#GUESS WHO MADE TEN DOLLARS THAT DAY

[incorrectplanet]

lee donggun: so what was it like being in a group with woonggi?

oh sungmin: he once referred to sand as “heterosexual glitter”.

lee donggun:

oh sungmin: it was fun.

[rafesgfs]

three cents

pairings: aaron hotchner x reader

summary: you butt dial your boss during a girls night … the girls night where you told them you’d fuck aaron hotchner for three cents.

word count: 1.2k

warnings: talks of big dick energy, prostitution if you squint, red wine, gray sweatpants (mentioned)

Girls' night out was wild, no one knew where you would end up. One night, you ended up on a boat and the next you were on a train to NYC. After getting thrown in jail with Emily, JJ, and Penelope during another night out, you all vowed to keep whatever happened during the night a secret from everyone, specifically Derek Morgan. Derek Morgan who had bailed all four of you out of jail, Derek Morgan who teased you relentlessly for weeks after.

After a long case, Emily suggested another girl’s night which all of you agreed on, desperately needing a celebratory drink after saving a little girl. It was around one in the morning when you got back to Quantico and though Aaron gave you the day off for tomorrow–or well, later today–all four of you decided to crash at Emily’s and drink to your heart’s content.

Popcorn and Hersey kisses lay on Emily’s coffee table, bottles of half-empty wine and jello shots litter the floor and you’re all giggling about whether to prank Derek by getting phone cases with a picture of him shirtless. You’re all on board and Penelope is getting them custom-made through a website she’s found.

“Speaking of Derek’s abs.” JJ drags the ‘s’ creating a hissing noise. She turns to you, grinning. “I’ve wanted to ask ever since you went to that Doctor Who convention with him. Do you like like Spence?”

You giggled, taking a small sip of wine, thinking about the genius. “Noooo. Spence is my friend. And he runs with his gun like it’s weighing him down. Besides, I only went to that Doctor Who convention because he went to see Barbie with me. He’s, like, too young for me, too.”

“He’s older than you.” Emily points out, smirking, knowing full well you liked older men. “He’s adorable and sweet.”

“Spencer is definitely cute and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t had a sex dream about him,” you confessed, smiling as the girls burst out laughing. “But he’s too … inexperienced. I like my men like I like my wine. Old.”

Your phone had been on mute since you entered the plane, not wanting to abruptly wake anyone up if they were resting, so not a single person in the room had heard your phone ringing or Aaron’s multiple “hello’s” trying to get your attention. All of you were oblivious to your boss listening in to the conversation.

“Is Rossi too old for you?” Penelope asked, inciting another round of giggles.

You nodded, finishing off your glass of wine. “Just a bit. I’ve seen pictures of him when he was in the Marines though, and I definitely would’ve been the fourth Mrs. Rossi back then.”

Emily cackled, a bit of red wine spilling from her full glass. “Okay, I have a question. Would you guys fuck Hotch for ten million dollars? Be honest here.”

“No!” both JJ and Penelope spit out. They all turned to you, grinning like madmen.

You shrugged, filling another glass. “I’d do it for three.”

“Damn, three million? That’s–“

“Nope,” you smirked, taking a sip.

Emily paused, head tilting in confusion. “Three … hundred thousand?”

“No.”

“Three thousand?”

You shake your head, grinning at the confused woman. “Nope.”

“Three hundred?”

“No.”

Emily’s eyes widened, jaw-dropping a little further as you denied her guesses. “Three dollars?”

“No.”

“THREE CENTS?” JJ was the one to shout, mouth dropping open when you giggled and nodded.

Penelope threw a pillow at you, and you giggled, dodging it, nearly spilling your drink in the process. “Hey! This is supposed to be a judge-free zone. I’d suck and fuck Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner for three measly cents.”

“Okay, I’d understand if you said Derek but Hotch?” Emily exclaimed, shaking her head at the thought. “He’s like twenty years older than you!”

“Exactly! That’s part of the appeal,” you replied. You were sure by tomorrow no one would remember your confession–though you were positive you wouldn’t either–and that they wouldn’t tease you too much over it. “He’s the literal definition of a DILF.”

The girls laughed at your words, JJ having to clutch onto a pillow to control herself.

“And!” you continue. “I was working out with Derek once and Hotch came in the gym with gray sweats and his dick looks humongous. It was a huge fucking bulge. I think I saw it twitching.”

Penelope slaps her hands over her ears, playfully grimacing at your words while Emily chugs the remains of her glass, absolutely baffled. You didn’t mind, sex and boys were common conversation topics during girl’s night (and sometimes when Emily would catch you making eyes at someone.

The rest of the night continued the same, though less talk about Hotch’s big dick and more on whether you all should make more jello shots. By the time you’re coming up with an answer, it’s five in the morning and all four of you are knocked out from the alcohol in your system. Even in your drunk state, you knew you’d wake up to a pounding headache.

When Derek calls in the morning, telling everyone about a new case, you’re all moody and grumpy. Hotch wanted everyone in even though he had given the day off, so no one was jumping for joy especially not in your hangover state.

Despite drinking the most, Emily drives the four of you back to the BAU, mumbling obscenities under her breath on the way. When you enter the elevator, Derek is there, causing all of you to groan at his presence. One look at you and he laughs loudly, knowing what had transpired the night before.

You wish you could shoot his foot.

In the briefing room, Hotch apologizes for having you all come in on your day off, pausing to glance at you before presenting the case. Truth be told, you hadn’t paid that much attention to it, your headache taking up your attention. Fire, serial arsonist, fifteen dead, Seattle.

“Wheels up in thirty,” Hotch announces, walking across the table. As the team filters out of the room, he calls your name. “In my office, please. I want to discuss something with you.”

Confused, you follow him to his office, pushing through your headache to think about what he could possibly want to speak to you about. You come up blank, even more confused when you see him lock the door to his office as you enter. “Did I do something wrong?”

Hotch shook his head, moving past you to his desk. He picks up something and turns around. In his hands are three pennies, and he’s holding them out to you. “Three cents.”

You’re getting deja vu on the words, and it’s not until several seconds of standing in silence and confusion that it clicks. Three cents. You blush, looking at the pennies. “I don’t understand.”

“You said you’d suck and fuck me for three cents,” he smirks at your shock, placing the coins in your hands.

“What–”

Hotch unbuckles his belt, causing you to stop mid-sentence. “You’ve got twenty-eight minutes to suck my cock. Get to work.”

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Fifteen Weeks

Din Djarin x Cam Girl Reader AU

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI)  Summary: It's been fifteen weeks since Din Djarin first entered your life, now you can't imagine it without him. You take a leap of faith in your relationship and visit him at his farm. Warnings: Smut, loss of virginity, face sitting, premature ejaculation, unprotected p in v sex (reader is tested and has an IUD, protect yourselves IRL), mentions of sex work, anxiety, Din is bad at feelings, farmhouse emotions, goats!, yes I made Din Djarin a schnauzer owner don't judge me. Words: 5,050

A/N: Here it is folks, the follow up to Fifteen Minutes, which I originally wrote as a standalone. Thank you to @goodwithcheese for speaking so highly about Fifteen Minutes thus making me revisit this draft and finally finish it. I also want to thank @frannyzooey for taking a look at the bare bones of this months ago. I really love these two and I’m so glad they finally get to eat soup together.

Masterlist

___

“So, where ya’ headed?” the Uber driver asks, turning toward the departures terminal.

“Just to see a... friend."

“Hm. Must be a special friend to catch a flight this early.” 

“I guess he is,” you smile through a yawn.

___

Waiting to board. Can’t wait to finally see you! xxxx🙂

Hitting the send button, you shake your head still finding it hard to believe you’re traveling almost halfway across the country to meet a man. A man you’ve fallen head over heels for.

Can’t wait to see you too. See you soon.

His response arrives just in time. A nervous rush of excitement courses through your body before turning your phone off for departure. 

You wonder if your seatmate can feel your leg shake as the nerves tap out against the plane floor. Sure, you’re excited, you’re ready to meet Din in person but there still is trepidation twisting inside of you. You’ve never done anything like this at all. You’ve never met a client and now you’re on a plane headed to one. You’ve known him for only four months, but the connection the two of you share is something you’ve never believed to be something you’d find. You’ve dealt with enough men wearing wedding bands who tell you they love you, that you’re the most beautiful woman they’ve seen, that you’re their whole world. Love is a ridiculous concept when you charge ten dollars a minute. 

With Din, it’s different, it’s something that can be named, can be felt, can be solved, and yet so many questions about it remain. What do you call the quiet silence that exists between the two of you, happy to be on the phone keeping each other company every night? The small laugh and head shake he does whenever you tell him he’s cute? The random texts of his life that always brightens your day? The way he nods with zero judgment when he hears the ding of your new client alert? What do you call the decision that got you here on this plane? 

You read the same page over and over in your book. Will you sleep in his bed tonight? 

You give up on reading and stare forward at the little map on the seat screen. What does he smell like?

You look out the window and watch the clouds disintegrate around you. Is he just as nervous as you?

You turn the volume up and try to drown out your racing thoughts. Will this all be worth it?

Two hours left to find out. 

___

You step off the escalator, eyes scanning the crowded baggage claim area for the reason why you’ve taken a six hour flight halfway across the country. Your hands grip the backpack strap tighter trying to calm the nerves overtaking your heart and brain.

There, right there, leaning against a column alone in the shadows is Din and the brown eyes you’ve only dreamt of seeing in real life. He straightens when you make eye contact, but makes zero attempt to move, still frozen against the column. You lose the fight to hide your smile and excitement hurriedly shuffling over to him, he smiles as you get closer, the same shy half grin he gives when he says good night. His hands slip out of his pockets as you approach. Goodness, he’s so big and handsome, he could be a heartbreaker of all sorts to anybody he sets his sights on. The phone doesn’t do his beauty any justice.

“Hi,” you smile.

“H-hey, I can’t believe you’re… here,” his voice sounds even smoother and deeper in person.

“I am,” you shuffle on your feet. Hug me, kiss me, let me hug you, let me kiss you.

He tucks his hands back into his hoodie pocket, his silent rejection shoots a pang of longing through you. 

You thought it’d play out like a grand romantic movie, you’d jump into his outstretched arms and he’d never let go. Din’s rejection fills you with jealousy… screw all of the happy couples. You hate those movies now.

Touch me.

Of course he’s nervous, you’re nervous too, you’re just better at hiding it. He still leans against the column, shielded by the liminal space.

“Do you have luggage?” He’s right in front of you and yet you’re too scared to touch him, too anxious you’ll scare him away. 

“Nope, just my backpack and carry-on.” 

Hug me, kiss me, let me hug you, let me kiss you.

“Oh, okay, did you want to leave then?”

“I didn’t come here to see the airport Din,” you place a hand on his hoodie clad arm. He looks down and stares. 

Did you overstep? You couldn’t have, you just watched this same man orgasm for you last night while chanting how he couldn’t wait to paint you with his cum. 

“Din,” you snap him out of his stare, “come on, I’m ready to leave.” 

You know he’s not trying to reject you, but his nervous aloofness is overwhelming when all you want is for him to touch you… just once. 

“I—uh, here, let me take your bags,” he mumbles, reaching past you to grab your suitcase. “It’s really cold, do you have a heavier jacket?” 

“No, but I’ll be okay,” you reassure. The cold won’t sting nearly as much as Din’s seemingly innocent rejection.  

“Here,” he pulls the collar of his hoodie over his head. “I’m used to this cold. You aren’t.” 

You take the bundle of black fabric from his outstretched hand, not realizing just how cold you were until you put the hoodie warmed by his body heat on. It smells of him. Faint hints of campfire, wood, leather, citrus, and cinnamon. You wish you were wrapped up in Din himself, touching him, smelling him, tasting him. Hug me, kiss me, let me hug you, let me kiss you.

“Thank you,” you whisper. Whatever is happening inside of him seems to be bleeding over into your mind. You’re now second guessing every decision to come here. He was excited last night, he texted you this morning how he couldn’t wait to see you, is he disappointed? 

“Yeah, of course,” he nods and turns towards the door, walking away in quick strides leaving you alone in the dark corner near that damn column he’d rather touch than you. He has your suitcase and backpack, so either this is a really expensive way to get robbed or he has zero clue how his actions are affecting you. 

He turns back to you as he reaches the automatic doors, his eyes wide with guilt when he spots you still standing in the same place he left you. Well, at least he feels bad. 

You let a deep breath out to steel yourself and walk to him.

“I-I’m sorry, just not used to ever having to… you know…”

“I know, it’s okay Din,” you gently smile. What in the world have you gotten yourself into?

“I’m just—“

“Nervous. I know Din, it’s okay. I understand this is a lot.”

“It is, but just… know that how I’m acting is not how I’m feeling. I’m really happy to have you here. You’re so… beautiful and I—thank you for being here with me.”

There it is. Everything is worth it now. The early morning Uber to the airport, the neverending TSA line, the cramped airplane seat, the nervousness you feel. You’d do it all again to hear that sentence. 

“Of course, I know. You’re okay,” you take his hand. If he’s not going to do it, you’ll do it. “Come on, let’s go.” 

His eyes stay downcast staring at your hand wrapped around his.

You clear your throat to get his attention, his eyes snap up to yours. “Din, let’s go.”

“R-right. Of course. Right.” 

He leads you out the door, gripping your hand harder when the bitter wind lashes against your skin. 

The two of you weave your way through the parking lot until you reach a large silver truck. It’s clean with a few dents and scratches. Well taken care of but old. 

Din opens the creaky door and helps you step up. The black leather seat is smooth as you slide across it.

Din places your luggage in the back before opening his door and deftly stepping in. 

You hide a deep exhale when he starts the engine.

He clears his throat and you look over. “It’s–uh nice to see you in here.”

“I’m glad,” you smile, turning and reaching your hand out to touch his cheek. Your thumb finds the little heart patch on the side of his face, you’ve been thinking about how it’d feel since you first saw it. You can’t help yourself, he looks so delicate, as if he’s aching to be touched but too scared to ask for it. You’re holding a scared fawn in your hands. Don’t scare him, don’t move too quickly, let him figure things out on his own. 

His lips part as he inhales, deep brown eyes staring into yours, the nervousness radiating off his skin fills the truck cabin. You wish you could just throw caution to the wind and force him to tell you exactly how he’s feeling, to slide across the bench seat and beg him to take you right here in this airport parking lot. You don’t. You pull your hand away and put your seatbelt on.

“I can’t wait to see your home. I’ve never been to an actual farm before.”

___

You’ve seen glimpses of Din’s home in random pictures he’s texted you or your nightly FaceTime sessions, but you never imagined just how picturesque it could be. A large white two story farmhouse situated in the middle of a vast expanse of green grass, a small tin roofed barn sits to the side with a herd of goats happily grazing. Din’s life must be so peaceful here, very different compared to your townhouse in the middle of suburbia.

“It’s beautiful,” you muse as he pulls into the driveway. “I can understand why you never wanted to leave.” 

The truck stops in front of his home, a german shepherd and a little schnauzer run down the porch steps and head for Din’s truck.

“They’ll be fine with you, but let me get out so I can control them.” 

Din gets out of the truck, you chuckle to yourself as his clipped directions to the dogs are drowned out by excited barks. 

He opens your door and reaches his hand out.

“Grogu! Boba! Back!” Din shouts as he helps you step down. His raised voice makes your heart skip a beat. You didn’t know he could ever be this loud.

“It’s okay, I like your dogs, you know I think they’re cute,” you bend down and tap on your knees to beckon them over. “This must be Grogu,” you scratch his soft ears. “He does have big ears.”

“They’re not that used to other people.”

“Hmm,” you stand up and pat the top of Boba’s head, “sounds like someone I know.”

He chuckles as he walks up the porch steps and unlocks the front door. 

Warmth fills your body as you walk over the threshold. White walls, worn floorboards, antique furniture, all of it taken care of and clean. Tidy and well kept up, a lot like his truck, aged but in better shape and made to last; a far change from your newbuild townhouse and IKEA furniture. 

“Diiin,” you breathe, “it’s beautiful in here. Like… I knew you lived in a nice house, but wow, between this and the farm… when do you sleep?”

“I sleep enough. I’ll go get your bags, make yourself… at home.”

You take a seat on his couch, it’s perfect for him. Beige, simple lines, nothing fancy, not too comfortable, but probably the height of cozy after a long day working on a farm. Grogu jumps up and sits next to you, his little bearded face panting happily next to yours. You scratch his chest and praise him as he inches closer towards you. Boba stays near the entry, waiting for Din.

“Think he likes you,” Din says as he places your bags by the steps. “Don’t take Boba’s standoffishness personally he’s–”

“Like you. I know,” you smile.

“Did– what would you like to do?”

“Can I see the computer where you first talked to me?”

“Um, yeah,” he walks down the hallway leaving you behind yet again, “it’s just in here.”

You shake your head and rise off the couch to follow, obviously he’s not used to company.

You walk into a small office, everything has a place, efficient and tidy, perfectly Din. Paperwork stacked in neat stacks, a calendar with his sharp writing all over it hung on the wall, today’s date circled with your name written in the box. 

A black monitor sits on a mahogany desk. 

“This is the computer, huh?” you ask, running your hands across the black keyboard,

“It is.”

“So this is where it all began? You sat there, clicked on my picture, and now look. I remember when I first heard your voice,” you face him taking both of his hands in yours, “it was so deep and warm, it lit something inside of me.”

You guide his arms to wrap around you, his hands rest on your lower back.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you after our first session ended. There was something so pure and mysterious about you, I knew you weren’t lying about wanting to know. It wasn’t some kink you had, I knew you needed help. I felt lucky to be the one to show you.” 

He sighs as you rest your head against his chest hearing the rhythm of his heart. “I closed that window so many times before finally agreeing and joining. I-I kept on thinking about how I could talk to someone as beautiful as you, all it would take is just a click. You were so pretty.” 

“Just a click,” you whisper, craning your neck up as Din lowers his head. His nose bumps against yours, his plush bottom lip is captured between your lips, another part of him you’ve wanted to touch since you first saw him. You finally kiss him, sweet and tender, his lips molding to yours perfectly. He pulls you in closer, his tongue hesitantly dipping into your mouth as you lick against him. The past fifteen weeks have finally led to this moment inside of this old farmhouse office in the middle of nowhere. Your Din and his soft lips, tense hands against your back, your soft coos mingling with his low groans, you could stay in this moment forever, if it wasn’t for Din’s phone beeping in his pocket. 

“I’m sorry,” he pulls away, a bashful smile adorns his face, “I need to go take care of the goats before sundown.”

“Of course.” 

He hugs you, planting a soft kiss against your forehead and inhaling your scent before leaving. He’s warming up…

___

Din loves soup. You know this by the nights you spend with him over the phone. The man eats soup almost every single night. Soup with bread, soup and a baked potato, soup and steak, soup, soup, soup. 

You can’t blame him, the stew and homemade rolls he serves you for dinner are delicious. He shyly tells you it’s his speciality when he places the porcelain bowl in front of you. 

You could get used to the farm life. A fire burns in the fireplace while the tv plays Din’s favorite movie he’s been wanting to show you, some film about a galaxy far far away and an unlikely hero. The man loves space. 

His arm slung across your shoulder lies heavily on you, warming you inside and out. Grogu sleeps on your lap, softly snoring as you pet his gray fur. Din occasionally sneaks a kiss against your hair, you don’t know if you’ve ever been more comfortable in your life. 

The movie ends, a grand symphonic score plays over the credits. 

“That was really good,” you smile towards Din. “I liked it.”

A grin slowly stretches across his face. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, thank you for showing me it.”

“You’re welcome,” he gazes at you, the same look he smolders through the phone, like he can’t believe his luck that you’re talking to him. 

You attempt to fight a yawn and lose. Your eyes blink tiredly at Din when he reaches and rubs his thumb against your cheek. 

“Did you want to,” he clears his throat, “sleep in my room with me tonight?”

“Only if you want me to Din.”

“I, uh, I do.”

“Okay, I’d like that.”

___

The airplane and long day washes off and rinses down Din’s shower drain. You use his washcloth and think of his hands touching you. You smell his soap and think of inhaling the scent as he holds you close. You don’t know what’s about to happen once you leave this room. If you’re this nervous, how does he feel? 

Din looks up from the book he’s reading and watches you step out of the bathroom shyly padding over and getting into bed.

“What are you reading?” you whisper.

“Some book about a cowboy warrior in space…”

“Sounds interesting.”

“It’s good.”

“You know,” you look around the simple bedroom, “I see this room all the time, but only the wall behind your bed, hardly anything else. It’s been really nice seeing more of your life.”

He nods, blinking back to his book. 

The night can’t end like this. 

You grab the book from his hands and place it on the table.

“What are you thinking about Din? I never know what’s going on inside of you.”

“H-how pretty you look wearing that.” 

You look down at the pink silk tank top and shorts and swallow down a smile. You specifically wore it because you know how Din’s eyes light up whenever you put it on. “It’s my favorite because it’s so soft. Do you want to feel it?” 

He turns to you wide-eyed and gives you a solitary nod. 

“Go ahead Din.”

His tan hand splays across your stomach, golden toned skin rests against the blushy silk of your tank.

“S’soft,” he murmurs to himself.

“Here,” you place your hand over his and press down, “really feel it.”

His eyes angle down watching your hand navigate his around your stomach to just below your breasts. His mouth sits slightly agape, thick brows furrowing in concentration as you slip his hand underneath the fabric, his trembling calloused fingers making contact with your skin. 

“Am I soft here Din?”

“Y-Yes,” he stammers. 

“Touch me, as little or as much as you want. Wherever you’re comfortable doing, okay?” you remove your hand from his. “I came here for you… whatever you want… I want..”

“I want to,” he gulps, “I want to touch you all over.”

“I’m all yours baby.” 

His shoulders deflate with a groan, he trails his hand higher to cup one of your breasts. The tips of his fingers peek out of the top of your tank. Tan, well worked strong hands lay against your smooth skin. The sight makes you moan, your teeth gnawing at your lip, trying to qualm the temptation to touch him further. 

“Take it off Din.” His dark brown eyes beam up to yours. “Go ahead baby.” 

He grabs the hem of your tank top, softly bundling it in his hands and lifting it over your head leaving you bare chested. 

“Kiss me and touch me baby,” you gently will. 

His lips form over yours, his hands return to your skin, petting and caressing your breasts before you cover them, pushing them farther down your stomach. His breaths quicken against your mouth when you slip his hands underneath the band of your shorts. 

“Fuck,” he pants against your lips when his hand meets the wetness seeping from your pussy. “Fuuuuuck.” 

“You feel me baby? That’s how wet you always make me, ever since the first time we talked and all you were was a black square with a sexy voice. It’s like we were destined in the stars.” 

“God damnit, you’re so soft,” Din’s hips buck into the air, his head thuds against the headboard when his thick finger slips in between your folds. “I-I-I oh god, I’m– I think I’m going to cum. I’m sorr–” 

“It’s okay baby, I’m here, cum for me.” Your hand reaches down and grips his hard cock through his black sweatpants. “Cum for me Din.” 

You feel a warm wet spot spread against your hand, pulling a moan from you.. 

“I’m--agh– sorry,” his big eyes stare at you, a hint of shame rounds them. “You feel so amazing.” He pulls his hand out of your shorts.

“No,” you whimper at the loss of contact. “I like it baby, I like that you like me so much that happened. Please don't apologize. Keep touching me if you want to. Do you?” 

“God,” his eyes shrink in determination, “yes I do.” 

“Okay baby.”

You sit in between his stretched out legs, lifting your hips to take off your shorts, spreading your legs wide, much the same way you do for your clients. 

He stares at your exposed skin, eyes mapping every dip, curve and dimple of your body. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “I can’t believe you’re here… for me.”

“Of course I am baby.” 

His fingers trace the plains of your legs, moving their way up to your thighs. His face set in a determinative scowl, eyes fixated on your core as he inches closer to it, now aching and soaked for him. 

“I-I’ve never done this.”

“I know baby, you remember our first call?” 

He nods.

“Remember what I told you what I liked?”

Another nod.

“Do that for me baby, touch me. Make me feel good.” A thick finger meets your lips, tracing a line up from your entrance to your clit before softly rubbing a circle around your sensitive nub. He remembered.

“You’re so wet for me,” he breathes out, his eyes staying planted staring at your pussy beguiled by his own actions.

“I am Din, only for you. I think about you every time. I-I,” you moan when he sticks a finger inside, slowly pumping it in and out, “I only want you.” 

“Only want you too, baby. C-can I taste you?”

“Ye–oh my god, yes Din, I’m yours, do whatever you want to me.” 

“I’m yours, anything you wa–”

“Sit on my face,” he growls. 

“O-of course.” 

You crawl towards him, leaving a chaste kiss on his lips before straddling his face, your dripping cunt hovers right over his mouth. He grips your ass and pulls you down, smothering himself with all of your slickness. You cover him like a mask, he worships your taste like a religion, moaning and groaning into your sweet pussy. Your praises about how good he’s doing and how amazing you feel incant out of your mouth as he takes you to paradise. Plush lips suck and savor you, your hands grip the bed frame like a precious artifact, his devotion to you and your pleasure pulls a melting orgasm from you. 

“Din, Din, Din,” you pray at his altar, knees bowed and quaking against his ears as he drinks your offering down. You’re shattered, everything you’ve ever believed in replaced by Din and his idolatry of you. 

You move your lust drunk body off and lay down next to Din. His face shines with a gloss of you, his tongue peeks out and licks his lips, before sending you a shy smile.

“You’re amazing,” he incredulously mutters. 

“You are too,” a doting grin lights your face before pulling him in for a kiss. You can taste yourself on him, a moan leaves your throat at the realization. 

Strong arms envelop you, pulling you closer to him, his hard cock juts against the soft skin of your thigh. 

“Already?” you pull back and tease. 

“C-can I feel you?” 

“Feel me?” 

“Yes, c-can I… can we….?”

A rush of anticipation thrums through your body at the implication of his nervousness.

“Yes Din, we can. Are you sure this is what you want tonight? We can wait.”

“N-no. I want you, I-I want this,” he moves his sweatpants down, kicking them off. 

“Okay baby, okay,” you kiss him, grabbing his face, petting the soft hair of his sparse beard.

He rolls on top of you, cradling your head between his strong forearms, a heated kiss licks into your mouth as his naked weight covers you. Your legs open in a silent offer for Din to take everything you have. You can just feel the heft of his cock ghosting against your entrance. 

He looks down at you, brown eyes wide, plush mouth parted, brows softened with adoration. 

You send him a silent nod and smile when his cock enters you, feeling a sense of honor that you’re the one Din has chosen for this. You wouldn’t have it any other way. The green accept button, the reserved man dressed in all black, the deep voice, the connection between two screens. Now, you’re here with Din, moaning and rolling your hips to accept the length of him.

His neck strains when he sheathes his cock fully inside of you, panting and groaning as he slowly rocks back and forth.

“You … feel … like … heaven… I love your pussy… I love your body…. I… love you.”

He freezes at the divulgence, body locked in shock at his slip. 

Your face lifts in a reassuring grin. “I love you too,” your hand grabs his chin, bringing his lips to yours. 

You love him, you’ve known it for so long, but here in this farmhouse bed you can hear it, you can feel it. 

Your bodies meld, hips meeting, lips locked, he gives you everything, you give him everything. Your pussy clenches around his slow, full strokes. This is making love. 

“Baby, I-I.. I’m going t–” he strains. 

“Go ahead Din, I got you.” Your hands trail up and down the expanse of his smooth back. He grunts, burying his head into the crook of your neck, fevered breaths hit your skin as his cum fills you.

He rolls off, pulling you to his side and kissing the top of your hair. 

“Wow… I.. are you okay?”

“What?” your head perks up.

“You didn’t… uh–”

“I did when you fucked me with your tongue Din, I’m very happy and satisfied.” 

“Oh, I just… I want to make sure you’re good.”

“Baby, I am very good. Trust me.” 

“I love you,” he breathes.

“I love you too Din…” you rest your head against his chest, the exhaustion of the day settling in, quickly lulling you to sleep. This is the way to go to bed.

___

The faint sound of running water gently rouses you from the most peaceful slumber you’ve had. The sun has barely peaked over the horizon, the room’s still shrouded in a lazy darkness. 

Din’s long sigh echoes against the tiles of the shower like a siren song. 

You pad out of bed toward the bathroom, pushing the door wide open. 

Your mouth drops at the sight ahead of you… Din’s muscular, toned golden body shines underneath a glistening sheen of water. He runs a gray wash rag across his stomach, the mop of dark, curly hair right underneath his hand beckons you to look farther down. You’ve seen him so many times before, almost every night, but this is the first time you’ve been able to see all of him in person. Din is a big man, his cock matches his stature. Just as long, just as broad, just as golden. God, he’s gorgeous. 

You knock on the doorframe catching his attention, surprise tensing across his whole body. 

“Good morning,” you purr, “can I join you?”

He nods, his cock grows visibly hard when you walk over and get in. The warm steam, Din’s naked body, and the smell of Din’s cedar body wash engulfs you, this is the way to wake up. 

“Mmm, the hot water feels good,” you sigh, leaning your head against his chest. Din’s cock rests heavily in between you, tempting you to touch it. “Want me to wash you?”

He groans a yes. 

“You can wash me too,” you propose, squeezing a dollop of body wash onto your palm, running it across your chest before leaving suds on your hands. “Go ahead Din.”

Drops of water land against your skin as his trembling hands slowly reach for your breasts. He massages and kneads, both palms laying against your tits, his touch turns more searing when your hands land on his chest, rubbing in the soap along the dusting of hair stretched across his broad body. 

Your nipples pebble under his nervous, firm touch and undivided attention. He hisses when your hands slink farther down, running across the damp curls of his happy trail leading you to his cock standing between his thighs, thick and dripping. You wrap a fist around his length, his knees weaken causing his body to smash against the wall, his face grimacing in pleasured agony.

“Fuck,” he pants, water rains down into his wide open mouth, splashing out with every exclamation of your name he repeats as he cums all over your stomach. 

Your tongue runs up the column of his neck to his mouth, swallowing his rapid breaths. 

“You feel so good against me,” he gasps against your lips. “I can’t believe you’re here.” 

“I am baby, I am,” you coo, wrapping your arms around him, wishing you could live in this tiny shower forever. This is the way to wake up.

___

Din settles on the porch swing next to you, pulling your blanket wrapped body close to him. 

“Is this what you do every morning?” 

“Just about,” he says before taking a drink of his coffee. 

“It’s nice,” you yawn, “early but nice.” 

He chuckles, “You get used to it.” “Mm,” you rest your head on his chest, smelling the fresh dew and hay on his flannel jacket. 

“I really like you being here,” he softly says.

“I really like being here too.”

“You know,” he gulps, “you can do your job here… with me.”

___

A/N: Thank you for reading! This ending makes me feel:

[probablyintensemuses]

Dating Armando Aretas Would Include:

Grumpy x Sunshine Edition

🎧- Enchanted: Taylor Swift

pairing: Armando Aretas x black fem! reader

themes: grumpy x sunshine w/drabble

warnings: mentions of trauma & abuse, strong language, and a bit of gore.

authors note: I saw Bad Boys 4 again last night and it’s really refueled my Armando obsession, so more headcannons, drabbles, and fics on the way.

✨First Encounters✨

You and Armando meet in the worst of circumstances.

He, his father, and Marcus were on the run as wanted men, and you were the first person Mike thought to turn to after the attack at Tabatha’s.

Which he wasn’t wrong, you’d give your left kidney to Mike he’s saved you so many times.

You had let them into your small apartment, offering them clothes, food, and shelter until they could get in touch with the rest of the Ammo team and sort this shit out.

Armando had taken an interest to you then. Your house was warm and cozy, lived in. A small, plush couch, next to a coffee table littered with medical books. A kitchen stacked with teas and espressos , a dresser with vintage vinyls and a record player beside it. This was the kind of house he’d like to live in if he lead a different life.

You remember walking over to him, a picture of your parents and you when you were young in his hands.

“Those are my parents,’ you say. “I was ten then.”

Armando’s gruff exterior takes over though, and he doesn’t give you as much as a word back, let alone a thank you for feeding and housing literal fugitives.

You figured it was just him though and let it roll off you back like water.

You all got some sleep and the next day Mike asks you to drive them out to Dorn’s house on the dock. You agree and begin to load up the truck with guns, water, food, and extra clothes for the drive.

This is when Armando starts to question who you are and the legitimacy of your actions. Last person Mike trusted fucked them over, and he wasn’t having that shit again.

So he pulls his father aside and confronts him on the situation: you.

“How can we trust her?” Armando says, not far out of earshot of you.

“She’s good for it, trust me.”

“Didn’t you say that the last time and we got sold out. Don’t forget there is fucking five million dollar bounty on our heads. We can’t trust no one!” He whisper-shouted.

Mikes shoulders dropped. “I saved her life when she was younger, and I used to work with her parents. Trust me, she’s not going to pull a fast one. Because if she was, she would have done it already.”

Armando looked over at you, you’re dressed in a tank top, and that’s when he notices the cuts and burns littering your left arm. He sucks in a deep breath eyeing Mike who looks at you with sympathy too. There’s a story there, he’ll piece it together later, but for now he guesses you’re his only hope of getting out alive.

✨Post-fallout ✨

After you didn’t screw them over, and got them safety to Dorn’s, Armando found himself limping towards your apartment, blood trailing behind his feet.

Mike had sent him, and for some reason, at that moment, your place felt like exactly what he needed.

With the last of his energy, he banged on your door. Shortly, you answered and immediately went into panic mode.

The moment you let him inside, Armando crashes to the floor, passing out.

You screech and get every first aide equipment you have on hand and begin to bandage him up and stop the bleeding.

It took two bloody, sweaty hours, but you eventually got him all closed up.

Armando woke the next morning in a bed he didn’t recognize. This sent him into a frenzy. He went to shoot up out of the bed, but the soreness of his injuries knocked him back down.

“Fuck,” he moaned, grabbing at his torso.

From the living room, you turn down your headphones at the sound of movement. Armando must be awake.

Two days of rest, not bad.

You move towards the microwave and reheat the breakfast you had made him, pour some orange juice, and bring a whole heck of a lot of water and pain-pills.

Tray in hand, you kick open the door and slip inside your bedroom.

“Good morning.” You smile, setting the tray on the bed by his side. “How do you feel?”

“What the fuck did you put in this.” Armando asks, eyeing the food.

“Eggs, bacon, and toast.” You snicker.

Armando lifts a piece of toast, taking a bite. “If I die from this, I’ll kill you.”

“Noted, Sarg.” You salute.

You watch Armando eat his food with a smile on your face.

Eventually he looks up at you scowling. “Why are you staring at me.”

You shrug. “I’m just happy you’re okay.” You say truthfully.

“Well,’ Armando takes a swig of water, downing the pills. “Go be happy somewhere else.”

Your shoulders drop and you let out a sigh, you knew Armando was tough, but geez, you practically saved his life. Would it kill him to be a little nice?

But still you smile when you say, “okay, well if you need me, I’ll be out in the living room studying. Feel free to roam around, I don’t mind.”

It was a couple hours before Armando had come out of your room, limping over to the kitchen and rummaging through your fridge.

“I’m making dinner right now,’ you say, pausing your television show. “It’s a roast with veggies.”

“I want a beer.” He grumbles.

“Well I don’t have beer, but I do have wine.” You say, pointing to you collection of reds and whites.

“ I don’t want wine.”

“Okay, so what do you want me to do?”

Armando comes over to you, cornering you into the tiny space between your sink and the counter. “Get me a beer.”

“Let’s start over,’ you stick out your hand for a shake. “I think we’re at a misunderstanding of our situation.”

Armando frowns at your response, grumbling Spanish curses under his breath and walking away, slamming your door like a toddler.

The roast was done, and eventually you got Armando to come and have dinner with you…kind of.

He sat on the couch and watched the news, for updates on the status for his search, and you sat at the table, contemplating what to do with him next.

✨Enemies, Friends, Roomates✨

Mike had told you harboring Armando would only be for a short while until he could figure something out with the D.A’s office….that was three months ago.

Eventually you got your bed back, Armando taking the couch, but not your sanity.

Living with Armando wasn’t easy. He was brash, stand-offish, stubborn, and mean.

You did everything to try and form some kind of bond with him, even buying him gym equipment offline, but it just never clicked for him.

Not until one night when you’re studying late for an exam and happen to fall asleep at the kitchen table, books all around you.

That’s when you fall into a nightmare. The man who ruined your life the star of the show, again.

It always starts the same. You and your parents living happily at the park. Your parents watch you as you swing higher and higher, giggles filling the air. Then a man appears at the edge of the park, beckoning your parents over. You scream and shout for them but they never turn back, they keep going to the man. And when he has your parents in his grip, he brandishes a knife, slicing them open.

You let out a blood curling scream, slamming awake and falling to the group. Sweat sticks your curls to your face as you cry and gasp for breath.

Armando’s up in a second, swarming you.

“Estás bien?’ He pats you down, checking you out. “What’s happened to you?”

You can’t do anything but cry. The man who’s ruined your life, he’ll never leave you…he made sure of that in many ways. His latching to you is so deep that you can’t even escape him when you sleep.

You finally are able to get some words out, tell Armando, “I had a nightmare. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,’ he helps you stand. “Maybe you should get some sleep in your bed.”

You’re shocked by his response, but you’re even more shocked by the way he helps you to your room.

“What are you doing?” You asks, confused.

“You just flew out your chair from a nightmare, what do you mean what am I doing? I’m helping you.”

“Yeah, I get that…but you never help me.”

Armando sighs, holding his hands at his hips. “You gonna tell me what it was about, or should I leave.”

You sigh. “When I was younger, my parents worked for the Miami Police Department. They were detectives and before I was born they ended up helping catch this serial killer. His name was Gunter Bennett but the media called him “The Gutter” because that’s how he killed. Years later, somehow he escaped prison. That’s when he came for my parents. He killed them in the middle of the night.’ You take an uneasy breath, finding birth relief and shock when Armando’s hand slips into yours. “And I was sure he was going to kill me too, but he didn’t…he did worse. He kidnapped me and kept me at some shithole for three years. Three.”

You rile up your sleeves and show all your burns and cuts. Armando remembers them from the first day he met you.

“It’s how I got these. That sadistic bastard,’ you cry. “He tortured me.”

Armando feels something in him snap hearing your story and seeing the ways it’s effected you, even now. He knows what it’s like to be harmed and loose the people closest to you.

So he shocks even himself with what does next, scooping you up like a wounded bird and nuzzling under the blankets with you.

You whimper and sniffle in his arms and he just hushes you, stroking your curls.

“It’s going to be alright, niña bonita, he’s gone now.”

Slowly, the exhaustion of work, school, and your tears overcome you and you both drift off to sleep in each other’s arms.

✨My Lover✨

Armando was jealous.

You two had just spent the day out shopping, laughing and talking. Hell, you two live together! And yet you’re grinding on another man at the bar?!

The glass in Armando’s hand shakes and chips as he squeezes it further.

“Relax, muscle milk. You’ll break the glass.” Marcus says.

Armando scowls at him.

“I’m just saying, if you love her, tell her.” Marcus shrugs, walking away.

Armando scoffs. Love? Yeah right.

Did he feel close to you, yes.

Want to spend every breathing moment with you, yes.

Touch himself in the shower thinking about you, yes .

Oh fuck…he did love you.

Fuck! He loved you and you’re grinding another man!

Armando pushed out of his chair, it clattering to the ground in his wake.

He stalked over to you, grabbing your wrist and putting room between you and the man you danced on.

“ ‘Mando, what are you doing?” You stumble, clearly drunk.

“Let’s go.” He grabs you, chest heaving.

“Hey, wait!” You swat at him as he drags you through the bar and out the exit. “Why would you do that?” You whine.

“Because you’re drunk.” He rolls his eyes, slinging his leather jacket over your naked shoulders.

“I’m not!’ You whine, stumbling, luckily Armando catches you with ease. “I am.”

“You are. Let’s go.” He says, slinging you and carrying you bridal shower.

“Ah,’ you say, wrapping your arms around Armando’s neck and snuggling into him. “My knight in shining armor always takes such good care of me.’ You lean over, smacking his butt with a giggle.

“Shut up.” Armando says, resisting the urge to crack a smile.

Home, Armando tucks you into bed. He’s just about to walk away when you snatch his wrist, pulling him on top of you.

“Let’s play a game,” you whisper.

Armando rolls his eyes. “What kind of game?”

“Truth for truth. I tell you a truth and you do the same. “I’ll start.” You giggle.

“Tonight went exactly how I planned.”

Armando pulls back. “What do you mean by that?”

You shake your head and pout. “Uh uh. You’re turn.”

Armando sighs. “I don’t actually find you that annoying…anymore.”

“Ah, I knew it!” You laugh.

“Knew what?”

“Game over.’ You slump and snore, pretending to sleep.

“Stop it, you knew what?” Armando lifts you.

You bop his nose. “I knew that you loved me.”

Armando’s eyes get big. “What?”

“Me and kelly paid that guy to dance with me. We knew you’d get mad and that was all the proof I needed.”

“You’re a dick.” He starts to walk away, but you grab him by his belt loop.

“Okay, I’m sorry.” You pull him back. “But you don’t have to be shy.” You hiccup.

Armando grumbles, nuzzling his face into your stomach. “And why’s that?”

You lift his head, angling it to face you. “Because I love you too.” You lean forward, placing a firm kiss onto his plump lips.

Armando reciprocates, opening his mouth turning the kiss fierce and hot. He climbs on top of you, mumbling against your lips. “And I thought you were supposed to be the nice one.”

You giggle. “Feels good to be bad for a change.”

[murdrdocs]

HAUNTING YOUR BED. mike schmidt

description. you, mike, and abby bake a chocolate cake and mike gets to taste it from your lips

→ pt 2 to nothing real

includes. GN! reader (i think), simp mike, abby !!!!, fluff galore, more pining, more domesticity, kissing, one boner mention

wc: 2.2k+

a/n: finally wrote a pt 2 to something who would've thought. title from haunt//bed

When Mike opens the door, he’s too tired to see straight. 

His shift ended earlier than he originally anticipated and since he’d clocked out, his body was begging for a shower and sleep. Maybe even just sleep, depending on how comforting his bed looked. If he could tolerate it, maybe even a few bites of a frozen meal. 

This is his original plan. 

But somehow due to the sleep induced haze, Mike had forgotten that you were babysitting Abby tonight. Not the sitter that had taken your place for a couple of nights, completely incomparable to you to the point where Mike didn’t even waste his time. Abby, though, spent a solid ten minutes each night complaining about the temporary sitter and another five minutes longing for you. 

(Mike felt the same but he would never let Abby know lest he wanted you to find out within 2 business days) 

So truthfully, whenever Mike opens the door, he’s too tired to see straight, and then as soon as he steps into his home, his vision clears up just enough to see you in the kitchen and his body introduces a burst of energy spurred on by your light squeal and suddenly he can tolerate an hour spent with you and Abby. 

“Shit!” your swear shocks Abby as much as it does Mike, the word foreign to his ears from your mouth but it sounds completely natural when you say it. It’s small, a tiny detail, but it reminds Mike that he doesn’t know you. At least, not the you that exists out of the four walls of the Schmidt household. 

He doesn’t know what you wear when you’re not babysitting, or what your nonprofessional personality is like. He’s sure you’re more or less the same, but for some reason, Mike wants to consider the opposite. 

Despite his rampant overthinking, Abby points at the jar sitting on the end table towards the entrance of the home. 

“Swear jar!” she alerts you. Or maybe it’s more of a command. Either way, you shamefully step away from the counter, wipe your hands on the apron you wear, and start to walk out of the kitchen. 

Mike guesses you’re heading for your purse, which he assumes is most likely sitting on the bench in front of the window where it usually is. Your plans are halted when you’re made aware of Mike’s presence, and when you say “oh”, Mike feels like he’s living his days over again. 

Just a few weeks ago, a similar circumstance, a similar feeling. 

Mike touches his hair at the memory, hoping it’s long enough to warrant another cut from you, but it’s the perfect length and he drops his hand. 

“Hey,” he greets you first, trying to remain calm and behave how he usually does. But suddenly he doesn’t know how to. Does he usually say ‘hey’? Or has he been saying ‘hi’ this entire time and didn’t realize it? Maybe even ‘hello’? 

You seem to care less about that than Mike does, greeting him back casually and then continuing your journey to your purse. Mike watches as you dig around in it for a second, pull a dollar out, and then slide it through the created slip in the top of the mason jar. 

Then, you reenter the kitchen and Mike suddenly realizes that time has been moving around him and he’s been stuck between it all, too enamored by you engaging in minute movements to do so himself. 

He throws his keys in the bowl and slips his shoes off. 

“What’s uh …” He steps into the kitchen, attempting to get a glimpse at what Abby is doing. She’s staring down at the counter, standing on a small step stool that makes her a lot taller than the counter instead of being a few inches off. “What’s going on in here?” 

Abby turns around, and Mike gets a glimpse of a big plastic bowl in front of her, along with the carton of eggs, the jug of vegetable oil, and a cake mix box. 

If he needs even more clarification, Abby happily declares: “We’re making a cake!” 

Initially, Mike’s upset. His logical (grumpy, in Abby’s words) side comes out and he’s thinking about how at least two eggs that could’ve been used for breakfast has gone down the drain and cake provides no nutritional value so not only is Abby going to be hungry, she’s also going to be bouncing off the walls from the sugar intake. 

His thoughts show on his face, just like they always do, and then Mike is looking over at you from where you’re grabbing the whisk out of the drawer and your head lifts. “I dropped the shells into the bowl,” you add, initially oblivious to Mike’s inner turmoil. Your mishap explains your out of character swearing, and Mike would comment on it but instead he’s trying to make his face neutral. 

But you see it, the exhaustion and slight frustration and worry. 

You send him a smile that’s nothing more than one side of your lips pulling into your cheek, pronouncing the apple of it that presents a faux complimentary color to your skin tone. You look … upset? Are you upset? 

Mike can’t tell and this makes him feel worse. 

He decides that instead of pouting and grumbling about it, he unzips his jacket, throws it onto the kitchen table, rolls the sleeves of his thermal up, and then steps to join you two. 

“Let me help.” 

Mike ends up wearing a pink apron that he knows for sure does not belong to the Schmidt household. At least, it didn’t whenever he left for work. 

Mike attempts to hide his surprise whenever Abby excitedly tells him that you brought the apron for him. His eyebrows lift, he looks over at you, and you’re suddenly really focused on the written instructions on the back of the cake box even though they really are incredibly simple. 

“Really? She did?” 

Abby hums and Mike hopes you’ll look over at him, but you don’t, instead gnawing on your bottom lip and squinting as you concentrate even harder. 

“Mm. It’s cute. I like it.” And that’s when you lift your eyes, sending them over to Mike to give him a quick once over. 

“It suits you,” you compliment, just before putting the box down and grabbing the cake pan. 

Some time has passed. The cake has been baked, decorated (white frosting with pink, green, and yellow swirls from Abby), and eaten with slightly freezer burnt ice cream. Abby has pouted when Mike declared one giant slice was enough for her. 

The shower has turned on and off, Abby has run into the living room to give you a hug and say goodnight, and now comes the part that Mike hates the most. 

He’s still tired, maybe minutely more energetic from the sugary cake, but his body is still begging for a good rest. Yet, he doesn’t want you to leave. 

You start to grab your things, jacket pulled back on, purse thrown over your shoulder. Just before you can slip your shoes on, Mike stands from his spot on the recliner. 

“Do you want another slice?” He gestures lamely at the cake on the kitchen table. “We can’t eat this all on our own and I refuse to let Abby try.” 

A small laugh from you as you shake your head. “No, it’s okay. Abby should be able to enjoy the fruits of her labor.” 

“She’ll enjoy it too much until she has a cavity and I have a dentist bill.” A pause where your eyes shift over to the cake, then back to Mike. 

“I really don’t want to overstay my welcome.” 

“If that’s what you’re worried about then you’ve got it all wrong.” Mike replies as he walks to the cabinets, pulling out two small plates and then two forks right beneath it. He slices the cake, the pieces almost proportionate but you seem to have gotten just a bit more. 

Maybe it’ll take you longer to eat and Mike will be in your presence for just a bit more. 

It’s silent for just a few moments before you’re talking about everything and nothing all at the same time. 

Raves about the cake the three of you made turns into reminiscing about the triple chocolate cake they used to serve at Sparky’s before they underwent new management. The talk of new management turns into you ranting to Mike about the manager at your day job and Mike listens intensely, thrilled to have a new piece of information to add to the puzzle of your life. When you apologize, a little shy and maybe even embarrassed, Mike shakes it off instantly. 

“Don’t apologize for speaking your mind,” he tells you. You joke about the line being poetic and Mike finds himself revealing that he used to write teenage angst poetry in his bedroom at night. When you laugh, it’s not as if you’re belittling him, it’s different. Light, airy, filled with enthusiastic shock and a little bit of wonder. 

It makes him laugh, too, and for a moment he forgets that his sister is sleeping just down the hall. 

You both seem to remember at the same time, laughter tapering off into small intakes of air and then fizzling off completely in the vibrant night air. 

He glances at the clock on the wall. 

10:47. 

“It’s getting late,” Mike thinks out loud. 

When he turns back to you, you look a little sadder. “I guess I should get going then, yeah?” 

Shit. Mike wants the opposite. He wants you to stay over for the night. He’ll take the couch if it means you’ll take his bed. He wonders if the small space would smell like you afterwards. He pictures you sleeping in his clothes, forced to wear them instead of the jeans and sweater you wear now. 

He’s thinking too far ahead. 

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

You stand anyway, taking a final bite of your cake before you set the fork down. There’s still a tiny piece left, waiting for you, just as Mike is. 

He stands too. 

“No, it’s okay. You have work in the morning and I shouldn’t be on the road this late anyway.” Your jacket is zipped up, your purse is back over your shoulders. 

Mike says your name, firm despite the low volume. It’s vulnerable, a plea almost. It stops you, makes you look at him with wide and wondering eyes. 

It’s on him now. He’s the one who has to speak. 

He takes a breath. He licks his lips. 

“I would like it if you stayed. Honest.” 

His admission has weight to it. The words are that of a concerned friend, but the way his hands nervously play with his jeans and the way his eyes bounce around the room with your frame as a continuous anchor says much more than the eight words could have. 

Your voice just barely shakes when you speak. “Tell me I’m reading this wrong.” 

He shakes his head. “You’re not.” 

In the nervous energy that rakes through Mike’s body, it’s unclear to him who moves first. All he knows is one moment he’s staring into your eyes, and then the next his lips are against yours. 

The kiss is soft, nothing more than the lengthened press of lips against lips. His hand cradles the side of your face, yours bunches the fabric of his thermal around his bicep. And while it might be nothing objectively, it’s so much to Mike. For him to finally feel your lips against his, rougher than he imagined but even that means something to him. 

It’s euphoric. 

Your lips pull back from each other, but neither of you move. So, Mike is clear this time whenever he initiates, giving you one more safe kiss before he starts moving his lips against yours. Still, it’s polite, just like you deserve. 

His free hand presses into your middle back, pulling your chest into his. He tilts his head just a little for comfort. He’s holding back. 

You, on the other hand, aren’t. 

You pull Mike impossibly closer to you by his shirt, your other hand digging into the short hair at the back of Mike’s head. You turn the kiss into one of more desperation, parting your lips to introduce open mouthed kisses instead, slipping your tongue against his. 

Mike is trying to keep his composure as he reciprocates. He’s trying to muffle his little sounds before they even come out, push them down his throat. But they climb up anyway, jumping from his mouth to yours with the access. 

He can’t control himself whenever your body is pressed against his. He can’t hold back when he tastes the chocolate cake on the tip of your tongue and the mint leftover from the gum you’d been chewing earlier in the night. He presses his hips against yours, shamelessly displaying the tent that’s growing. He runs his hands along your sides and back and hips, feeling every curve he has analyzed with only his eyes from afar. You’re softer up close and it makes Mike want to feel you as you are, devoid of any clothing to cover you. He hopes he’ll get his wish soon. 

You pull away and Mike has to restrain himself from following your lips. 

“If I stay over,” his ears instantly perk up. “Can I wear your plaid pajama pants?” 

The grin he gives you is genuine. It hurts his cheeks and heals his soul. 

“Of course.”

[mcflymemes]

THE SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS MOVIE (2004) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

my eyes!

pull up your pants, [name]. we're going home.

did you see my underwear? did you want to?

i love being purple.

his chops are too righteous.

you don't need a license to drive a sandwich.

it's some kind of wall of psychic energy.

you two dipsticks wouldn't last ten seconds over the county line.

we paid nine dollars for this?

who turned on the ac?

i suppose i can't execute you.

that's it! i'm through with messing around!

are men afraid of anything?

hey, you know, i actually feel a little better.

i don't even remember why i was sad.

wow, the pressure is already setting in.

your life is in our hands.

hey, look! free ice cream!

i'm making a complete what of myself?

wait, how did you know my name?

eww, i think i stepped in something.

you know, david hasselhoff was a great artist.

stalling? i'm not stalling anything.

are they laughing at us?

don't worry. this'll only hurt a lot.

after going on your life-changing journey, you now realize that you don't want what you thought you wanted. what you really wanted was inside you all along.

are you crazy?

i was just going to say that your fly is down.

this is the greatest day of my life!

i haven't felt this giddy since the day you agreed to be my wife.

lord knows i've tried.

all bubble blowing babies will be beaten senseless by every able-bodied patron in the bar.

i'm supposed to get a toy with this.

i am 100% man!

there. i think i made my point.

you said it yourself, this is man's country. and let's face it. we're just kids.

we don't belong out here.

we do not worship him!

oh... it's evil. it's diabolical. it's lemon-scented!

i got you right where i want you.

can i help you with something?

i've been hired to exterminate you.

you caught me and my friend here in a good mood today, so i'm gonna let you off with a warning.

they were fake?

of course they were fake!

uh, perhaps i've said too much.

that's a big boot.

hold on there, baldy.

oh, grow up. what, you think this is a game of kickball on the playground?

you never had a chance to defeat me!

i'm an evil genius. and you're just a kid.

i guess you're right.

you know, i've been through a lot in the past six days, five minutes, twenty seven and a half seconds.

if i've learned anything during that time, it's that you are who you are.

that's great. now get back against the wall.

i did what everyone said a kid couldn't do!

all right, we get the point!

okay, settle down. take it easy.

too bad [name] isn't here to enjoy [name] not being here.

i couldn't agree more.

there's something i need to say first. i just don't know how put it.

[ladykailitha]

Sweet Home Indiana Part 10

The last chapter my lovelies! It has been a long road to get here, but we made it. Thank you to everyone who comment, liked, or reblogged. I read and appreciate each one.

Chrissy and Robin get their wedding and Steve and Eddie get their happily ever after.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

****

Eddie, Steve, and Robin waited at the airport, just outside of security waiting for Chrissy’s plane to land.

“This is ridiculous,” Robin huffed, crossing her arms and looking down at her feet. “I hope you know that.”

Eddie and Steve just grinned at each other.

She rolled her eyes. “I forgot how disgusting you two could be when you got together.”

“That’s homophobic,” Steve said with a sneer.

Robin sputtered and flailed her arms about. “What! I can’t be homophobic! I’m a lesbian!”

“No, no,” Eddie said tapping his lips thoughtfully, “he’s right. That was homophobic!”

Robin, who had been expecting Eddie to agree with her, started sputtering again. But before she could really lay into him, he started jumping up and down.

“Chrissy!” he called out, waving his hand high in the air. “Over here!”

Robin froze and gulped loudly next to him. “Um...I’mma faint now, okay?”

Steve poked her in the ribs. “No fainting and absolutely no dying.”

She jumped away from his finger with a shriek as Chrissy reached them. Chrissy gave Eddie a kiss on the cheek.

“I missed you,” she murmured as Eddie picked her up and swung her around.

“I missed you, too, Chrissy poo!” he replied planting a large, messy, wet kiss on her cheek. “This is the indomitable Robin Buckley and the ever perfect Steve Harrington.”

“You make me sound like a cartoon dog!” Robin protested.

Chrissy raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know I always thought Jenna was pretty smokin’ for a dog.”

Robin’s jaw dropped and her eyes went wide. She turned to Eddie slowly, like a creepy doll in a horror movie.

“Shit, she’s perfect.”

Chrissy and Steve laughed as Robin dug out ten dollars from her pocket and slammed it in Eddie’s hand.

“I told you not to bet against him, Bobbie,” Steve cackled. “Anyone worth Eddie faking straight for would have to have our sense of humor.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You just want them to hurry and break up so you can make out with your husband again.”

Eddie and Chrissy turned to look at Steve who had not refuted said claim, but instead was a very dark shade of red and refusing to look anyone in the eye.

Chrissy decided to take pity on the poor guy and ask, “What’s the news on Gareth?”

“Gareth will be getting into town on Wednesday and can only take a few days off before he has to go back. He has a huge meeting with some investors wanting a stake in his vineyard.”

“How the hell Gareth became the rich snob, I’ll never guess,” she replied, shaking her head.

“So we’ll have the wedding on Saturday,” Robin said, quickly interrupting before they went down a rabbit hole neither she nor Steve could dig them out of. “I understand you brought your wedding dress.”

Chrissy held up the large white garment bag and unzipped it. “It’s black!” she said cheerfully.

Robin’s eyes went wide again. “I’m in love with you.”

Steve bumped her with his hip with a wide grin. “She always wanted to wear a white tux to her wedding.”

Chrissy’s eyes went wide with amazement. “That’ll be perfect! Me in a black wedding dress, the other bride in a white tux, we’d look fantastic!”

“We’ve got a photographer already lined up,” Eddie said brightly. “And Stevie is making the cake.”

“Now all we need is place to have it,” Robin agreed.

“Oh, I’ve got just the place,” Eddie said grinning from ear to ear.

****

The place turned out to be Jeff’s parents’ backyard where they had just had their fiftieth wedding anniversary. It was beautiful garden with a little brook and a gazebo in the middle. Chrissy fell in love with it immediately.

While Chrissy was talking to Mrs. Sinclair about the floral arrangements, Wayne came up to Eddie and clapped his hand on his shoulder.

“See?” he said with a grin. “There’s the sparkle I was talking about.”

Eddie, who had been writing down all the things they would need on Saturday, snapped his head up.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he huffed, crossly.

Wayne sat down next to him and leaned on the table. “Boy, you haven’t stopped smiling since you announced your fianceé was marrying someone else.”

Eddie blushed and ducked his head. “You make it sound so tawdry. I told you why I was gonna be the one to do it.”

Wayne nodded solemnly. “And I’m proud of you for wanting to do the right thing, but the right thing wouldn’t have made you happy.”

Eddie lifted his head to see where Steve was talking to Jeff and his mom about where the cake should go and soft, fond smile crept over his features.

“And there it is,” Wayne muttered. “The smile I haven’t seen in over a decade. The ‘I am hopelessly in love’ smile.”

Eddie’s cheeks darkened further. “Hopefully in love. Hopefully in love, Uncle Wayne.”

Wayne patted him on his shoulder and nodded. He couldn’t help but agree.

The whole town was coming together to get this wedding off the ground, Claudia Henderson was doing the food, Sue Sinclair was doing the flowers, Jonathan was doing the photography, Steve was making the cake, and of course Kendra and Dwayne Laurence were hosting the event.

Karen Wheeler had even offered to do Chrissy’s hair and makeup for the day.

Eddie was loving every moment. Especially getting to watch Steve in his element. He couldn’t wait until Saturday.

****

The day of the wedding dawned bright and clear, not cloud to be seen at all. It was like even Mother Nature herself was blessing their day.

Everyone had gathered, but there was huge swath of seats unfilled.

Steve frowned. “Eddie why are there so many seats on Robin’s side? Only her parents and a couple of her community college friends were coming.”

Eddie smiled sweetly at him. “Just trust me, okay, sugar?”

Steve bit his lip, but nodded tersely.

Eddie cupped his cheek and leaned down to look him in the eye. “Hey, hey, baby. It’s okay if you don’t trust me yet. I’ve got the rest of my life to prove I’m not gonna do a runner again.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath and then another.

“You promise it’s going to be okay?” he whispered, tears appearing at the corner of his eyes.

“As much as I can without factoring in that there are a lot of things outside of my control today,” he whispered back.

Steve nodded as Eddie wiped away his tears. “Now let’s get you all prettied up so you look perfect for the photos.”

Steve let out a water chuckle. “I can’t believe I was talked into this suit.”

He was in a clean, white suit to match Robin’s tux with a black dress shirt and white neck tie. Eddie was smartly dressed in white button up that was unbuttoned to the bottom of his ribs with a black leather jacket over that and clean black tuxedo pants and leather boots.

“You look so pretty, baby,” Eddie murmured back. “No offense to Chrissy, but you take the cake.” He stopped for a moment. “Please don’t take the cake. I just realized that that is a very real thing you can do. Please don’t. Chrissy would kill me.”

Steve burst out laughing. “I have no intentions of taking their cake. It’s fondant.”

Eddie grinned right back. It was almond paste fondant which meant it didn’t taste like chalk, but it was still something Steve the beautiful bitch he was would turn his nose up at.

“God, I love you,” he whispered, pulling Steve in for a kiss.

Steve smiled back. “I love you, too.”

****

They all walked down the aisle to stand in front of Jim Hopper, who was officiating as a justice of the peace. But before he could greet the attending guests, the doors to the house burst open.

Dustin, Max, Elle, Lucas, Will, Mike, and Erica with their families and plus ones came piling through muttering apologies for being late.

But judging from Jim’s grin, their lateness was planned. Steve looked over at Eddie who had an even bigger grin on his face.

Elle handed Eddie a microphone and went to sit down between Joyce and Will.

“Hello, everyone!” he greeted the crowd. “Don’t worry, I have full permission from the brides to do this, in fact it was Robin’s idea to begin with, so if this goes south, we’re blaming her!”

“Hey!” Robin protested hotly.

“So for those that don’t know,” Eddie continued, ignoring her completely, “Steve and I ran off to get married when Massachusetts made gay marriage legal. Then we did what stupid kids do when they don’t realize how good they have it and threw it all away. Then I met Chrissy and she is the most wonderful woman who needed a friend and someone to rely on. We thought it was me; turns out lesbians move fast.” He winked at Robin who took Chrissy’s hands with a laugh.

“But long before all this,” he said, his voice breaking from the emotion, “there were two boys with dreams. I got to live mine. I traveled the world, I got to play stadiums. I have actual fans. But that was never Steve’s dream.” Steve let out a watery chuckle as Dustin hugged him tight from behind. Steve reached up to hold Dustin’s wrist and give it a squeeze.

“His dream was a garden wedding surrounded by all his friends and loved ones, pledging himself to the man he loved,” Eddie croaked. “I told Steve last week—” he let out a breathless laugh. “God, was that really last week? It feels like such a life time ago. Shit. Anyway. I told Steve that I once thought that the man on the other side of the aisle would be me, but that I didn’t it see that way anymore.”

The audience let out a long “Awwww.”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie said coming over to take Steve’s hand, “that was the biggest lie I’ve ever told and I’ve told some whoppers in my life, just ask Wayne. But I’ve always wanted it to be me. Your dream became mine and I had to see it through.”

Steve threw back his head and laughed.

“So in addition to wedding these two lovely ladies,” he concluded, “we are also having a renewal of vows between Edward Munson and Steve Harrington Munson today, as well.” He brought Steve’s knuckles to his lips. “If that’s okay with you, Stevie?”

Steve nodded. “Of course it is! I can’t believe you guys did all this without me knowing. I love you all so much.”

A cheer went up.

Chrissy and Robin got married first and then they moved to stand next to Eddie and Steve as their best matrons.

“You deliberately kept this from so I wouldn’t write the sappiest speech, didn’t you?” Steve accused as Eddie took his hands.

“You caught me.”

Steve kissed his hands.

“Eddie,” he began. “Though the path to happiness was rough and long, there is no one I would rather spend the rest of my life with. We’ve already had the hard times and things can only get better from here. I’ve loved you through you chasing your dreams and learning to live mine. I didn’t realize I had lived life half asleep until you came back into town demanding a divorce. Which you still won’t get from me.”

The attending guests laughed.

“I burned the papers, babe,” Eddie replied. “No takes backsies!”

“Then I promise to love you for the rest of my days,” Steve finished, he pulled a ring out of his pocket. “I carry this around for good luck, I never thought I’d see the day where it would bring you back to me, too.” He slipped on Eddie’s finger as if it had been made for it.

Which it was. It was Eddie’s old wedding band, the one Steve had had specially made for them after the got back to Hawkins.

“My darts and my ring?” Eddie said with a chuckle. “You ole romantic, you.”

Steve just smiled warmly at him.

“Stevie,” Eddie said after taking a deep breath. “When I first came to town, everyone kept telling me I’d lost my sparkle. My joy in living. Even growing up in the harshest of homes until I landed with Uncle Wayne, I kept my sunny disposition. Even when people would mock me and call me freak, I leaned into it and made it a part of me. But since leaving Hawkins for fame and fortune, I lost that. I thought it was because my dream ended earlier than I wanted. But that wasn’t it.”

He choked back tears. “I’ve been talking to my friends, my brothers, my bandmates, since I started planning this wedding between Chrissy and Robin and I realized that it wasn’t just the touring and recording and all the shit that went with fame that caused the band to break up, it was my anger at losing you so easily. At not being able to have both and in the end it just became too much for the rest of the band to bear.”

“I’m not blaming them, or Steve for the record,” he told the crowd, holding up his hand. “And they’re aren’t blaming me either. It’s just the way the cookie crumbled and now, I’m standing here across from this beautiful man who was once my beautiful boy and realizing that this is my dream now. Him and him alone. I love you so much, sweetheart. I promise the only running I’ll do, is back to you.”

Then they leaned forward sealed their renewed vows to each other with a kiss.

****

Six months later:

Eddie stumbled forward with Steve pressed against his back, his hands over Eddie’s eyes as they waddled forward together.

“Why couldn’t we just have used my bandana?” Eddie groused, not for the first time.

“Because this is more fun for me,” Steve teased. “Now, shush and open your eyes.” He let go of him and stepped back.

They were standing in front of the building right next to the bakery that had been rundown and in disrepair for years. But now it was cleaned up with a metal aesthetic and big red neon sign that said “Hellfire Ink” in cursive font.

Eddie gasped out loud and covered his mouth with hands. He turned around to face Steve. “You can’t do this, honey. You should put the money back into the bakery.”

Steve shook his head. “No, baby. This was always the plan, you just sped it up a bit. I was building this for you to come home to. I thought that if I could just show you that you could tattoo and live in Hawkins, that you might want to come home to me.”

Eddie threw his arms around Steve’s neck and kissed all over his face. “I love you so much, sweetheart. More than anything, but this is too much.”

“Too late,” Steve said with a smile and held up the keys to the shop. “Come on, let me show you everything.”

Eddie grabbed the keys and Steve grabbed his hand to lead him to their future.

It was better than any dream teenage Eddie had ever hoped to have and if Eddie could go back in time and meet that stupid teenager, he’d tell him to not lose hope, even on the darkest nights, because at the end would bring his brightest days.

“Just wait until you see the inside!” Steve was saying and Eddie just smiled back.

Yeah, he could have wings and roots, too. Because this fit, too.

****

One thing that totally happened but didn't make it into the story was that Joyce and Claudia got together and made Steve his own cake with everything he wanted in a cake. It was much smaller than Robin and Chrissy's, more like a groom's cake, but it had Eddie and Steve figures on top.

Tag List: COMPLETE

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @ravenfrog @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi

3- @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @mac-attack19

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

5- @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95

7- @blackpanzy @amazing-spiderkeys @oldpinghai @raisedbylibrarians @kultiras

8- @swimmingbirdrunningrock @steddie-as-they-go @captain--low @micheledawn1975 @thespaceantwhowrites

9- @blondie1006 @stripey82 @w1ll0wtr33 @mcenziehughes @sadisticaltarts

[so-long-soldier-writes]

drabble #13 - the massage

kai parker x reader

summary: kai's sure he'll win the bet. you're positive he won't.

tags: massage, teasing, clingy!kai, minor mention of murder (bc it's kai)

word count: 835

a/n: idk why i'm in my cheesy fluff era of writing, but here's more

“Relax,” you giggle, feeling his muscles tense. 

“I’m trying! It’s weird.”

“It’ll feel so much better if you stop moving around.”

“What are you even doing?”

“Trying to help you relax.”

Kai sighs, clearly unsatisfied with your answer. Nevertheless, he stops adjusting his position and takes a deep breath.

“There you go.”

He mumbles something incomprehensible, but you don’t respond. After a second, you start again. The massage tool in your hand makes a slightly squeaky sound as you run it up his back. You make circles on his shoulder blades, then inch up to his neck. He shrugs his shoulders uncomfortably.

“Kai!”

“I’m sorry!”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No! Yes! I don’t know!”

“Pick one. Tell me to stop, and I will.”

“Don’t stop. I like it, it’s just weird.”

“I can be more gentle.” You do, but he only mumbles more.

“Now I can’t feel it at all.”

“Well then you’re going to have to sit still.”

“I just… what are you even holding?” Without much warning, he flips around to face you. The massage roller in your hand receives a weird stare that makes you laugh. “What even is that?”

“It’s a little tool that helps you relax by easing the knots in your neck and back. Now do you want me to continue, or not?”

“Where do you buy something like that?”

“Literally anywhere. Dollar Tree. Target.”

“I’ve never seen that in my life.”

“Your life has never lived in this decade, Malachai. You lived in the nineties for twenty years.”

“Rude.”

“I’m just saying! Things are different now. We have massage rollers.”

“Weird.”

“Unless you’d prefer to go to an actual massage person, but I bet you’d chicken out.”

He gives you a look. “Me? Chicken out? Do you know who you’re talking to?”

“Um, yes, actually. I’m talking to someone who would absolutely chicken out if anyone but me was touching them.”

“Bet you twenty dollars you’re wrong.”

“You don’t even have twenty dollars.”

“Yes I do.”

“From where? You-”

“Borrowed some the other day.”

“Borrowed?”

“Stole,” he corrects.

“You- Kai!”

“It’s okay! He was using it anymore!”

“Now why’s that? Is he dead?”

“...Maybe.”

“Kai, you can’t-”

“He shouldn’t have made that comment about you within my earshot. He had it coming.”

“Good lord, boy.”

“So twenty dollars I can get through this message-”

“Massage.”

“-thing you’re talking about. I win, you owe me.”

“Probably won’t happen.”

“Guess we’ll see.”

You’ll admit, Kai being anywhere without you gives you an extreme amount of anxiety. Not only because he’s a sociopathic serial killer, but also because you’re overprotective of him almost to a fault. Despite his bully-like attitude to many, he’s a child at heart. He’s gone through so much to make him the way he is, starting in early childhood, and you can’t bear for him to have anymore trauma. It’s probably toxic, thinking of him in such an endearing way, but you can’t help it. You love him. 

“It’ll be one hour, okay?” The massage therapist says as she takes him back. You nod your head at her and Kai’s little wink, then she brings him to the back. 

He bonded to you immediately. Maybe it was because you could see past the bad boy persona he donned on to gain respect. Maybe it was because you were the first to give him a second chance after the merge. Regardless of the reason, he learned you were a person he could trust, so he did. And even though all your friends tell you you’re brave to be friends with such a dangerous person, you’re there for him anyway. He’s pretty sure he loves you, even though he’s afraid to admit it. 

You pull out your phone to pass the time with a game, but no more than ten minutes later, the therapist returns to the waiting room. She catches your attention with a cough, to which you look up questioningly. 

“He’s asking for you,” she says. “I think he’s nervous.”

A little smile creeps on your face at the knowledge that you’ve won. You were right, and he was so determined he could beat you. “Okay.”

She brings you to the room where he’s lying down on the table. You can’t see his face until he pops up slightly to look at you. 

“Hi.”

“Hi there.”

Neither of you bring up the bet. Boy, he does look nervous. A non-joking Kai is a worried Kai, and for a split second, you wonder just how bad of an idea this is. 

“Can you just stay here?”

“Of course.”

“I’m gonna need you to relax,” the woman says, seeing the tension in his muscles before even touching him. 

You take his hand in hopes to reassure him. A little squeeze elicits a deep breath, and a lot of the strain drops. 

“Good. Let me know if you need anything.”

He shakes his head despite the awkward position on his stomach. “No,” he mutters, rather muffled, “just them.”

[youunravelme]

NEW FIC?? RATTHEW???? im SATTTTTTTT do u have any sneak peeks for us 👀👀👀👀 cant wait!!! <33

hmmmmm, well i guess i could give you a sneak peak rn since you're being so nice :)

the fic is split into two different timelines, before and after, so that's why you'll see "before" at the beginning of the sneak peek.

anyway, here's wonderwall

before

you were incredibly aware that you didn’t quite fit in. your mom drove you to school in a beat up 1997 toyota camry which looked incredibly out of place among the bmws and audis. your mom offered to walk you in, but she was wearing her scrubs from her night shift and her face looked tired, so you declined the offer and got out of the car yourself.

it shouldn’t have been as daunting as it was, but your old school wasn’t as prestigious as this one. your previous schools in cedar rapids had been public schools. no one was wearing a uniform, and most of the backpacks worn came from the same walmart in your old neighborhood. 

but your parents had decided they wanted a better education for you, even if neither of them had the money to fork out thousands of dollars for a private school. your mom’s parents, however, were loaded. they were more than willing to fork out a small fortune for your schooling under the conditions of your family uprooting your lives to missouri. you were too young to realize what a sacrifice that was, you didn’t notice the snide comments your grandparents made about your father’s choice of career or your mother’s choice in husband.

you didn’t see your grandparents any more than you usually did since you’d moved to missouri two weeks ago. they’d been out of town on a trip to rome up until three days ago and hadn’t reached out to have dinner or hang out at all.

not that you cared at the age of nine, you were more focused on unpacking your room. but now that you were standing in front of the giant school alone, you felt like you should’ve been more concerned with how nice your school supplies were.

a kind woman greeted you at the entrance of the school. she smiled and introduced herself, though you couldn’t hear her over the roaring in your ears. she stood next to a blond haired blue eyed boy who was your height.

“are your parents here?” you weren’t sure how you heard her over the noise in your head.

you shook your head. “my mom had to go home and my dad is at work.”

the woman blinked. “is today your first day?”

“mom, it’s everyone’s first day of school,” the boy groaned.

“i wasn’t talking to you, matthew,” she said, though her eyes never left your own.

“i just moved here,” was all you said, albeit a bit quietly. 

“well, you can walk in with us.” She placed a warm hand on your back and ushered you inside next to her son.

you took notice of her nicer clothing compared to your mom’s scrubs or your dad’s tattered khakis, though the woman’s clothing wasn’t as ostentatious as other parents’.

“do you know your teacher’s name?” the woman asked.

you nodded and showed her the crumpled paper in your hand. the night before, you were wracked with nerves and wrote your teacher’s on a blank sheet of paper and doodled around it. even at nine years old, you were concerned that you’d somehow forget. you couldn’t be more grateful for it now.

the woman’s face lit up. “oh how lucky! matthew look! you’re in the same class.”

matthew for his part, tried to look happy about it, but his eyes kept wandering to the hallways, like he was looking for people he knew. you felt bad for even being in this situation. you missed your friends from iowa and the light up shoes you used to wear before you were given a uniform.

matthew’s mom pointed out the classroom that was supposed to be yours and walked both you and matthew into the room. unlike her son, who immediately found his friends to do elaborate handshakes with, you stayed by her side. she was a stranger, sure, but she was more comforting that the classroom of fifteen other nine and ten year olds.

the woman sighed and bent down a little to look you in the eyes. “it’s gonna be a good day, sweetheart,” she said. “mr. terry is a great teacher, he’s really kind.” you weren’t sure how she would know that, but you weren’t going to call her a liar. “and if you need anything, ask matthew. he’s been going here since kindergarten, okay?”

you nodded.

mr. terry walked over and introduced himself. he had dark skin and a bright smile, showing you to your seat. your name was on a card with fun stickers on it. next to your seat, you saw matthew’s name. now it wasn’t necessarily an unpopular name, there were three matthews in your third grade class, so you weren’t holding out hope that it was going to be the matthew you walked into class with. but two minutes later, he was plopping down into the seat to your left.

matthew looked almost startled to see you sitting next to him, but when the shock wore off he gave you a crooked smile and stuck his hand out. “i’m matt,” he said, like you two didn’t walk into class together.

you shook his hand anyway and gave him a shy smile and told him your name, just in case he didn’t see it written on your desk.

if it was even possible, his smile widened. “pretty name,” he said.

[kosmokai]

okay wait.. LEMME COOK. (this is a lil snippet of a fic i was thinking of.. lmk if u want me to make a full thing to it cause idk if i like it) alsoo thought of this while listening to chase atlantic’s tidal wave, so that’s probably what it’s gonna be called ‼️

nsfw under the cut, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

so, beomgyu is at the beach with a few close friends, just for a casual outing. his friends wandered off to do something, surfing if he heard correctly, but he couldn’t be bothered to learn so he eventually found himself at the bar.

as soon as he walked in, he caught a glimpse of the prettiest girl he had ever seen… cute little two piece, skirt at the bottom, crocheted bra at the top, make up and hairstyle cute with a few accessories to top it all off was what she had on.. she— no, you, were beautiful.

of course, after seeing you, beomgyu chose to walk over to where you where, and sat a few seats away so it wasn’t… weird or anything. you saw him soon after and said hello, taking his order.

“you guys have anything interesting? something i wouldn’t find somewhere else?” you’re usual response got caught in your through as your pretty, pink lip gloss covered lips closed. “mm… well, we have a new cocktail we made a few days ago, but it’s still known beta so i’m not sure it would taste the best-” “i’ll have that. what’s it called?”

you smiled, really getting a good look at who was in front of you. his blonde locks, fluffy and covering his eyebrows, relaxed and calm expression.. he was handsome. pretty, even. but that’s besides the point. “tidal wave. cause it’s blue and stuff, and it has a kinda beach-y taste, if that makes sense. just wanted to tap into the environment, i guess!”

you smiled, taking the crinkled ten dollar note from him, smiling even more when he refused to accept the change. after a few minutes, you placed his cocktail in front of him, and he was speechless.

to sum it up, it was blue hue at the top and clear at the bottom, in a shallow like glass. there was a lemon and a little yellow striped umbrella inside, with some— uh, peach coloured shaved ice at the side of the top to resemble sand. on the opposite side along with the lemon and umbrella, was a piece of ice, somehow shaped like an ocean wave.

“it’s pretty..” he muttered a little loudly, not noticing your smug smile. pretty drink served by a pretty girl? that’s probably the first time he’s gotten the best of both worlds in one night. but little did you know, he was about to rock yours.

“thank you. enjoy!” as you were about to walk away, he shouted a little loudly. “keys! your keys.” you had left them on the counter next to him, after having to unlock the ice room for his drink. “oh my god, thank you! thanks for you i won’t get fired today.” he smiled, more of a smirk, and spoke. “don’t mention it,—“

he stopped, realising he didn’t catch your name. “oh, _______.” “pretty name for a pretty girl.. who serves pretty drinks.” you turned back to him, stopping your attempt at walking away so you didn’t have to stare into his eyes again. only because you’d find yourself staring.

“you are..?” “beomgyu. or gyu. both work.” he started sipping at his drink, a satisfied look on his face that set ease at yours. “cute. call me to clean up your drink, we can talk more.” you paused as you walked away, “gyu.” a wink flashed against your eye as you finally walked off, leaving him to smirk dumbly.

if he wasn’t feeling flattered, he would’ve been thinking about all the ways he could have you, take care, or rather, fuck you so well that you’d flush out, creating a tidal wave of your own.. right between your pretty thighs.

but oh well, guess he’ll think about that after finishing his cocktail.

THOUGHTS?? might make a whole fic abt it if u guys want :3

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for stalking a grifter even when everyone else let it go?

I’m a writer of fanfiction. I write a lot of short fics for different fandom zines and sometimes run zines myself. I have worked with a ton of different people, all with their own ways of running zines. I never had a problem with any of them until a few years ago when one zine organizer started getting called out for shady behavior. At this point, I had already worked with them on a dozen zines, and because I was always working on multiple at a time I never noticed that some of these Zines never went anywhere. I was busy and I just figured they were sorted.

So, when this started going down and call out posts got made I checked back in to the discord servers and blogs for the zines. Half of them collected money for the zines, and never delivered. Some just stopped production because she’d vanished and stopped replying to anyone. It’s at this point I found out that this person had hundreds of zine projects running at once, and most of them not completed or sent to the people who paid for them. All off of our FREE work.

There was a big blow up. People picked sides. A lot of us creators left and removed our work from the unfinished products. People demanded refunds. The scammer’s supposed mother made an appearance in one server saying she was just stressed and to be nice to her. It was insane. People were scammed out of thousands of dollars. It was really shitty for about ten minutes before everyone on the creator’s side shrugged and moved on. Meanwhile, there are still people out there genuinely upset that they lost pretty big chunks of money and no one could help them.

The thing is, I’ve had experience with this type of scammer before. They don’t want to stop, and they’re notorious for rebranding and starting all over again. So, I kept a causal eye out. I didn’t really spend a lot of time on it, because I’m still busy, but when certain styles of zines popped up on here I would do a quick look over at the mods and check a few profiles. Nothing in the past two years really caught my eye. Until a few days ago when I found a new zine that had her style of promotional stuff, typing/grammar, etc. I almost left it because it wasn’t really my business, but it pissed me off so much that she came right back and would probably scam thousands more out of people in different fandoms. So I triple checked a few things like profiles, etc. and was 85% sure one of the mods for this zine is her. When I mentioned this to a friend who also did work for her zines and got scammed, they acted like I was super weird. Not exactly for looking into it, but explicitly that I “still cared about all that.”

I guess everyone else just kind of moved on, and forgot about it. I thought it was pretty normal to be wary of scammers after being scammed, but the fact that they’re saying I’m weird for still caring that it happened is making me feel like maybe I did something wrong? I haven’t done anything about it yet because I wanted to run it by my friend who shared that experience with me, and now I feel like I’m the crazy one for doing something I thought was pretty normal if not a little wary.

AITA?

[onetimetwotimesthreetimess]

prompt request: older malec 😬 (second chance romance veryyy much accepted )

I know you’re fishing for that BTLIO happy ending that you’re never getting from me nsnsbsmsksskjs

_________

High school reunions are kind of overhyped, in his opinion.

It’s a frivolous attempt by one at pretending that their teenage years were not as miserable as they remember it to be.

Magnus’s quite over it, if he’s being honest.

He never wants to meet most of the people from his high school ever again.

But he’s back in his town after 10 years and Catarina forces him to attend the event.

“Magnus, this is a great way to show up all those assholes that made you miserable.”

“Show up how?” He asks.

Catarina raises an eyebrow at him and he relents.

“Fine. I guess my million dollar worth could be a way.”

“You think?”

He sighs. “But is that it? Financial success? Is that all that matters in this world?”

Catarina side eyes him, “Wow, this town really brings out the angsty teenager in you.”

Magnus rolls his eyes at her. “I just don’t like these people. And I don’t think showing my wealth is a way to prove that I’m better than them.”

“But you are better than them.”

His face breaks into a smile. “And that’s why I love you, my dear.”

His teenage years in this town were to quite simply put it—a nightmare.

They were filled with homophobia, racism and everything in between.

Magnus remembers nothing but being sad in most of them.

Most of them. Not all of them.

Some of them were good memories. The best ones of his life.

He knows those memories had nothing to do with this school or the town but something else.

Something angelic.

Someone angelic.

He puts on his most flamboyant and dramatic outfit, now that no one can hurt him with words about how he chooses to dress up like.

Magnus puts on a purple sheer shirt, with a deep, very deep v neck cut. Half of his chest was visible, with seven necklaces laded on it.

There’s one small necklace still on his neck, it doesn’t match his outfit but it was given by his mom , fixed by his Rafael, he doesn’t know how and he kind of misses them both terribly today.

It’s something about this town.

At least one of them, he’ll get to see again after two days. Rafael wanted to come with him but too but Magnus didn’t want to bring him here. There’s too much sadness here. And he always wants to keep his baby away from all that sadness.

Two hours later, they reach their high school. The event is happening in the gymnasium, even ten years later.

With huge letters, the banner reads- “Class of 2012”.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Magnus goes around the room, meeting people he’s forgotten by now. Some he remembers like yesterday.

“Magnus,” A beautiful woman with curly hair approaches him. “Magnus Bane?”

Magnus thinks for a second before his eyes widen in surprise—good surprise. “Maia?”

“It’s been so long,” she smiles and pulls him in a hug.

“Too long.”

“You disappeared from here.”

“I didn’t disappear,” he says, not without a flair. “I just made a grand exit.”

They both know he’s kind of lying. Magnus had disappeared. More accurately, he’d run away.

It had been too hard. Breathing had become too hard.

If he’d stayed here a minute longer with all the painful memories, Magnus would have died.

Leaving this town had saved him.

He meets a few other people after that. It’s not half as horrible as he’d expected.

“Magnus?”

He recalls that voice as clear as a day. He turns to find the most beautiful woman in front of him.

She was always beautiful but right now, she looks a hundred times prettier. He also knows that it’s nothing to do with her physical appearance but everything to do with the huge smile on her face.

The visible happiness.

She’s never looked freer.

None of the Lightwood siblings ever did.

“Isabelle?”

She jumps in her arms, still with all the love and joy like they’re sixteen again.

Like the little girl who used to help him climb up her house so that they could play housie at night.

Or after a particularly horrible night when they needed some cheering up—thanks to the Lightwood parents.

If it wasn’t for the warm hug, he would have been scared to hug her back. But there’s no such feeling anymore as he wraps his arms around her tightly.

“Oh, darling,” he breathes. “It’s so nice to see you.”

“You too,” Isabelle says happily and he knows she means it.

Isabelle was a two years younger than them so technically she shouldn’t be here. There’s only one reason for her to be here and considering that Simon is lurking not five steps away, with a giddy smile on his face, he has to be right.

“You being here, I can only assume you are still with Sherman,” he grins, the old joke falling easily from his lips.

“I do.”

“Hello, Magnus,” Simon waves excitedly.

They talk for a while but Magnus is a bit distracted throughout.

“He’s here, you know,” Isabelle says.

His brows furrows, “Who?”

Isabelle rolls his eyes. “You know who.”

He does.

Magnus didn’t want to come to the reunion for the following reasons:

1. He dislikes most of these people.

2. He ran away ten years ago and it’s weird to explain to everyone why that happened.

3. Alexander Gideon Lightwood.

The first two reasons ignite a strange anxiety in him. But the last one, it stirs up feelings and emotions he’s tried to kept hidden for years.

If Magnus tries to open the Pandora’s box, he might never be able to shut it down.

“I—I don’t know if—” he stutters, slightly annoyed but not surprised that Alec lightwood can still bring out the teenager in him, “I don’t know if he’d want to see me.”

Isabelle gives him a small smile. “It’s been ten years, Magnus. I think it would be okay.”

He wonders if she knows. If she knows why he did what he did.

Out of all his friends, he had only ever confided in Catarina and Clary at the time.

“Okay.”

He roams around the room, trying to find the man. Then he spots him. It’s not difficult. Even though the last time Magnus saw him was a decade ago, when they were teenagers, still not fully grown into their bodies, still with a bit of acne and awkward smiles on their faces.

But Magnus knows. He knows the man standing in front of him, with his back to Magnus’s face, in a navy blue sweatshirt, amidst a crowd of people fully dressed up in tuxedos and dresses has to be none other than Alec Lightwood.

He musters up all the strength he can, but the air closes up around him, his feet freeze on spot and he finds himself unable to move or speak.

All he can recall is the last time he was infront of Alec.

The last, horrible, horrible words he had hurled at the man who was his entire world.

But it’s been ten years and if anyone deserves an apology or hundred from Magnus, it’s him.

So, he shoves inside his pain, the guilt and everything he’s feeling right now and has been for the past two decades and opens his mouth.

“Alexander?”

It’s the easiest thing in the world to notice the man’s body tense up at the name. There’s a full few seconds of absolutely no movement before Alec moves—oh, so slowly.

His heart stutters inside his chest, rapidly beating inside.

From the ages of twelve to seventeen, Magnus had only felt two emotions in the world. Pain, at everything happening inside his house and love—for Alec.

His life had space for nothing else at the time.

Then slowly, and then very instantly, only pain had remained as he had pushed all the love away.

“Magnus?”

He’s still as beautiful as ever; Magnus thinks. But somehow more so. There’s that teenage shyness missing from his face, replaced with the handsomeness of a grown man.

Alec looks breathtaking, with his wild hair, dark and gorgeous. His eyes, as blue and shiny as ever.

A hundred emotions flicks over his face and it breaks his heart to realise that he understands none of them, having lost the privilege to read Alec years ago.

Then, his face settles on a small smile. A tight lipped one. Not Alec’s real one.

Alec’s real smile, that’s something one can never forget.

It’s a special privilege, to be able to see Alec Lightwood smile.

“Hi,” he says, carefully, not knowing the kind of reaction he will get.

If Alec tells him to fuck off and never show his face again, he would understand.

He would deserve it.

He had broken Alec’s heart in the worst of ways.

But Alec doesn’t yell, doesn’t tell him to fuck off. He smiles. Only if a bit careful.

“It’s been a minute since I have seen you.”

He chuckles, “Yeah. Been a minute.”

There’s a few minutes of silence afterwards. He doesn’t want what he’s supposed to say. What either of them could say after the shitshow everything was the last time they saw each other.

They stand awkwardly before it gets too difficult for Alec and he excuses himself. “I think someone is calling me.”

Magnus sighs dejectedly as Alec leaves, his heart breaking inside his chest.

This is why Magnus didn’t want to come back to this stupid, fucking town ever again. It brings nothing but pain and disappointment.

Catarina has asked him through the years if he regrets his decision. And the answer is always a resounding no.

He needed to choose someone at the time, and he chose Alec.

No one will ever know though and he’s quite okay with that choice.

Alec and he cross paths a couple of times in the next two hours but they don’t talk, Alec still avoids him like the plague. Or just because there’s nothing to talk.

He’s a little angry at Alec; if he’s being honest.

It’s not right, he knows. But he wants Alec to be angry at him right now, yell or shout about why he did what he did. But Alec does none of those things and it hurts more than he would like to accept.

Maybe, for Alec, it wasn’t that big of a deal.

It was just a break up after all.

People break up all the time.

They weren’t special.

Even the thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth because he knows with everything inside of him tjay to him, it meant everything.

Alec Lightwood was everything.

“So, guess what we’re about to do now?” One of the organisers, Michelle announces.

“Leave?” He mutters, only loud enough for Catarina to hear; who chuckles in response.

“Shut up. You love a party.”

“Not this one.”

“Remember when we all put a time capsule under that big tree in the campus?” Michelle screams. “We’re about to open them.”

Oh.

The time capsule.

He recalls early senior year, everyone giggling and laughing, putting their hopes, future plans into the time capsule.

He remembers his ambitions. Plans. He had a lot at the beginning of senior year.

By the end of senior year, he had none left. Not a whole lot of hope either.

“What did you put in your time capsule?” Catarina asks.

He frowns, trying to recall. “I don’t really remember. You?”

Catarina thinks for a moment before her eyes widen in embarrassment, “Oh god. I put something very embarrassing.”

Magnus chuckles, “What?”

“You’re never finding out, Bane.”

There’s too much chatter then, everyone discussing their capsules, asking about others. For a second, it feels like he’s back to being seventeen again.

“Come on, let’s find out.”

“I don’t wanna,” he whines but then he sees Isabelle, Jace, Simon and Clary all run in the direction, dragging a grumpy Alec and he follows.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

“Ask Clary out. Go Pro,” Jace’s time capsule notes and he hurrayed, kissing Clary on the mouth.

Clary finds a photo of all six of them, huddling on top of each other and they all warm up inside at the memory.

They had all been at Magnus’s house that day, the one in the photo.

They all tear up a little.

Isabelle finds a small bottle of alcohol that she had stolen from her dad, pulling a chuckle out of everyone as she chugs it in one go. “No regrets,” she screams.

“Simon?”

Simon finds a small picture of him and his dad. “I lose things all the time. I didn’t want to lose this picture.”

Isabelle pulls him in for a hug and kisses his temple.

A little excitement simmering up, Magnus opens his box. There’s a single note inside, and when he reads it, his heart breaks for the thousandth time.

“What do you have Magnus?”

His voice breaks, “Excuse me,” and runs away from there.

Tears stream down his face as he runs towards the terrace. It’s an isolated spot, entry restricted to students but long back, Magnus and his friends have found out a way to break that lock. Almost a decade, and the lock is still not fixed.

He sits on the ledge and cries his heart out.

It angers him so much, being here. It’s like suddenly he’s transported back to ten years ago, with his fragile teenage heart.

After a while, he doesn’t know how long, there’s footsteps on the terrace.

“Hi.”

He chuckles dryly. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Comfort me. I’m just having a moment.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

They stay silent but Magnus has been never been a fan of silence so he asks, “How did you know I was here?”

It’s a stupid question, really. But atleast it’s a question. Atleast they’ll talk.

Because Magnus doesn’t know how long he can go on without Alec talking to him.

Ten years was too long.

“So,” he drags his words, “What was in your time capsule?”

“A list,” Alec chuckles, but it’s weak.

He knows that as well. They had written put their time capsules together. Right next to each other. But they hadn’t shown each other what they had written.

“Stop peaking,” Magnus recalls Alec squealing as he tried to peek into Alec’s list.

“Come on, show me.”

“No.”

Magnus had dragged his finger along Alec’s neck then, as he got closer and purred against his ear, “Please darling. It’s me.”

Alec’s body had shivered under his touch. “Stop. I know what you’re trying to do.”

“And what would that be?” He grinned.

He had tried some more but Alec had not shown him.

That day, it had felt impossible that there would come a day when they would actually get to open that. Ten years had felt too long at the time.

Right now, he can’t even recall where the past ten years went.

“You want to see it?” Alec suggests.

Magnus’s eyes widen. “You will show me?”

“Why not?” Alec shrugs. “We’ve got nothing to lose.”

The words sting, burning a red and angry feeling inside of him but he tries not to show it at the surface. “Okay.”

Alec passes a piece of paper to him.

Magnus takes a deep breath and turns it.

Alec’s scrawny handwriting brings out a smile out of him.

1. Leave Idris.

2. Come out to everyone.

3. Become an archery player.

4. Get Max and Izzy and Jace out of his parents control.

5. Marry Magnus.

A choked sob leaves Magnus’s mouth. And still, he can find in himself to be incredibly proud that Alec was able to fulfil four out of the five things.

“Four out of five isn’t bad,” he tries to keep lightness in his voice but fails miserably.

“I guess,” Alec says, his voice tight.

Before anyone says another word, Magnus takes out the piece of paper from his pocket and passes it to Alec.

He avoids his gaze as Alec reads the words.

Magnus’s list wasn’t really a list. It contains of only one thing and Magnus couldn’t even fulfil that.

There’s just words that he knows will mock him for an eternity.

Mama is sick. But don’t worry, stay with Alec. He will make everything okay. He will make you okay.

A hurt noise leaves Alec’s mouth this time and he feels his own heart splintering. He wants to hug the man and tell him that he’s sorry. That it wasn’t his fault. That he’s good. But he does none of that.

“Magnus—“ Alec says brokenly.

He knows what Alec is asking. Magnus didn’t plan to ever tell anyone—especially Alec about this but he is tired—so tired of the pain, of the weight of the secret paining him for a decade.

For all the love he doesn’t know what to do with.

For their hopeful teenaged selves that believed nothing could come between them but something—Magnus, did.

“You needed to leave.”

“What?”

“If you had stayed in Idris, you would have died. You were dying here under the weight of your parents expectations and you needed to leave this town. I could not be another thing between you and your freedom,” he says hurriedly, the air around him closing.

“Magnus, what are you talking—?”

“You had that scholarship in your hand, Alexander,” Magnus breathes harshly, almost gasping. “I couldn’t let you stay for me.”

“Your mom was dying, Magnus,” Alec says harshly, and the words hurt but they’re true. “Of course I wanted to stay. I wanted to stay for you.”

“I couldn’t let that happen,” he admits. “You had a whole life, a whole career ahead of you. I couldn’t stop you.”

“You didn’t have to ask. I would have done anyways,” Alec all but screams and it feels almost cathartic, that the other man is finally screaming.

He’s positive Alec hasn’t screamed in a decade.

“You think I don’t know that?” Magnus exhales. “That’s why I had to do what I did.”

There’s silence then. Just their loud breathing audible.

Before Alec speaks, as tired and pained as he feels, “You broke my heart, Magnus.”

Tears stream down his face and he wipes them off harshly. “I’m sorry.”

“All I did was love you,” Alec whispers. “And then I didn’t understand.”

“I did not want you to understand, Alexander. For that, I am incredibly sorry.”

They stay silent then. Not knowing what to do with all of this.

At least now, Alec has all the answers.

He thinks it’s time for him to leave. He told Alec everything there was to know. Now he needs to leave this town and these people again.

It’s the most unexpected and magical thing in the world when Alec speaks after a few minutes, “You want to go for a walk?”

————————————————-

As they talk; Magnus will find out about Max, Alec’s three year old son. Alec will show him a picture and it would be the cutest kid in the world.

Five years later, Magnus will make sure that Alec crosses off the fifth thing off his list too.

And in his vows, he thanks Alec for making him okay.

————-

[oskea93]

✦ It Had to be You: Three (part one) ✦

John “Bucky” Egan x OC Gale “Buck Cleven x OC

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and not associated with the real people mentioned from the show. This is simply based on the portrayals of the actors playing these characters. ⚠️ Warning for this chapter: Cursing, mention of death, suicidal ideations, drunkenness. ⭐️ Taglist: @alanadetigy

● If you would like to be tagged, just comment below ●

I visited Gale’s grave every day for a month straight. I guess wishfully thinking that he would rise from the grave like Lazarus – taking me back in his arms and whispering that it was only a dream. The winter haze was starting to turn warmer – a clear sign that spring was on the horizon. Springtime was Gale’s favorite – just sitting on the porch – plowing the garden that he swore would turn out 50 pounders. I could still see him sitting atop the tractor he was so proud of – buying it from an old timer at the local auction for ten dollars and a gold pocket watch.

He was able to work one full season in that garden before he went off to join the war effort. He promised that as soon as he returned, he would have me out there helping, learning the tricks and trades of being a farmer’s wife. We both knew deep down that would never happen – my hands never meeting the touch of dirt in my 22 years of life. I wanted it to happen though. I wanted to break out of the debutante shell – learn to be self-sufficient and not have to rely on my husband to do everything. Gale was the one that was gonna show me the new world I craved – the new world I needed to survive.  

“Figured I’d find you here.”

I rolled my eyes as John made his way over to where I sat, his presence being one that I could live without. Even after the little incident of me throwing his belongings off the deck, he still stuck around. He had set up house in the dilapidated barn that Gale planned to fix up. If it was anyone other than John Egan, I would have insisted they stay in the comfort of the house, but he deserved the cold rain to fall on him during the night.

He took a seat on the grass next to me, his hand touching the mound of dirt that was still settling on Gale’s grave. His throat clearing as his emotions began to get the best of him.

“Your mother called – wanted to make sure you’re doing okay.” My gaze steadied on the plaque in front of me. “Told her that you were out here.”

“I don’t need you talking to my mother for me.”

An exasperated sigh slipped past his lips as the air around us became tense, “You know I’m just trying to help, right?” His eyes setting on my side profile as my eyes stayed glued on Gale’s grave. “If it wasn’t me here –“He paused for a moment. “You’d be in a world of hurt.”

“You wouldn’t have to be here if you were there for Gale when he and the other men jumped over that wall like you told him to do, Major.” Our eyes connecting. “I’d have my husband at my side, but instead I have you.” I hastily removed myself from the ground. “And I have my husband buried six feet in the ground where he’ll stay forever, but I should be so flattered to have the Major John Egan to make sure I’m not in a world of hurt.”

“Carolina-“ He started to speak as he stood.

I raised my hand to stop him, “No-“My tone stern. “I don’t want to hear another word from your sorry mouth, John.” Tears starting to dwell in my eyes. “You can go to the pits of hell and rot for eternity for all I care.”

My feet started to move across the growing grass – signs of life at every turn – except the one I longed for. I was in my own world of hatred that I didn’t even hear John’s heavy footsteps behind me, my body being jerked into his as his fingers wrapped tightly around my arms.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” I fought against his touch. “You’re the one who should’ve died! That bullet was meant for your head – not Gale’s.” My voice screeched with anger and agony.

John's grip tightened momentarily before he released me, the pain in his eyes mirroring my own anguish. "You think I don't know that?” his voice raw and broken. "Do you think I don't live with that every single day?"

I turned away, wiping the tears that had begun to stream down my face. "Knowing it and feeling it are two different things, John. I can't just forgive and forget. Not when my life has been torn apart."

He took a step back, giving me space, his hands falling limply to his sides. "Carolina, I can't change what happened. I can't bring Gale back. But I can be here for you, whether you want me to be or not. I owe him that much."

I scoffed, my heart a storm of emotions. "You owe him more than that. You owe him your life."

For a moment, silence hung between us, heavy and suffocating. The world around us continued to move, indifferent to our pain. I wanted to scream, to make it stop, to rewind time and change everything. But I couldn't. All I had was this reality, this grief, and the man who stood before me, a painful reminder of what I had lost.

“You ruined my life, John. You ruined the life that I was supposed to have with Gale – all the promises and dreams we had. “ I paused. “All that’s gone and now I have nothing to live for.”

“Killing yourself won’t bring him back.” His tone straight forward. “Killing yourself would be the selfish option. Trust me, I’ve thought about it too, but I know Gale wouldn’t want that.”  

My breath hitched as his words cut through the haze of my grief. "Selfish?" I echoed, incredulous. "You think I haven't thought about what Gale would want? He was my husband, John. My everything. I know him better than anyone, and I know he wouldn't want me to be this miserable, but I can't help it. Every day is a struggle just to breathe."

John's face softened; his eyes filled with a sorrow that mirrored my own. "I know, Carolina. I know it's hard. But giving up won't honor his memory. Living, even when it hurts, is the only way to keep his spirit alive."

Tears streamed down my face, and I felt a deep, aching void where my heart used to be. "It's not fair," I whispered, my voice breaking. "We had plans. We were going to start a family, travel the world, grow old together. How am I supposed to do any of that without him?"

He took a cautious step closer, his presence a tentative offer of support. "You don't have to do it alone. There are people who care about you, who want to help you through this. I know I'm the last person you want to hear that from, but it's true."

I shook my head, frustration and despair warring within me. "You don't understand. Every time I look at you, I'm reminded of what I've lost. Of what you took from me."

John's expression tightened with pain, but he didn't back down. "I understand more than you think. I lost a brother that day. Not just a comrade, but someone I cared about deeply. And yes, I was responsible for the mission, but I never wanted this outcome. I never wanted to hurt you."

"You never wanted to hurt me?" I scoffed, a bitter edge to my voice. "You're the one who pressured Gale to go with you to England – writing him letters and painting a picture of how exciting the missions were." Each word dripped with resentment as I laid bare the betrayal that had festered in my heart.

I took a moment to collect my thoughts, the memories of happier times with Gale now tainted by the presence of the Major. "I wish Gale had never met you at that training facility," I continued, my tone laced with regret and anger. "I wish you had never come into our lives, John Egan."

The air fell silent, the weight of my words lingering between us. John's gaze flickered, a shadow of guilt passing over his features before he attempted to muster a response. But no words came, the truth of my accusations hanging heavy in the space between us, a rift that seemed impossible to bridge…

“Okay ladies, so I was thinking that the theme this year be focused around new beginnings. Something pure and wholesome,” Victoria announced, her voice carrying a sense of authority that demanded attention.

The room fell into a hushed silence as the other women seated around the table nodded in agreement. The debutant ball, an annual event that had become a symbol of prestige and philanthropy in the community, was a significant undertaking that required meticulous planning and flawless execution.

Sitting beside me, my mother beamed with pride, her hand resting gently on my leg as if to anchor me in my seat. “Oh Victoria, I think that is a fabulous idea,” she chimed in, her enthusiasm palpable.

I stifled a sigh, accustomed to my mother's unwavering ambition for me to shine at the debutant ball. Ever since I was a young girl, she had envisioned me as the belle of the ball, clad in a perfect white gown, with hair styled to perfection, and a date handpicked from the cream of society.

As I glanced around the room at the other debutantes and their eager mothers, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. Many of the young men who had once vied for the chance to escort a debutante to the ball were now mere shadows of their former selves. Some were confined to wheelchairs, their once-vibrant spirits dimmed by tragedy, while others had met untimely ends, their promising futures cut short.

As the planning for the debutant ball continued, I couldn't help but notice the sea of young faces around me, each brimming with anticipation and excitement. Most of the girls who had signed up to participate seemed to view the ball as the pinnacle of their young lives, a chance to be the center of attention and bask in the admiration of others.

However, my own perspective had been irrevocably altered by recent events. The tragic loss of my husband had shattered my illusions of a fairy-tale existence, leaving me adrift in a world that now seemed hollow and insincere.

When Victoria turned to me, her voice cutting through the silence, I felt the weight of everyone's eyes on me. The women around the table, who had initially regarded me with pity and sympathy, now looked at me with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

"Do you have any suggestions, Carolina?" Victoria's question hung in the air, waiting for a response.

I hesitated, unsure of how to navigate this unfamiliar terrain. The words felt stuck in my throat, a jumble of conflicting emotions and unspoken truths that I couldn't bring myself to articulate.

"No," I finally managed to say, the word coming out more curtly than I had intended. Victoria shifted uncomfortably in her seat, the tension in the room palpable as the other women exchanged uneasy glances.

As Victoria smoothly transitioned to discussing details with the other women in the room, a sense of relief washed over me, grateful to be momentarily spared from the spotlight. I observed with detached interest as their faces animated with enthusiasm, their voices rising and falling in a symphony of excitement and anticipation.

A pang of disconnection tugged at my heart as I contrasted their genuine enthusiasm with the emptiness I felt inside. The prospect of being paraded around like a prized possession at the debutant ball held no allure for me, a stark reminder of the superficiality and pretense that permeated this world of opulence and privilege.

"Darling, you're bringing everyone's mood down," my mother's gentle voice whispered in my ear, breaking through my reverie. I turned to meet her gaze, seeing a mixture of concern and expectation in her eyes.

"This is a joyous occasion. Will you please try to smile or look somewhat happy to be here?" she implored, her hand reaching out to touch mine in a gesture of reassurance.

I forced a tight-lipped smile, the muscles in my face aching from the effort. “Happy?” My voice tinged with bitterness, causing her to frown in disapproval.

She straightened in her chair, the delicate China teacup clutched in her hands as she met my gaze with a mixture of concern and determination. "Carolina, it's been almost two months," she began, her tone gentle but resolute. My head snapped in her direction, a flicker of defiance igniting within me as I anticipated the direction of her words.

"It's time to get on with the grief and start living your life again – be the old Carolina Clevens – the happy girl we all knew and loved," she urged, her words laced with expectation and a hint of impatience.

The weight of her words settled over me like a heavy shroud, pressing down on me with a force that was almost suffocating. The idea of returning to the person I used to be, of donning the mask of cheerfulness and ease that I had worn before my world was shattered, felt like an impossible task.

"Oh, I'm sorry, mother," I blurted out, my body turning towards her in haste. The words spilled out before I could stop them. "I didn't realize that grieving over my dead husband was only allowed for a certain time, and then it was time to act like he's not at the bottom of a hole turned into worm food." The ladies seated at our table glanced over with curiosity, their whispered conversations coming to a sudden halt.

My mother's expression hardened, her eyes narrowing as she processed my words. The tension in the air was palpable, and I could feel the weight of her unspoken disapproval. But I couldn't hold back the flood of emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface since my husband's passing.

"I guess when daddy dies, you'll get a day or two to grieve, and then I'll let you know when it's time to go back to your self-centered self," I continued, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and sadness. The words hung in the air, heavy with accusation and a lifetime of unspoken grievances.

The tension in the room was palpable as the gazes of the guests shifted between my mother and me. I could feel their eyes boring into me, their expressions a mix of surprise and discomfort at the sudden outburst. My mother's attempt at a smile seemed strained, a fragile façade barely concealing the turmoil beneath the surface.

“Fuck this.” I stumbled away from the table, my heart pounding in my chest. The room seemed to blur around me as I made my way towards the door, my mother's voice calling out my name like a distant echo in the chaos of my thoughts.

As the pricking feeling of tears threatened to overflow, I clenched my jaw, refusing to let them fall. I was tired of crying, tired of the pain that seemed to follow me wherever I went. With each step I took on the quiet street, I felt a sense of calm wash over me, the cool night air soothing my frayed nerves.

I slowed my pace, wanting to blend into the shadows, not wanting any more attention drawn to me. The streetlights cast a soft glow on the pavement, guiding my way as I navigated the unfamiliar paths. I didn't know where I was going, but one thing was clear – I didn't want my mother to find me.

I managed to dip into a hole in the wall bar – the patrons looking a bit shocked when I stepped through the doors. I wasn’t really a drinker – only partaking once in a blue moon – nothing to hard of course. I hesitantly took a seat at the bar, my white gloves causing those at the bar to look at me as if I was lost. I quickly removed the garments, stuffing them into my purse.

The older bartender gave me a reassuring smile as he placed a small napkin in front of me. “What can I get ya, miss?”

I hesitated, my mind racing as I tried to decide. Looking around, I noticed most of the patrons were nursing glasses filled with a rich, amber liquid. I pointed to one of the glasses at the end of the bar. “I’ll have whatever that is.”

The bartender followed my gaze and nodded, a knowing twinkle in his eye. "Whiskey it is," he said, reaching for a bottle on the top shelf. As he poured the drink, I took in my surroundings, the low murmur of conversations blending with the soft clinks of glasses and the faint strains of a jukebox in the corner.

He placed the glass in front of me with a gentle thud. "Here you go. Enjoy," he said, giving me an encouraging nod.

I wrapped my fingers around the cool glass, feeling the slight chill against my skin. Bringing it to my lips, I inhaled the strong, smoky aroma before taking a small sip. The liquid burned slightly as it went down, causing me to start coughing.

The bartender watched me for a moment, then leaned in slightly. "First time with whiskey?" he asked, his tone friendly and curious.

I nodded, setting the glass back on the bar. "Yeah, something like that."

He chuckled softly. "Well, it's an acquired taste for some, but it grows on you. Rough day?"

I sighed, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over me. "You could say that."

He gave me a sympathetic look. "Well, you're in good company. This place has seen its share of weary souls. If you need anything, just holler."

I offered a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, I appreciate it."

As he moved on to attend to another customer, I took another sip of the whiskey, letting the warmth and the quiet ambiance of the bar start to work their magic. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a hint of relaxation begin to creep in…

“And then she starts saying that I need to stop crying over my dead husband—” I paused, taking a sloppy drink. “Who says something like that, especially to your goddamn daughter?” My words slurred together, the numerous glasses of whiskey casting a heavy fog over my mind.

The bartender, who had been listening patiently as he wiped down the counter, gave me a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry to hear that, miss. Some people just don't understand grief," he said gently, his voice a steady anchor in my storm of emotions.

“And then I got his friend, his co-pilot, the man responsible for sending Gale to his death, staying at my fucking house. Living out of the barn because I’m not gonna let that son of a bitch into my house—” My face twisted as the brown liquid burned its way down my throat. “And to think I liked that man—thought he was a good influence on my husband. John Egan is nothing but a snake in the grass. If he were to drop dead tonight, I wouldn’t even bury his body—I’d just let the buzzards pick away at him until his bones are dust.”

The bartender's eyes widened slightly, but he maintained his calm demeanor. He leaned in a bit closer, his voice low and soothing. "That's a lot to carry, miss.”

I slammed the glass down on the counter, the sound echoing through the bar. "You have no idea. Every time I see him, it's like a knife twisting in my gut. Gale trusted him and look where that got him."

The bartender stayed silent for a moment, then spoke carefully. "Now don’t take this the wrong way, miss, but it sounds like your husband’s friend was only doing what he thought was best."

I felt my eyes narrow as his words moved around my hazy brain, trying to find purchase. "What are you saying?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

He held up a hand in a placating gesture. "Just hear me out. This John guy didn’t know that those Nazi pricks would shoot at your husband. You can’t place the blame on him. I’m sure the poor bastard is already blaming himself."

I stared at him, the anger bubbling up mixed with confusion and sorrow. "You think I should forgive him? After everything?"

The bartender shook his head slowly. "That’s a choose you’re gonna have to make on your own, sweetheart.

Instead of accepting his words like an adult, the whiskey took over instead. "Typical man," I muttered, the raspberries of disdain blowing from my lips. "Just like a man to take up for another man."

I downed what was left of my drink in one swift motion, the alcohol numbing the edges of my frayed emotions. The room seemed to spin around me as I clumsily pushed myself off the barstool, my movements unsteady and erratic.

"You don’t know anything!" I shouted, my voice rising above the din of the bar. "You're all a bunch of drunkards with no hope or future." The words spilled out of me like a torrent, fueled by a cocktail of frustration, bitterness, and a tinge of self-loathing.

Those that were left in the bar looked at me with empty eyes – not shocked by my appearance or attitude. Their gazes seemed to bore into me, indifferent to my outburst amidst the usual chaos of the night. "Gale Cleven was the best man that God ever created!" I proclaimed, my voice piercing through the haze of smoke and chatter, higher than the music playing in the background.

"Better than you," I declared, my finger pointing accusingly in the patrons' directions. "And you. And you too!" Each word was a dagger, fueled by a mix of defiance and desperation, cutting through the thick air of the bar like a blade.

The slamming of the front door snapped me out of my little tantrum as all eyes in the bar shifted towards the man who caused the ruckus. He stood there at the entrance, a lone figure in the dimly lit room, clad in his worn leather bomber jacket. His hands were stuffed in his trouser pockets, his stance exuding a quiet confidence that demanded attention. The sudden hush that fell over the bar was almost palpable, as if the very air held its breath in anticipation of what would come next.

"For fuck’s sake," I muttered under my breath, a heavy sigh slipping through my lips as I raked my hand through my messy curls.

I watched through hooded eyes as John stepped up to the bar. Our gazes met in a brief but charged moment, a silent exchange passing between us like a current.

As he ordered himself a glass of whiskey, the tension that surrounded just us seemed to thicken, palpable to those around us. The bartender, a silent observer to the unfolding drama, looked back and forth between us, piecing together that this was the man I had been rambling about just moments ago.

[buddietommys]

// ||bucktommy and tevan|| OOC content is mostly because Tommy and Eddie wouldn't be wrapped up in mafia business lmao //

Mafia!au where Buck works at some tiny bar in a really shady part of LA. He isn't oblivious; he knows who he needs to avoid and who he should be friendly with to avoid any type of misunderstanding or altercation. He's not above getting into fights and can hold his own, but he doesn't want to worry his sister. Speaking of his sister, she really wants him to leave his job. Maddie tells Buck that she can pick up another shift at her job, but he refuses to have her work more hours. Buck wants to make enough money so he can move with Maddie to a tiny house in the countryside, far, far away from this part of their lives. He's always felt like a fuckup and blames himself almost daily for their parents leaving them in the dark once Maddie turned 18. Maybe if he wasn't so stubborn or so defiant, their parents would have stuck around instead of leaving Maddie to care for the both of them. He remembers the yelling the most, especially on his hard-to-sleep nights. Buck works late hours at the tiny bar, and usually that's when shady characters tend to start making their way inside. He always gives a small nod in acknowledgement, and at this point he knows what certain customers get and just pours out the drinks. Two drinks in particular he remembers like the back of his hand: whiskey on the rocks, and it cost exactly ten dollars, yet these two men who walk in flashing their expensive watches and rings will always slip in an extra amount of cash, "keep the change beautiful." A wink and a slight brush of fingers on his hands always send shivers down Buck's spine. He never takes the money and never acknowledges the few hundred he sees folded neatly. Buck isn't stupid, and he wasn't born yesterday. He knows that these two men are definitely some type of gang members, and the cash they try to slip him is probably money made in some type of illegal activity (murder? bank heist? A hit on another gang leader?? Buck watches too much TV, and he blames Maddie for leaving those true crime documentaries on in the background.) They never comment on him not taking the cash, but he feels their eyes on him when he moves across the bar. He can't put his finger on it, but their eyes always have a certain fire behind them.

/hunger/ /desire/

Two words that come to mind as predators looking at prey, waiting for any opportunity to pounce. The taller and bulkier one of the two always approaches him first when he clocks out of work. "You know, gorgeous, you can take the cash; promise we won't bite if you do." The shorter one with the perfect combed hair and a tan that always looks sun-kissed is always the first one to try to hand him the money. "You know, if I were to guess, I would think you're avoiding us, darling, and I hope you aren't, cause that hurts our feelings." he would say with a slight smirk and a chuckle. Buck hates these two, but god, he cannot deny how unbelievably handsome they are, but he isn't going to put Maddie and himself in shady business just for dick. He just says no thank you and walks away into the night. They never follow, and they don't talk further, but he always feels eyes on him when he walks back home (he takes different routes when walking, but he can never shake the eyes he feels stalking him). These two strangers somehow have slithered their way into his mind and his work, and he can't stop the nagging feeling that something is going to happen.

And oh boy does something happen. It was fast and it was extremely sudden, but one day after walking home after an extremely tiring shift, he feels a hand grab his wrist, and as he tries to swing with his other hand, he feels something cold on his neck. 'a knife' he thinks to himself before he could say anything. He's hushed by his assailant. "If I were you baby I'd stay quiet. Trust me, I don't want to put a scratch on your pretty little body."

Oh, he knows this voice, and all Buck can say is a simple "fuck."

He hears a laugh from behind him, and the hand that was holding him along with the knife to his neck is lifted. Buck immediately spins and notices the two men who have been trying to give him an absurd amount of cash for about a month staring right at him. "Hey doll face, fancy meeting you here," says the shorter one. Buck lets out an annoyed laugh. "Well, you have my attention. What do you guys want? If you're going to mug me, just leave me my wallet; it was a gift." The two men just look at him with smiles, and the taller one doesn't say anything and instead goes into his pockets and throws several photos into Buck's face. He was going to say something about the absolute dickhead move until he catches a glimpse at a photo. "How did you?" he's interrupted immediately. "We know all about you, Evan; we know where you live; we know about your sister; we know what you eat for breakfast down to the routes you take to go home. We know everything about you, so let's make a deal here." For the first time in his life, he has absolutely no comeback. Words aren't forming in his mind, and he feels his hands getting cold. These two men know about him. Forget about him. They know Maddie. They know where she works based on the photo they have of her leaving her job and the coffee shop she likes to visit. Evan Buckley, for the first time since starting this job, is terrified, and he sees no way out right now. He wants to punch them; he wants to yell for help FOR SOMETHING....but all that comes out is a hushed voice: "What do you want?" The two men look at him, and they just smile at him as if they aren't two predators holding him hostage. "For starters, call us by our names, cariño, my name is Eddie, and my friend here is called Tommy. What we want is simple. We want you." the one that introduced himself as Eddie grabbed him by his chin roughly, "we've had our eyes on you since you started working at that bar, but waiting is getting boring, and we're impatient when we don't get our things." The taller one, who he now knows is called Tommy, goes to pick up the photos and neatly organize them again into his pockets. He just smiles a sickly sweet smile at Buck "We tried doing this nice, but you seemed to ignore us either way, so we figured a little pushing would make this quicker."

Buck is now forced into a whirlwind of emotions and feelings, being forced to be arm candy to not only one but two high-ranking Mafia members and having to do whatever they want just to make sure that Maddie doesn't get mixed up in this mess.

[alrightbuckaroo]

19 for the prompt list <3

19. ‘it made me think of you.’

Did NOT expect this to be a little over 900 words, but I hope you enjoy it all the same <3

--

First Responder's Fair is home to many things; double fried foods, rigged carny games and at the moment, a very confused TK Strand.

"Wait," TK sucks his teeth, to which Nancy grimaces at. "You mean to tell me the sweet tea down here is actually," TK pauses. "Well, sweet?"

Nancy and Tommy share a look across the picnic table while TK takes another hearty sip. Nancy begs the question she didn't think she'd ever have to ask. "What made you think sweet tea wasn't sweet?"

"It never was up north, tasted more like dish water than anything."

Tommy, then, begs the question she didn't think she'd ever have to ask. "TK, why do you know what dish water tastes like?"

"My friend Cash used to work at the Sally's Diner back when we were in high school, bet me ten dollars that I wouldn't drink from the dish sink from the after lunch rush. He thought I couldn't, or more so, wouldn't do it." TK smiles smugly. "Guess who left Sally's that day ten dollars richer."

"And was out sick from school the following three days because he got food poisoning." Owen adds as he sits down, joining them at the table. His hands full with two corndogs and a frozen lemonade. "Had to rush him to the ER because he kept complaining about stomach pains."

"So I guess it wasn't a question of couldn't or wouldn't, but more of a shouldn't." Tommy jokes, breaking off a piece of her funnel cake.

"Nice to know that you taking up residence in the ER isn't just a Texas thing." Nancy rallies and TK feels like he's been attacked by all fronts.

"My newfound stomach of steel would argue it was worth it."

"It wasn't." Owen is quick to interject.

"Anyways," TK goes to change the subject. He points at the corndogs in Owen's hand. "Dad, corndogs, where?"

Owen tells him where the booth is and TK makes it his mission to scout it out. He stands up, and treks his way over. He sees both Isabella and Evie standing in line for cotton candy, alone. His eyebrows furrow when he doesn't see Carlos anywhere.

Last he saw them, Carlos was taking them to the ring toss in hopes of coming home with a new pet goldfish. For the girls, not TK, which Carlos made absolutely clear.

"Hey girls, where's Carlos?"

"Milk bottles." They both say at the same time. TK thanks them, and walks around until he finds the milk bottles. He sees Carlos before Carlos can see him. Even from a distance, he can see Carlos is uncharacteristically sweaty and his curls have started to break free.

As he walks up, he watches Carlos throw a baseball and raise his arms in cheer before he winces and lowers his right arm.

"Babe," TK says as he gets closer. Now that he's closer to Carlos, he can see the beads of sweat dripping down his face and the ring of it around the neckline of his shirt. TK's confused, it's hot out, as expected, it is Texas, after all; but it's not that hot. "What's going on?"

Carlos starts when he realizes TK is next to him. He was so focused on the pyramid of milk bottles in front of him. "Oh no," Carlos responds. "You weren't supposed to see, it was supposed to be a surprise."

"Here you are, sir." A man in a red and white striped shirt hands Carlos a stuffed orange lizard. Carlos goes to reach for it with his right hand but changes to his left hand.

"And this is for you." Carlos holds out the stuffed animal to TK who stares at it, slightly perplexed, slightly in awe and even more slightly in love.

TK reaches for it, and Carlos smiles at him like he's worth every curl unfurled. "Babe," He grabs Carlos' left hand, careful not to irritate the right one. He pulls them aside, out of the walk way and earshot of the carny. "Did you throw out your right arm trying to win me a stuff lizard?"

"It made me think of you," Carlos affirms, wiping at his face on his shirt sleeve. "I couldn't not get it. Who knew it would be level to training day for the academy." He rotates his arm, trying to gauge the pain.

"Well, this just means I get to give a slow, sensual massage later tonight." TK whispers into his ear.

"TK," Carlos smirks. He nods to the ring toss they're standing next to. "Not in front of the gold fish."

TK stares at the stuffed animal in his hands. It's eyes are a little too close together, and it's smile is a little crooked, but he loves it all the same. That said, TK begs the question he never thought he'd have to ask. "Babe, how much did you spend on this little guy?"

Carlos is silent, trying to think of the best answer. The last thing he wants to do is tell TK he spent close to ten dollars worth of quarters on a stuffed toy that probably cause ten cents to make. "Baby, you know my love for you is priceless."

TK rolls his eyes, but his smile really gives him away. "You're so cheesy."

Carlos grabs TK's hand again; he suddenly finds himself having a real hankering for corndogs. "You love it."

TK laughs, "Not really," He pulls Carlos is for a kiss that tastes like sugary sweet tea. "But I love you."

send me a soft fic prompt!

[ittostan]

"It was a little mistake"

Eddie Munson x GN!Reader

Genre- Angst

Show- Stranger things

Warnings- Angst (no comfort), kind of OOC Eddie, terrible writing, L Eddie

Word count- 1,671 words 8,727 characters

Author note- hey guys so I guess the original post of the first part disappeared!! So here it is again (SECOND PART IS STILL UP!!)

For some people, it came as a surprise when they heard you hung out with the freak of Hawkins. You were surprised when others were surprised. Did it just not seem like you would? You weren't popular, but you guess you weren't really an outsider either. You never talked to kids who were considered popular or not many who were considered losers-- unless Chrissy Cunningham was considered popular and Eddie Munson a loser. You usually talked to Chrissy at parties when Jason was with the team, and she saw the chance away from the crowds of people when she was near you. With Eddie, you two started hanging out after grabbing the same Black Sabbath cassette tape.

"Uh...I had this first, so I'll just take it," you said, tugging it towards yourself.

"Actually, I'm pretty sure I had my eyes on it first, so it's definitely mine." He pulled it towards him.

"Dude, I grabbed it first. Just give it to me."

"If I can't have it, nobody can." He gave one last tug with all his strength and threw the tape on the floor, breaking it into what looked like a million pieces, then realized he had it just in his hands for a few seconds and could've taken it.

"You break it, you buy it," a voice yelled, then having you two run out and run to your cars, driving off. The next day, bright and early in the morning, Eddie Munson saw the one and only guy he saw at the music store, and it got even worse seeing you starting to walk up to him. "Munson is it? Eddie Munson" you asked, with just a hint of annoyance in your voice. Were you stalking him now? Oh god, you probably knew every single thing about him. Every secret. Everything! "Hello?" you waved your hand in front of his face to have him snap back into reality. "Yea, that’s me," the man with the birds' nest in his hair said.

"You owe me ten bucks."

"Even better... I'll take you to a little fun game." He didn't really have ten bucks, so he decided why not invite this cute person to something even better than 10 bucks! His dnd campaign!

Eddie didn't really tell you what he meant, but after school, he met with you at the room where they had their meetings, and to be honest, you never really looked at this room, seeing all the stuff for maybe theater. You saw a table surrounded by guys that had the same shirts as Eddie did, saying ‘HELLFIRE CLUB’ with a devil or demon it looked like and other things.

You never really talked to any of the people here, but you knew some of them just by their names. Mike Wheeler is the brother of Nancy Wheeler. Dustin Henderson hangs out with Steve Harrington. Lucas Sinclair is on the basketball team. Gareth’s talked to me a few times. The others you had no idea about, but you looked for a free chair and, luckily, it looked like Eddie had put one out for you! You sat down in it and looked at the game that was set out on the table. The whole game, you were confused and confused about how this made up for your ten dollars.

After that day, Eddie made it up to you after you kept asking for the 10 dollars, and he just bought you the cassette tape at that point. You did continue to hang out with the Hellfire Club and became friends with them all, still keeping your place as not a loser and not popular. Now, after a few months of keeping that place and hanging out with the club and Eddie outside of school, you started to develop feelings for THE Edward Munson. You weren't in some little romance movie, so you definitely couldn't just tell him straight up, so maybe give hints?

You started to sit closer to him.

You left little flirty words when talking to him

Tried nicknames

You got kinda touchy (put your hand on his mostly).

Nothing.

You even told him "I like you."

He laughed it off. He laughed at your confession.

Now you were in your room, laying in the middle of your bed, arms and legs spread out, wondering if he liked you back. He never stopped smiling around you. He was always calling you cute names... but then again, he did those with basically everyone he got along with. You rolled over on your stomach, groaning in a complaint, then kicking your mattress over and over till your legs hurt. Something came to your head. It’s like 6 pm. Eddie is probably setting up for hellfire. Alone. You rushed to get up and put on your slippers because of how much you were in a rush, then ran out of the house and got into your car to drive to Hawkins High School even after you left like two hours or three ago. You saw Eddie's van and parked next to it, getting out of the car and stuffing the keys into your pocket. Going inside the school, you heard muffled arguing, so you walked towards it, seeing the slightly open door to the theater room, but when you were going to walk in, the mention of your name made you freeze.

"You said they told you they liked you as a joke? Well, do you like them? " you heard Micheal Wheeler say

"Like them? [your name]? Are you joking right wheeler?" Eddie laughed, "They’re not my type. Let's say I like people who give me some space. That is the opposite of them. They’re always near me like if they aren't they’ll die! There's no way someone could be into that." The group laughed, continuing to completely shit on you. The way you act, the way you dress. The people you spoke to. Every Single. Thing. How could you be so stupid to think Eddie would like you? The only reason the two of you started talking was that you told him he owed you ten dollars. If you hadn't gone up to him that day, you wouldn't have spoken a word to him and he wouldn't have to you either. You could feel tears filling your eyes just threatening to come out if you didn't leave.

You did end up going home and face-planting into your bed, instantly sobbing into your pillow with the things the club had been saying were repeating over and over in your head, basically being imprinted into your mind. The one thing that stuck out to you the most was what Eddie said before you left "Meeting them was a little mistake. Trust me. I don't want them here any less than you guys do. I feel bad for anybody who dates them," his voice said, filled with hatred and annoyance but a small bit of regret that you didn't pick up. That's when you left, so that’s all you had heard, and you were glad you left since you don't think you could take anymore.

The next day felt like the devil himself planned this day. You got up and took a shower bright and early in the morning, then did whatever you did before going off to school, and when you got to the parking lot, it was getting filled with student cars and people getting dropped off. You drove into the parking lot quickly, taking a parking spot that someone almost stole from you. You got out of the car and ran your hands through your fingers, walking to the school doors. "[Your name]!!" someone called, but you ignored it and continued walking through the halls. "[Your Name]!" was called out again, so you turned your head and saw the metal head walking towards you with his hands in his pocket and a smile on his face, acting like he was innocent. Like he didn't hate you. Like he didn't even say your whole friendship was a mistake and he didn't even want it to happen. Sometimes you just wanted to choke him till his face turned blue, but you didn't let your thoughts get the best of you or you’d end up in prison.

All day he had been trying to get your attention, but you either walked in another direction, hid around corners, or simply just ignored him, acting as if he didn't even exist. Now on his side, he didn't know what to do. He tried walking beside you and talking, but you didn't even breathe his way. Not even a little side-eye. What did he do? Did a rumor come out about him? Did you just not feel well? Did you not want to be friends? He saved a spot for you at the hellfire’s table right next to him..no show. He was even saving an extra drink for you. Last night they didn't finish the campaign due to all the talk about you, so he told everyone to come the next day so they could get a little further, probably just for an hour. It was after school and he left you a note in your locker that said they were having hellfire if you wanted to come. You read it... then threw it away.

While the guys were at Hellfire, he stared at the empty seat that had been left for you. Where were you? What did he do?

A week has passed. Then 2. Then 3. Then, somehow, it was 21 weeks, 147 days, 3528 hours, and 211680 minutes without you. He tried to make it up to you. He did. You told him a month later in a little paper but never spoke to him again. He bought you a few things to make it up to you, but none worked. He missed your smile. He missed your laugh. He missed how on little movie nights you’d add some random candies to the popcorn. He missed you. He made the biggest mistake ever. Losing you