not at all like the field in the pictures on his Pinterest board. 

Jeno appears next, wandering out of his room. He misses Renjun’s warning glare, though Donghyuck doesn’t. He steps right next to Donghyuck, tilting his head. “What is this supposed to be again?” 

“What do you think?” Donghyuck asks evenly. 

Oblivious or uncaring, Jeno pauses to ponder. “A really ugly version of Shrek’s swamp?” 

“Get out.” 

“Get out of ma’ swamp!” Jeno attempts a Scottish accent, authenticity as questionable as the flower field in Donghyuck’s cake. Jeno retreats with Renjun on the couch, dodging Donghyuck’s frosting spoon. It would be a waste of the delicacy on his stupid dri-fit t-shirt, which he wears even when he doesn’t work out. 

“It’ll be fine,” Jaemin says. “It’ll taste good, which is the important part.” He sits at the counter, the only one to offer moral support while Donghyuck decorated. But his attempts at comfort are in vain; Donghyuck doesn’t just want the cake to taste good, he wants it to taste perfect, to look perfect, for all of it to be perfect. It’s the least you deserve. 

Donghyuck ignores the banging on his door, letting one of the guys let Chenle and Jisung in (no one else would threaten to break down a metal door instead of waiting the five seconds it takes to unlock the door). 

“We come bearing food!” Chenle shouts, plastic bag singing in his hand as Jisung follows precariously carrying a stack of pizza boxes. Far more food than needed, but Donghyuck won’t skimp out on you. Chenle tosses his bag full of snacks on the table, crossing the room to see the ‘masterpiece’ Donghyuck spent the past week hyping up. 

“Dude, are you seriously going to give that to YN?” 

“Are you trying to get dumped?” Jisung asks. “Ow!” he cries when Chenle smacks him. 

“Your welcome,” he says, “though he sort of has a point, that looks like literal shit.” 

“Does it really?” Donghyuck pouts. 

Chenle points at one of the browner spots. “You’re telling me that’s not a piece of shit?” 

“They were supposed to be flowers.” 

Jaemin, Renjun, and Jisung manage to cover their laughs as coughs but Chenle and Jeno let out a bark of laughter. 

“Yeah, you’re screwed,” Chenle says, clapping him on his shoulder that sags even lower than his normal bad posture. “You could call Mark and get him to pick up a cake on his way.” 

“He’s bringing YN,” Donghyuck says glumly. “Besides, I already told YN that I would make it myself. I’m not going to be a failure and a liar.” 

“It’s really not that bad,” Jaemin says, ignoring the chorus of dissent from the rest of the guys. “It’ll taste good!” 

Donghyuck shrugs. He can’t explain it, at least not so that they can understand him. He knows perfection is a subjective definition that he’ll never be able to fulfill but he strives for it anyway. If it isn’t perfect then why would he do it at all? Even if it’s his first time attempting this level of artwork, he should at least be able to make something that looks okay, or recognizable. 

And you—you deserve more than a dry store-bought mess and more than a half-assed attempt at love. You’ve only been together for a couple months but he’s determined to prove himself. A birthday was the perfect opportunity, even when you’ve known him for years and spent plenty of birthdays with him. This was his chance to show you the boyfriend material he’s made of, except instead of black velvet or creamy silk, Donghyuck thinks this cake is the work of a neon yellow polyester shirt worth less than $2 at the thrift store. 

“Mark just texted that he just parked,” Jaemin announces. He glances at Donghyuck. “You ready?” 

Donghyuck glances at himself. His hands are covered in frosting that’s dried and crusted, spread up his arms. His Kiss the Chef apron protected his shirt and most of his pants from the damage, but the mess is the least of his concerns. There’s nothing he can do about the disaster (he’s given up calling it anything else) in front of him. Shrek’s Swamp or a toilet bowl, it’s definitely not a flower field and it’s definitely not what you deserve. But it’s all he’s got. 

The final punch hits with a gentle knock at the door. Donghyuck crosses the room to his doom, stepping past his silent friends who bow their heads in respect for the walking dead. He pulls open the door slowly. He sees your shoes first, white sneakers you spent three hours with a Sharpie decorating, full of hearts and stars and unmistakable flowers—daisies and chrysanthemums and lavender, more than he can name. 

You wear your favorite jeans, loose bootcut that tighten at the thighs, hugging you in all the right places. A loose shirt hangs from your shoulders, one of the bands you always play for him with lots of bass and visceral lyrics that romanticize suffering. A family of silver earrings dangle from your ears, and he recognizes each of your favorites, the miniature swords, sparkling star shaped studs, a curly twist of metal that wraps around the higher part of ear. You look perfect. 

Donghyuck has always loved the way you smile, a gentle turn of your lips, like the happiness belongs to only you. You lean forward, pressing a short kiss to his lips, a peck more than anything. Donghyuck stares at you, eyes wide. You gesture to his apron. “Just following the rules.” 

He smiles though it fades as soon as he sees the frosting–no, the evidence of his failures, spread down the black fabric. “Happy birthday,” he says, wishing he could put more heart into it. A tiny frown furrows in your brow but you don’t question him. 

He steps back to let you walk in, trailing behind you as the rest of the guys wish you happy birthday. Mark catches up easily, clapping a hand on his shoulder, whispering, “Jeno sent me a picture.” 

Renjun hugs you, which Donghyuck belatedly realizes he never did. 

“I brought the food,” Chenle announces. “Don’t go thanking anyone else for my efforts.” 

“Our,” Jisung corrects. “You barely even carried anything.” 

“That’s because I had to drive,” Chenle says, waving his hand. “And don’t even get me started on the pizzeria, you better appreciate every molecule because—”

“Thank you, Chenle,” you say. 

“Thank me,” Donghyuck says. “It was my detailed instructions that perfected absolutely everything about today, which reminds me, did Mark behave?” 

You turn back to face him, linking your fingers with his. “Yes, babe, he followed your script. He almost cried because the barista messed up the order and he didn’t want to be annoying but he said you said ‘if anything goes wrong, I’ll kill you,’ and meant it.” 

“And I did,” Donghyuck says. He nods at his best friend for his service. 

“Now.” You squeeze his fingertips. “Where’s this cake you’ve been so excited about.” 

Donghyuck doesn’t try to hide his face. There’s no use delaying the inevitable. He lets go of your hands, leading you to the crime scene to lay the final verdict (the judicial system of his brain is in need of some reformation). 

You reach the counter and freeze. A list of concert dates greets Donghyuck, your back facing him while you study the cake. There’s no name for the opposite of a masterpiece, no artist that wants their worst creation recorded in history. 

He inches closer to you, peeking at your face. He recognizes the expression, the narrowing of your eyes, the way you flatten your lips. He’s been to enough art shows and spent enough time with you studying for art history to know what you analyze art. 

“It’s not Van Gogh or Monet,” he says, “it’s not even that asshole guy who made the Bean.” 

“Mm,” you hum, “no, you’re not any of them.” 

“It’s an ugly cake,” he says, “I know. I tried, I really did, but apparently you actually do need a decade or two of experience to make a decent cake, which is totally unfair, like, I spent more time on it than my research project, and this only looks marginally better than that.” 

“It’s amazing,” you say, “reminiscent of the expressionist era.” 

“Really?” 

“No,” you say, turning to grin at him. “But you made it, so none of that matters. Maybe it doesn’t look like what you thought, but seriously.”  You rest a hand on his arm. “It’s perfect.” 

He meets your eyes, sees sincerity and not an ounce of teasing. No, it wasn’t what he wanted for you, but that doesn’t really matter. Perfection is subjective and to you it’s perfect—why did he ever think it wouldn’t be? 

He grins. “Perfect?” 

You step closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him into a hug, ignoring the frosting that must be smearing across the band member’s faces. 

“Perfect.” 

a/n2: thank you for reading! as always, i appreciate any feedback :)

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Blue Dream

A mini series

Jacey is Erik’s new weed plug despite their dislike for each other

Warnings: Smut, Enemies To Lovers, Smoking Bi!Erik

The thunderous knock to her apartment door had Jacey taking long strides with her short, thick thighs and booty bouncing behind her. She took a look through her peep hole and quickly morphed the agitation in her features to that of guilt. When she opened her door, her down turned brows and slight pout didn’t get her off the hook. 

“Jacey, I’ve been calling you all damn day. Where have you been? You were supposed to drop by the tent today for the pickup. I had to drag my ass all the way down here to bring you the supply.”

Toni, Jacey’s cultivator and partner to her incarcerated brother, Duke, thrust a Nike duffel bag filled with that good dank— potent and indicating its freshness — before turning to leave. Toni took one final look over his shoulder at Jacey, his once perfectly gelled shiny black hair now a crop of waves atop his head. Jacey surveyed him up and down — body covered in tattoos from his neck down to his ankles — waiting for him to say whatever else he needed to get off his beefy chest.

“C’mon, Toni. Look, I’m sorry, okay? This isn’t all I do to make money. I have a remote job too, remember?” Jacey reminded him with a whine.

“Cariño, you aren’t the only one with a busy schedule. I have to make drops throughout the day on top of making sure the flowers are growing right. Got a new guy who fucked up a batch of wedding crasher.” 

“How did he do that?” Jacey questioned with a frown.

“Powdery Mildew.” Toni replied.

“Shit,” Jacey huffed, “And he’s still working for you?”

Toni gave her a one shoulder shrug, “I got my partner showing him the ropes. Shit’s been in high demand for us growers, Jace. I’ve been putting in double the time.”

Toni’s phone chimed back to back in his pocket, reminding him that he had other places to be. 

“Listen, just let me know in advance if you need a drop off instead of coming to pick it up, okay?”

Jacey nodded her head slowly, “will do. Thanks Toni.” 

“You know I gotchu, bebita. Until next time. Let me know if you like the new exotics.” 

Jacey waved a final goodbye to Toni before shutting her apartment door. She locked it and carried the duffel bag further into the apartment until she was settled in her living room. She made room on her glass coffee table covered in bags of buds and sat the duffel bag in the middle. Unzipping the bag, Jacey was hit with a whiff of the pungent aroma. Banana Cream Pie. a combination of Girl Scout Cookies and Banana OG. The top reported aromas of the Banana Cream Pie strain are lemon, vanilla, and bananas. It is said to taste of bananas and sugary pastries. 

She couldn’t keep her nose out of that duffel bag filled with plastic bags of nugs. The contact high she was receiving was astounding. She was already feeling aroused before Toni stopped by but the effects of Banana Cream Pie had her feeling like she was floating on a vibrational high. Her clit ached for attention and her nipples became stiff peaks. Jacey smiled and wiggled her ass before coming to the surface. She dragged her tongue over her top teeth ecstatically, more than ready to smoke some. She was so enraptured with the duffel bag of exotics that she hadn’t noticed a dainty hand reaching out from behind the couch, popping her on the ass. 

“Who was that, baby?” A melodic voice spoke.

“My grower, Toni. I was supposed to pick up the new supply today and got sidetracked because of YOU.”

Jacey came face to face with her weakness, Marcia. Marcia and Jacey had been together on and off for three years. They knew each other since high school but they didn’t become close until college. Marcia is a lesbian while Jacey is bisexual. She’s also Jacey’s fem dom. Jewel-like, cocoa-brown eyes, skin the color of cinnamon and satiny to the touch, lush lips, and unkempt curls that appeared wind blown with baby hairs. Her long, acrylic french tips sank into the flesh of Jacey’s backside when she reached around to grab her. Jacey gave Marcia a small smile before leaning in for a sloppy kiss. Their heads swayed back and forth, Marcia massaging Jacey’s cheeks from the front. 

Marcia broke her lips away from Jacey’s full ones and her sultry gaze scanned Jacey’s body in a charcoal gray robe that barely fit all her curves, the front of the robe revealing her cleavage and her sternum tattoo of a lotus flower. Jacey bat her hybrid lash extensions at Marcia with a slight bite of her lip. The Banana Cream Pie fragrance circulated their personal space and Marcia couldn’t help but to lick her lips. 

“Toni? And you answered the door like this?” Marcia palmed Jacey’s ass harder, “what I tell you about that shit, huh?”

“He was banging all loud, what did you expect me to do?” Jacey quipped with a defiant roll of her eyes. 

Marcia clicked her tongue, “I bet he was looking. Don’t do that again, Jace…or I’m a bring out Miss Boss and you know what happens when I do that.”

Jacey fixed her face with an innocent smile, “you say that like I don’t want it.”

Marcia popped Jacey on the ass and wrapped a hand around her slender throat. Jacey’s breath hitched and she let out a shaky breath when Marcia’s braless breasts in a thin, white baby tee pressed against hers. 

“Such a fuckin’ brat…Now, show me what he dropped off that was so important,” Marcia let go of Jacey and her eyes fell towards the duffel bag.

“look,” Jacey reached in the bag, unraveling one of the plastic bags, the tips of her fingers securing a nug. She brought it up to Marcia’s nose, the multiple shades of green of her french tips contrasting beautifully with the bud between her pointer finger and thumb. Marcia inhaled deeply and then her eyes rolled shut. 

“Damn, what strain is that?” Marcia asked with low, wanton eyes.

“Banana Cream Pie. Aren’t you happy that your girlfriend is a weed plug?” Jacey boasted.

“Let’s smoke some of that good shit now,” Marcia reached for Jacey’s gold rolling tray and matching grinder. She grabbed a few raw cones and started making blunts for her and Jacey, “My mouth is watering to try this!”

Jacey took off her robe and she sat next to Marcia wearing a pair of Abercrombie & Fitch light gray boxer briefs and nothing up top; perky breasts with pierced nipples on display. Marcia reached for her yellow Backwoods lighter and sparked both of their blunts. Jacey watched as Marcia inhaled slowly, holding in the smoke for a second then gently exhaling the smoke from between her glossy lips. 

“Wow,” Marcia said, smoke constantly billowing from mouth, “it tastes like…like a pastry.”

Jacey wrapped her lips around the end of the blunt and inhaled. She held in the smoke for a few seconds and exhaled through her nose. She allowed her saliva to coat her tongue, remembering the flavor of Banana Cream Pie. Jacey took a few more tokes of her joint before giving her own personal review.

“And here I thought Pineapple Kush was my favorite. It’s right up there,” Jacey took another drag, “Yep…yep…this the one. Toni did that.” 

“Thank you papi! ” Marcia said.

They both giggled. 

“…is it just me, or is this weed making my pussy wet?” Marcia asked.

“Pussy is making a wet spot right now, no doubt.” Jacey said with a flirty wink.

“To be honest, all weed makes me feel like that. You?”

“Nah,” Jacey shakes her head, “depends on the strain for me.”

Marcia and Jacey sat in silence enjoying their blunts for five more minutes before ashing it out to take a break. Jacey turned on the couch to face Marcia, her head resting in the crook of her elbow and her eyes low from the effects of the hybrid strain. She wouldn’t be a good weed plug if she didn’t test the merchandise herself before selling. Soon, she’ll post pictures and facts about the new strain to her Twitter and Instagram for her customers. 

Being a weed plug was never Jacey’s plan, but she aspires to be an Herbalist one day, so she made it her business to know everything about weed. Duke didn’t hesitate to teach her everything she needed to know, she even shadowed Toni at his growing tent to see first hand how the process works. It was fascinating to her. She gained a lot of respect for weed growers after that. The knowledge and skill it takes to make a beautiful flower before curing it is miraculous. 

Jacey was born and raised in Oakland, CA. She grew up in Rockridge, east of Telegraph Avenue, south of the Berkeley city limits, west of the Oakland hills and north of the intersection of Pleasant Valley Avenue/51st Street and Broadway. She works from home during the day as a proofreader for Sodexo and took a break from college when she decided to take over her brother’s business. He only trusted her to oversee things. 

When Duke got booked on illegal gun possession, Jacey knew that she would have to take over for her brother to keep the business flourishing. He was known to be one of the best, if not number one, weed plugs in CA. Her brother had people traveling from Houston, Detroit, Vegas, Washington, Florida, New York, and many other places to buy from him. He was going to school to be a Chemist while raising four kids and being a full-time weed plug. Ten years. It hurt Jacey to see her brother in prison. He had already served two years, and she hoped that his appeal would be granted. 

“What are you thinking about over there?” Marcia asked.

“Nothing important.” Jacey said. 

“When you lie, you look off to the side like this,” Marcia’s cocoa-brown eyes flicked to her left and Jacey’s right, demonstrating what Jacey had just done, “So tell me the truth.” 

Jacey’s nose crinkled in agitation, “Fine. Just thinking about Duke. I went to see my nieces yesterday, and Bella, the mother of his four kids, she’s down bad, Marcia.” 

Marcia sat up, leaning forward to grab her blunt again. 

“Down bad how?” She questioned.

“She’s pregnant, Marcia. And we both know it ain’t Duke’s baby. I told him not to get mixed up with her. It doesn’t do good tryna hide who you really are…”

Marcia lit Jacey’s blunt for her again. The orange embers reflected in Jacey’s dark brown eyes with how close she was. 

“So, you’re saying that Duke only stayed with Bella to keep his other life a secret?” 

“Yeah,” Jacey looked across at Marcia solemnly, “And she made him. She said that if he ever left her, she would out him. But look what she’s doing! She’s messing around on my brother while he’s in prison!” 

“You should tell him about it, Jace.” 

Jacey shakes her head, faux locs falling over her shoulder, “I can’t. That would crush him. He doesn't need that right now. I talked to Bella and I told her that she needs to tell him.” 

Marcia starts laughing, coughing a little from the smoke, “If she wanted to tell him by now I’m sure she would.”

“Whatever,” Jacey ashes out her blunt, standing from the couch, “Let me get back into a better mood…with you.” 

Marcia chuckled, “And what does that entail, Jace?”

Jacey stood in front of Marcia, hands on her hips and a defiant glint in her dark brown eyes. Marcia smirked at her, unable to focus too long on her face when her breasts were right above her so mouthwatering. 

“I feel like…I could use something to make me feel better…this weed has me so turned on…can you help me with that, baby?”

Marcia dragged her top teeth across her bottom lip.

“Hmm…you have to be more specific. What EXACTLY is it you want from me, Princess?”

“Well,” Jacey straddled Marcia, taking her weed from between her fingers, placing it on the ashtray, “I think Miss Boss can take care of me.” 

Marcia couldn’t hold back her laughter. Jacey joined her, both women too giggly and high. Marcia reached for Jacey’s chin, pinching it before leaning in to drag the length of her curved tongue over her lips. Jacey’s motor skills were slow from being high, but the heat radiating from between her legs was astounding. 

“Feel it,” Jacey took Marcia’s left hand in hers, placing her open palm between her legs so she could cup her pussy, “It’s so hot and wet…fuck…this weed got me too far gone…you feel that?”

“Mmm,” Marcia hummed in Jacey’s ear, “Your pussy is so fuckin’ warm. It’s nothing compared to my pussy though.” 

Jacey elevated a brow sassily at Marcia, “Teh, I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

Marcia challenged her words with a mischievous glint in her eyes, “Get up and go to the room so I can show you.”

Jacey beamed excitedly. She untangled her generous thighs from around Marcia’s waist to stand and as soon as she did, her foot got caught on the glass coffee table and she tripped, almost falling on her butt. Marcia broke out into a fit of laughter, one hand cupping her mouth and the other slapping the couch cushion. Jacey righted herself and gave Marcia the finger.

“When trying to be sexy goes wrong!” Marcia said with a faux deep voice. 

“Bitch, shut up!” Jacey shouted while inspecting her foot. 

Jacey walked away with Marcia on her heels, giggling. Finally in the bedroom, Jacey climbed onto her all white platform bed with white bedding, lying back against the pillows. Marcia crawled onto the bed seductively before climbing on top of Jacey. They both felt light-limbed and euphoric, staring as if they were seeing each other for the first time. Jacey’s right hand pressed against Marcia’s left cheek, her thumb rubbing softly over the slight dimple there. 

“Who do you belong to?” Marcia whispered seductively.

“…You,” Jacey replied with a rasp in her sultry voice. 

Marcia stole a kiss, her tongue meeting Jacey’s in a sort of tango. Their glossy lips shimmered with spit and molded perfectly as their lips smacked. Sucking tongues, bottom lips, and nibbling. Jacey’s hands were in Marcia’s wild mane and Marcia was dragging her hands up and down Jacey’s hips. Jacey’s legs came up to wrap around Marcia’s waist and she thrust her nude chest into hers, her pierced nipples brushing across Marcia’s. An airy whimper escaped her mouth and Marcia reluctantly pulled her lips away from Jacey’s so she could look down at her. 

Marcia sat back on her knees and without a word she went to work removing Jacey’s briefs. Jacey elevated her hips and wiggled so Marcia could successfully take them off. As soon as they were past her feet, Marcia tossed them to the other side of the king bed before parting Jacey’s thighs. There was no point in waiting, she needed to see that hot, sticky pussy for herself. A hiss escaped her mouth when Jacey’s fat pussy void of hair and glistening met her lust filled eyes. 

If only her eyes could be for Jacey and Jacey alone. They’d been through this many times before. Things would be amazing between them and then Marcia would fuck it up because she couldn’t have just one woman in her life. Jacey was her weakness. And she knew Jacey also felt the same, because if she didn’t she wouldn’t be here with her right now. Marcia tried to shake those thoughts from her head so she could focus on the pussy in front of her. She didn’t even have to spread her puffy lips to see how wet Jacey is for her. 

“Your pussy is always so gushy for me, mami,” Marcia whispered with a sexy lilt.

“Stop talking and taste me,” Jacey looked Marcia directly in the eye.

“I can’t appreciate my meal first before I eat it?” Marcia replied with a playful voice. 

“Not when my clit is throbbing like this!” Jacey said. 

“Okay, brat, since you want it so badly, don’t run from this tongue.” Marcia commanded. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Jacey said with a wink.

Jacey spread her thighs further, and that’s when Marcia could see how swollen her clit had gotten. Her vertical clit piercing was covered in her arousal and Marcia’s tongue ached to lick it clean. With her thumb, Marcia rubbed between her inner lips and up to her clit, back and forth. With her piercing, Jacey is more sensitive there, and her inner thighs quaked with each swipe of her thumb. 

“Oooh, baby,” Jacey called out with a melodic voice.

 It didn’t take much to get her off if you knew how to please her. Jacey loved a lot of eye contact and nasty talk. Combine all three of those and Jacey would be putty in your hands. Marcia locked her eyes on Jacey’s bewitching one’s and told her how beautiful her pussy is. Jacey did that pout with her lips that made Marcia weak and next thing she was tonguing Jacey’s juicy folds. She gathered spit on the tip of her tongue and started off slow, warming Jacey up to the amount of orgasms she would be receiving. 

“Fuuck, just like that, baby,” Jacey smoothed Marcia’s hair from her face so she could watch, “Right there…stay on that clit…fuck.” 

“Mhm,” Marcia hummed while continuing to lick Jacey’s pussy. 

She didn’t even have to speak. She couldn’t bring herself to speak. The taste of her pussy had her tongue salivating beyond normalcy. The scent of her pheromones had an effect on her that she could feel in her own pussy. It was a work of art on its own. Marcia looked up between Jacey’s legs at her face and she’s pinching her nipples and nibbling on her sexy full lips. Marcia felt her body jerk from just looking at her. 

She spread Jacey’s outer folds more so she could get to her clit better. With her plump lips, Marcia trapped Jacey’s jeweled clit between her lips and began sucking. One of her hands came down to secure Marcia’s head between her thighs. Her hips started whining and grinding off of the bed to feed Marcia some more pussy. Marcia forcefully pushed Jacey’s thighs back and inserted two fingers into her now creamy pussy. Her pussy began making all the right noises and both of them moaned. 

“Fuck, you’re on my spot, shit,” Jacey yanked Marcia by the hair, “got my pussy so creamy, baby.” 

They locked eyes while Marcia pushed Jacey over the edge. She thrust her hips forward and with one final jerk of her hips, Jacey’s body went stiff and the meat of her inner thighs shook with intensity. Her moans were deep and intensified, unable to have any control over her body. Marcia finally released her clit with a wet pop and gently slipped her cum covered fingers from her warm, wet hole. 

“Damn, Marcia.” Jacey breathed out.

She sat up on her elbows to look at the mess she made all on her white sheets. A small puddle sat beneath her butt and her cum continued to trickle from her opening. Jacey gathered some of her essence on her finger and brought it to her mouth, sucking it off with a moan of pleasure. Marcia sat back on her elbows in front of Jacey’s open thighs and began taking off her teal green cotton panties. Jacey watched her, noticing a wet strip on the crotch of her panties. Marcia’s pussy lips swallowed the crotch and when she peeled them away to reveal her lower lips, sticky arousal connected to the panties. 

Jacey’s mouth parted slightly. Marcia gave Jacey a teasing wink while licking her own wetness from her panties. She tossed her panties over the edge of the bed and spread her thighs more, scooting as close as she could to Jacey so their pussy could be ‘face to face’. While Jacey’s outer lips and inner folds are more on the plumper side, Marcia’s is smaller; more delicate, with a tiny bud. Her inner lips were engorged and darker in color because of how turned on she is. She had a little triangle patch of jet black curls right above her outer lips but the rest was bare. 

They both explored each other's pussies; rubbing, tracing, and flicking with aroused curiosity. Whenever their low eyes would connect, they would lick their lips and whimper. Jacey dragged her nails through Marcia’s small patch of pubic hair and Marcia lightly stroked Jacey’s clit with her thumb. She increased the pace of her thumb on Jacey’s sensitive bud and gasped when she began to squirt, the juices landing on her vulva. 

“You know my pussy so well, baby,” Jacey spoke softly.

“And you know how to be such a good girl for me,” Marcia forced Jacey’s legs back before climbing on top of her, lining her pussy up perfectly with hers, “Time to bump coochies!”

Their giggles turned into cries of ecstasy when Marcia began to grind, whine, rotate, and thrust her hips at the right angle to make sure their clits collided. It was a wet, slippery dance that created music within the room. Sweat collected on Jacey’s abdomen, surrounding her belly button. Marcia’s back was covered in her own perspiration and it made the canvas tattooed on her skin more vivid. The pleasant musk of their scent made Jacey’s mouth water. 

“Oooh! Yes!” Marcia cried out.

“Are you gonna cum on this pussy, Marcia?” Jacey said, “Cum on my pussy, yes, just like that, right on my clit.” 

“fuuuck!” Marcia lowered her head to kiss Jacey and not once did she stop humping her pussy against Jacey’s. 

“I wish I could see how good this looks! Damn!” Marcia shouted, “Damn, bitch, you’re pussy is so fuckin’ juicy!”

“You’re making me cum again, baby…fuck, oh, shit,” Jacey’s thighs quaked, “Right there, right there, right there— Unh! Ah!”

Marcia grabbed a hold of one of Jacey’s titties and fought through the feeling of her body succumbing to her own climax. Marcia moved her hips in a circle and then lifted her hips to bounce her pussy against Jacey’s. Both of their juices made raunchy noises and the feeling of Jacey’s clit stroking Marcia’s from that angle led to both of them climaxing together. Their tacky skin clung to each other when Marcia collapsed on top of Jacey’s heated body. 

“I’m not finished with you yet,” Marcia spoke with a hushed tone, her warm breath tickling Jacey’s ear.

“Time to bring out Miss Boss,” Jacey said, still trying to catch her breath. 

Marcia fought to lift her body and she almost fell over again when Jacey’s fingers slid between them to rub on her drenched folds. She then inserted one finger, moving it around, creating a wet noise before removing her finger to taste. Marcia watched her with parted lips as she sucked her juices off. 

“Mmm…so good,” Jacey moaned. 

Marcia climbed out of bed and walked over to Jacey’s dresser. She opened the top left drawer and after moving some of her lingerie to the side, she found Miss Boss. The eight inch, purple crystal jelly dildo with realistic textured veins the dildo is attached to a pink harness by an o-ring. Marcia retrieved the strap-on and began securing it around her curvy waist and thick thighs. Jacey opened her side table drawer and grabbed some lube. 

Marcia took her position behind Jacey, fixing her arch and watching her cheeks bounce on the tip of the dildo. After lubing up the entire dildo, Marcia tossed the bottle to the side and without any more time wasted, she pressed the wide tip of the dildo against Jacey’s anxiously waiting canal and slid in with ease. It was a beautiful sight to behold. Jacey’s lips wrapped around the shaft of the dildo and the way her clit looked poked out from behind had Marcia groaning. Her pink and white ombré acrylics sank into Jacey’s booty meat for leverage so she could dig into her pussy deeper.

“Cream all over this dick,” Marcia commanded.

Jacey replied with a moan before throwing her pussy back onto the strap. Marcia slapped her ass each time she went low, praising her for taking the dick so well.

“That’s it…give me that pussy, bitch.” 

Jacey bit her lip and scrunched up her face. 

Her cream added more slickness for a better fuck. Marcia grabbed Jacey by the hips and went to pound town. Jacey’s ass cheeks jiggled out of control and her pussy leaked onto the sheets. Titties bouncing, asses shaking, and their sweet moans was a sight to witness. 

“I fuck you better than any nigga ever will, huh?!” 

“Yes! Oh, yes!” Jacey looked back at Marcia.

“Keep your eyes on me, baby,” Marcia rotated her hips, hitting Jacey’s pussy from a different angle, “That dick hittin’ the bottom of your pussy, slut?”

“Yes mami!” Jacey cried out, eyes tearing up.

Marcia continued pumping Jacey full with Miss Boss, making sure that she felt every inch to remind her who she belonged to. Jacey arched her back more like a good slut and gripped the sheets. She wasn’t running from that strap, and Marcia smirked smugly at that revelation. 

“Shit, I can’t hold it!” Jacey shouted while squirting all over the dildo.

“You tryna keep it away from me? While I fuck you like this?” Marcia questioned.

“Mami, it’s so big and it’s hitting my spot,” Jacey whined. 

“Don’t act scared now, baby. Whenever I bring Miss Boss out, you know what time it is,” Marcia popped Jacey on the ass hard, “Now fuck me back!”

Jacey sat up on her hands and made that ass move like it had a mind of its own. She tossed her pussy back on all eight inches of Miss Boss like she was the boss. Marcia cupped her breasts and thumbed her hard nipples. Jacey took it up a notch and reached back to hold her cheeks open. Marcia took her thumb and rubbed her booty hole before sinking into the tight hole. 

“FUCK.” Jacey slowed down her hips into a slow grind and more creamy goodness coated the veiny shaft. 

“I could cum right now from the way you look,” Marcia said.

“Cum for me, mami,” Jacey spoke seductively.

The friction of the strap hitting Marcia’s clit whenever Jacey bounced back was bringing her to a release. Marcia held onto Jacey’s shoulders and met her hips, the smacking growing louder and louder. 

“Yeah, make this pussy cum, oooh!” 

Jacey’s body seized up and her face smashed into the pillow, her cries and pleads muffled. Marcia lost control and one hand came around to grip Jacey by the neck as her entire body convulsed. The dildo sank deeper into Jacey’s pussy and with one final tug on the dildo, a stream of sticky liquid released all over the bed.

“Look at all this mess,” Marcia admired Jacey’s cream on the dildo and the large wet spot.

“Let me see your pussy,” Jacey turned around on her knees with lustful  eyes. 

Marcia removed the strap-on and crawled next to Jacey to lay on her back. Jacey settled between Marcia’s legs and spread her thighs apart. Her eyes lit up at the sight of Marcia’s slick pinkness and smooth brown outer lips. The further apart her thighs went, the more open her slit became and the more Jacey could see. Jacey’s clit ached at the sight of Marcia’s pretty pussy. Jacey arched her back and pressed her lips onto Marcia’s folds, smothering her with licks, sucks, and kisses. Marcia cried out and clutched for Jacey’s hair. 

“The taste of your pussy on my tongue is driving me crazy, baby,” Jacey whispered.

Marcia forced Jacey’s mouth back on her pussy and she cried out when she began sucking on her clit.

“Shit, Jacey, Fuuck,” Marcia threw her head back, eyes shut tight.

Jacey looked up at Marcia and watched her face contort into a defeated expression. Her hips rolled like she was moving her hips to a slow, freaky beat. Jacey followed her every move, sucking and licking her folds from top to bottom. 

“Keep that pussy in my mouth,” Jacey commanded.

“Marcia brought one of her titties to her mouth and sucked on her own nipple. She raised her hips from the bed and force fed Jacey the juiciest, creamiest pussy. 

“I’m making that pussy cum, Hm?” 

Marcia’s mouth fell open with a silent plea for more. Jacey wrapped her lips around Marcia’s tasty folds and sucked to her heart’s content. Marcia’s eyes rolled shut and her toes curled. 

“It’s coming…it’s coming, oh, fuck,” Marcia pinched and rolled her nipples, “fuck, you’re right on my clit!”

With the intense pleasure, Marcia came in Jacey’s mouth and some of her release slid down her throat. Jacey dragged her tongue between Marcia’s  folds and up to her clit, cleaning her off. Marcia’s head collapsed on the fluffy white pillow behind her, ragged breaths escaping her mouth. Jacey came up for air, wiping the side of her mouth to clean up some of Marcia’s cum. 

They both leaned in for a kiss. Marcia cupped Jacey’s chin and poked her tongue out. They touched tongues and then their lips collided with sloppy desperation. Jacey broke the kiss to stare at Marcia’s lips and then her eyes dragged up to meet her lascivious eyes. 

Six Months Later: 

Temptation. That’s what Erik is to Clayton, that’s what Erik has always been to him. A long distance relationship sadly withered away like ashes from a decaying corpse. To see him in person again overwhelmed him, but also saddened him. He knew they could never be again, and yet the way he stared at him made him weak all over again. Firstly, Erik has a reputation for being a man slag, and Clayton knew that Erik wouldn’t stay loyal for long with him being on the other side of the country. While he was getting bussy in Michigan, Clayton was doing his own thing too. 

Clayton was tempted to punch that fine man in the face for making him feel this way. He watched Erik from his porch lock up his all white Acura MDX, and with a gait that would make any man or woman weak, he strolled over to Clayton’s town home, dressed to impress with sneakers fresh out of the box. In the back of Clayton’s mind, he can hear his family telling him to leave Erik alone. But how could he when his fluffy lips felt so right against his? 

“You miss me, Clay?” Erik whispered.

Clayton’s eyes combed over Erik from head to toe. He loved the tapered locs and the temp fade; very stylish. He wore a cream-colored hoodie and black jeans that hung low in the crotch but tight at the ankles. The diamond studs in his ears matched the diamond tennis necklace around his neck. Erik only dressed up like this to throw Clayton off, make him fall for his seduction. 

“Yeah,” Clayton cleared his throat, “Do you miss me?”

“Do I?” Erik digs his fingers into Clayton’s waist to pull him close and then goes right for the gold, his hand reaching down between his legs. 

“E,” Clayton created space between them, “I’m glad you stopped by but…we can’t do this.” 

Erik elevated a single brow before licking his lips. His eyes roamed from Clayton’s freshly cut glossy black hair, to his full, moist lips, then down to the fitted white beater he wore and the light gray Nike joggers that left nothing to the imagination. He already knew what time it was, why was he acting brand new? 

“So, why did you agree to see me then, Clay?” Erik questioned. 

Clayton turned to open his door, waiting for Erik to enter. Erik gave him a lingering stare before stepping inside. Clayton shut the door to his new townhome, leading Erik inside to the living room. It was nice and cozy. Erik joined Clayton on a black leather sectional that sat facing a wall mounted fireplace with a 72-inch television mounted above it. 

“I haven’t seen you in almost a year, Erik. I’m not going to lie…I did want us to rekindle what we used to have…but it’s best we remain friends.”

Erik sensed how anxious Clayton was and the way he avoided his eyes told him everything he needed to know. Erik didn’t expect for him and Clayton to pick up where they left off, it was too late for that. They were in different directions now. Clayton is seeing someone new, a guy he met online. Erik is single and not looking for anything serious. Clayton was his last serious relationship. He just wanted to start over— new job, new crib, new whip, and a new weed plug. 

“You ain’t gotta explain yourself, bruh. I get it,” Erik rubbed at his nose, a habit of his when he was in an awkward situation, “So, how have you been?”

Clayton chuckled, “Decent. I mended my relationship with my father. Started dating this really nice guy. Too bad I never have time to go see him working two jobs.” 

“Damn, that gotta be tough,” Erik’s eyes landed on Clayton’s lap, “I’m sure he understands.” 

“Yeah…so how’s the new job?”

“I like it. Can’t complain.” Erik said.

“Software engineering, right? You were always tech savvy.” 

“Yep, it’s always great making money doing what you love.” 

Clayton nodded his head, turning away from Erik so he wouldn’t meet his eyes, “Want something to drink?”

Clayton stood from the sofa and headed towards his kitchen. Erik followed him, hands in his pockets and eyes on Clayton’s back muscles and tight ass. 

“Whatchu got?” Erik leaned his elbows on Clayton’s kitchen island. 

“Iced tea, alkaline water, orange juice, something stronger.”

I’ll take some wine if you got it. I don’t need nothin’ too strong, gotta get home in one piece.” 

Clayton laughs, “Since when do you care about that?”

“I’m gettin’ old, Clay. I can’t hang like I used to.” 

Clayton grabbed a bottle of white wine from his countertop and then two glasses from a cabinet. He poured their wine and handed Erik a glass. 

“Too much partying in Boston?” Clayton inquired.

“Way too much,” Erik took a sip of his wine.

“Sounds like you had a good time,” Clayton avoided Erik’s gaze.

“I did…listen, Clay, I’m sorry for how things ended between us. I wish it could have worked out…”

“All good, that shits in the past.” 

Clayton finished his glass and grabbed the bottle, leaving the kitchen. Erik met him back in the living room, kicking off his A1’s. He wouldn’t be able to get through this night on wine alone. He needed his weed and too bad he has the lousiest plug. Erik was expecting to get his dick sucked by the best to ever do it. None of the dudes or chicks in Michigan got a deep throat like Clayton. The thought alone had his dick brick hard. 

“Is it really? Or are you just saying that to avoid talking about it?” Erik questioned.

Clayton couldn’t hide his smile. Those lips.

“Why talk about it? What does it matter, E?”

Erik shrugs, “Because you’re mad tense right now. Like you can’t function around me without doing something reckless…”

Clay tilted his head in thought.

“I’m right. Listen, let’s be honest. You invited me here because you wanted one last taste, am I right?”

“…and it was a mistake,” Clayton shakes his head, “I don’t know why I can’t get over you. I figured if I have you one last time, we can be done with this.”

Erik smiled, “Clay, you know who you’re talkin’ to right now?”

Clayton finally met Erik’s eyes. 

“You ain’t done. Stop bullshittin’.”

“I am, E.” Clayton replied sternly.

“Who you tryin’ to convince? Your new boy toy ain’t enough to get your mind off of me.” 

Clayton shakes his head. 

“If you want it one last time, I’ll give it to you one last time.”

Erik grabbed Clayton’s wine glass and sat it on the table. He gently cupped Clayton’s chin, forcing his light brown eyes to meet his onyx ones. 

“…And I’ll make sure you never forget.” Erik whispered.

Enticement. That’s what Erik is to Clayton. That’s what  Erik has always been to Clayton, it’s just in a much different form now. Erik had hurt him, and he told himself that he wouldn’t go backwards, but when he’d gotten an unexpected call from him a few months prior, old feelings that he’d locked down came seeping through the cracks like a ghostly whisper. While Clayton should be tempted to punch Erik in the face, he couldn’t help but reminisce on the way his lips felt or how good he smelled. 

Erik turned his body causing the leather to creak beneath him, facing Clayton now. His wine glass was empty and Clayton could smell the moscato on his breath. His tapered locs fell over his unkempt brows giving him more of a wilder look. Clayton’s eyes disobeyed him and he glanced down at Erik’s succulent mouth and the way his slick, pink tongue swiped his bottom lip. 

Fuck it. 

Clayton closed the space between them and started sucking on Erik’s tongue. Erik felt blood surge south and he couldn’t help but let go of a shameless moan into the lust laded lip lock. The kiss increased in sloppiness and intensity, both of their hands fisting each other’s shirts and squeezing biceps. Erik digs his fingers into Clayton’s waist to pull him close and then goes right for the gold, his hands dipping past the waistband of his joggers to find his entrance, toying with it while he deepens the kiss. He teased his hole with his finger, causing Clayton to moan. 

“That ass is still tight,” Erik declared with a groan, “I can’t wait to get in that.” 

Clayton looked hesitant for a second but Erik’s finger rubbing his tight hole had him anticipating being bent over and dug out. 

“You know what I miss, Clay. Give me that sweet mouth, Clay…come on…show me you’re still my number one head doctor.”

Clayton’s lips hovered over Erik’s when he reached between them to rub his print. He took it up a notch and unzipped his jeans, reaching inside to pull his length out, stroking him in his hand as his tongue licks deep into his exes mouth. 

Erik’s dick swelled in Clayton’s hand, growing until it can’t anymore, but throbs against his slow stroking fingers as if it wants to. Erik began grinding his hips while pressing his finger right past the restrictive ring of tight muscle, wishing it was his tongue opening up Clayton’s saporous entrance. Erik got all the way down to the knuckle inside of him. 

While Erik’s lips were smothering Clayton’s neck with kisses, Clayton’s eyes were glued to the dick that was once his. It’s still just as beautiful as before. Perfect from the tip down to the heavy balls that Clayton loved to play with. A deep grunt escaped Erik’s mouth when Clayton started stroking the head of Erik’s dick with his thumb. He spread his pre-cum all over the bulbous head and felt Erik twitch in his hand. 

“You knew you wanted this again…Look at you…doing it exactly how you used to…you ain’t forget how to please daddy…”

“How could I forget when you’re the best I ever had?” Clayton whispered wantonly.

Clayton used his free hand to push Erik’s hoodie up, revealing his torso. Clayton eagerly drinks him in with his eyes. Erik had naturally oozing sex appeal. His body is ridiculously chiseled with smooth skin pulled tautly over muscles. Looking at those arms brought back memories of when Erik would easily lift him up and sit him on the edge of any nearby surface had him swooning, his own dick hard and throbbing. 

Erik removed his finger from Clayton’s ass to take off his shirt. Clayton watched with awe as Erik seductively peeled away his hoodie. He began peppering kisses all over Erik’s throat and down to his chest before licking his brown nipples. Erik hissed, his dick throbbing out of control in Clayton’s grip. He wanted that mouth. With his bottom lip between his teeth, Erik did what he used to. He brought one hand up to the base of Clayton’s head and began massaging him there with his fingertips before dragging his fingers down to his neck and back up again. Clayton got the hint and began to drag his kisses over Erik’s abs until he was on his knees between his legs. 

“You gon’ suck me good, Clay?” Erik questioned.

“Yes, daddy,” Clayton said.

“Daddy? I’m still daddy?”

Clayton gave Erik a look that caused him to chuckle.

“Don’t let your new man find that out. You think about me when he fuckin’ that ass, Clay?”

Clayton replied with his mouth sinking lower onto Erik’s dick. Erik thrust his head back and moaned. Clayton used his jaw muscles, tongue, and lips to suck Erik’s 9 inches deep. Working that neck, he would twist his mouth on the uptake, making sure to suck longer on his fat tip. Erik kept his gaze on Clayton no matter how low his eyes were. You’d think he was high by the way his eyes looked. His puffy lips were parted, and he couldn’t stop licking his lips. 

“You showing out, boy,” Erik said, “You suck other dicks like this while I was away, Clay? Don’t lie to me…”

Clayton’s lips popped off Erik’s dick, “I tried, but ain’t no dick like yours.”

“Damn,” Erik sucked his bottom lip into his mouth when Clayton started sucking on his nut sack, “You know that’s gon’ earn you a big nut down your long fuckin’ throat right, nigga?”

“Give it to me,” Clayton spoke between sucks, “Give me that tasty nut.”

“I’ll paint that pretty chocolate face.” Erik said. 

Clayton’s tongue swiped up the base of Erik’s shaft until his lips found Erik’s tip again. Erik brought his palm to the back of Clayton’s head and forced his head down over his dick, guiding him with one hand while his other hand was occupied with playing with his nipples. The guck guck and tight lips had Erik’s eyes crossed. He missed this. Sloppy top. Not one man or woman back in Boston did it like Clayton. He was convinced he’d never find another person to top him. 

“Clay, suck that shit,” Erik’s hips rose from the sofa so he could pump Clayton’s mouth. His teeth sank into his bottom lip hard and he watched with lustrous eyes while Clayton gagged and gobbled him up. 

“Fuck.” Erik thrust his head back, “Here it comes—”

Erik rolled his hips, working his dick in and out of Clayton’s mouth with all his might, body seizing up with his own climax. Clayton knew to stay on that dick. He swallowed it all and left Erik speechless. Dick still solid, Erik wasn’t finished. He raised his hips and pushed his briefs and his jeans off. Bringing his hips to the edge of the couch, he spread his legs and brought his knees up, exposing his smooth ass free of hair. His puckered hole sat exposed beneath his dick and balls and without a word Clayton went right into ass eating. 

He stroked Erik’s tight entrance with his tongue and he would drag it up to his balls. Erik jerked his own dick, focusing on the tip. 

“Put your face in it Clay, stop playin’,” Erik commanded, “Good boy…”

Clayton tongued Erik’s ass so good He had his dick saluted to the ceiling and rock hard. 

“Fuuuck, if you make me cum like this, I’ll return the favor.” 

Clayton gave it his all. Whenever Erik rewarded him with ass eating, Clayton worked overtime to give his daddy what he wanted. Adding a finger, Clayton went right back to sucking Erik’s dick and tonguing his balls. 

“That’s it…look at that juicy mouth…fuck, Clay…Fuuck…Clay I’m about to bust—”

Erik couldn’t even finish his words. It’s been months since he had his ass eaten. Last time it was an ex-girlfriend back in Boston named Cahtrina that he met at M.I.T. She faithfully ate his ass. The best to do it. She could make Erik cum off ass eating alone. 

“Gahdamn, Clay,” Erik let his legs down, “You earned it for sure.” 

Clayton slid his hands down Erik’s thighs, staring longingly at Erik. 

“Are we taking this to my room?” Clayton stood up.

“Whatever you want.” Erik said. 

The door to the townhome opened gently and Danny; Clayton’s boyfriend, entered. Takeout bag in his left hand filled with wings and fries, Danny kicked off his designer loafers at the front door before shutting the door behind him. Danny’s almond-shaped eyes scanned the foyer as he strolled ahead. He made a left turn into the kitchen, hoping to see Clayton there but it was empty. He smooths back his shiny, black, quaffed hair and sits the bag of food on the kitchen island. 

“Clay?” Danny called out. 

He had a busy day as a real estate agent and he wanted to celebrate closing on a property he’d been busting his ass on selling. First thing he did was call up his mom and dad in Korea and then he planned to surprise Clayton that evening. He hoped they could also discuss moving in together since Clayton gave him a key to his new townhouse. Danny left the kitchen to find Clayton and when he entered the living room, his footsteps halted. Netflix was on and the coffee table had two wine glasses on it — one empty. A pair of fresh A1’s sat next to the leather sofa.

Danny stared puzzled, his stomach doing somersaults. He took the stairs, the more he climbed, the harder it was for him to keep it together. When he made it onto the second floor landing, he traveled down the narrow hallway to the master bedroom, and he didn’t have to enter to see everything he needed to see. 

Clayton has a fancy ornate floor mirror overlooking his bed. The lights are dim and the ambiance of the room was purposefully set to compliment the heart wrenching scene before poor Danny. Clayton’s deep mocha skin slick with sweat was arched over the edge of his king sized bed. Danny could see through Clayton’s expression. His eyes were closed but his mouth was agape and spewing incoherent words. The gut-wrenching sound of Clayton’s firm ass cheeks clashing with dynamic thighs filled the room. 

Danny turned his hurt gaze toward the man responsible for his boyfriend’s cries of pleasure. While Danny is more of a slender build, this man before him had to be double his size. Broad-shouldered, well-knit, and dynamic. This is what Clayton wanted. Not some feeble, weak man. A powerfully built man with aggression. 

“Erik…Erik…Don’t stop!” 

Erik. Something in Danny’s mind clicked. The infamous ex boyfriend. 

Danny’s gaze fell to Clayton again, visibly hurt but also turned on. Eyes back on the mirror, he studied the way Erik’s strapping legs flexed. His burly figure Danny envied. He looked up and to his horror, Erik was staring right into his eyes. Danny stood petrified, Erik’s eyes the color of coal burning into his orbs. Despite his focus being on Danny, his hips continued to pump Clayton full of what Danny knew to be the best dick he ever had. A slow, sinuous smirk painted Erik’s mug and the gold slugs decorating his teeth didn’t help situations. 

Clayton wanted to feel disgusted by his boyfriend’s cries or the way his body quivered with pleasure. He wanted to feel disgusted by the way Erik looked slanging dick so good Clayton was professing his love. Danny couldn’t stand there any longer while Erik taunted him with his sinister smirk and unwavering eyes. Danny found the strength to escape and when he did he didn’t look back despite the sound of Clayton’s voice announcing his release. 

“I’m cumming!” 

Clayton came all over the bed sheets and Erik was not too far behind. After three intense thrusts, Erik withdrew his hips and looked down to find his condom filled with cum. Clayton collapsed onto his stomach and Erik stepped away to remove his condom. After tying it in a knot, tossing it in a bin next to Clayton’s mirror, Erik’s eyes lingered on the bedroom door, wondering if Their voyeur was still around. It was exhilarating in the moment to play in the poor man’s face, but now he had to get out of there before things got out of hand. He refused to be around if the boyfriend is still here. 

“Leaving?” Clayton asked, peeling himself off of the bed finally. 

Erik had his jeans halfway on when Clayton gave him a disappointed look. If the turn of events didn’t happen, Erik would be smoking some weed he bought off of a plug earlier in the day. Smoking after sex was his thing. 

“Yeah…I don’t think it’s good for me to stick around, Clay. We both know that.” 

Clayton opened his mouth to protest but closed it when he realized the reality of the situation. Erik excused himself to the restroom and returned to find Clayton putting on a robe, flaccid dick sticking to his thigh from all the cum that sputtered out. 

“I had a great time, Clay…best sex I had in a while…”

“I think it’s best we don’t make this awkward,” Clayton scratched the back of his head, “I’ll walk you out, E.”

Fully dressed — Erik in his clothes and Clayton in a black robe — Clayton walked Erik downstairs. Erik had his eyes searching from left to right for the boyfriend but from the looks of it, he left. Erik wasn’t gonna kick back and wait for him to return. He found his shoes and was able to get his feet in without undergoing the laces. Clayton was looking everywhere but at Erik, avoiding his gaze completely. Maybe he should apologize for being so abrupt with leaving, but what good will that do? Clayton was in for some shit. 

“I’ll hit you?” Erik said.

Clayton opened his door, “Maybe. This shouldn’t have happened…”

Erik chuckled, “Too late for that, Clay. Take care of yourself, homie. You got my number…don’t be afraid to use it.” 

Clayton’s eyes fell to his bare feet. Erik tilted his chin up with his finger, making him look into his eyes.

“Can I get a goodbye kiss?” 

Clayton hesitated, but his lips touched Erik’s quickly and he looked as if he wanted more but instead turned away and shut his door. Erik stood there for a moment while twirling the keys to his whip around his finger. A part of him knew it was wrong for what he did, but was it worth feeling that mouth and ass again? Hell yeah.

Erik jogged down the front steps leading to a concrete walkway. Climbing into his car, Erik cranked it up and the AC hit him causing him to shiver. Erik left as quickly as he could, and when he finally made it out onto the main road, his stomach started growling. After driving for ten minutes, Erik spotted a Wendy’s and quickly turned left into the drive thru. He ordered himself a chicken sandwich meal with a strawberry lemonade. Finding an empty parking spot, Erik sat in his car and enjoyed his meal. 

After a day filled with getting his new place together and last minute shopping, Erik hardly had time to eat. The last meal he had was an açaí bowl. If Clayton’s boyfriend didn’t show up to ruin the party, Erik would have kicked it a little longer and ordered some food. After eating the last of his French fries, Erik placed his trash back in the takeout bag and sat it in his passenger seat until he got home. Turning on the light within his car, he reached in his backseat to retrieve the half-o he bought off a weed plug that was recommended to him by an old friend of his.

Securing his rolling papers, Erik cracked his windows and with his rolling tray in his lap, he started grounding up his weed while listening to Brent Faiyaz. Laying the ground-up bud on a rolling paper, he gently rolled the paper over the top of his blunt cone and carefully added the grounded weed inside. Patting his jeans, Erik found his Zippo Ace High Skull lighter. He sparked up his blunt and hit it. The aroma of the weed was slightly musty and even the taste was off. Erik studies the blunt in his hand before hitting it again.

“Nah, what the fuck?”

Erik grabbed the bag with his free hand and took a whiff. How had he missed it? He knew a bad batch when he saw one. Even the smell would have given it away. The weed was compromised. The weed plug sold him a bad batch. Erik flicked his blunt out of the window and grabbed his phone. He called the plug, his jaw set and nostrils flared.

“Yo,” the plug answered. 

“Nigga, did you sell me some bad weed?”

“Who dis?”

“Oh, now you got amnesia? It’s Erik, fool.”

“I ain’t sell you a bad batch.” 

“Yeah you did. This shit is brown and it smells just like a bad batch.”

“I don’t sell bad weed, you got the wrong guy.” 

“Nah, you got the wrong one if you think you gon’ play me, cuz. I should have known to check this shit before I gave you my fucking money. I want my money back tonight.” 

“I don’t do refunds.” 

“Tonight you will. I want my money back. I ain’t saying it again. I’ll meet you outside and you better bring me my shit, bitch.”

Erik hung up and tossed the bag of bad weed in his passenger seat. He was so filled with rage that he almost drove over a cone in the parking lot. Erik tends to drive recklessly, especially when he’s pissed. On his way out of the parking lot, Erik was about to enter the road when an all black Jeep Wrangler came roaring down the road. Erik pumped on his brakes at the last second causing the Jeep Wrangler to miss his car by two centimeters. The Jeep Wrangler’s horn blared out continuously. Erik felt his chest grow tight and he stared at the Jeep Wrangler with fury. 

“WHAT THE FUCK?!!!” Erik barked out. 

The owner of the Jeep Wrangler sped off and Erik was right on their bumper. He skillfully came around to their front where they had no choice but to stop. They stopped with a screech of their tires, a lingering smell of burnt rubber in the evening air. Erik’s heart was racing with how fired up he was. He’d already been upset about the weed and now this driver wants to be an added pain in his ass, almost scratching and denting his new car. He couldn’t see the driver because of the tinted windows, but he could tell it was a woman with the rhinestone encased license plates. 

Erik opened his car door to inspect when the Jeep Wrangler swerved from behind him and sped past him again. Murky rain water from the wet road splashed up and dirtied Erik’s A1’s and the side of his car. Erik hopped out to get a good look at their license plate and although he badly wanted to chase them down, it was too late, they had already disappeared into the night. Erik slammed his car door shut and paced back and forth to calm himself. His fists were clenched and he closed his eyes to try and simmer down but he was seeing red. 

B-B-U-D-D-H-A

One Hour Earlier:

“GET YOUR SHIT AND GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Marcia avoided being hit in the face with a dildo that Jacey tossed at her head. Her body was still soaked from being in the shower and the woman she was caught with had rushed out of the apartment with just her red thong with her thing’s bundled up in her arms. 

“YOU LYING, CHEATING ASS BITCH!”

Jacey opened her narrow walk-in closet and any item of Marcia’s she could find she yanked it from the shelves and hangers to toss them at her. Marcia swiftly pulled on a pair of loose fitting sleep pants before she was smacked in the face with a denim jacket. 

“HOW COULD I BE SO STUPID?!”

“Jacey—let me explain—”

“Explain what?! How you ended up on your knees in the shower with a mouth full of pussy IN MY APARTMENT?! An apartment I pay rent in?!!!”

Jacey was a tiny ball of fury. The black hoodie she wore was swimming on her and hiding all of her curves. Marcia stood on the other side of the room with guilty eyes. She couldn’t explain. There was no amount of explaining that could get her out of this situation. 

“I THOUGHT I COULD TRUST YOU AGAIN! After everything I’m going through?! After getting into a stupid fist fight with my brother's baby mama! After the fall out between me and my mom! blaming me for Bella keeping my nieces away from me! And I come home to this?! You eating some bitch pussy?! And for what?! For me to take you back?! Forgive you?!”

Jacey tossed a pair of heels at Marcia who ducked in enough time. The shoes hit the wall hard and put a crack in the drywall. Jacey collapsed against the wall clutching her abdomen, trying her best to catch her breath. Her tawny skin is flushed and she could feel sweat rolling down her spine. Pushing her faux locs out of her face, she stood tall and glared at Marcia through her blurry vision. 

“Get your shit and get the fuck out!” Jacey yelled. 

“Where am I gonna go Jacey?!” Marcia argued.

“See if that bitch you’ve been fucking got a place for you to stay!”

“I can’t go back to my mom, Jace,” Marcia cautiously walked past Jacey to the closet where she retrieved her Puma gym bag to pack her things.

“I don’t care where you go. You can’t be here.” 

Jacey had come home unexpectedly after attempting to spend the weekend with her mom. She hoped to vent to her about the drama between Duke and Bella. Jacey had gone to visit Duke and confessed that Bella was having a baby on him. The hurt on Duke’s face mirrored how Jacey felt. Somehow, word got out to Bella and she showed up at Jacey’s apartment. They got into a heated argument that ended with both of them scrapping in the parking lot. Security had to split up the altercation and Bella didn’t leave without letting Jacey know that she can never see her nieces again. 

“You shouldn’t have done that, Jacey. Your brother is already facing so much. You didn’t help by telling him about Bella.”

“If this means I can’t see my grandbabies, we have a problem. Me and you.”

“When will you learn to mind your business, Jacey?”

“Don’t raise your voice at me in my house. You can get your shit and go.”

Jacey didn’t hesitate to leave. The one person she thought would be there to comfort her after a bad day was caught sucking pussy in her shower. She recognized the chick too. A ‘friend’ of Marcia’s that has a boyfriend. That probably wasn’t the first time Marcia brought a woman back to the apartment when Jacey wasn’t there. 

“I can’t take all my shit tonight.”

Marcia tried to get Jacey’s attention but she refused to look at her. If she did, she wasn’t going to fall into her trap. She was going to drag her by her hair out of the apartment herself. 

“Then I’ll leave your shit outside of the door for you to come back for. I want you out of my apartment, Marcia.”

Jacey stormed out of the bedroom and into the living room. She snatched up her white Telfar bag and keys, walking to the door of her apartment to leave. She needed some air and a drive to calm her down. Marcia appeared from the hall with two bags over her shoulders and one in her hand. She’d been crying, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. She had her phone to her ear and a somber expression on her face. 

“Ma, can I stay wit you tonight? It’s a long story…”

Marcia walked out of the apartment and Jacey slammed her door shut, screaming. A kick to her wall from a neighbor seemed to tick her off more. Walking up to her patio that overlooked the parking lot, Jacey could see Marcia lugging her bags to her red Kia. 

“HOPE YOU’RE HAPPY WITH YOURSELF YOU LYING ASS HOE!!!!”

Marcia ignored her and climbed into her car. A few of Jacey’s neighbors that were entering the building stopped to watch her shout obscenities.

“YOU DIRTY BITCH! DON’T FORGET THIS!”

Jacey picked up a rainbow 10 inch dildo and tossed it over the balcony. It landed on the pavement and bounced into the gutter. Her neighbors chuckled and pointed at the sex toy. 

Marcia reversed out of her spot and sped off as quickly as she could to avoid being seen. Jacey didn’t care about her neighbors laughing. That was the last thing on her mind. 

“Fucking dirty bitch!” Jacey shut her patio doors and left her apartment. 

She couldn’t wait to scrub her shower down and clean her sheets. The audacity of that bitch. Walking to her car, Jacey tried her best to fight back tears, but she couldn’t. She crumbled in her driver’s seat, gathering the sleeve of her hoodie to dab her eyes. If she was being honest, she was more so angry with herself about it. This isn’t the first time that Marcia played in her face. 

Jacey started her Jeep Wrangler and drove out of her apartment complex. She didn’t have any idea where she was going to go, so she just kept driving, the smell of rain from the fresh air filling her car calming her down. After ten minutes, her heart steadied to a normal rhythmic pattern. She turned into a nearby shopping center and parked across from a Wells Fargo ATM. 

Jacey opened her bag and grabbed a stack of money to deposit into her account. She locked her car doors and walked up to the ATM to deposit the money. She could feel her phone vibrating in her pocket and she knew it had to be Marcia. Exhaling, Jacey turned to walk back to her car and climbed in. Opening her glove compartment, Jacey grabbed her gold rolling tray and in her bag was a key of mandarin cookies, rolling papers, and a couple cones. The Mandarin Cookies strain is a sativa-dominant hybrid with a sweet, fruity aroma and a taste of tangerine and cookies. She snatched up her yellow Backwoods lighter from her drink holder and started rolling a blunt. 

Jacey toked on her weed and after five puffs she felt a sedating and calming high overcome her. She could taste the citrus and diesel from the hybrid strain and it relaxed her. Uplifted, Jacey ashes out her blunt to finish back at the apartment. Starting her car, eyes dry and vision hazy, she left the shopping center and headed back towards her apartment. Jacey wasn’t focused on how fast she was driving. Anybody in her way needed to make room. She maneuvered her truck like it was a buggie. 

Jacey made a swift turn going at 40 MPH when a white Acura MDX came zooming out of a Wendy’s parking lot. Jacey rammed her foot into the brake pedal, hee bag falling to the floor of the car. She swerved around the car and honked her horn repeatedly to get their attention. She didn’t wait around to see who it was and kept going, but the Acura MDX was right on her bumper. The luxury car came from behind and stopped right in front of her. Jacey gasped, pumping her brakes again just in time. 

“YOU ASSHOLE!!!!” Jacey shouted. 

She wanted to see who the fuck was driving that car. She wasn’t going to step out of the car. Luckily her windows are tinted. When the car door opened, she could tell that it was a man. Jacey quickly put her car in reverse and switched gears, speeding past the road-ragged maniac, sending a puddle of water onto him and his car. Jacey’s mouth dropped open in surprise as she watched her rear view mirror for the driver. When the coast was clear, Jacey broke out into a fit of laughter despite her rapid heartbeat and shaky fingers. 

@goddessofthundathighs​ @theegoldenchild​ @hearteyes-for-killmonger​ @imagining-greatness @chaneajoyyy​ @uzumaki-rebellion​ @theeblackmedusa​ @daddiespamm​ @lisayourworries​ @bellleame​ @ratedbadgal​ @bombshellbre95​ @cecereads209​ @cancerianprincess​ @dameshaemonique​ @6lack-1otus​ @thickemadame​ @thickeeparker​ @stinkalinkkkk​ @1lavender-menace​ @ehniki​ @electrixit​ @prettyisasprettydoes1306​ @washillary​ @bakarisprincess​ @melodicheauxxlovesfood​ @bxolux​ @sweet2krazee​ @bluesole16​ @90sisthenew80s​ @ispywithmylileye​ @geemamii​ @unbotheredblackchild​ @nubianbabee​ @adoreesun​ @honeyandpeaches​ @blackpinup22​ @nayaxwrites​ @dersha89​ @honeytoffee​ @thickianaaaa​ @modelmemoirs​ @why-wait-4-eventually @angelicniah​ @queenfaithmarie​ @soulfulbeauty19​ @asweet-serendipity​ @kartierkitten​ @iamching07​ @ladymac82​ @bbygirlwiththatass​ @cydneyloo​ @sexysativa605​ @chrisevans-world​ @aijha​ @novaniskye​ @princessxotwod​ @callmemckenzieee​ @blowmymbackout​ @lahuttor​ @momobaby227​ @blackerthings​ @neesiewrote​ @kenbieee​  @palmstreesallday​ @kokokonako​ @richgirlaesthetics​ @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat​ @beautybyfire​ @abluesforlyssa​ @xo-goldengirl​ @mbakuetshurisprincess​ @4ftwonder​ @raysunshine78​ @sensitivelegend​ @sourbabynaee​ @gotbeefbitch-blog​ @joonswan​ @cool-fancyone​ @efonteno​ @akimi-youngblood​ @badassdoll​ @shyblackgurl​ @childishgambinaax​ @teheeboo​ @skylahb​ @gigafaex​ @readingaddict1290​ @circeaphoenix​ @xsweetdellzx​ @carewornblackgirl​ @queengodiva619​ @certifiedlesbianbaddie​ @seyven89​ @childishgambinaax​ @jamaicanqueenaa​ @soufcakmistress​ @eyeknowmywrites​

[paradoxlemonade]

Like a Flower in Bloom; chapter 1/3

Summary: Doc Monster is a many things: he's a tinkerer, a college graduate, a creeper hybrid, and a husband to his wonderful spouse, Ren. Most importantly, he is a father. And he would do anything to make his trans daughter Scarlet happy. Even if it means becoming a Buttercup Scout troop leader and herding a trio of middle school girls.

This is my @mcytblraufest fic, made in collaboration with my artist @watchmewhirl and beta-read my @raivaughn. You can find the masterpost for the art here.

Warnings: minor transphobia

Ao3: Here!

Next ; Last

---

Violence does not solve very many problems. It usually just creates newer, more complicated problems. As a rational person, Doc understands this. 

As an animal, however, he wants the Buttercup Scout troop leader in front of him to be eaten by hyenas.

The meeting wrapped up a few minutes ago and most of the girls and parents already filtered out the door. Doc told Scarlet, his daughter, to hang behind and talk with the other girls. She's more than happy to do so, chatting away with the Symmetry twins. 

He has a few concerns about how she was repeatedly sidelined during the badge event and wanted to ask about that. She hadn't yet joined the troop and was only there for a preliminary meeting, yes, but the adults could have stood to be a bit more welcoming to new members. 

Which led to him hunting down the troop leader, tapping her on the shoulder, and asking about her meeting policies. Which led to her trying not to sneer and just dismissing him out of hand.

Ms. Reflecta Symmetry doesn't bother to face him as she gathers up tubes of decorating frosting and glitter sprinkles and returns them to their original packaging. “I'm busy. Could you please wait a moment?”

Doc shakes his head. “I just have a question about how meetings tend to go, and then I'll be out of your hair. Nothing big; it’ll be quick.” 

Reflecta drops the decorating supplies back onto the camp table with unnecessary force and finally turns to face him. She gives him a plastic, simpering smile. “I think I can help you! Were you here to check out our troop and think about joining?”

“...Yes, that's correct.” Something about the way she carries herself sets Doc's nerves on edge. “Scarlet wanted to be a part of the group that was piping frosting onto the sugar cookies. But every time she asked you if she could switch groups, she got ignored or told to wait her turn, but she never got to be a part of the piping group. It seemed like she was… forgotten during the group changes.”

How does he phrase this diplomatically? 

“I was wondering if this was how most of your meetings run, or if you were just distracted. There were a lot of girls to keep from making messes, after all.” He's had long days before. It would be nice if that were the case here; this was the only close option for a troop in the area.

“Uh-huh.” Reflecta’s arms cross, fingers tapping away. She switches her expression to an equally-fake one of hyperbolic sympathy. “You see, I'm just not certain that your… child is a good fit for our troop. I’m concerned that they won’t have very much fun; we have a specific culture here. I'm sure you understand?” With that, she spins on her heel and continues packing up the materials from the meeting into an oversized patchwork tote bag.

Doc stands there for a moment, frozen stiff. “Excuse me?” What exactly did she mean by that? He steps to her side, working himself back into her line of sight even as she works and attempts to ignore him. “I think I misunderstand you. Could you explain what you mean?”

 She glances over to give him another apologetic look, but her lip is curled back just enough to show teeth. “It just takes so many resources for a Buttercup Scout troop to make sure all girls involved have an enriching experience. We've just had a few new girls join, so I'll need our treasurer to reassess the budget. Perhaps you should look into some other organizations in the area? I'm sure there's plenty that they would like elsewhere.”

Doc grits his teeth and wills himself to silence. Budget problems and personality are two different issues. That leaves one conclusion: Ms. Symmetry is full of shit. She just doesn't want Scarlet to join the troop. He'd hoped her earlier curt attitude was just her being busy with other kids—even gave her an out to claim that—but that doesn't seem to be the case.

He clears his throat. “Sure, yeah, I understand.” Before she can get another word in to affirm his agreement, Doc barrels on: “It's just a little surprising to hear, considering how well Scarlet seemed to get along with the other girls. The advertisement your troop posted on Facebook the other week also seemed so welcoming; was that scheduled in advance before your means were clear?”

Reflecta's smile remains, though the bottom of her eye twitches ever so slightly. “Something like that.” It's her turn not to give Doc a chance to respond as she jerks to face the remaining girls in the room. “False! True! Get your things. We're leaving.”

The two blonde girls that Scarlet is talking to perk up at the same time, like prairie dogs out of a burrow. Aside from the longer hair and extremely thick glasses that nearly resemble goggles they both wore, they were spitting images of Reflecta. One just nods without emoting much, while the other brightens and responds, “Yes, ma’am!”

The smiley one clambers to her feet, buttercup guide book clutched to her chest. She waves farewell and says something else before bounding over to her mother's side. The stoic one bumps a silent shoulder against Scarlet’s and follows a moment later.

“Ah, Scarlet,” Doc calls out. “You come on as well. We finished speaking, so it's time to go home.”

She nods and scoops up her cat plushie backpack.“Okie-dokie, dad!” Once it’s on her back and she gets her crutches situated, she’s by his side as he guides her out the door.

“Did you have a nice conversation with the twins?” Doc asks, a bit louder than necessary in the hopes that Scarlet won’t hear Reflecta hissing ‘I don’t want to hear about you two talking to that one again’ to her daughters. He directs Scarlet along a little bit faster.

“Yeah, they were really nice to me!” There’s a bounce in her step as she chatters away. “True didn’t talk very much, but that’s okay since False talked enough for both of them. I think she talks when she’s nervous and when she’s comfortable. And then she asked about my Jellie backpack, and—”

Doc ushers her out the doors of the community center, but his eyes can’t help but fall to the trans flag button on the strap of her bag. 

Truth was, a gnawing sense of dread hollowed out his chest when she insisted at age ten that she was a girl.

It’s an ugly thing to think, but it’s not because Doc doesn’t want her to be herself. The world can be mean, and the people in it even meaner; Scarlet suffering unnecessarily because she’s different from her peers became a regular staple of his stress dreams.

He hugged her worried, helped her pick out a name worried, went shopping for new girl clothes worried, met with her school teachers and the principal worried—

Today he drove her to a Buttercup Scout troop meeting worried.

Beyond the obvious of names and clothes and telling family members, the one thing Scarlet wanted was to become a Buttercup Scout.

Doc pulls his keys from his jacket pocket and unlocks the truck while they walk. Scarlet takes that as a cue to rush ahead and climb inside without assistance—door open, crutches against door, Jellie bag tossed into the seat next to hers, hands on the seat for stability, one foot on the running board, push off and lean forward, wiggle into a seated position, pull the crutches in and close the door. She has it down to a science at this point, though Doc will occasionally still offer her help if she’s having a bad pain day. He doesn’t have to worry much about Scarlet hurting herself.

And yet, now he has to drive her home, worried about disappointing and hurting her.

The air inside the truck hits him like a wall of heat when he opens the door, though he pays it little mind as he slides into the driver’s seat and puts the keys into the ignition. Until the air conditioning fully kicks in, he cracks the back windows just a touch.

A glance in the rear view mirror shows Scarlet looking out the window with a slowly slipping happy mask.

He’s pulling out of the parking lot before he can bring himself to say anything. “Did… you have fun at the meeting?” 

“Oh! Yeah, I did! False and True and me were talking, and they—”

“No, not near the end of the meeting, or after it.” His grip on the steering wheel tightens minutely. He makes sure to take the next turn carefully in spite of that. “I meant all of it—the badge work, the other girls, the adults—how do you feel?”

Another stolen look, and this time she’s pulling her knees to her chest.

“I mean… the girls were nice to me.”

He’s always been worried about her peers ostracizing her. Their parents hadn’t even come up on his radar.

Doc presses down on a sigh. “I’m sorry that troop wasn’t what you were expecting.”

“It’s fine!” she blurts out. “They’re fine! I want to be a Buttercup Scout!”

His heart twists. “I know you do, and we’re trying. It’s just… maybe we should keep our options open, sweetie.” The gentle comfort in his voice sounds fake, even to himself.

“What? No, no!” She leans forward in her seat to grip the passenger headrest. “I’ll make it work! It'll be fine!”

“Scarlet.” He's firm, but so tired, tired, tired. There's no way he's letting his daughter put herself in a situation where she regularly has to interact with transphobes. “I know you want to be a Buttercup Scout, but tonight wasn't fun for you, and it wasn't fun for me to watch you be upset. We'll keep looking, okay?”

Despite herself, she sniffles and hiccups. “But, but, there aren't any other troops in the area that work for us. You said that! I heard you and Papa talking about it!”

Fuck. He didn't think she overheard that conversation. She was supposed to be asleep on the couch after a movie, he and Ren sequestered in the kitchen to discuss in hushed voices.

 “All the others are too far, or they meet when I have physical therapy, or they aren't accepting new members, or, or—” The words seem to flood out of her before abruptly stopping with a sharp inhale of breath and another wet hiccup. “I just want to do what all the other girls get to do. I don't understand why I can't.”

With a grimace, Doc changes lanes and turns into the parking lot of a fast food joint. This isn't a driving conversation. 

Once stopped, he gets out of the driver's seat and opens the back. He slides in next to Scarlet and puts an arm around her shoulders. “Oh, mein Schatzi…”

She sniffles and presses her side into the hug. “S’ not even that bad. I dunno why I'm crying.” 

Doc picks up the Jellie plush from where it fell into the floorboards. Sure, it may have a few notebooks in it, but it's still a plushie and Scarlet sure seems to need one. He sets it on her lap and she has it squeezed to her chest in a blink. 

“This is something you really wanted for a long time. It's normal to be upset when stuff doesn't work out.”

“I wanted it to work out.”

“I know, I know.” He runs a hand through her hair. “Your papa and I will see what we can do, okay?”

“But—” She sniffles again. “I thought that—”

“I know what we said,” Doc murmurs. “We’re going to look into other options so you can be a Buttercup Scout. I cannot make any promises, but I can promise to try.”

She looks up at him with wounded eyes, shining with unshed glass tears. It seems that this cry was a long time coming. “O-oh.” Another sniffle.

She twists to the side and he's suddenly engulfed in a hug. “Thanks, Dad.”

He holds her close.

“Always.”

[ssho197]

xiao’s balls drop and he decides to finally ask you out

contents: fluff, modern au

pls help i’m dying my stomach is cramping so bad god i hate periods so much (i’m putting not much effort in this istg if this does well)

- xiao’s known you for a little while, you were super nice and hung out with him even though he had no one,, this gave him hope that he won’t be unlovable

- you considered xiao as a really good friend of yours! after all, he offers to pay for the food super often! and he always replies to your texts the second he gets them.. and he also gives you small homemade gifts whenever he sees you…

- xiao had it all planned out,, he would meet up with you as usual after classes and he’d ask you out on a date! perfect plan.. righttt???

- xiao waits for you outside your class but doesn’t see you when the class is over? he checks his phone… no notifications… he checks your instagram for life updates…. nothing on your story (except for the selfie you posted yesterday when you two hung out)

- xiao is confused (and incredibly heartbroken),, maybe he just shouldn’t ask you out after all.. hes so sad that it doesn’t even cross his mind to text you?

- you were feeling sick today, you couldn’t even move out of bed to get your phone and text xiao that you wouldn’t be attending classes today,, when you finally texted him, “hey xiao sorry i wasn’t in class today i’m feeling hella sick so i cant come in”

- xiao texts you back saying, “oh alright. makes sense. i’m coming over alright? be there in 10” for some reason seeing this text made your heart flutter

- when xiao knocks at your door, he’s holding a plastic bag full of food and treatment items to help you and a large flower bouquet in the other hand,, you were wrapped up in a blanket with it covering your head and large eye bags under your eyes,, xiao takes his shoes off and comes inside

- he sets the bag and flowers down before going to hug you,, you’re so sick that you have no idea what’s going on,, and before you know it, xiao is asking you out on a date for that sunday

- “huh?” is pretty much all you managed to get out, xiao repeated what he said and when you finally understand you agree and promptly pass out before being carried back to bed by xiao

[watfordgrimoire]

Wayward Son Poll

Carry On Poll

“He’s wearing jeans and a navy shirt. I think that’s his favourite colour — a blue that’s almost purple. It makes his skin glow like a pearl. His top two buttons are unbuttoned” (Any Way the Wind Blows 60)

“I startle, splashing blood on my white shirt.” (Any Way the Wind Blows 130)

“Baz is wearing another long-sleeved button-down. (I don’t think the heat ever bothers him, even when the sun does.) This one’s got brown and blue stripes, but when you get close, you see that the blue stripes are flowers. His trousers are nice, too— inky blue.” (Any Way the Wind Blows 323)

"He's standing there with his hair all matted down on one side, wearing a Watford hoodie I never gave back to Agatha and his "Clean as a whistle"-d pyjama trousers" (Any Way the Wind Blows 436)

“Apparently this is another occasion that calls for a suit. Three pieces. A shade of brown that gleams red in the light. Bad buttons his white shirt all the way to the top, and puts on a shiny purple tie. (Why did he bring neckties and three-piece suits to my flat? What was he anticipating?) (Any Way the Wind Blows 436)

“Baz is wearing flowers. His button-down shirt is grey with sprays of pink and blue lilacs. He makes it look manly somehow, with his indigo trousers and grey lace-up shoes.” (Any Way the Wind Blows 549)

"I put one on straightaway--a good print, aubergine with navy leaves--and tuck the rest into a plastic bag" (Wayward Son 202)

“Baz is wearing tartan, too. Purple and gold trousers, with a dark red, polo-neck jumper … He’s wearing a dark grey jacket over his red polo neck. He must have magicked it up, because I know he didn’t bring one” ("Snow for Christmas" 225; 229)