#I'm going to be honest with you. this was truly the perfect watch for me this week

[pocket-size-cthulhu]

I cannot believe that Andor exists.

If you like Star Wars; if you don't like Star Wars; if you've watched every star war or none; you should watch this show.

Its message is timely, relevant and poignant. It's not pulling its punches literally at all when it talks about the rise of fascism, police brutality, the prison industrial system, and what it takes to resist authoritarianism. It's not all storm troopers and laser guns, it's cops in riot gear tasing and shooting civilians. And regular people figuring out that they can't keep ignoring what's going on; they have to do something.

It's also extremely engaging if you like political dramas at all (or heists or prison breaks or whatever).

Plus it's got Diego Luna's big doe eyes.

[kawhh]

I'm aware I'm gonna lose people with this but I really do need to get the thought out of my head (I'm being delusional and this'll make it worse). It's just Jack and blood does something to me. Something magical. Also for the dark!Jack askers.

1.7k words.

Warnings!!!: if you're squeamish, please don't read this. I mean it. There's a lot of blood talk. Him covering you in it. Biting. Me going insane. Being a whore on main. Somnophilia. Jack being feral. If the idea of period sex makes you go ew, this'll make you worse. Him not caring if you don't want him marking you.

You've been worried about him since he got hit - knowing how bad some high stick injuries can be. Stressing until he was shown on the bench, barely calming down seeing all the blood still covering his face. How casual he is about it, not being phased at all, making no effort to wipe it off.

How aggressively he's playing after it, there's more aggression in him when he takes face offs. There's more push behind his skates up and down the ice. More concentration on his bloodied face.

If you're being honest, the whole thing is incredibly hot. Even though there's an underlying beat of concern. You don't like seeing him hurt.

It's late at night, so you're cuddled up on the couch in one of his shirts. Always feels like he's home with you when you're bundled up in his scent.

It's too much for him when he gets home. It's like someone's sucked all the air out of the room. His knuckles white as snow from his grip on the door frame. He doesn't dare move. Feeling like he's one step away from losing any and all sanity that he has left.

His girl.. all perfect.

His shirt on you.. how small you look in it. It's physically stunned him.

He can feel the blood on his face still. He was in too much of a rush to get home to you, he wouldn't take the time to wipe it off. He wasn't wasting time showering. Not when he knows you're all alone at home. He's not phased by it, just slowly dragging his tongue over his lip to prevent it from getting out of control.

He's no stranger to blood in his mouth. Injuries are common and he can't just stop whenever it happens.

He figures you're asleep. Who knows how long he's just been stuck there, trying to piece together the non feral part of his brain. You haven't made any noise, haven't reacted to him coming home.

He's free to just.. observe.

He's salivating over your legs. They look so pure and untouched, unmarked, oh so long looking under the shirt. Fuck.. he doesn't know what he wants first.

He could have them wrapped around his waist, have you scratching your own marks into his back as he fucks you into the wall. Wanting to see the pathetically adorable tears streak down your face until you get noise complaints.

Have you bouncing on his dick, slamming you down to force you to go at his pace, forcing you back down to meet his savage thrusts even if you try and crawl off to escape.

Wrapping them around his head, forcing them tighter against his head, wanting to suffocate against your cunt. Feeling you cry and squirm against him, trying to escape his tongue.

How pretty he'd paint you with the blood that's still leaking from his mouth. What a perfect way to make a point.. show you how much you truly belong to him. It'd stand out so vividly against your skin.. against your cute little cunt.

It's enough to take the final sanity percentage from him. He can't stay here watching you from afar now. He's gone too deep. The chances of him walking by you to shower before coming back.. non existent.

He's like a possessed animal stalking towards you, hair loose, half covering his face. His expression dark, his eyes barely visible. His pupils fully dilated.

If he doesn't get his mouth on you and in you, he thinks he might lose it. He can't even wait for you to stir. He doesn't have the restraint. Doesn't fucking want the restraint.

He's hovering over you before he can even process it, grabbing your legs as gently as he physically can in his state, making room for himself to kneel between them on the couch. Leaning over to hover over your face, staring at how innocent you look under him.

His baby must've stayed up late worrying yourself to sleep, he knows how you get.

His fingers not being able to resist digging into your shoulders, staring at the way that your body doesn't resist him. The slight bruises he leaves, painting you. The way you almost lean into his touch in your sleep, seemingly seconds away from mewling like a cat.

He can't resist pulling your shirt up. He can't get it fully off without waking you up, but he inches it towards your neck as gently as he can. Restraining you slightly as it reaches armpit height.

He's slightly startled as he hears a small sound, like a droplet. Looking down, realizing that some of the blood from his mouth is smack bang in the middle of your exposed chest now. Trailing it with his eyes as it slides down your cleavage, under your bra, leaving a skin stain as it goes.

He can't stop the gulp, processing how it feels to see him on you, in such a different way..

There's nothing more him than his blood. It's so striking against your skin. He can't explain the sudden urge he has to follow it with his tongue. To cover you in him.

He makes a fatal mistake, resting his head against your shoulder. His attempt to control himself only makes the problem worse as he lifts his head, realizing that you're now covered in his blood, your whole left shoulder looks like a murder scene.

He can't resist licking your skin. Just once. Tasting your skin combined with him. He's never felt this possessive before, never felt more sure in the fact that you're his.

Sinking his teeth gently into the skin, just enough to leave a mark. He doesn't fully know what's wrong with him. This need to just.. mark you up. To mark up every single inch of your skin. You're such a little fucking cute bunny rabbit. So adorably small against him. So weak. So fragile. So his.

He can't stop at just your shoulder. He's inching down, nipping and sucking at your skin, occasionally licking at the blood if it pools too much. Making his way down to your chest, watching the droplets drip down your tits, following the perfect curve, seeping into your bra.

He can't resist running his tongue down your cleavage. Slowly folding the cups over enough to get his hot, wet mouth around your nipple. Biting harshly, eyes flicking up to you as your squirm in your sleep. He wonders if you're dreaming about it. If you can feel his body. If you're mentally aware of how deranged he's feeling tonight.

Squirming more as he reaches your stomach. He half entertains spelling his name on your stomach but he truly doesn't have the patience. He's biting his lip more as he goes, trying to agitate it, getting frustrated that the blood's drying up. He doesn't care if it hurts, how much it stings with every single movement. He'll take care of it later. It's not important.

It does rush him slightly. He can't risk running out of it before he gets to his meal. Skipping mostly past your stomach, dragging his parted mouth down until he reaches his meal. Resting his mouth against your cute underwear. Smirking as he realizes there's adorable little teddies on them. Slowly staining them with blood as he keeps his head still, resting his mouth above your clit. The contrast of the blood and your visible innocence, he could moan.

He's just resting there, breathing you in. He can smell you. Feel the heat coming from your adorable pussy. He can't resist gently biting, mostly gripping your underwear in his teeth, letting it smack back against your clit, hearing you let out the littlest moan. He doesn't care to check if you're waking up now. It's not like he'll stop, even if you do wake up and protest. There's nothing you can do about it.

Nuzzling his nose down where your thigh meets this delicious skin, breathing you in. He can feel the dampness of your pussy smearing on his face as he drags his cheek down. Marking himself up with you.

Biting you in a harsher manner on your inner thighs, feeling how your skin melts like butter at his attack. Smearing you in the blood that's drying up faster now, licking up the arousal that's seeping from your underwear.

His girl loves this so fucking much.. as you should.

The little whimpers you let out.. he can't wait any longer. He's teased himself enough. He can feel the fucking precum soaking his shorts. Hell, it's probably even on your legs at this point. The throbbing is so hard for him to ignore, but you aren't fully claimed yet. He hasn't had his fill of your cunt.

Spinning you slightly, dragging you to the edge of the couch. Sinking to his knees in front of you.

He's ripping your underwear off with his teeth, laughing cruelly as he hears your startled gasp. You're awake now it seems. Maybe you're swearing at him. Maybe you're begging him to stop. Maybe you're moaning. He doesn't care. It's time to eat.

Swiping his tongue all the way from your cute hole to your adorable clit. There's only a faint amount of blood leaking from him now, but it's enough for him to slowly watch it mix with your arousal. Only fueling him more to eat you.

Stretching you apart with his fingers, putting weight behind it to make sure you can't move. Can't protest. Sucking every last drop from you, lapping at you like you're water in an oasis. Feeling you clench. Nipping at your clit, not wanting your body to get used to one sensation.

Thrusting his tongue into your cunt, licking against your walls, wanting to consume you from the source.

He's thrusting slowly against the couch, imagining splitting you open with his cock, mimicking the motions with his tongue. You're spasming around him, he can hear your cries getting louder.

Slowly thrusting in with his finger, adding another soon after. Stretching you open, making room for him to shove his tongue further in along with them.

Feeling your legs shake around his shoulders, restricting his breathing. Cumming in his shorts at you getting off on being claimed.

Pulling back, eyes half lidded, running his eyes over your body. Admiring all of the blood smears and marks on your body. He's never felt so in control. So satiated. So utterly dominant over you. There's no doubting that you're his.

And he hasn't even fucked you yet.

[violentdeliiights]

admiring

i haven't written properly in so long and i fully blame uni and my silly sad little brain but i'm back! hopefully won't be such a massive break next time!!

this is fully just drabble to be honest- nothing really happens it's just pure fluff but i was watching austin powers for the millionth time and the fembots' night dresses gave me a vision

cw: female reader, slight misogyny at the start??, simon likes to stare but so does reader, just fluff

word count: <1k

Simon had never been one to bother with looks.

His mother had raised him to view women as more than their outward appearance. He couldn’t stand hearing boys in school reducing their girlfriends to mere sexual objects, or ranking girls in their year based on their tits. 

It made him irrationally angry when he was on base and would overhear recruits talking so crudely about their own wives and girlfriends.

Even when he was asked what his ‘type’ was, his answer was always, “s’Long as she’s a good’en I’m not fussed.” His partners were his- what right did anyone else have to make comments about their appearance? He’d always thought his partners were gorgeous, but he didn’t have specific demands or things he was attracted to.

Looks would fade, the number of the scales would vary, but a good heart would remain always.

However, he can't help but think every time he looks at you that he truly hit the jackpot. Your face fits perfectly in the cradle of his palm, his arms wrap warmly around your waist, your legs entwine snugly with his under bedsheets, his chin slots just right in the space between your ear and your shoulder. 

Most importantly, your heart has a glow that he’s pretty sure he can see every time he looks at you. He’s never met a person so good. Someone that just…gets him. You are his person through and through.

His favourite hobby when he comes back from deployments is to simply just observe you. Honestly, he’s not even bothered if you find it creepy. He just loves to admire you. Can’t believe he got so lucky- a big, belligerent brute like him with such a perfect lass? 

You’re partial to those flouncy, vintage nightdresses- the ones that kind of remind him of the Austin Powers girls he used to fancy as a young lad. Since you got together, he’s bought you countless of them; he adores how you look in them and how feminine and confident they make you feel.

Sat against the headboard with your kitten, Toast, napping on his broad chest is how he finds himself most evenings, watching you through the mirror of your vanity. He knows your routine like the back of his hand at this point; after a shower you make yourself a sleepy time tea, wash your face, and then sit at your vanity to put your rollers in and do your night time skincare. It’s the same routine you’ve had since the very beginning of your relationship, and so a couple weeks in, Simon knew he had to get you your own vanity at his place- the same one you now sit at in your shared flat every night.

Even when you’re going out with friends or putting makeup on for a date night, he loves to just come and admire you. Admittedly, he still doesn’t understand the daily torture of that eyelash curler fucker but he knows better than to question anything you do.

His greatest miss when he’s away on deployment are- other than your presence in itself- those moments every night when he can just sit in your silent company and admire. 

You’d only questioned him once, back when you’d first got together before anything was even official; “Everything okay?” you’d asked amusedly through the mirror, feeling Simon’s eyes burning holes through your face.

“Just like lookin’ at you, birdie.” His stare never faltered, and his tone was so matter of fact that a blush bloomed across your freshly moisturised skin.

After that, it was just an unspoken thing. Even when you weren’t at your vanity- on the couch watching a film together, bustling about the kitchen for your keys when you’re late for work, strolling through the little park just behind your flat, sitting across from him at the dinner table.

Part of it comes from the military background of course- if he can see you at all times, nothing can happen to you. 

Unknowingly, Simon isn’t the only one who loves to stare.

Most of the time, he’s fast asleep by the time his head hits the pillow and you’ve always been a night owl, preferring to stay up late with a cup of tea and a book. Therefore, there are a few hours each night where Simon is dead to the world, Toast curled into the crook of his neck, and cuddled so innocently into the soft downy duvet you insisted on that you can use to simply admire.

His scarred cheek fits so perfectly in the cradle of your palm, his arm winds just right around your waist so that he can be near you even when unconscious, his legs slip snugly around yours under the sheets. His heart shines, even when you know he doesn’t think very highly of himself, plagued by his past. But you know he’s a good man. Your Simon. Your person.

He was so reserved when you first met. Cards kept so close to his chest- the mask he never took off even on the first date. It makes you admire him even more when considering how far you’ve come. How much he’s grown as a person. How good you are for each other. 

The scars never bothered you. The tattoos covering decades of battle wounds only made you want to open him up. The way his nose was permanently crooked, his hearing damaged from years of living in warzones, his lips scarred and showing teeth when he wasn’t smiling. None of it mattered to you. He was a good man, and his heart was the most noble thing about him.

[bamsywrites]

And Comes Dawn pt 11

Pairing: Sauron/Halbrand x Reader

Summary: The Deciever has a question for his Sweet One.

Tags: fluff. Like FLUFF. He may be deranged but he's got a soft spot. Also, told you I was gonna make the Annatar bow angsty.

Notes: the fic is out of order now because I have a lot going on and ITS MY FIC OK OK. Not having to have everything in order has given me so much inspo that within the next 24 hours there could be 2 more parts and 2 other things too soo. I love you all. Thank you for your support. My dms and inbox are always open, also if you wanna give me like a lil tip it would be appreciated.

Halbrand leaned against the archway to the library and watched you as you read through the scrolls and histories. It's how you'd spent your days since coming to Eregion. He worked on the elven rings, and you were here, reading. It was endearing to him that you sought knowledge in such a way. Proof that he had made the right choice in you.

There had to be three. Just as there had to be three rings.

Him with his power and darkness.

Galadriel with her wisdom and light.

You with your goodness and warmth to balance them out.

Three.

Though, he only desired you. Only loved you. You were what he was doing all this for. He had to create a lasting peace. He had to make Middle Earth safe and perfect. He had to overcome this pesky issue of your mortality. He could not allow you to live in a broken world. He would not allow you to come to harm, and, selfishly, perhaps, he could not let you die. The rings were for you. His ambitions and goals revolved around you.

All for you.

At least, that is what he made himself believe. If he was truly honest, he had different motives as well. Motives of power and control. Motives that would have driven him down this path if you'd never met. His deception was so great that he was able to hide that away. He was able to believe the ends justified the means. And if you were what was at the end, there was no depravity he could not justify.

Watching you now, you were breathtaking with your eyes focused and strands of hair falling in your face. You'd taken full advantage of the beautiful wardrobe and styles of the elves. Intricate, delicate strands of silver were braided through your hair. You wore a dress of light blue with more silver, and the delicate chains only served to accentuate your curves. He had thought you were beautiful in the Numenorian garb, but now you looked stunning. Breathtaking. He'd seen the most beautiful of the elves, the Silmarils, the light of creation. Yet you were greater than them all.

“I know you're there,” you spoke, the ghost of a smile playing at your lips, but your eyes never moved from the page.

“And yet you stare only at your books. My heart can not help but break.” He teased. “I will not be shamed for staring at the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on.”

He smirked at your blush, approaching you and wrapping his arms around you from behind. He noticed that the back half of your hair was pulled up and tied into a bow. He chuckled softly and rested his chin on your shoulder. “What do you read now?”

“A tale of a human and elf falling in love,” you relaxed into his embrace.

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, your neck, up to your cheek before turning your head so he could capture your lips in a soft kiss. “Last week, it was the fall of elven cities. This week, it's romance. You never cease to amaze me.”

“You are easily amazed, then.”

“Do not doubt yourself, sweet one.” He pressed a kiss to your nose, turning you around in his arms and lifting you to sit on the edge of the table. “I am in awe of you always, but recently, I'm in awe of these things you do with your hair. A bow?” He teased softly, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Do you not like it,” The way you looked up at him, seeking his approval, it mirrored the expression you wore when you were on your knees begging for him. His fingers tightened on your hips, restraining from taking you on the table.

“I do. It suits you.” He smiles softly, his eyes softening as he sees your bright smile.

“Perhaps you could grow your hair, and I can do it to you. I've seen elves of all kind wear it,” there was an excitement to your voice as you spoke.

He chuckled, “Perhaps one day, if we are parted, I will wear it as a reminder of you when my heart yearns for you.”

“You jest.”

“I do no such thing. You have plenty of things to remember me by,” his fingers traveled down to the intricate necklace of copper he'd made for you at the forge in Numenor. You always wore it. “I shall have the hair bow.”

You frowned, and his thumb traced the downward turn of your lips, his head tilted in a silent question. “Perhaps if I were to have more coin, I could get you something. Perhaps…”

Your words were muffled as he pressed a kiss to your lips. His hands held your face as he deepened it. It was only when he felt his body react that he pulled away. His nose brushed yours. “You have given me more than enough.”

You smiled up at him, face flushed and lips swollen. His thumb gently caressed your cheeks.

“I don't intend to ever be parted from you,” he whispered softly, tucking your hair behind your ears. “I mean it.”

He pulled away, searching his pockets for a moment before pulling out a ring. It had a silver band and a small blue gem at the center. He knew it was more than a simple band. He knew of the power he placed in it. The materials he snuck from the forge to add to it. It would need to be perfected in time to come, but for now, it would do what he needed it to. It would increase your lifespan, heal your wounds faster, and It created a connection with him, wherever you were.

It also served as a symbol. That you were his. That his feelings for you were real. His intentions were true.

He looked at it for a moment before looking at you. “ In elven culture, it's customary to give your betrothed a silver ring that you wear until marriage. At that time, they were traded for gold bands. I added a bit more. A gem as blue as the waters that brought us together.”

You gasped softly, looking at the ring and then to him.

“It's the custom of your people to ask the family but you have none. The family who warded you is gone as well. I have no one to ask for your hand but you. As such, I felt that I should give you the same proposal in which I would have given your father.”

He stood up straight, one hand on your chin directing you to look at him. “You fill me with a warmth I've never known. I no longer know who I am if not with you. I was lost and astray, without hope or purpose. It was as if the gods themselves put you on my path. You are a beacon of hope, your smile my purpose. There is nothing I would not do for you, no trial I would not face. I love you. I adore you. I have never thought of children until I met you, and now I know I want to make you a mother. I want to make you my wife.”

He brushed away a tear that had fallen from your eyes, “I give you the choice, I would never force anything upon you. Do you want that? Do you want me?” He took a deep breath, shaking his head. “Fuck, I'm so nervous I can't talk. Just tell me, yes or no? Will you marry me?”

You laughed, nodding your head. He slid the ring onto your finger before lifting you and twirling you around. As he set you down, you looked at the ring on your finger.

“I never thought I'd be betrothed. I never thought I'd choose who I could marry.” You smiled up at him, and it filled him with joy unimaginable.

“I never thought I'd give a woman a romantic speech or truly want to settle down.” He rested his forehead against yours once more. “I'm a changed man thanks to you. Near unrecognizable to that drifter on the raft.”

“That is true. You will be a king soon.” You gasped suddenly as a realization dawned on you. “ I'm going to be a queen. Me? A queen” you laughed softly at the thought.

He chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “That is true. As soon as my business here is done, we can return to the southlands and be wed, and you can meet all your subjects.”

You wrinkled your nose, “I'm not sure I like the thought of having subjects.”

“Of course you don't, “ he rolled his eyes but didn't stop smiling. “Why don't we go back to our chambers, and I can show you how devoted of a subject I am?”

Your cheeks turned red, and you buried your face in his neck. He placed a kiss on your head, “I'll kneel and worship my queen.”

“Halbrand,” you spoke, pulling back and giving him a look.

“I'll fill you with my warmth.”

"Stop it!” You smacked his arm,causing him to laugh deeply and wrap his arms around you for a tight hug.

[lovelybucky1]

Leashed

Kinktober Day 10- Pet Play

warnings: pet play, cockwarming, dom/sub dynamics, vaginal sex, 18+ minors DNI

main masterlist

kinktober masterlist

Tommy had always wanted a dog. Growing up he never had one, playing with the strays on the street instead. Now, he doesn’t have time to take care of a pet. Not one so reliant on him, anyway.

That’s why he has you. You’re obedient, never causing any trouble or making messes he has to clean up. You love to play, but you’re content sitting at his feet as long as he pets you every now and then. You’re good at fetch; you always get him his matchbook or a glass for his whiskey whenever he asks. And best of all, you have a tight cunt you’re eager to let him use whenever he wants it.

You’re not a prostitute, he made that much clear when your arrangement started. You’re on his payroll for the company you provide, not the sex. Whatever you do with your cunt is between you and Tommy, not the business.

He got you a custom made collar from the leather worker down the street, and your role has been set ever since. You’re Tommy Shelby’s puppy. Loyal, obedient, perfect.

Today Tommy is in a particularly sour mood. A business deal fell through or something, you never know the specifics, and he’s been angry all afternoon.

You know better not to pester him, especially when he’s like this, but you truly hate seeing him upset. You’ve been kneeling at his feet and he hasn’t even pet you in over an hour. You paw at his pant leg to get his attention.

“What is it?” he asks without looking down at you.

“Do you need anything, sir?” you ask.

He shakes his head and sighs heavily. “If I needed something, I’d take it. Keep quiet, pet.”

You pout but take his instruction and stay silent. You walk forward on your knees to rest your cheek against his thigh. He sighs again but doesn’t chastise you for it. Still, he doesn’t pet you.

You stay like that for a while, but you can feel his tension and you hate when he won’t tell you what he needs.

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No,” he replies, frustration evident in his voice.

“I can help you relax, sir.”

Tommy slams his fist onto the solid oak top of his desk. “I don’t need your fucking help. I’m trying to work.”

You huff. You don’t usually act like this, but Tommy is never usually so dismissive of you.

“I was going to offer to sit on your cock while you work, but I guess you’re too busy.”

It was petty, but it peaked Tommy’s interest. His large hand cups the back of your neck and you look up at him.

“You’ve never acted this way before,” he says with an unreadable tone.

“I just want to help you, sir.”

Tommy's jaw clenches and he sighs heavily. Then, he reaches down to loop his finger in the ring of your collar and pulls you up to your feet. You watch as he undoes his pants and takes out his soft cock.

He looks up at you expectantly, waiting for you to service him. You grasp his dick and begin to stroke him gently, working him up to full hardness. It doesn't take long; Tommy can never resist your soft hands.

Once he's at full mast, you pull up your dress and straddle his lap. His cock slides into you slowly and once he's fully seated, you wiggle your hips to get comfortable.

"Stop fuckin' moving. I've got work to do," Tommy gruffs.

You nod and rest your chin on his shoulder. You sit still like a good girl while he fills out whatever paperwork is on his desk. You can feel the tension in his muscles release a bit as time passes, your cunt obviously doing the trick.

You don't move your body, but your walls clench around him every now and then. You're not doing it on purpose, you just can't help it. It feels so good being full of Tommy's dick.

"Puppy," Tommy says, breaking the almost hour of silence.

"Yes, sir?"

"You're distracting me."

"I'm sorry, sir. I swear I'm not doing it on purpose," you say with a pout, trying to look as honest as possible.

Tommy puts his pen down and leans back in his chair, creating space between your face and his so he can get a good look at you.

"Cunt's just that desperate for me, eh?" You nod. "Well I suppose I've worked hard enough for one day. I could use a bit of stress release."

Tommy's hands land on your hips and he begins to rock you back and forth. Tommy never was strong willed when it came to you.

[levis-poison-is-my-medicine]

The Will

(The Tea Lovers Pt. 4)

A Levi x reader fanfic (Flufftober 2024)

Crossposted from AO3

Levi accidently finds your will.

A/n: Heyy, I'm back with a short update! Pour yourself some tea and enjoy!

tags: fluff and humor, silly and sweet, tea-obsessed fem!reader with their head in the clouds (word count: 0.96k)

(Part one) / (Levi x reader Masterlist)

"Come in," Erwin said, answering the knock on his office door without looking up from his paperwork. He didn't have to. It was well past midnight, and there was only one other person who would possibly be working at this hour.

Levi entered without a word of greeting, swiftly making his way towards Erwin's desk. He was only there to drop off some documents Erwin had wanted to have signed, then he'd head to bed to finally get some well-earned rest, the first he'd allow himself in two days.

"Here," he said curtly and set down the pile of papers atop another tower-like stack that was already swaying dangerously, making Erwin let out a weary sigh.

Levi was already on his way back to the door when he stopped dead in his tracks. Frowning, he turned around and strode back to the desk, going through the stack of papers until he got to the one that had been on top before. His eyes narrowed when he found it. He had not been mistaken. It had your name on it.

"What are you doing?" Erwin asked, quite baffled by Levi's unusual behavior as he watched him pull the document out from between the others.

Levi didn't answer, studying it with knitted brows. It was barely legible as it was written in a messy scrawl with tiny letters.

"What the fuck is this?" he asked finally, an edge to his voice.

"If you show me then I might be able to give you an answer," Erwin said calmly, raising a quizzical eyebrow at him.

Levi shoved the document into the commander's face.

"Well," Erwin said after giving it a quick once-over, "It's her will, exactly how it says in the title."

Levi clicked his tongue in annoyance. "I can see that, but why would she need a will?" It wasn't like you to plan ahead like that.

"Don't worry, she's in perfect health if that's what you are wondering. She simply wanted matters to be settled."

"Didn't she give you a reason?" Levi asked impatiently, clearly still irritated.

"She didn't say, but I assume the catalyst to be the events on the last expedition. Two people on her squad died." Erwin dragged a hand over his tired features. "She asked me to be her personal representative since she doesn't have any family."

He hesitated, then sighed. "To be perfectly honest, I shouldn't even be talking to you about this. Usually these kind of affairs are confidential. However, I presume I could make an exception since you are mentioned in it."

"I am?" Levi asked, bewildered. He practically ripped the document out of the commanders hands, not waiting for an answer.

Erwin watched with an amused expression as Levi skimmed over the first page, then flipped to the second.

There it was. It seemed you had actually made an effort to keep your handwriting neat and tidy on this paragraph because unlike before, he had no trouble deciphering what it said this time.

First beneficiary: Levi Ackerman I leave all my precious tea to Captain Levi because he is the only one with a taste distinguished enough to truly appreciate its magnificence. Every expert would attest to the outstanding quality of my vast collection, containing only the finest and rarest of leaves with the highest grade. All of these top-notch attributes make this assortment of first-class tea my most valuable possession, so I can't rest in peace without making sure that it will be left in the expert hands of my fellow tea lover Levi.

Levi snorted at your choice of words. There was no denying that you had written this. Even when writing, it was impossible for you to keep it short.

You continued: I will further entrust him with all of my prized tea sets, including teapots, cups and saucers. Needless to say, they are made of the finest porcelain this world has to offer, making them unparalleled in both elegance and beauty. It's imperative that he should have them, because only with the right tea service can one enjoy the exquisite tea to the fullest.

I will also leave him my beautiful tea canisters and all of my tea utensils, including my infusers and sieves, spoons, tea warmers and anything tea-related I might have forgotten to mention.

Levi's part of the will ended here, but he couldn't help but keep reading. It didn't escape his notice that the next parts were significantly shorter with much sloppier handwriting. "Well obviously. It's not about tea anymore," he muttered as he scanned the next paragraph.

Second beneficiary: Erwin Smith The commander shall get all my good pens and pencils because he has to write a lot. I have some really expensive ones and I know he will take good care of them.

Third beneficiary: Hange Zoe My titan sketchbook with all my notes on them goes to my bestie Hange. I know they've been eyeing it for a while now, so there. They will also get all my science books, they may not need them but I don't think anybody else wants them.

Fourth beneficiary: Petra Ral I bequeath all of my clothes to Petra, as we've often borrowed each other's stuff so I know they will fit her. She will also get all my drawings of a certain someone. (She'll know which ones.)

Levi's eyebrows instantly shot up at the last part. It was pretty clear who it was about, and he didn't like it one bit. The way you had intentionally kept it vague only served to make him more suspicious.

"I told her not to do that anymore," he grumbled, putting the will back on the desk and marching to the door. "Where is she hiding that shit?"

He was about to find out.

Tag list: @thechaoticarchivist, @mmm-alhaitham, @nironasaran, @leviiheichou, @huffleruffplant, @shutupp1, @iifrui

Click here for part 5

[yan-randomfandom]

Yandere!Peri x GN!Reader[Pt.3]

Part 1 — Part 2 — FINAL[you're here!]

warnings: obsessive thoughts, guilt tripping

OH LETS GO!! Now this is actual yandere content 🙏 Part 2 bothered me too much so here you go LOL— The format for this is half bulletin and half drabble!

Peri didn't realize how deprived he is when it comes to friends. He enjoys your company more than he really should.

He supposed it's because he's literally the youngest fairy after a thousand years. The only experience he had with having friends has already faded away in his memories; he never saw those baby fairies again.

In one way or another, you both found common grounds in taking care of Dev.

Yet, you're a human. What do fairies and humans even have in common? He's already struggling to pretend like he's one of you.

Perhaps one of the reasons why Peri appreciates you is because you're giving him your natural attention. It's not smothering like his parents, not pressuring like the others, and is generally just not forced.

Needless to say, Peri really, really likes you.

Which is why he doesn't want to let you go so soon.

Being with you and Dev is almost breaking the rules. Heck, maybe it already is. Why else would he be doing this secretly?

`•*°•*

Peri, your friend now, is babysitting Dev with you again tonight. You were skeptical about it at first, but Peri was so eager about it for some reason. If you had to truly be honest, you don't know what compelled you to agree with him tagging along with your kid.

You initially asked your boss, to which he easily said yes. But it was more about brushing you off, if you had to admit. Irritation creeps into your bones. Dale just doesn't care sometimes, doesn't he?

But it should be okay. Peri seemed to genuinely care about Dev. It's almost like he's known him his whole life, even.

It's quite perfect for the favor you're going to ask him later.

"..."

You watched Dev's blanketed figure for a few more seconds before gently closing the door.

Peri looked at you expectantly. You grinned with a thumbs up. You whispered, "he's sleeping."

He grinned, walking to the living room with you trailing behind him. "Well, then! Whatcha wanna do? Watch a movie, draw each other, put makeup on my face—"

"Actually, I've been meaning to talk to you about something," you carefully said as you sat down on the couch.

"Yeah? What is it?" Peri replied, sitting next to you. He's not sure how to feel about how serious you're being.

"Well," you sighed. "I know it's only been a few weeks since I got this job, and I love Dev with all my heart, but..."

Peri's expression almost goes blank. You're not looking at him. "But what?"

"I'm going to change my job soon," you grimaced. Turning your head, you finally looked at Peri. His lilac eyes looked distant. "Uh, which is where you come in! Do you want to replace me instead? I'm worried for Dev, and I think you're the best next babysitter for him! The pay is good! I'll talk to Dale—"

"Why? Are you saying you'll leave us? I mean, Dev?" Peri furrowed his eyebrows.

You frowned. Maybe you should have told him after babysitting. Peri's more upset than you thought. "I'm trying to explore all the work options right now. My aunt offered me a job as a barista, and.. well, I do like making drinks."

Peri doesn't understand. Why are you so quick to move on from Dev? He rejected a dentist job from the tooth fairy just so he could be a godparent to him!

"I can't replace you," he deadpanned. "It has to be you. I thought you said you cared about Dev?"

"I do!" you said, growing a little upset. "But I can't be in this job forever, you know?"

A small pause.

You placed a hand on Peri's shoulder, offering him a gentle expression. "I'll be honest, Peri, I'm not sure why you're so upset, but I can always just visit you guys."

To your surprise, Peri pulled you into a tight hug. He buried his face in your neck. You're used to him being touchy, so you let it happen.

"Really?" he mumbled.

"Of course. I promise it."

Liar.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddie-spooktober.

Gravity Always Wins

Day #3 Prompt: Apples | Word Count: 6464 | Rating: M | POV: Eddie | CW: Language, Sex | Tags: Modern AU, Meet Cute, Apple Picking, Bakery Owner Steve, Sports Guy Steve, Smitten Eddie Munson, Platonic Stobin, Gareth, Good Uncle Wayne Munson

Also right here on ao3.

"Oh shit, oh fuck," Eddie says as the apple tumbles out of his grasp. He looks down in horror as it falls, like a slow-motion car wreck happening right before his very eyes, as it lands directly on the guy's head that was picking below him.

To add insult to injury, it hits with a very audible thunk. 

Shit, he shouldn't even be allowed on a ladder. That's like the first rule of the universe or some shit. Who signed off on this? Honestly.

"I'm so sorry, are you okay?" Eddie asks, coming down the ladder, watching as the guy, the very pretty guy, rubs at the top of his head, only slightly worried he's about to get his ass kicked in a goddamn apple orchard.

But the guy is laughing.

He's laughing, and gorgeous, and Eddie can't help but smile. 

"Goddamn you, Newton!" Eddie shouts, dramatically shaking his fist in the air, eyes trained on the sky, as if he had nothing at all to do with this, and that gravity alone was solely to blame.

"Gravity always wins," the guy says, then adds, "I'm good, honest, you just startled me. I never thought concussion number four would be at the hands of an apple. But here we are."

Eddie feels his face fall.

"Oh, oh no, I'm kidding. I was just teasing you. I'm fine. Look? It was just a little apple," he says, leaning over to pick up the offending piece of fruit. 

Eddie eyes it in his palm, "That's definitely gonna have a bruise."

"Like my head," he teases, and Eddie reaches out and pops him on the shoulder, making him pull back, giggling. His sweater is soft under Eddie's hand, and Eddie wants to reach out and stroke it again, but stops himself. Content to just stare a second.

He's truly something to look at. Goddamn.

Eddie just smiles at him, and when he straightens back up, he hands the apple back.

It is a little apple, and Eddie probably shouldn't have picked it in the first place, but he doesn't know what the fuck he's doing. He saw an apple, and picked it.

Looking at the bushel this guy has selected, though, gives him pause. They are evenly sized, and brightly colored. No blemishes at all. Perfect apples, for the perfect guy.

Eddie's are a little misshapen and odd. The freaks, if you will, but he thinks that's pretty damn fitting.

"Guess you'll have to make applesauce–" the guy starts, and then stops, clearly searching for Eddie's name.

"Eddie," Eddie offers.

"Eddie," he repeats. "I'm Steve."

"Well, Steve, I would make some applesauce if I knew how," Eddie laughs.

"You could always come by my bakery slash coffee shop," Steve offers, sort of shaking the basket slung over his arm, "That's why I'm picking apples today. So I can make some seasonal items with local apples. Customers eat that shit up."

Eddie thinks he's being picked up. Maybe. Or not. He's never very good at getting those signals right. Gareth says he's hopeless, and sometimes that feels more accurate than he'd like to admit.

Like, right now. Is Steve hitting on him, or trying to drum up business? 

Eddie decides he honestly doesn't exactly care which it is, "Sure, I'd love to be the guinea pig for your apple pie."

"Well," Steve says, lowering his voice in a way that makes Eddie feel funny in a good way, "I never said pie."

"Oh, well, in that case…" Eddie teases, trailing off, acting as if he's going to walk away.

But, Steve just laughs at him, and digs in his wallet, producing a little business card: Harrington's. Since 1955.

"My, you look awfully good for your age," Eddie says.

Steve laughs, "My grandma and grandpa ran it before me. And they didn't think they'd have anyone to take over the family business when they retired. And then I turned up, with nothing better to do."

Eddie nods. He's definitely going to stop by Steve's family business, not even for the not-pie, but just so he can see more of this guy, "Well, in that case. When should I show up?"

"Tomorrow, anytime after three?" Steve suggests, and Eddie is nodding along. Tomorrow after three sounds perfect to him. 

Eddie pulls up in the alley behind the back of the bakery, as directed, and can't really believe he's here. Like, what does he know about baking? He can't even bake a box of brownies without messing them up somehow.

But, Steve is gorgeous, and this isn't an invite he's about to turn down. He's a fool, but he's no dummy. Eddie pushes on the back door, and it's heavy, but slowly glides open. 

"Knock, knock," Eddie says, and then hears a commotion. Lots of yelling. Like a fight is happening. 

His fight or flight starts to kick in, and flight will always win for him, but…he pauses.

He knows that kind of yelling from Uncle Wayne, and as far as a fight goes, it's surely a one-sided one, because Steve's staring up at the mounted television over on the wall, screaming at the refs of a football game, as he stands inside an industrial kitchen, at a stainless steel prep table, peeling apples.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

Steve the Baker is also Steve the Sports Guy? That wasn't advertised on the label at all. 

Eddie's been hoodwinked. The wool pulled straight over his eyes. Was bamboozled by a pretty face in a warm-looking sweater, right there in a goddamn apple orchard.

He's starting to plan his escape, when Steve turns to look at him, and smiles, waving his paring knife in the air, "Hey! You made it!"

"Hey," Eddie says back, shucking off his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack by the door. Steve sounds excited to see him, and maybe the game is almost over. He could deal with it for a few minutes. Steve was very pretty in that sweater.

He squints at the screen, and the score is 0-0 and it's still the first quarter. He doesn't know a lot about sports, but he grew up with Wayne. He at least understands that this means the damn thing has just started. 

"You care if I leave the game on?" Steve asks, flashing him those warm eyes, and Eddie finds himself nodding along with that idea, like a damn idiot. No, he doesn't want to watch sports, but…that face.

That face will make him break his most solemn of vows: no sports. He just won't tell Wayne or Gareth. He'll gloss right over that part, and nobody will ever have to know that he spent the whole afternoon with football blaring in the background of his maybe date.

Because, as good looking as this guy is, and as much as Eddie would like to eat this guy, and his baked goods, alive, he's sure this isn't going to go any further than this afternoon. It can't. What would they talk about? Baking and football? Eddie doesn't know anything about either of those topics. But he can surely bumble through one afternoon. That'll be fine. Eddie can do anything for one afternoon. All the odd jobs he's ever held has proven that.

Hell, if he plays his cards right, maybe he can get one night out of it, too.

But long-term? He can already see the writing on the wall, and it bums him out, just a little bit. He hadn't been this excited about a guy in a while.

Steve hands Eddie a peeler, and Eddie goes to work, peeling the whole bushel of apples that Steve has washed and laid out on a towel. He does know how to work a peeler, at least. That was his job for potatoes at Wayne's, when he was far too little to do anything else.

"So, tell me about yourself. Do you always assault men with apples?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks over at him and smiles.

"Only the cute ones," Eddie flirts, and loves the blush that stains Steve's cheeks as he looks back down at the apples he's evenly slicing. 

"No offense, but you don't seem like the apple picking type," Steve says, and Eddie laughs. He's not wrong. "What brought you out there, especially all by yourself?"

"It's part of my contract. Free apples from the orchard and free pumpkins from the patch," Eddie says, then realizes that doesn't explain anything at all, adding, "I work nights at the haunted hayride. As a scare actor," Eddie says, then holds his hands up like a zombie.

Steve's eyes are big, and it's awfully cute as he laughs.

"So, free apples. I mean, how many apples or pumpkins can one man eat? But free is free."

"Maybe I'll teach you how to bake something using them," Steve suggests and Eddie nods. He'd like that. A lot, he thinks. Even if that's all he gets out of the day.

"Deal. So, what's on the menu for today?"

Steve grins, "Apple fritters. Cupcakes. There's this apple maple upside down cake I want to try. A cobbler. Someone suggested an apple pie."

"They sound smart," Eddie banters, and Steve just keeps smiling.

"Have you ever made a dessert pizza?" Eddie asks, meeting Steve's eyes.

"Like from Pizza Hut?" Steve questions, and Eddie nods.

"No, but we totally can. I've never thought to try to make it myself."

Eddie smiles at the thought. He imagines homemade would be even better than what used to be on the buffet at Pizza Hut when he was younger.

Steve moves from slicing apples to dicing them very small and fine. In perfect little squares that are very impressive to Eddie's eyes. He can barely cut anything evenly, so that seems like quite the feat.

Eddie watches as Steve goes between watching the knife in his hands so he doesn't cut his fingers off, and the ballgame. 

"You should come to the hayride," Eddie blurts out.

Steve smiles, "I don't really do scary things, or anything that risks a head injury these days."

It's just a trailer pulled around the grounds, nobody touches anybody. Couldn't if they wanted to, but if he doesn't like scary, he doesn't like scary. Then he remembers something Steve had joked about in the orchard after Eddie had beaned him with that apple.

"Have you really already had three concussions?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah," Steve answers, "at least three that I know about. But not from falling apples. I'm fine. I promise."

"How'd you get them?" Eddie asks, because he isn't sure how one gets that many concussions unless they've been abused, and his stomach drops. Maybe he shouldn't have asked that. Maybe it's none of his goddamn business. Maybe-

"I got one from a dickhead in high school that blindsided me during a stupid fight, and then the other two from football plays in college, a couple weeks apart. One was a dirty, on purpose, helmet-to-helmet late hit, the last one was during a quarterback sneak that went wrong."

Eddie has no idea what that means.

"What's that mean?" Eddie asks.

Steve looks at him, "Not a football guy?"

Eddie shakes his head adamantly, "Not an any sports guy. Sorry."

"That's okay," Steve says, "A quarterback sneak is when you only need to move a yard or two down the field to, say, get across the goal line to score, or get a first down, and the linemen in front of you, the big guys, push forward and the quarterback tries to carry it over himself. No hand-off. No throw."

"And you were the quarterback?"

"I was. I was a little too exposed, and one of the defensive players came in and hit me helmet to helmet in the dogpile. Snapped my neck backwards."

"I'm sorry," Eddie says.

"It happens. Most of the time you go into concussion protocol, and clear it. Mine wasn't even caught immediately after it happened. Not even by me. I hopped right back up, and it wasn't until I'd thrown a few uncharacteristic picks later, that they decided something must be wrong with me and pulled me out of the game and straight into the tent. Once the migraines started a few days later, and never really stopped after all the other symptoms went away, that was the end of the line. No more football. No NFL draft."

Eddie swallows, that's fucking rough.

"They forced you to stop?" Eddie asks. 

"Yes," Steve says, then must change his mind, "No. Not really. The specialists suggested it. I don't think they could have forced me to comply. Hell, they'll play you into the ground. But it would have been a risk to draft a known concussion magnet. So, it was a choice I had to make for myself, and I chose to stop, to preserve what I had left. Stop it at the occasional migraine. Of course Robin, my best friend, would have flayed me alive if I'd done anything else. She was the first to call it, and she was right."

"But you were good enough to go pro? If you hadn't taken those hits?" Eddie asks, quietly.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows?" Steve answers with a shrug, like he doesn't really care one way or the other, but he must care. He'd have to. Eddie knows he'd care if he couldn't play the guitar anymore, and he's never been anywhere near going professional.

"But you still watch it? Football? Even after losing the chance to play?" Eddie asks.

Steve smiles, "Hell yeah. I still love the game. Even if I can't play."

Then he points at the screen, "I'm friends with #52. In the white. We went to college together. It all worked out better for him than it did me, but I couldn't be prouder of him. A little jealous, sure. But really proud, too."

"Do you ever get to go to games in person, or is that impossible with the bakery?"

"I try to hit one a season, as that's about all the favors I can call in with my friends. Coming in at three a.m. to get shit ready is a hard sell, let me tell you," Steve laughs, "That and they don't know what they're doing. So, it's just easier to just stay here. Watch on television. Scream at the refs from home instead of the stands."

"I know all about the screaming. I live with my uncle, and he has a sport for every season, I swear it. Getting him to move to Indy with me was no small feat, let me tell you," Eddie laughs, "But he needed to retire from the plant. He still works, because he's a stubborn old man, but now he's at a local hardware store instead, bossing clueless jackasses around. His words, not mine."

Steve laughs, "He sounds great."

"He is, and of course you'd think so, you sports guys always stick together."

Steve laughs, nodding like it's true, and then they go back to work. Baking, watching the game, and cheering on Steve's friend to a close game win.

And that evening, Eddie goes home with a still warm pie, and a phone number for Steve burning a hole in his pocket.

They spend the next two weeks texting back and forth, with a few short phone calls sprinkled in for good measure, but it hasn't gone beyond that. Eddie isn't sure if Steve's just busy or uninterested in setting up a second date. He wishes he'd just tell him. They could just be friends, but Eddie would rather know that now, instead of later once he's already gotten swept away by the idea of dating him, for real.

Eddie looks at his phone as Chrissy does his makeup, "Eyes up, Munson."

Steve hasn't responded, but he's probably asleep. Eddie puts his phone on the table, "Yes, ma'am."

She laughs, and gets him ready for another night of a constant loop of visitors to the maze. They've done this for a few years now, and they're all good at it, and it's not bad seasonal work. It helps pay the bills for the band to keep trying, stay plugging along. 

Eddie knows they aren't gonna make it big, not now, that window has closed. But they still make music together, good music he thinks, so taking on odd jobs to still do that has been worth it. 

Maybe after thirty he'll have to settle down, but for right now? He's just having fun.

"Tell me about the boy," she sing-songs, then changes her mind, "No, keep your mouth shut until I'm done with your face."

Eddie laughs, and keeps his mouth shut, as directed.

"But tell me later, though."

And he nods. He definitely will. Gareth's sick of hearing about Steve, so if he has a fresh pair of ears to listen to him yap, he's definitely all-in on that.

It's actually gotten chilly tonight, but when the second-to-last trailer full of guests pulls around the corner at quarter to two, Eddie sees Steve sitting next to a woman that has to be Robin. She just looks exactly like what Eddie imagined every time Steve's told a story about her. And she looks very grumpy about being awake in the middle of the night.

Eddie is stoked, and rushes around from Gareth to Jeff to Goodie to Chrissy, pointing out Steve, and then hurrying back to his spot for the last trailer. They don't really care all that much. He's sure they're happy for him, but they definitely just want to finish doing their jobs and get the fuck out of here for the night.

Steve's lingering by the employees only sign when Eddie exits backstage.

"You came," Eddie says, makeup hastily scrubbed off his face. It's a big no-no to interact with the guests in character, even if it's the guy you've been playing phone tag with for the last two weeks. He wasn't sure Steve would stay, but he did, and Eddie's fucking thrilled to see him.

"This is Robin," Steve says, slinging his arm over her shoulders.

Eddie starts to say hi, when the door bangs closed behind him, and he turns to see Chrissy on her way out.

"Night, Eddie," Chrissy says, as she passes by them, her dirty dead cheerleader costume slung over her arm.

"Was she the cheerleader?" Robin hisses, and Eddie nods. 

"Hey, Chris, wait!" he hollers, and drags her closer, making introductions. He's no dummy, he knows what that question entailed, and he has no problem playing a hint of matchmaker. And if they're talking, that'll give Eddie some time alone with Steve. 

The fact that Steve showed up at all, late at night, was a sacrifice of sleeping time. Eddie knows it, and appreciates it. So, he won't keep him. He'll send him back home to bed, or straight to the bakery, wherever he needs to be next, so he can get ready to make the donuts as Steve likes to say. 

"I'm glad you came," Eddie says, running his hand up Steve's arm. 

"Of course, I couldn't resist the opportunity to see you as the evil undead."

Eddie grins at him. He really likes this guy. 

"The bats were really believable."

Eddie grins, and tells him all about how he helped design them with his friends. They built the pulley system in Gareth's garage on the cheap, but it works, and well.

Steve nods along, then pulls Eddie into the darkness, where the floodlights don't reach. Eddie goes, willingly, sliding his hands along Steve's waist. 

And then they're kissing, and Eddie couldn't be more fucking thrilled. 

Steve is interested. And Eddie is definitely interested.

Steve's tongue slides along his, and Eddie squeezes him tighter, pulling Steve into his body, wanting to be closer. As close as they can get here in this dark alleyway. 

When Steve pulls back, he presses his forehead to Eddie's, and Eddie tries to look into his eyes this close-up.

"I've wanted to do that since the orchard," Steve says.

"Fuck, me too," Eddie admits. He'd like to do more, too, but Robin is yelling that her alarm is going off, meaning Steve's got to get to the bakery. 

Steve's day is just beginning, and Eddie's is just ending. Their schedules couldn't be more out of sync if they tried.

But Eddie reluctantly lets him go, they say their goodbyes, but Eddie is already scheming how he'll get to see Steve next.

The next morning, Eddie forces himself out of bed at a normal hour so he can go to the bakery. Gareth follows him to the van, tagging along without an invite, but Eddie doesn't care, as long as he can see Steve, it's all good.

Steve's behind the counter, and he grins when he sees Eddie come through the front door, "Hey!"

"Hey, yourself," Eddie says back, looking at the handwritten menu board. "Suggestions are welcome."

And Steve just laughs, and then produces a piece of cobbler that looks sticky and delicious.

"Sold," Eddie replies, taking the plate from him, and then nodding towards Gareth, "and whatever he wants. This is Gareth."

Gareth is looking in the glass case, paying no attention to either of them.

"So, this is the famous Eddie?" a girl who is not Robin asks, sidling up beside Steve at the counter.

"That's Eddie," Steve says with a smile, then introduces her, "This is Di."

She makes a shooing motion with her hands, "Go. Sit with him for a minute. I'll watch the counter," Di offers, pushing Steve from behind the register, and Eddie's grateful.

"Thanks, Di," Steve answers, pulling his apron off over his head, showing a strip of bare skin as it goes. His stomach is hairy and Eddie gulps, probably audibly, like he's in a cartoon.

He wants, he wants, he wants.

Steve picks up his coffee mug, and grabs a piece of cobbler for himself.

"Hey kid, head's up," Eddie says, and Gareth looks just in time to catch Eddie's wallet as Eddie tosses it to him. "Pick something and pay the nice lady."

"Yeah, yeah," Gareth says, and goes right back to looking at all his options.

Steve leads Eddie over to a table in the corner, and they sit and get to talk face-to-face, for the first time since their first afternoon here. Yeah, sure, he saw Steve last night, that was just a brief hi and bye.

It's nice to sit across from him again, and even nicer when Steve slides his hand forward, lacing their fingers together. Miraculously Gareth doesn't come over and cockblock him like the little shit that he is, instead lingering by the counter. 

Eddie looks back at Steve.

"You know, I don't really date," Steve admits, "I mean, the bakery hours keep my nightlife non-existent. And I've gotten used to that. But I really like you."

Eddie feels his cheeks heat up. Is he blushing? That's absurd, but he thinks it's probably true. He likes Steve. A lot. And he can deal with weird hours for Steve, he's damn certain. Dates at three in the afternoon? Awesome. He'll have just rolled out of bed a couple hours before that half the time anyway.

"But, I'd like to try. If you want to," Steve says, and Eddie nods.

"Yeah, I want to. I really like you, too."

Then the phone rings, and it's something Steve has to take, and Eddie glances at him one more time before he holds open the door with the jangly bell for Gareth to exit.

Steve's still looking at him, watching him go, so Eddie winks, and it makes Steve smile.

There's no plan, but Eddie knows he's gonna date the shit out of Steve Harrington.

Turns out, the whole dating with opposite schedules idea was way easier said than done. Eddie works every weekend night, all fall long, because that's the busy time. He works some weeknights, too, but those are easier to trade around for with his friends. So, weekends are definitely out, and he needs date ideas that don't mess with Steve's sleep schedule.

He's reading the paper that Wayne left on the coffee table as he sits on the couch and eats his cereal, when he sees that the local high school football team is playing next week, but that's on Friday. Duh. Friday Night Lights. Even he understands enough about football to get that that's a reference to the night they play. He may have needed three senior years to graduate, but he's not that dense. He keeps reading, and sees that the JV football team plays on Tuesday and the junior high team on Thursday. That's an idea. He doesn't really know what that means, but he knows who would.

"Hey, Wayne!" he yells, and when Wayne rounds the corner Eddie asks, "Tell me. Which is a better game to attend: JV or Junior High?"

"Game of what? Tiddlywinks? Dragons and Dragons?" Wayne prods, teasing him. Eddie damn well knows Wayne remembers what DnD is. He bought enough of those books for him in high school, it has to be seared into his old man brain. 

But Wayne glances over at him from his recliner he's just sat down in, waiting for Eddie to spill it.

Eddie lowers his voice and mumbles, "Football."

"What'd you say, I didn't hear you?" Wayne drawls, but he's grinning like he heard exactly what Eddie said.

"Shut up, old man," Eddie teases, "I'm sort of dating a guy. He likes football. Used to play. I thought it might be nice to take him to a game, and I obviously can't do a Friday night game this year because of work. But I thought Steve might like to go to one of these other games?"

"Steve, huh? This Steve have a last name?" Wayne asks, and Eddie rolls his eyes. Wayne doesn't need to try to vet this guy like he did every single person Eddie dated in high school. He's a grown man now, almost thirty. He picks better these days.

At least, he hopes he does.

"Harrington," Eddie answers, "and you're ignoring the question. JV? Junior High?" Then points his finger at the newspaper, crinkling it, "Or the local flag football team plays on Sundays. Help a guy out. Jeez."

But Wayne is just staring at him, mouth slightly open. Eddie's never seen him this shocked in his life. And Eddie did some wild shit in high school that Wayne swears made him go gray and bald.

"Yes, yes, I'm willing to go to a game. We're all shocked. Make fun. I have it coming. But close your mouth before you catch flies."

"No. Just. Steve Harrington, Ed? You, my nephew, who hates all sports sight unseen, is dating Steve Harrington? Heisman Trophy winner as a sophomore, that Steve Harrington?"

Eddie just shrugs, "I don't know about all that. He runs a bakery."

Wayne lets out a breathy laugh, "Right. He runs a bakery."

"He does," Eddie confirms. 

Wayne picks up his phone, puts on his reading glasses so Eddie knows he's serious, and finally turns the screen towards Eddie, "This your boy?"

Eddie smiles. He's younger, but yeah, that's definitely Steve, "Yep, that's Steve."

"I'll be damned, I knew he was from Indiana, but I didn't expect him to come back to our neck of the woods to run a bakery."

"You know my boyfriend, Wayne?" Eddie teases, lilting his voice, and batting his eyes.

"Anybody that followed football in the last decade knows of your boyfriend, Ed. He was gonna be a star, a franchise quarterback, for any team lucky enough to draft him."

Steve had said he wasn't sure if he was good enough to go pro, and now Eddie is doubting the validity of that, "He said he wasn't sure if he was good enough to make it pro."

Wayne laughs, "That boy would've been a first round pick. He's just being humble."

"Oh," Eddie says, "that's pretty cool. It's too bad he got hurt, then."

"It is," Wayne agrees.

"If he was as good as you say, why didn't he just go pro right out of high school?" Eddie asks, thinking this over. He's really not sure why you'd take the risk playing college football before you could make the big bucks.

"That's not how the NFL draft works. You have to be three years past graduation from high school before you're eligible. And what else are you gonna do for those three years, if not play ball at college?"

"Oh," Eddie says, then adds, "Good thing I wasn't good at football. I'd have been an old man trying to enter the draft."

Wayne laughs. It wasn't so funny when Eddie was bearing down on twenty-one and still trying to get that damn diploma, but they can laugh about it now. Water under the bridge.

Eddie then asks, "So, about the game…"

Wayne steered him towards the JV game, but told him over and over that all of the options were beneath the level of football that Steve Harrington was used to watching, or playing. 

Eddie decides to take him anyway.

Eddie buys the four dollar tickets at the gate from a mom sitting at a card table with a metal cash box in front of her, a button with her son's face pinned to her coat. He gives her a ten, and tells her to keep the change when she holds it in her hand, unmoving.

But that's just because she's staring at Steve, kind of starry-eyed. He is attractive, that's undeniable, and Eddie puffs up a little that he's the one getting to date him tonight.

Then Steve is accosted for pictures no less than seven times on the way to the stands, and Eddie wonders if he's made a mistake here. He didn't think it through, didn't understand that Steve would be known here.

Eddie escapes to the concessions stand, and when he comes back, arms full, there's a group of kids surrounding Steve. And Steve's engaged, and giving them what they want, clearly, but this isn't a good date. This seems more like he's trotted Steve out for the wolves. 

Everyone else finally clears out as kickoff happens, leaving them alone, and Eddie takes his seat next to Steve on the bleachers.

"Uh, did I fuck this up?" Eddie whispers, handing Steve a tray of nachos.

"No. No way, this is great," Steve reassures, a big smile on his face.

"I truly didn't understand that you'd be recognized here," Eddie says, "I don't know anything about sports. I'm in over my head. I just thought, well, maybe you'd like to see a game. Even if it's just kids."

"This is great, Eddie. You did great, honest," Steve says. "I'm not recognized outside of football. Don't worry. This isn't an everyday occurrence. This is a very isolated incident, because of where we are. Some of these kids probably watched me play. I'm not that old."

Eddie laughs, some of the tension draining out of his shoulders. He definitely didn't want to make Steve uncomfortable.

And if he is, he never lets on. Instead, Steve explains the game to him as it goes, and it's a slow enough pace that Eddie thinks maybe he's understanding it. The football Steve had been watching on TV in the bakery had moved so fucking fast he had no hopes of following, not even when there was an instant replay to slow it down.

Steve's never seen these kids play before, but he can read them all like open books, calling plays, calling probable results before they happen. And he's right. Nine times out of ten, he's right. 

He should probably coach football. But maybe that's too painful? Eddie's definitely not gonna bring it up. 

They leave at halftime, and Eddie's sure it's only partly because Steve has to be up in less than eight hours. 

He still thinks it went well, because Steve leans over in the van and kisses him.

Eddie suddenly feels like he can't feel his face, even as he kisses back, hand cupping Steve's face, just wanting to touch him.

Eddie likes him so goddamn much, and as Steve pulls away, Eddie feels like they are no longer struggling to make a connection. They've done it. They're getting there.

Over the next few weeks, they have half-dozen more half-dates. Eddie catches the first quarter of a college football game, Steve's alma mater, on the television at the bakery with him before having to head to the maze for the night.

A few days later they grab fast food in Steve's car, and Eddie's definitely trying hard not to make a mess. Steve's car is nice, and Eddie's only used to his shitty van.

They carve out an hour to just lay in Steve's bed, kissing and touching, and eventually fucking before they need to part ways again.

Eddie wonders if they'll ever get to actually sleep in the same bed with shifts this ass-backwards from each other.

Spooky season comes and goes, and Eddie's back looking for some kind of other temporary work. He's complaining to Steve that nobody is hiring, even when they say they're hiring.

"Come work at the bakery," Steve says, "then maybe we'll finally get to see each other for longer than an hour at a time."

Eddie starts to say no, starts to deflect in a knee-jerk way, but then decides he'd really like to do that, "Really?"

"Really," Steve confirms. 

"I don't know how to bake, you know that," Eddie teases.

"You're not coming there to bake. Please, no. But you could run the register. Right?"

And Eddie thinks he'd like to do just that, so he nods and nods.

So, they work together, and sometimes go home with each other after. Both of them dozing on the couch while Wayne watches football, or cuddling up at Steve's place while Robin whines about it being her turn to cook dinner.

And Eddie ends up loving Robin, because working with her at the bakery might be almost as fun as it is working with Steve. She's not there all the time, but when she is, they run the front together, while Steve and Di have the back, and it's the least work feeling work he's ever done.

She's funny, and snarky, and loves Steve so much Eddie can feel it rolling off of her in waves. She kept him from getting hurt further. She made sure he'd be okay, even if Eddie's sure Steve felt anything but at the time.

He talks up Steve's baked goods, upselling easily, turning a half-dozen box into a full dozen more often than not. Eventually he sneaks around while Steve isn't looking, and hangs his own picture on the wall, labeled underneath as Employee of the Month, as a joke.

When Steve finally notices it, it stays. Eddie's part of the place, now. And he couldn't be happier about that. Harrington's is fun, and relaxed, and he's honestly never gotten this invested in a job before. He wants it to succeed, because he wants Steve, and the rest of his friends, to succeed. And yeah, he's sure Steve has a lot to do with that, but still, the fact that he's enjoying it is a bonus he hadn't foreseen coming.

He helps clean up every afternoon, so they can get out of there faster, together. Today, with the cold winter air blowing, snow flurries are blustering around, stinging his face as they hit. So, he hugs Steve from behind as he locks the back door in the alley where they park, hiding his face in Steve's coat.

"Hello to you, too," Steve flirts, and Eddie smirks as soon as he realizes this is gonna be a short afternoon, because when they get home, they are definitely going straight to bed. 

And they do just that. It's cold outside, but the warm winter sunlight is pouring through the windows, made brighter by the snow on the ground, and Eddie's in love.

Steve looks fucking gorgeous, the light hitting him that way, letting that glow he always has about him shine through from the inside out.

Eddie runs his fingers over his body, his athletic frame that sees no playing time, anymore. He runs to keep in shape, but Eddie thinks he'd run too if he had that kind of albatross slung around his neck. If he'd lost the thing he loved most, the thing he'd hung his whole hat on.

If he'd lost possible rings and millions of dollars.

Steve's almost twenty-nine. He'd be hitting his peak, his best years of play.

But Steve's happy. He's not a bitter guy. He loves his bakery, and he loves his friends and-

"What's," Steve breathes out, easing up on his pace, "what's with the face?"

"I love you," Eddie blurts out.

Steve smiles, so fucking wide it feels like it cracks open Eddie's chest, "Well, don't look so sad about it then."

And Eddie laughs, reaching up to grasp Steve's hips, helping him regain his momentum. The spiral he was headed down on Steve's behalf, broken.

Steve doesn't want Eddie dwelling on the past. Especially if he doesn't do it himself. There are no pity parties happening in Steve Harrington's orbit.

"I love you, too. Now fuck me like you're not gonna cry about it."

Eddie huffs out a laugh, so fucking charmed and delighted by this man that he loves. He'll fuck him all right. 

"Hold on then, big boy," Eddie teases, and thrusts upwards, carrying the weight of Steve with him off the bed.

Maybe instead, they'll just hit their primes together.

Eddie starts to become a morning person against his will as the months wear on, and Steve will have to pay for that, eventually. But not today.

No, today he's more than fine with going to bed at eight-thirty, dicking down his boyfriend, then afterwards both of them will be sound asleep by nine. 

Gareth is hanging around the bakery more and more, and before Eddie realizes it, Steve and Di have taught Gareth how to bake. And he's somehow good at it. Gareth eventually weasels his way into a full-time job, too. Which gets Eddie's wheels turning. Maybe by next fall, Eddie can surprise Steve with tickets to an NFL game to watch his friend play, because together they are slowly building up enough of a staff to run the store in their absence.

It doesn't have to just be Steve anymore. It can be all of them.

Next fall, Eddie thinks.

And he smiles.

He's planning ahead, now. Planning for a future, one that he intends to share with Steve.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-spooktober to follow along with the fun! 🍎

[gnohomotho]

Hi may I request for a Hwang Jun-ho x plus size reader fic with some fluff please (she tries on a dress and it's a little tight and she is insecure about it but Jun-ho loves the way it looks on her )

Thank you ♥️♥️

Oh, Anon, of course!

(And...have you been spying on me every morning because this is incredibly on point - thank you for such a request and I hope you feel absolutely stunning in every single dress you try on! ♥)

❥❥❥

Exactly as You Are ♥

Pairing: Hwang Jun-ho x fem!reader Summary: As the prompt says, with some changing room drama. And fluff. Warnings: F L U F F and some body descriptions, kissing, touching, caressing, sensitive body parts described and snuggled, you get my diabetic drift. Word count: 2k A/N: Thank you for such a beautiful prompt! ♥ Truly! Sartemy and body image issues go together like the Hwang brothers and my readers. Gorgeous gif by @kdramaxoxo If you like my writing, I appreciate every like // reblog // comment // follow // message! ♥ It keeps the blog going! Thank you! ♥ Masterlist ฅ^._.^ฅ

You wanted to be perfect. You wanted to be perfect for him, with him, and for…you.

Well.

Not even perfect, when it came to you.

As you watched yourself in the mirror, the same blunt sadness you know so well took over.

Just enough. I want to be enough. Not perfect. Not stunning.

Just enough.

This was the third dress.

It was beautiful on the rack - frilly, soft, elegant but still very feminine without bordering on gaudy. And now…you looked at your chest and somehow, it seemed your ribcage was twice the size of what it should be. Your stomach, which Jun-ho loved, was ostentatiously making a little mound where you were sure a straight stomach should be. Your legs hidden by the fabric still showed slightly in the way your thighs, which he definitely adored, shaped the falling cloth.

Every time you went somewhere with Jun-ho, he was so careful and respectful. And so honest. If he introduced you, he was beaming, always laying a hand around your waist and kissing your cheek, that smile positively radiating. He was so proud to be with you, he said. You smiled a little sadly to yourself.

He didn't even have to say it. His entire demeanour yelled it.

And you tried to believe him.

You really did.

But sometimes, it got to you. You saw the looks of other women passing you.

You saw the attention he got even if you were together.

And when you tried to dress up for an occasion, it seemed like the universe decided to have a catwalk day - each woman you saw felt like a presentation of all you hated about yourself. And you didn't hate them, nor did you feel jealous - you felt an odd sense of awe and profound sadness.

You weren't letting him down; you were letting yourself down too.

You had fought with yourself long enough and put your body through hell. Not to mention your mind.

And now, trying to find a dress for an occasion…something that should be happy and full of pride…just made you feel awful.

Your phone lit up, lying on the little bench next to both mirrors. Three hands reached down to it, you tried to avoid every reflection.

"Are you alright in there, sweetheart? It's been a while and I didn't want to barge in. Not very good at blending in with pretty girls. I'm outside. Kisses. More kisses. Even more kisses."

You smile into the phone, look up, and your face drops with your shoulders.

"I'm alright," you type fast, "just having a hard time with the mirrors and dresses. Maybe we should try somewhere else. Thank you. Love you. So much."

Before you even put the phone down, it lights up again.

"Police officer coming through."

❥❥❥

It wasn't even a minute before the fabric of the cabin softly pulled an inch to one side, held by a strong hand that was as gentle as it was urgent.

"Y/N? Oh, thank God, this is the third one I've tried!"

As he sees your face, Jun-ho settles on a gentle smile, resting his head against the wall, still looking like he's peaking behind the curtain. As he carefully steps inside the small space and shuts the curtains again, he focuses on you and nothing but you.

So very elegant. Still playful. Guard all the way down. Just.

Your Jun-ho.

He could melt you with a single look in those gorgeous dark eyes and you felt like you were just chucked into the ninth circle of hell. He sees your nervous look and immediately goes for damage control.

"I'm joking, I'm joking…I'd know those gorgeous feet anywhere—"

You playfully shush him, trying not to blush.

"I mean," he muses playfully, in a mumbled whisper, "standing around peeking into ladies dressing rooms looks even worse than scanning every woman's ankle to find the prettiest one, but…" he catches your elbows and moves into your forearms, caressing every inch there and back reassuringly, “…I seem to have some luck on my side. Along with the prettiest girl at my side.”

You nudge your head into his chest and try not to sound sad.

"I doubt you'd look for the prettiest girl and find me. Maybe you should check again."

He softly sways with you, gently holding on, his chest and heart quieting your own hurried mind. Jun-ho kisses your hair and hums to you:

"Ah, well, that's where you're wrong, darling. I am risking my uniform, my badge, and my honour – I'd never do that for just any ankles. That's why I double checked."

Jun-ho looks down at your bare feet, at the fabric gracing your shins, and his eyes momentarily stop as they glide to your thighs.

"Do excuse me, young lady, I think the department has grown too methodical – I might need to triple check."

Jun-ho makes a little show of patting you down, from your waist down your thighs down to your knees and ankles – and straightens again, smiling at you, eyes beaming into yours. You try to shake off the saddened feeling and bring attention elsewhere.

"Shhh, if someone catches you here, I'm going to be seen by another person and judged, you're going to be considered a deviant, hush! And you know I am incredibly law-abiding and would never lie to an officer."

You add a little sadly, "just let me get out of this dress and go somewhere else. If that's OK, darling. Just. Turn around. Please."

Jun-ho leaves his joking demeanour at the door when he sees the situation is nowhere near as starry eyed as he is, peaking at you.

He looked you over once more, slower this time, the smile growing smaller and more genuine.

The stars in his eyes might as well had turned to hearts.

"Y/N, we can go somewhere else, but…you're so beautiful. I mean the dress is gorgeous, but it's…you that is wearing it. And you who…" he steps away for a moment, just enough to not disturb the heavy fabric curtain, "oh wow."

He stands there, still holding you lightly at arm's length, looking at you. Jun-ho's eyes travel slowly from your chin, to your shoulders, to your chest, to your waist and tummy, and down, then up again, repeating once more.

"Oh…wow," he whispers.

❥❥❥

"Please stop," you huddle up, covering your chest with your crossed arms and trying to be smaller against yourself, "I appreciate what you're trying to do, Jun-ho, but it's not going to work. Sorry. I have eyes."

The young man looks at you through a flurry of black hair softly lining his brows, those deep dark eyes momentarily sharpening as they do when he's either concentrating or not too glad. Must be a family thing.

"Y/N, last time I checked, I also have eyes. And last time I checked, I crashed into the most beautiful woman's changing room without mistake."

As if to underline his words, you both turn as you hear footsteps clacking against the floor.

"Officer, you weren't too careful, were you?" You whisper and would almost laugh. But you really don't want to be found in a dressing room with your sweet boyfriend – dress aside, you'd probably want to disappear right about now. But Jun-ho is faster.

Without a word, he lets go of you and softly, ever so softly kisses your forehead and guides you to the bench. Trying not to giggle with that gorgeous smile you love so much, he hurriedly gestures for you to get up and can’t help but lift you as you make a step, his hands as gentle as they are strong and devoted to you. He makes sure you’re steady just in time – a pair of heels stands outside the dressing room curtain.

"Is everything alright, miss…Mister…?"

Jun-ho clears his throat trying not to laugh.

"Oh, more than alright, this shirt is giving me some trouble and I keep trying to talk myself into this colour."

He looks at the dresses on the rack and you have to put a palm in front of your mouth to keep silent and not laugh.

"I was just on the phone with my superior,” Jun-ho continues, “and he keeps insisting pink just isn't my colour, I'm so sorry for disturbing the other customers."

Your eyebrows are speaking their own language at his every word, now positively trying to reach your hairline. The shopkeeper merely apologises and you hear the heels walk away again. You look at your boyfriend again, and he’s wearing that look – that satisfied look that reminds you of a cat that stole the last fish and is proudly parading it around town for everyone to see its luck.

"Shhh, stay there, that's the perfect position," Jun-ho whispers to you and closes the distance between you both.

❥❥❥

You're now looking down at him, thanks to your new high ground, and look into those beautiful dark eyes and that sweet, honestly adorable look. The dress brushes your ankles as he moves closer. Perfectly contrasted against his dark clothing.

Jun-ho takes your hand and kisses your fingers. One by one. He then wraps his other arm around your waist and softly lays his head against your tummy. You want to – but don't step back. You'd step into the mirror.

"Let me be your eyes, sweetheart.”

He caresses the small of your back and nudges into you with his cheek.

“Yours are a little faulty."

Before you reply, he mimics a "shh" gesture and rests back on you, holding you, listening to you, softly laying against you.

"You're so adorable. Is it the dress?"

You half nod.

"Is it too revealing?"

You don't nod.

"Is it too tight?"

You nod.

"You don't feel good about it, do you?"

You nod.

"It's not the dress, really, is it?"

Very slowly you point your chin down.

"Shake your head if you want me to stop, ok?" Jun-ho waits patiently for your consent and when you nod, he kisses you through the fabric. Laying a hand on each side of your hips, he looks up. As if he’s revering you.

“I don’t think there’s a dress on this Earth that could do you justice.”

You try to smile, not quite believing his words.

“You’re not too much, Y/N. You’re perfect. You’re my perfect, beautiful girl. I love her, from her toes to the top of her head.”

Jun-ho kisses your tummy through the dress, and caresses your back, all around to your hips and slides a hand respectfully down your thigh.

“I love your legs, just the way they are. I love your tender hips so much I have to keep myself from always always always touching them. I love your stomach – it’s absolutely adorable, it’s soft…lovely…just like you. It’s just perfect. I have to physically keep myself from snuggling you half to death – and I can’t get enough. When you’re lying down with me and I can feel your skin on mine – I don’t think there’s a feeling that can compare.”

Jun-ho straightens and slides his hands to your shoulders, gently caressing your collarbones with his thumbs and moving to your shoulders, then neck as he continues:

“Your shoulders are so beautiful I want to kiss them each time you turn your back. Your chest is gorgeous, the little dip in your neck when you laugh is perfect to caress, Y/N...I love every inch of you. This dress only graciously underlines everything I love so much. A perfect outline for my perfect girl.”

“Are you sure?” You try to sound as if you’re not melting in full view.

“Oh, I’ll give you sure, little lady.”

Jun-ho snuggles you then and there, cuddling you to himself, hands caressing and holding every inch he just described.

“Just wait till I get you home, this dress may be gorgeous but I have something to prove to everything under it.”

You step down and lean your head up, so glad to be in his arms again. Jun-ho kisses you – softly, tenderly, and for what seems like so long yet ending too soon – and sways with you again, almost humming to himself. He looks so…content. You close your eyes and smile. Truly smile. Warmth budding in your chest against his.

“You’re so pretty,” he hums to himself, “so pretty inside and out.”

❥❥❥

[restlessmaknae]

your heart is the target // jay

The last thing Jay expected when striking a fake dating deal with you was to get jealous (and ultimately, to fall head over heels for you).

➳ Characters: rich business student!Jay x professional archer!female reader/you

➳ Genre: fake dating au, high society au, olympics au, fluff, comedy

➳ Words: 5.5k

➳ Warning: mentions of food & drinks; vocab related to archery such as the usage of the words 'shooting' 'aim' and 'target'; my knowledge regarding archery comes from watching the Olympics, online research and this archery glossary, so feel free to correct me if I'm wrong! Jay is big time jealous in the first scene and big time in denial in the third one, so excuse him, he's just hiding his big heart!

➳ A/N: This story was heavily inspired by the Olympics, ISAC, 'Brought the heat back' aka the perfect jealousy song and this short on Youtube.

➳ Check out the college series for Enhypen’s 02z line: ‘our beginning together’

Apparently, Jay didn’t think through what kind of consequences the fake dating would bring about, and how he would react to them. To be precise, to boys around you.

But it did save him time, money, and let’s be honest, mental energy to not spend so much of his time going on blind dates his mother used to send him off to. Even though he would have plenty of time to meet girls at university, most of them only talked to him because he was 1) a rugby player for the college team 2) he had a lot of money and 3) he was handsome. He wanted more than that, but he didn’t seem to have too much luck, and it didn’t help that both of his university friends - Jake and Sunghoon - already had girlfriends, so whenever they spent time together, he felt like he was fifth wheeling.

So really, it was a sensible deal between you and him, even more so because you were a professional archer, training for the Olympics, so you had even less time to focus on dating than he did. So realising that both of you were fed up with the unfruitful blind dates you had to attend when you two had been set up, you had struck a deal. You would pretend to date for the sake of your families and yourselves, but if either of you found someone they actually liked in the meantime, you would call it off. Otherwise, you could take advantage of the other as a plus one at events, further minimising the chances of shallow-minded boys or girls coming up to you two in hopes of seducing you.

However, sitting through the opening ceremony of a music hall that Jay’s parents built where most people knew who you were wasn’t the same as accompanying you to your birthday party where all kinds of boys showed up he hadn’t seen before. Even the sight of them around you angered him, but the way they mistook him for someone else was truly dancing on his nerves.

At first, there was this tall, broad-shouldered boy who seemed younger than him, but multiple heads turned his way when he walked by, probably because of his handsome looks. Though Jay would never think of growing his hair long, he had to admit that he had a majestic feel to him because of his shoulder-length chestnut brown locks.

“Oh, noona!” The boy hollered when he caught sight of you, and Jay immediately stiffened beside you, but didn’t move when the other boy halted in front of you. As if he didn’t even see Jay, he boasted a wide grin as he handed you a gift box. “Happy birthday!”

“Thank you so much, Leehan! I’m glad you could make it,” you reciprocated his wide smile, visibly comfortable even with the close proximity of the boy. Or maybe it seemed close only because Jay was also by your side.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Though we had a bit of an emergency because Jaehyun managed to spill coffee on my suit, but alas, I look dazzling in any suit,” he blabbered joyfully, and only after you asked a few more questions about his day and silence settled on you three, did the boy turn his head towards Jay.

“Oh, you didn’t tell me that you had a bodyguard,” he noted with curiously widening eyes, and Jay’s eyebrows immediately shot up.

“Pardon?”

“Who are you then if not her bodyguard? You look so serious,” he pointed out, shrugging his shoulders casually. Jay felt like he could combust from both the embarrassment and the fury he felt, but held himself back because he was better than that. Besides, he might have stood too stiff beside you, but every approaching boy was a target in his eyes.

“Oh yeah, Leehan, I didn’t tell you. He’s my boyfriend, Jay. Jay Park.”

Leehan let out a little giggle before mentioning that it was funny that he had the same name as the singer. It wasn’t the first time he heard it, but it didn’t seem to get old no matter how much he hated it. It was just a name after all. It was like joking to every Kitty about Hello Kitty.

“Leehan and I used to be neighbours when I was living in Busan,” you explained as you turned towards him, and despite the fact that he didn’t even know you used to live in Busan, he appreciated the fact that you shared it with him. The explanation soothed his nerves a bit, but he was relieved only when Leehan left to say hello to your parents.

It was crazy, he was crazy, Jay thought to himself. He wasn’t usually like this. In fact, he was never like this. You weren’t even his real girlfriend, yet he was acting like a real jealous boyfriend. Did he even have the right to act this way? After all, Leehan was right. He was standing there beside you like a stuck up person, waiting to judge the next person that came up to you.

You took note of his behaviour as well, and asked if he was alright.

“Why wouldn’t I be fine?” Jay sulked like a little kid, hoping that the tone of voice was as close to neutral as possible, but judged by the way you let out a resigned sigh, he had a feeling that he wasn’t very convincing.

“I’m sorry that I dragged you into this. Maybe it was a bit too soon to have you here today,” you mused out loud, biting on your lower lip as you looked around, at the hustle-bustle of the guests. He knew exactly what you meant by ‘too soon’; a month into your fake dating deal, but it was what he had signed up for, so it wasn’t your fault, and he didn’t get why you felt this way.

“I’m fine, really. I just hardly know anyone, and it seems that people think I’m either your brother or your bodyguard, not your boyfriend.”

Your lips curled upwards when he mentioned this, referring both to Leehan’s bravado and Mark’s who was a childhood friend of yours, but went to the States to study, and totally forgot how your brother looked, and mistook Jay for your brother, Heeseung. In Mark’s defence, he supposedly had not only horrible eyesight but a poor face memory, too.

Coming to think of it, these were pretty amusing conversations, but Jay didn’t feel like laughing even though the bell-like sound of your laughter did awaken something inside of him. He didn’t have a lot of time to ponder what this unfamiliar feeling was though because the next guest came up to you, and you immediately welcomed him with a tight hug.

A hug.

From a boy he didn’t know.

What on Earth was going on? Why did you know so many people? Why did you know so many boys? He met like six of your acquaintances who were boys, and there was only one girl. Just why?

“... and this is Jay,” he faintly heard your voice, and when you called his name, he perked up, looking at you. He was so lost in thought that he barely registered that you and the jet-black haired boy had already started talking. He seemed kind with his big brown eyes and lips that curled naturally into a genuine smile, and even his tone was friendly when he spoke up.

“Your boyfriend, Jay, right?” He asked in a casual, conversational way as he reached his hand out for a handshake.

Now, this boy… he was a keeper. Jay liked him.

“Yes, that’s me,” Jay greeted him with a relieved sigh and shook his hand. He had a firm grip, but his kind smile wouldn’t have made him think so.

“My name is Sung Hanbin. We are archery partners with Y/N,” he explained after he let go of his hand, and now Jay didn’t know what to say. Seeing his confused face, you rushed to explain that you and Hanbin were training together as a mixed team for the Olympics.

“I thought that only same sex teams were competing.”

“There are actually 3 different archery categories. Individual, team and mixed team. We’re in the mixed team with Hanbin. It’s only us two, it’s not like fencing when there could be 4 people in a team,” you answered him in detail, and you were patient with him even though he had no idea about archery as a sport, let alone how the Olympics worked. On the other hand, he would definitely look things up after this because he didn’t want to embarrass himself like he did so.

Not like Hanbin seemed bothered by his lack of knowledge regarding the field. Instead, he asked about his side, and was super eager to learn about all the business things Jay studied at university. He was even more curious when he got to know that Jay did rugby, and asked him to show him some moves one day, he would be looking forward to it.

“You should also come to one of our practices. Y/N is seriously so amazing on the field,” Hanbin suggested, awe lacing his words. There was something in the way he said it, but he wouldn’t think that it was because Hanbin harboured feelings for you. It seemed more like respect than infatuation.

“Ah please, I’m just…”

“I’ll make sure to come by. If you don’t mind,” Jay made up his mind about it quickly, and searched for your eyes. This was the first time you wouldn’t bring the other as a plus one to an event, you would do it simply because you wanted to. It could be seen that you were taken aback by the suggestion, but you composed your features within mere seconds, and directed a smile at him.

“Sure. I’d love that.”

There was a moment when you just gazed at each other, and he forgot about everything else around you. He simply focused on the way the shiny peach-coloured lipstick sat on your lips as they curled into a smile, and the way the lights from the grand chandelier above reflected in your ocean deep eyes. The way the foundation couldn’t hide your beautiful moles, and the way you radiated confidence and chicness in your feminine pink and white body suit.

“Okay, I’ll leave you two lovebirds to have some time to yourself. I might check out the drinks instead,” Hanbin announced, pulling you two back to reality. A hue of pink crept onto your cheeks at the reminder that you were not alone, but your smile didn’t waver as you bid your archery partner goodbye.

“I’ve also brought you a gift, but I left at the table where I saw people leaving them,” Jay announced when he looked down at the gift boxes in your hand. You thanked him, and told him that you would definitely check it out and let him know what you thought about his gift.

Not like you had a lot of time to open gifts because your birthday party was more than packed with conversations with familiar and not so familiar figures, and by the end of the night, Jay had no idea how you still had the energy to greet everyone as energetically as in the beginning. Thankfully, there were no more people who assumed that he was your brother or bodyguard, but some found it surprising to see you as a couple. Like the ever so talkative Keeho who analysed the future of your relationship based on your music taste, MBTI and star sign (whatever he meant by that), or one of your mother’s friend’s daughters - Giselle - who was convinced that Jay was Hanbin because she thought that you were dating your archery partner because that would be so YA book-like.

Nevertheless, Jay truly hoped that after this night, everyone would know that you two were dating, so he wouldn’t have to go through this again. He wasn’t sure he could take that.

You didn’t know what got into Jay when he gave in to Hanbin’s suggestion because he was usually reserved when it came to such events. You would think that he didn’t want to bother with it since he hated blind dates just as much as you did, and you weren’t even dating for real, so it could have been just another nuisance in his eyes.

Nevertheless, he didn’t go back on his word, but asked when he could come by, and so you settled on a date. He made sure to ask if you were comfortable by the idea of him coming to your practice, but you reassured him that you were totally fine with it. Even though you didn’t interact that much in person, you rather texted the other, your impression of him was quite positive. He was a just person, someone who wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, but he was also very attentive, noticing when the screw of your earring let go and fixing it for you at the business event you had attended, or how he had gone around to find a blanket for you when you had been sitting outside in the garden at your birthday party. Even his gift was thoughtful: he bought an Avalon archery bag for you which was a good quality bag for professional athletes. You were in need of a new one anyway, so you brought it with you to practise ever since, something that Hanbin couldn’t not notice.

Ever since the two boys had met at your birthday party, Hanbin had been asking about how you had met and whether it was difficult to keep up a relationship with your training schedule and Jay’s university classes. To be honest, you didn’t decide on such details with Jay, so you spoke the truth, and told him that you had met on a blind date, and you had made it work through texts and calls because you wanted to. Which was actually true because you and Jay were getting to know each other, and sometimes it felt like it wasn’t just for the sake of the fake dating deal, but because you really did want to know more about the other. At least, you wanted to know more about him.

The indoor archery range had a security system in place, so only the athletes and the staff could enter who had a card to use the building, so you went out to let Jay inside when he texted you that he arrived. You inquired if he found it easy to get here, and he said that it was fine, and he found a decent parking place not far, so it was alright. Because of course, he knew how to drive and he had his own car. Jay was every girl’s dream after all, no wonder that title followed him around like second skin.

“So it’s just you practising today, or will there be others?”

“We’ve booked a range for us, so it’ll be me, Hanbin and our two coaches. I let the coaches know that we would have a visitor, but it’s alright. A lot of archers visit each other’s practice to learn about techniques, so you won’t stand out too much. Or maybe just a bit,” you pointed at his sleek black cotton pants, dress shoes and white shirt that he tucked into his pants, highlighting his slender waist.

Jay seemed a tad bit coy at your playful call-out, his lips slightly puckering as he looked down at his - probably usual - attire, but he went back to his usual self immediately.

“I hope I won’t be too distracting,” he mentioned with an unbothered look, but you couldn’t help but nudge him in the side.

“What was that? Were you flirting with me?”

“I-” He was about to protest, probably not thinking too much into his words, but then, it dawned on him why you teased him. “I’m your boyfriend after all, aren’t I?” He shrugged nonchalantly, but you could see a hint of amusement prompting his lips to curl upwards.

No matter how many times you said the words ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ out loud, it still seemed unfamiliar. Yet, there was a certain thrill to it too, something that you had never experienced before. Not since you had broken up with your boyfriend of three months in high school, at least.

After pulling yourself together, you guided Jay to the right room, and told him that he could sit in the spectators’ stand, you also put your bag there. So he took a seat in the front row beside your bag after greeting the ones who were present. Hanbin gave you a knowing look before he turned towards his coach who gave him some instructions. After warming up, you attached the quiver to your waist, and you held up the bow, testing the limbs and the hand. That’s when you realised that you had left a part of it in your bag, so you jogged up to the slightly confused Jay.

“Could you pass me the kisser from my bag?”

“The what?” The boy’s eyebrows shot up so high, you were afraid that his eyes would pop. That’s when you realised that you had used the jargon that he wasn’t familiar with.

“It’s this little black button in the right pocket of my bag,” you explained to him while you leaned onto the rail separating you two. Jay’s shoulders sagged in relief, and you found it difficult to hold back your laughter seeing his bewildered expression. Well yeah, the button was called kisser because it was attached to the bowstring, and your lips usually touched this part when aiming, to give consistent vertical reference. But he must have thought of something else.

Either way, Jay found the button, and handed it to you which you accepted with a grateful smile. Your fingers lightly grazed his hand in the meantime, and you felt heat rushing to your cheeks. No matter how many accidental touches you shared, it was still unfamiliar to you, the effect he had on you.

“Are you sure you will be able to concentrate with him here?” Hanbin teased once you jogged back to him, and you gave him a long stare.

“It’s not like it wasn’t your idea to invite him here.”

“Well, let’s just say I knew what I was doing,” he shrugged, a teasing little grin stretching on his lips. You nudged his shoulder in return and told him to focus on hitting the gold target face.

Despite Hanbin’s warning, the practice went well. What’s more, it went exceptionally well. You both scored high, and even if you didn’t perform that well in a set, you made up for it in the next one. One thing about mixed archery that you liked was that you could cheer on your partner without fearing for your own ranking, and it was easy to shoot beside Hanbin because he was very supportive, and even if he took archery seriously, he knew when to be silly to ease the tension. He was determined and hard-working just like you, and your coaches often said that you seemed like you were made to be each other’s partners.

Once your coaches left and it was nearing the end of your time slot, Hanbin inquired from Jay if he wanted to try it out himself. He objected vehemently, saying that after your practice, he didn’t want to embarrass himself. You didn’t force him either, but thanked him for coming by.

“I will give you a lift,” he offered gently when you walked up to him to get your bag.

“You really don’t have to. It might take about half an hour before I will get ready.”

“It’s alright. I don’t have other plans,” he protested firmly, and you didn’t have the heart to go against him when he offered it himself. He really wouldn’t say it out loud, but you had a feeling that he was offering to give you a ride because it was getting dark outside, and he didn’t want you to go home alone.

“Thanks. I will be quick,” you promised beamingly, and off you went.

After taking a quick shower, getting changed and putting your hair up into a high ponytail, you were fresh and clean, ready to head out. Jay was standing on the other side of the security gate, leaning against the wall while scrolling through his phone. You had a feeling someone let him out - maybe the security guard or Hanbin because he always finished earlier than you -, but still, it was nice to see him standing there even though he really did stand out in his business outfit while you had sweatpants and a knitted sweater on.

Jay’s nonchalant expression turned lighter when he caught sight of you, and he immediately reached for your bag, holding it for you without saying a word. Your face flushed when your hands touched again, but you looked the other way to hide your embarrassment.

You let silence fall over the two of you as you were walking towards his car, and when you stepped inside the vehicle, you felt like you were the one who stood out in your casual, sporty outfit. Alas, you preferred comfort over style when you were off to practise or coming from practise, and you were thankful that you didn’t need to wear high heels or dresses during these times. Plus, it’s not like Jay made a comment on it, instead, he inquired if the temperature was alright in the car, and if you preferred to have the radio on or not.

“So how did you like the practice? I hope it wasn’t too boring,” you inquired when the boy started the engine and drove out from the parking lot.

“It wasn’t boring at all. I didn’t know the distance for archery is 70 metres, so I was impressed that you could control the arrow from such a distance.”

“How did you know it was 70 metres?”

Jay’s Adam’s apple bobbed hearing your question as if he didn’t want to acknowledge that he clearly made his research. You definitely didn’t tell him about that.

“Well, I read it somewhere before,” he mumbled under his nose, but you couldn’t help this warm, embracing feeling bubbling up inside of you. He might have looked cold and composed, but you seemed to shake up his demeanour lately.

You talked a bit more about archery during the car ride because he was curious about the type of arrows you used, how you controlled the draw length and the aim, and whether you enjoyed individual, team or mixed archery the most. You found it heart-warming that he asked you about this because archery meant so much to you, but when you went to high society events with your parents, oftentimes the people there only asked about whether you had a boyfriend and when you would join your father’s company. Your parents never forced you to choose a different path, but these kinds of interactions came with the type of life they had chosen for themselves when you moved from Busan to Seoul, and your father set up his company that has since become one of the most important AI consulting companies in not just Seoul but the whole country.

Time passed by in a blink of an eye while you were talking, and you found yourself at home in no time. Yet, as his car drove out of your driveway, you realised that you wouldn’t mind if he gave you a ride back home more often.

Bit by bit, you and Jay got closer, and there was no denying it anymore. He went to your practices a few more times, you showed up at business events beside him other times, and in the meantime, you continued texting and calling each other. Jay also made it a habit to pick you up after practice when he didn’t have anything else to do, and sometimes Hanbin joined you, too. Jay liked him because he could see that he was a genuine, kind guy who would want nothing bad for you, and your archery partner also gave him his phone number, so Jay could reach out to him in case you didn’t pick up your phone or anything like that. Which was really attentive of him, and despite not saying it out loud, Jay grew fond of the other boy, too.

Alas, his fondness towards you could not be contained that easily, and it didn’t take long for his friends to pick up on his antics. Jake and Sunghoon teased him ever since Jay admitted that he “wasn’t feeling neutral towards you” which, in his dictionary, meant that he liked you, and they kept bombarding him with dating advice. He would never force you to date him though, and you had enough on your plate with the Olympics coming up, so he didn’t want to complicate things even further.

However, it didn’t mean that he couldn’t be supportive of you and your dreams.

“So… are you going to the Olympics with Y/N?” Jake inquired once when they were having lunch together between classes. Jay almost choked on his food, he was so surprised.

“Why would I go with her to the Olympics? She didn’t tell me that she wants me there,” he furrowed his eyebrows, looking at his puppy-like friend. Jake and Sunghoon shared a glance, and there was a knowing smile in the corner of Sunghoon’s lips when he spoke up.

“Jay, my dear friend, you really don’t know a thing about relationships, do you?”

“It’s not like you have that much experience,” Jay snorted, pointing out the fact that he and Chaerin had only been dating for half a year. To be precise, dating officially because they also had their fake dating period when Sunghoon had tried to keep Chaerin’s douchebag ex away by pretending to be her boyfriend. But he had already had a crush on the cheerleader, so his feelings had been genuine when they had started fake dating.

“Well, it’s still more than your experience which is close to zero,” he shrugged and reached for his bottle of water. Jake found the conversation amusing as he kept smiling while shoving kimchi fried rice into his mouth.

“Well then, enlighten me. Why should I go?” Jay gave up on trying to argue with them because as much as he wanted to deny it, the thought had crossed his mind that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be too bad if he went to the Olympics to watch your competitions. Then again, you had never asked if he wanted to come or if he was willing to come, so he didn’t bother asking either.

“To support her. I’m pretty sure she’s all nerves, especially because she had a bronze medal in the last Olympics, so she must be feeling a lot of pressure. Not to mention that she and Hanbin are said to be the most promising duo for the team archery.”

“It’s mixed archery,” Jay corrected Jake’s choice of words, and his two friends immediately shared a glance. Oh well, he had really become a bit of an expert in archery, but could they blame him? He was trying not to be too nosy during practices, so he did his own research and watched your previous matches to gain more knowledge regarding your field.

Jay didn’t need to ask how they knew about your rankings because they pulled up your Wikipedia page the moment he told them that you were his fake girlfriend, and besides, he might have been dropping hints here and there. However, he had to give it to them that they were right, and despite the fact that you wouldn’t want to show it, he could see the dark circles under your eyes, and you had even managed to fall asleep once while he had been driving you home after practice. You seemed to lose a bit of your smile too, and he hated that he couldn’t do anything about it, except trying to be extra comforting and supportive.

He didn’t even need to be told twice. After asking Hanbin about your Olympics schedule, he booked himself a hotel and a plane ticket, and arrived the day before your first official match. He didn’t want you to worry about his safety while you were supposed to focus on your performance, so he only told you that he arrived when he got the green light from Hanbin that you finished with your last practice before your first day of competing.

Locks still stuck to your forehead when you rushed out of the stadium after a shower and changing clothes, and you hugged him so tightly upon seeing him that he immediately knew that coming here was the best decision that he had ever made.

“Thank you so much for coming! I can’t believe that you’re here,” you exclaimed giddily, and despite the fact that it was your first hug, somehow it felt so good, so right. You didn’t even seem embarrassed as you kept babbling afterwards about literally everything: the food in the Olympic village, how your room looked and how practise went that day.

He listened to you attentively, his heart a lot lighter that he could see you smile, and because you must have been hungry and tired, he treated you to a meal. You didn’t even want to talk him out of it, and enjoyed dinner with him to the last moment. He didn’t even want to let you go so soon, so he offered to walk you back to your accommodation.

“This morning, I was so nervous that I thought I’m coming down with something. I was also not performing as well during practice as I wanted to, but I feel like I’m a lot lighter now that you’re here. The fact that you carved time out of your day to come here willingly means so much to me,” you admitted coyly as he was walking beside you. He couldn’t go with you all the way because outsiders weren’t allowed in the Olympic village, but you still had some time as it was on the other side of the park you were currently strolling in.

“Even just the fact that you are here means that you’re doing great. I know you might feel the pressure to do better than four years ago, but know that you’re already a winner. You’re already one of the most excellent archers in the whole world,” he mused out loud, and if it wouldn’t have been for the bright lights in your deep dark eyes, he might have wanted to dig a hole for himself because that was quite cheesy. It came from his heart though, and you seemed to appreciate it so much that you were visibly touched.

“Don’t cry…” he shushed you when he noticed you tearing up, and reached out to wipe the first teardrop away that was racing down your cheeks. You looked up at him with those beautiful eyes, and he felt like time stopped around you as you two were standing still in the middle of the walking path, surrounded by the shushing of the trees and the watching eyes of the street lamps. To him, you looked vulnerable yet strong, someone who wasn’t afraid to face her feelings and though the sight of you with tears in your eyes churned his heart, he was also thankful that he could be there for you.

“I’m just… I’m just so happy that you’re here,” you choked up, hidden away emotions surfacing as you let it out. Jay let you cry as much as you wanted, handing you tissues and letting you hug him as long as you wanted. Before, he might have thought that you would be better off without him because you had a lot on your plate already, but now more than ever, he was sure that you needed him just as much as he needed you.

But he didn’t ask the question until you were finished with all of your competitions, until you were finished with all the celebrations for your gold medal in individual female archery and mixed archery alike and 4th in team archery, and until you were leaving behind the country.

Only as the stewardesses signalled that the plane was ready to depart in Seoul, did he dare to ask the question:

“Would you like to go on a date with me? A real one?”

The smile that you gave him was enough of an answer by itself, but when you confirmed that yes, you would be more than thrilled to go, he was the happiest person on Earth. Even if you managed to confuse Hanbin who was sitting on the other side of the aisle (after giving up his seat for Jay) by what you meant by a real date.

But he didn’t have to know that.

➳ Check out: my ENHYPEN masterlist

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this story of mine! Let me know what you think!

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Hope you have a lovely day/night! Take care! ❤️

[pannman]

Could I request Angel Dust x male reader wedding? It would probably be at the hotel and be super cute

A Hazbin Wedding

Angel Dust x Male Reader

Charlie ran about the hotel as if possessed. Everything had to perfect. She was a good friend. And she loved weddings. You remembered the day you and Angel told everyone you were engaged. Everyone was supportive and excited for you but Charlie was already spouting out ideas with utter joy. Ever since then the two of you barely had to lift a finger in preparation for your big day.

Angel grew up in a very traditional home so he believed in all the wedding superstitions. So of course you hadn't seen him at all. It's bad luck if you do. Although you weren't even sure whether he was going to be wearing a dress or a tux. He could rock either if you were being honest. And he'd take your breath away no matter what. So whatever he wore didn't concern you much

Getting married in hell as a sinner was a rare occurrence. So of course your wedding was the talk of hell. Alastor did his best to keep the riff raff or more importantly the 666 news away. Of course Vox was out there talking shit. That was until Alastor sent him a couple of employees heads in gift boxes with warning letters. You guessed that Vox didn't wanna go to war over something as trivial as wedding so he decided to shut up

Husk ran the open bar. Niffty kept things clean and handled decorations. Vaggie kept everyone on task, and Charlie helped the two of you prepare. You got your tux on and checked yourself out in the mirror. You always dreamed about your wedding day and assumed after you had died that it was too late. But look at you now. And to the most amazing person you've ever met. Angel was handsome, funny, playful and made your chest flutter even just thinking about him.

It was after he had finally opened up to you and showed his vulnerable side that you truly fell in love with him. It showed how much he'd grown to trust you and it made you feel a way that you had never felt before. Now you were going to spend eternity together

"You look great!" Charlie said encouragingly. "Thanks... I'm a bit nervous" you admitted. "Nervous? Why?" She asked. "Like what if I mess it up, like I trip or something or forget the vows?" You asked in a slight panic. Vaggie spoke as she entered "then you know Angel will just make fun of you and then you'll get all flustered and then no one will care" she was right. Angel's teasing had a way of breaking the tension. And a way of making you red in the cheeks

You ran your vows through your head over and over. There's no way you'll forget them. You waited for your cue out in ballroom which had been transformed like magic into the most beautiful alter you'd ever seen

You joined arms with Vaggie and stepped down the aisle. It wasn't a huge wedding. Just the closest people you knew here in hell but it was all you needed. You smiled at their faces as you walked past. There was a roll in the rug...

To give Vaggie credit she did try to catch you. But she wasnt quick enough. Before you knew it you face planted into the ground. "I fucking knew it!" You complained. Vaggie helped you up and you continued on your way and stopped in your place. Then you turned to watch the rest of party

Finally it came. The time for Angel to walk out on that aisle. Angel stepped out in a beautiful wedding dress. (Ah a dress), you thought. (Well he looks damn good in it. Of course he does. And I tripped). You tried not to feel embarrassed by it. Angel approached gracefully until you two were face to face. You reached over and tossed his veil to reveal a smug grin

"That eager to marry me got you tripping over your own shoes?" (of course he saw it) He continued "or maybe you just wanna get this over with so you can tear this dress off" you blushed deeply. "Alright Angel..." Vaggie tried to keep this wedding pg. In fact she's been doing it since the beginning and it's been a constant struggle

Lucifer being the king of hell and a former angel was the closest thing to a religious priest you could get and he was overjoyed when you asked him to officiate the wedding. He told a lot of corny jokes and made a lot wholesome comments. You felt you had chosen wisely

Fat Nuggets waddled down the aisle with the rings tied to him. He looked adorable in his little tuxedo. You and Angel were both in awe. You over heard Charlie nudge Vaggie and say "I trained him to do that" she sounded filled to the brim with glee

You placed the rings on each other's fingers and looked deeply into each other's eyes as Lucifer continued

Finally it was time for the vows.

Angel went first. "Y/N, I've never thought I would get married. And I thought if I did, it would be in Vegas. But love sure finds you when you're least expecting it. And I definitely wasn't expecting it after I was six feet under. But I'm damn glad I did because no one quite understands me like you."

"No one laughs at my jokes as much as you do, no one tolerates my flirting like you do, no one satisfies me in bed the way you do, and no one makes me happier than you do. And when this is over I am gonna DO. YOU. And I will continue to love you for eternity. Or until we die arm and arm together in a bar fight. Whichever comes first"

His vows were unsurprisingly filled jokes, innuendos and oddly romantic but oddly dark incredibly specific circumstances. Everything you've come to know and love about him.

Now it was your turn

You had went over the words a million times in your head. (The words. The words? Oh God! What were the words?!?)

Seeing him stare at you in this moment it felt like you were lost in his eyes and you had no idea how to get back

Angel smirked. "I make you speechless huh?" It only occurred to you now that you had been stuttering and struggling to speak. But Angel's teasing helped you find SOME words.

"Everytime I'm with you, you leave me speechless. You take my breath away. I can't imagine my afterlife without you. And honestly can't believe I went through my whole life on earth not knowing you. I know this hotel is about trying to get out of hell. But hell turned to heaven when I met you.... Yikes that's corny!" you cringed but also giggled at your cheesy line but when you looked at Angel you saw tears in his eyes.

"No that was beautiful! Don't you EVER stop saying stuff like that!" He was trying not to break down it seemed. "Okay I'm sorry. I had no idea I had that much of an effect on you" you teased him. "Why do you think we're doing this?" He played along "I'm not marrying ya for shits and giggles." You laughed "I thought it was for my hot ass" Angel pulled you close, his face inches away "that too... now kiss me you beautiful idiot" Lucifer took that as cue " I now pronounce you married. you may kiss"

This kiss was almost like the very first one. Butterflies, spark and passion. But this time there was a real intense sweetness to it. You didn't wanna let him go but an entire crowd was watching you.

You tried to pull away but Angel wouldn't let you. Savoring the kiss and holding you by the back of your head. You felt his tongue slip through and he only stopped when he heard the sound of discomfort from the audience

He finally pulled away and looked at you lustfully. "Why don't you and I go somewhere more private and I can finally give you your wedding gift"

You turned beat red as Angel joyfully dragged you off to your bedroom.

After a night of "privacy" the two of you fell asleep in each other's arms. And all you could think about was that in the morning you'll wake to see his face. And from now on every morning will be like that forever. An eternity of waking up heaven. (Even though that's kinda corny...)

(Nah, it's beautiful)

[bloodbruise]

@croptopjames happy birthday to the one and only jfp <3

jegulus | 933 words | trans reg & themes of gender identity and transition

Regulus felt his cheeks heat up as he snapped out of his daze and met James' eyes. He was wearing a knowing look, "Oh, I'm definitely keeping this," James declared, his smirk widening. "Especially if it gets this kind of reaction from you every time."

Regulus’ room was a disaster. James had finally coaxed him into sorting through his old clothes, only managing after he bribed him with promises of kisses and takeout afterwards. The closet had all but exploded, leaving piles of clothes scattered all across the room. With ‘yes’s,’ and ‘no’s,’ and ‘maybes’ occupying every available flat surface, Regulus was sure he hadn't seen the darkened wood of his floor in hours. 

Sat on his bed, he watched as James dug through his dresser for another shirt. He let out a thoughtful hum as he grabbed two, throwing one over his shoulder and holding up the other: an awful plum-colored blouse. His mother had bought it for him—form-fitting, smothered in ruffles, and, in her words, “the perfect blouse for a sophisticated young woman.” 

Regulus thought it was the ugliest fucking shirt he had ever seen.

“Ugh,” Regulus wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Absolutely not, that thing is a monstrosity.” 

James barked out a laugh, amused at the disgust evident on Regulus' face, before flinging the shirt into the rapidly growing ‘no’ pile. He grabbed at the one resting on his shoulder.

“And this one?” 

It was worn, fabric soft from years of wear. The dark green and gray had dulled, now just muted shadows of their original hues. The words printed on the front, cracked and creased, read ‘Hogwarts Women's Rowing’. It had been his favorite shirt for a long time. His parents had always been on him to join something– a club, a team, an honor society. If he was honest, he only chose rowing because it kept him out of the house the longest.

And he's so grateful he did, because it brought him Pandora. He suffered through early morning rows and long race days, soreness in his body and blisters on his hands. But every discomfort was worth it for the times he and Pandora would steal an extra hour to lie in the sun by the Great Lake, laughing until their bellies felt as sore as their arms. Worth it for the times Evan would cram them into his shitty jeep and drive them to their races so they didn't have to take the bus. Worth it, most of all, for giving him the first people with whom he could be honest—really, truly honest.

"I don't want to get rid of it," Regulus admitted, a hint of reluctance in his voice. "It was my favorite, but—I’m not ready to wear anything that might make people mistake me for a woman. Not for a while, at least.”

James nodded. He turned the shirt around, head tilting slightly as he considered it. “How about I hold onto it for you? That way it's not gone, just... repurposed.” He looked up at Regulus with a wicked grin. “I bet I could pull it off.”

Regulus couldn’t help but scoff as James began to pull on the shirt. “I’d like to see you try," he challenged, amusement evident in his voice. 

But as James stretched out his arms and did a little spin, Regulus wasn't laughing. Instead, he felt his heart swoop. A familiar mixture of fondness and arousal swirled in his gut at the sight of James. Glasses knocked a little lopsided from pulling the shirt on, pajama pants hanging low on his hips and socked feet– it was a picture that made Regulus go warm with affection. But, it was the shirt that really kept his attention. Visibly too small, the letters strained as they stretched across the width of his chest. The hem of it hitting right below his navel, exposing his hip bones and the trail of hair leading down from his belly button. Regulus felt all the breath leave his chest. “C'mere,” he said softly.

James shuffled over to him. “Good?” He asked, a hint of uncertainty in his tone.

Regulus shook his head, he was in awe of James. “Better than good. It suits you much better than it ever did me,” he mumbled, voice low and distracted. Reaching out to place his hands on James' waist, he absentmindedly dragged his thumbs back and forth over his hipbones, eyes stuck to the sliver of skin peeking out from beneath the shirt. 

“My eyes are up here, love,” James gently teased, his voice laced with amusement. 

Regulus felt his cheeks heat up as he snapped out of his daze and met James' eyes. He was wearing a knowing look, "Oh, I'm definitely keeping this," James declared, his smirk widening. "Especially if it gets this kind of reaction from you every time."

“I lied,” Regulus deadpanned, “you actually look ridiculous.” But his face was betraying him, unable to fight the smile spreading across it. 

James hummed in response, the smugness in his tone unmistakable. He was clearly enjoying every moment of this.

"Oh, shut up," Regulus groaned playfully, his hands gripping the exposed skin at his waist to pull him down. James yelped in surprise before their lips were meeting in a kiss filled more with laughter than anything else. But then James was deepening it, and Regulus let himself be kissed breathless. After a moment, he gently pulled back, hand tenderly stroking through James’ hair.

"Thank you," he whispered, his hand tracing a path down James' neck, over his shoulder, and along the length of his arm until their fingers intertwined. "For being here, for—everything. Everything that you do for me."

James responded with a gentle squeeze of their hands, his eyes meeting Regulus’. "Always, love." His voice was soft but firm in promise. And there it was again, his heart swooping in his chest as James pressed a kiss to his temple. "Always."

[nostalgicmiscellaneous]

I'm quite honest when i say this: No, Season 3 didn't have much angst. In fact, Polin fans were lucky because even their angst had moments of the characters clearly showing love. Their main issues start at the end of Ep6, so it only truly reflected starting on Ep7. They have the fight, some hurtful words, but then they meet on the streets and have a great conversation, they have a moment evidently showing their love for each other. Later that night, Colin basically confirms that all the issues he has with trust because of LW, when he talks to Kate, are not enough to truly taint his love for her. We get to the wedding, and it's full of love, tenderness and Colin unable to hide the depth of his feelings. The Queen barging in and his concern, his worry for her safety and his family as well is triggered again. He can't yet truly grasp that LW is a fundamental part of her and he reacts as something that is above her love and care for him and his family + his insecurities. As we all know, he feels useless, unloved, unworthy, ''less than". We get Colin sleeping right outside their bedroom. Again, his feelings are eating him up. He also feels guilty that his family might be at risk because he chose Pen and yet he knows he would do it again and again. He doesn't feel too little, he feels too much and that's his problem. He doesn't know what to do and how to do things. Over and over again he tries to protect her and show her his love. Oh, but he didn't sleep with her that night? GOOD! Yes, you heard it. Good, he shouldn't have. In fact, i'd feel bad if he had. I'd feel like at that moment he just used her to placate his desires. As long as he was still struggling - and he had the right and it make perfect sense for him to be -, with his feelings about the situation, his concerns, i'm glad that he wasn't just, 'hey, i'm feeling horny, you're gorgeous and i love you and ofc seeing you in your sexy nightgown turns me on so i'm going to fuck you, even if i'm still struggling because i'm a man and men can't be sensitive and need time, complete connection and trust to make love to someone they value and love, they gotta fuck". For real, people? For real? It's a drama, a romantic drama. They make everything right in the same episode, they confess and declare their regrets and love, their hopes and their trust, they make love - and no, it's not porn, we don't need to be shown more than we were in Eps4 and 5 -, they have a beautiful baby, they are are working on their their dreams ( writing) and taking care of their families, they are happy and in love with complete trust and admiration. There was little angst. Now, if you wanted one more conversation between them, another one where they could share their feelings and have intimacy ( not even talking about sex), sure, i would've loved too. But it is not enough for the over the top dramatics some of you make it out to be, the exaggerated complaints. I wont change my mind over the mind and feelings of someone else, i feel this season is very good, a solid one with good chemistry romance between the leads. I enjoyed and like more everytime i watch. I always think about what i wanted more and what i wanted differently when i watch shows/movies, but i also never allow it to cloud the things i did get and that i love it, because when i weight it all, i love more things in it than otherwise, in this case. Wanting more is good, means Nicola and Luke did a good job making you want to see them, and you'll in S4.

[lunarimagines]

ATEEZ REACTION TO THEIR BFF HOOKING UP/BEING FWB WITH ANOTHER MEMBER

anon said: Hii, can I please request an ateez reaction to his crush (who's also his best friend) being friends with benefits with another member? Thank uu

warnings: sexual themes, language

A/N: you can now support me on Ko-fi! click [here]

Seonghwa: Seonghwa likes to pretend he's above playing truth or dare, but he's four shots in and sitting in the circle almost giddy as he watches the bottle spin to land on the next person. Wooyoung had just gone, daring San to drink a tablespoon of hot sauce and San was spinning the bottle.

"Y/N!" San yelled, words slurring together ever so slightly. The glazed look in his eyes was enough to know he was truly drunk. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth." Your last dare had been to dunk your sock in the toilet so you stood to loose a lot. Like your other sock.

"Okay, um. Have you ever... hooked up with Seonghwa. Be honest. You two are friends so..."

Seonghwa nearly choked on air. He coughed dryly, eyes going wide as he tried to signal San to shut the fuck up before he told everyone Seonghwa was one smile away from falling in love with you.

"No, we've never hooked up. But Hongjoong and I have when we were friends with benefits." Okay, maybe you were drunk, too.

Hongjoong giggled and Seonghwa felt like he was going to throw up, and the liquor couldn't even be blamed for it.

"But! I like someone else," you whispered, leaning closer to Seonghwa. The image of the two of you have sex, you riding him, replaced the horrific image of you having sex with Hongjoong in his head.

Needless to say your second time having sex with Seonghwa was when he was your boyfriend and you were both sober.

Hongjoong: Hongjoong like to pride himself as the perfect gentleman and someone who knew how to woo the person he liked. He bought little trinkets or treats he found on his way home from schedules in convenience stores or subways stations because he kept finding things that made him think of you. He remembered special events and days, always asking how things went after a presentation at school or a tough day at work. He would have done this simply because he was your best friend, but he also did it because he loved you as something more.

So when Yunho called him, frantic, at 2am one morning to tell him the two of you had hooked up and he maybe sort of probably liked you, Hongjoong felt first happy that you were getting some and then something like terrified and frustrated - terristrated? - that he wasn't the one to give you everything.

"Yunho, call down, my God. It's okay. Did Y/N say anything?"

"No, no. Called a taxi. Work tomorrow or something." Hongjoong knew. He had your schedule memorized after accidentally calling you during a work meeting once. "But I think Y/N likes someone else."

"Oh?" Hongjoong tried, and failed, to sound neutral. Yunho didn't offer more and Hongjoong simply told him to sleep it off and think about it tomorrow after he was rested.

After the phone call from Hell, he texted you.

hongjoongie joong: yunho? woof

you: rude as hell

you: but no, not yunho anymore

hongjoongie joong: you don't have to tell me

you: damn and here i was going to confess to you in the most romantic moment after i fucked your best friend and band mate

hongjoongie joong: you have me blushing and giggling and kicking my feet fr

you: take me out on a date and i'll really have you giggling and blushing and kicking your feet

hongjoongie joong: seriously?

you: yes

you: unless you don't want to

you: but when I was thinking of you the whole time i was with Yunho it was a sign from the universe or whatever

you: i'm off at 5:30

hongjoongie joong: i know. i'll be there to pick you up for our date!

Your first date with Hongjoong was like every other time you went out with your best friend, but this time you could kiss him. He would still be your best friend first but now, he would be your boyfriend second. He also never stopped giving you shit for it taking having sex with Yunho to realize you liked him, forever destined to be "cliché loser" in his phone.

Yunho: Yunho had picked you up from your apartment for your monthly "terrible cooking show remake" where you would try and make the recipe as seen on a cooking show. No rewinding, no saving the recipe, no looking it up. The food was pretty hit or miss, but watching you frustrated, chewing on your lip with furrowed brows was worth eating even the worst recreations.

Currently he was trying to goad you into doing karaoke in the car with him. His favorite pastime was teasing you and trying to get you to roll your eyes at him. God, you were cute.

You were distracted, though, your phone buzzing incessantly in your lap. You had been ignoring it until now.

"Fuckboy is an outdated term now, isn't it?" you asked Yunho, locking your phone after turning off the ringer.

"Yeah it totally is, you old hag," he joked, reaching over to squeeze your arm to show he really was only joking. "Why?"

"I hook up with Wooyoung once, drunk, and he keeps trying to hook up again now that he knows I'm coming over today."

Yunho nearly crashed the damn car. His hand jerked involuntarily before he gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. He lifted his arm from the center console where it had been resting to grab the wheel with both hands. You may be his best friend but he also desperately loved you.

"Didn't know you were that good at sex," he mumbled, going for joking and sounding much more hurt.

You furrowed your brows at his comment. "Why? You asking for a demonstration?" Part of you was joking but the other part seriously meant it. You may have hooked up with Wooyoung but it was purely sex. With Yunho you felt nervous that any move to show that you liked him as more than a friend would harm your friendship. But you swore that he was... jealous. Jealous that you'd slept with Wooyoung.

Yunho's grip had tightened impossibly more on the steering wheel after your comment. "Don't say things you don't mean."

"I meant it. Mean it."

Your monthly cooking was put off. You also found out just how well Yunho could fuck you. Best friend-turned boyfriend Yunho knew exactly which buttons to push to make you moan.

Yeosang: Yeosang was one step away from buying noise cancelling headphones, and if he had to listen to San's bed frame smack against the wall one more time he was going to use San's credit card to buy the headphones. He wasn't expecting the others to be celibate but he was asking for a little respect.

yeo yeo: guess who is fucking again!!!

you: not you based on the fact that you're texting me!!!

yeo yeo: i'm blocking u :)

you: do it :)

yeo yeo: he can't seriously be that good

you: he's okay

Yeosang shot upright in bed as he read your message. There was no way you, his best friend and the light of his life (and his crush but whatever), had had sex with his friend and bandmate AND HADN'T TOLD HIM.

yeo yeo: you're so fake

yeo yeo: when?

you: few months ago

you: we were fwb for a while but it was nothing to write home about so I didn't tell you

Yeosang called you, paying no mind to the slamming on the wall.

"He's got a good rhythm," was all you said when you picked up.

"Y/N..."

"Yeah it was for about and month and that was all it needed to be. I dunno... It was kinda weird because he's your friend and I didn't have any feelings for him. I'm not sure he and I are even friends so it wasn't truly "friends with benefits". And I learned I don't do casual hookups."

"Oh, so not a waste, then," Yeosang teased. He felt mildly ill at the thought of you having sex with San, his stomach clenching uncomfortably. He tried to push the feeling down knowing he had no right to be upset.

"But," oh, God, why was he still talking, "I could do better."

Your heart jumped to your throat. "I'm not sure why you're not at my place right now."

Yeosang was totally better than San ever was. No offense to San...

Mingi: Mingi had watched for a whole year as you pined after Yeosang. It was hard, especially when Mingi was pretty sure he was in love with you. But he was your best friend, and you were his, so he listened to you whine and complain that Yeosang didn't like you back even when Mingi assured you he did. He had also had the duty of getting the two of you together for a first date.

You and Yeosang had gone on a grand total of three dates before the dates stopped and you and Yeosang just hung out at the dorm or with the others. The pining and crushing had seemed to end, but you never told Mingi why. You just said that it hadn't worked out but that you found you liked Yeosang as a friend. Not a best friend, of course. Nobody could replace Mingi.

Mingi never pried, but he wondered. He wondered when he saw Yeosang and you together, as the two of you laughed, and he wondered when he was overly tired and lacking a filter. Which is probably why he finally asked Yeosang.

"We didn't really have romantic feelings. And we weren't sexually compatible."

Sexually compatible... Mingi probably should have left it at that but he'd texted you instead, despite it being three in the morning. It woke you up.

light of my life: you and yeosang hooked up?

you: it's not hooking up if you were dating at the time right?

light of my life: but it didn't work?

you: obviously not

you: why?

light of my life: why didn't it work?

you: idk mingi probably because your name in my phone is light of my life and i thought about you the entire time

you: goodnight

Not even thirty minutes later the doorbell to your apartment rang incessantly. You pulled yourself out of bed and opened the door to find Mingi, eyes slightly drooping with sleep but otherwise alert.

"You're mad at me?"

"It's not how I wanted to confess, Mingi. Yeosang was helping me plan how to confess to you."

"He knew?" Mingi sounded slightly pained at the idea.

"Yes, Mingi. We went on a few dates but the romance wasn't there. We had sex but were on completely different rhythms. He called it before I did. We're lucky he's our friend, Mingi. He deserves so much."

"We'll send him a thank you card, then."

And then he was kissing you, warm lips pressed against yours and tongue swiping at your lips.

"Can I come in?"

San: San knew what made his friends tick. He knew what foods everyone liked, their favorite colors, he had birthdays written down, and he knew their fears. He knew their partners and he knew their crushes. Except yours, he didn't know who exactly you liked but he took you telling him as a good sign for his own chances with you. He may be your best friend but he also hoped to be your boyfriend eventually.

What he didn't know was that you and Jongho had hooked up once. Jongho wasn't planning on telling anyone but when the boys were teasing him about being a virgin (they knew he wasn't) and San joined in (to be a little shit) Jongho couldn't help but tease San back.

"Ask Y/N. Y/N knows for sure I'm not a virgin."

San stopped immediately as the other boys "ooh"-ed and giggled like prepubescent boys. No way. No fucking way. Did you have a crush on Jongho and that's why you didn't tell him.

The thought stuck in the back of his head, but he couldn't figure out when to bring it up. It's hard to casually say "Hey, Y/N is the reason you haven't told me who you like is because you like Jongho and you're afraid I'll tell him and it's not that you secretly like me and want me to be your boyfriend, right?" Best friend or not, it's a little off-putting to say all of that, bordering on deranged.

But it did come up when the two of you were tipsy and watching reality TV. And it wasn't classy at all.

"Why didn't you tell me you hooked up with Jongho," San practically whined as he draped himself across your lap.

You laughed and carded a hand through his hair. "It didn't mean anything."

"It's because you know I like you."

Your hand nearly stilled, your nails scratching his scalp distractedly as you took in what your best friend and the one you loved most said. You hadn't known he liked you before, instead harboring your own romantic feelings for him to yourself.

"Tell me you like me in the morning and we'll go from there," you replied, turning your attention back to the TV.

Exchanging confessions sober was much more exhilarating. So was the sex that came after.

Wooyoung: Wooyoung often cooks while you prep veggies or sit and watch him and catch him up on all the gossip from your workplace. He never has any idea who any of these people are but he's always enthusiastically listening as you describe the ridiculous email someone sent you or the time your boss let everyone go home early because he was hungover and wanted to go home.

It's a weekly tradition. You've only missed it once when you had a date, which he tried not to feel jealous about. He liked you, as more than a friend, and he always felt the cooking nights were dates in their own right. Your date the one time must not have gone well because you never went on a second or, now that he thinks about it, any other date ever.

The thought occurs to him as you recount the horrifying first date details your coworker had shared with you - including a terrible drunk-induced serenade on the sidewalk - when he blurts it out.

"What happened to that guy you went on a date with that one time? What was his name?"

You clicked your tongue and sighed. "Seonghwa."

"Seonghwa. As in the Seonghwa I know and live with?"

"Do you know another Seonghwa?"

Wooyoung shook his head and put aside the spoon he was stirring the broth with. He lowered the temperature on the stovetop and stared at you, wiggling his eyebrows. "Details please."

"You want me to give you details about... sex with Seonghwa?"

"No way he put out on the first date!" Wooyoung shouted as you shushed him laughing.

"He did! I'm just that hot! It was good sex, but it wasn't what either of us wanted."

Wooyoung tried to catch on to your words but he was trying not to imagine you having sex period because then he would think about he and you having sex and then he would probably pop a boner and damn that would border on embarrassing probably.

"Oh my, God," you totally clocked him, "you're thinking about me having sex right now aren't you!"

Wooyoung didn't blush, but maybe he turned a little pink. "What, my best friend's hot..."

"You've already wined and dined me... just ask me out," you said lowly, not at all teasing.

Wooyoung saw it in your eyes, the way they turned soft and slightly hooded.

"Y/N, will you go out with me? As in a romantic date?"

You and Wooyounng were much more compatible.

Jongho: Twenty questions was for losers according to Jongho. Thank god you and Jongho were losers.

It had started out with you jokingly asking him to play, rattling off three questions before Jongho finally jumped in to make you stop asking him what his credit card number was, what the expiration date on his card was, and if he could tell you the CVV on the back. He made sure to tell you you were a loser for playing, but he asked questions back, too. He would do anything for you as your best friend. Oh, and also because he was in love with you.

"What's your date of birth?" he asked, sighing over the phone loudly.

"You going to ask for my social security number next?" you joked. "Come on! Ask good questions. Ask juicy ones."

You could practically hear Jongho rolling his eyes over the phone. "Who was the last person you kissed?"

"Juicy!"

"You're avoiding the question."

"Mingi."

"What! When?" Jongho yelled.

"It's my turn. Who is the last person you kissed?"

"My mother on the cheek. When?"

"When we may or may not have hooked up last month."

"Oh my, God. You told me you were helping film Mingi's dance practice before you came to see me!" Jongho pushed down the jealousy in his chest. "Are you telling me not to touch the couch in the dance practice room now?"

"Yes and also it's my turn. Are you mad?"

"No." The answer was immediate.

"You sound upset."

"I'm not upset."

"You sound it," you replied softly.

"I'm just a little hurt you didn't tell me. You don't have to tell me everything but you're my best friend and he's also my friend."

"That's the only reason?"

Jongho stayed silent for a whole minute. "No. I like you Y/N. You know that."

"I didn't know. I just hoped you did."

"You can't say that over the phone. I'm taking you on a date tomorrow."

Mingi, when he found out you and Jongho were dating, begged Jongho to get him a gift for getting the two of you together. Jongho offered only a foot up his ass.

Respectfully, of course.

[johns-prince]

John was being honest when he described himself as dead lazy, and so having a partner and bff like Paul was perfect for him since Paul is such a workaholic and can hardly sit still.

John needed a push, someone who could carefully and patiently nudge and drive him along, or at least light the fire under his butt, because if not he could become listless, lethargic, and stuck. I'd say this was pretty obvious during the 70s.

Paul was perfectly suited for John in this, like in so many other ways too. Paul seemed not at all bothered, but quite comfortable with this position in their relationship, as far as I can tell. I'm thinking back to Paul making his way to John's house in Kenwood, that he'd often have to wake John up, this involving cups of tea or coffee. Maybe they did some writing and playing, maybe they didn't, as Paul said it was his way to get out of London.

Or, how Paul, John, and Ringo (sans George) had to do a Christmas recording, and how Paul, the whole time, was gently and patiently urging John on to just do it.

I think they're a perfect encapsulation of their relationship, these moments and memories caught.

They both gave each other a harmless need to compete, and to accomplish, together. I mean I'm sure there were plenty of times Paul's patience wore thin with John, and I'm sure John was very intentional in needling that, but insofar that I can tell, Paul really did have exceedingly, almost near limitless patience and love for John as both a partner and a friend.

John needed that, he needed someone like Paul, who could truly and unapologetically put up with him, and love him, and still want to work with him every day, day and night.

Even when the band broke up, the divorce finalized, and John was both loving and hating Paul in tandem for the next ten years... Paul was desperate to write with John again, and John was desperate just to write, you see.

PLAYBOY: But wasn’t it clear that John wanted only to work with Yoko?

LINDA: No. I know that Paul was desperate to write with John again. And I know John was desperate to write … desperate. People thought, Well, he’s taking care of Sean, he’s a house-husband and all that, but he wasn’t happy. He couldn’t write and it drove him crazy. And Paul could have helped him—easily.”

— Linda on John and Paul in the late 70’s and 1980. (X)

While Yoko was definitely driven and career oriented, that didn't necessarily mean she influenced, inspired, or drove John on herself. Not in the way Paul did. I think that's pretty evident, considering he subsumed himself to "house husband", only occasionally baking bread before even that lost his interest, in which he'd keep to lazing about, sleeping hours on end, and mindlessly watching tv.

John was no house husband, the role he took with Yoko was pretty far removed from his potential, even with Cynthia it wasn't that bad.

With Paul, John even thought of writing musicals, and he apparently wasn't even that fond of musicals—but if Paul wanted to do it, like so many other things, then why couldn't John? If John had Paul, then he could do just about anything and everything, really.

“MM: In the early days, did John and Paul really write together?

MARTIN: Yes, but they also wrote separately. “Please Please Me” and “From Me To You” and “I Want To Hold Your Hand” were undoubtedly collaborative efforts. They’d sit down and literally construct the songs together. I can’t remember the first individual songs, although obviously even before I met them they were writing individually, but if you go through them you can hear which of them are John-oriented and which are Paul-oriented. “Yesterday” is obviously Paul, and that’s an interesting point because it was the first time we ever used anyone other than Beatles on a record. There was no one on that record but Paul and a string quartet.

MM: Did you notice them growing apart, developing distinct personalities?

MARTIN: Paul and John had their own identifiable styles: Paul was the syrupy one and John was the hard one. But the rift wasn’t there then. They were really a unit.

MM: Could you tell me what you think of what each one has done individually since the last Beatles record?

MARTIN: I have great admiration for George. He’s done tremendously because it’s a sort of devotion to duty as far as he’s concerned. We forced him into being a loner, I guess … he could never collaborate with anybody in his writing and therefore when the split came he had more strength because he was forced to be alone. He learned an awful lot about producing, studio techniques, and so on, so that he was able … obviously, any one of them had the power - because they had the money - to spend as much time in the recording studio as they liked, and I know that when George made his album he spent six months doing nothing but overdubbing his own voice 16 times and producing his album. To have the tenacity to do that in itself is something of an achievement, but to go along and actually produce good sounds and good music and good lyrics with it is tremendous. I’m full of admiration for that.

I think the other two have suffered by comparison, because they’ve each indulged themselves in their own way. John’s become more obvious in a way … “Power To The People” is a rehash of “Give Peace A Chance,” and it isn’t really very good. It doesn’t have the intensity that John’s capable of. Paul, similarly with his first album … it was nice enough, but very much a home-made affair, and very much a little family affair. I don’t think he ever really rated it as being as important as the stuff he’d done before.

I don’t think Linda is a substitute for John Lennon, any more than Yoko is a substitute for Paul McCartney.”

— George Martin, Melody Maker Interview, 1971. (X)

John was very partner orientated. He needed someone, whether he liked it or not, and he needed them to need him too.

He didn't like being a husband, but he liked having a wife, someone there for him constantly, who loves him and will care for him. John had Cynthia for that, at the start. John had Pete as his partner in crime, bestest of mates, when they were just kids.

Then, John had Paul, and turns out, Paul just about covered all of that, too, and plus it. A best friend, a coconspirator, a wife, a collaborator, his partner, his rival and his greatest ally and muse. Cherry on top, Paul needed John just as badly, madly. Maybe John never saw it that way, maybe that was why he had his fear, his insecurity that Paul never really needed him as much as John needed him.

“IRVIN: Back then people were very keen on knowing who the leader of the group was…

GEORGE M.: Yes, I was. When I first auditioned them I said, “Who’s going to be the leader, is it John or Paul?” Such an odd couple really, because they were diferent and yet very similar, both had big egos, both very good songwriters, but they needed each other like mad.

IRVIN: Did they really like each other? It wasn’t just a competitive partnership.

GEORGE M.: Oh no, they loved each other! They were brothers, and like brothers they pissed each other off quite a lot. John could be maddening at times, Paul can be very bossy and even more maddening and George would get fed up with both of them. But they did love each other and adored what the other did and had an incredible bond.

Paul always took inspiration from John, especially in his lyric-writing. ‘Eleanor Rigby’, for example, wouldn’t have happened without John’s influence. Paul wrote all of it but John’s influence was there and similarly John was knocked out by the freshness Paul brought to melodies and harmonies. He learnt from Paul how to put in the odd chord that choked you up a bit.”

— George Martin, interview w/ Jim Irvin for Mojo: Sir George Martin: The Mojo interview. (March, 2007) (X)

I think I've gone off tangent, but the point of this was to say, John was dead lazy, vastly intelligent and talented, but very prone to sloth. Paul was a rather perfect stopper to that. He could whip John up, get him moving, shaking, ever patient and ever loving, just the right enough of mean, bitchy and stubborn, smart and quick tongued, to meet John toe-to-toe. Like a house on fire these two fired each other up, talk about all-consuming and intense.

They were pretty perfectly matched for each other.

“It was like a tug of war. Imagine two people pulling on a rope, smiling at each other and pulling all the time with all their might. The tension between the two of them made for the bond.”

— George Martin on Lennon/McCartney (X)

[synnamon-hearts]

Hiii! I absolutely love your work!! It’s almost my birthday!! & I would love love love for a josh fic where he’s just being super sweet but treats her like a slut cause that’s what she wanted.

thank you so much!

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

I don't do fics often anymore. Buuuuut because it's your birthday soon and you flatter me—

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Sweet N Nasty

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Pairing: Josh Washington x Fem!Reader

Description: Your soft and loving dom, Josh, finally agrees to give you something you have wanted for a very long time...

Warnings: 18+, smut, fluff, P In V, creampie, choking, rough smut, mirror sex, degradation, praise??? Soft!dom!Josh (Let me know if I missed any!)

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Happy birthday, anon! Or belated birthday. I'm sorry it took so long to get done. I'm not really used to doing fic requests anymore so it took some time to get me back into it. But I hope it was what you were hoping for and I hope that you enjoy it. 🖤🖤🖤

Oh how long it took you to get here—to convince your boyfriend what you truly wanted. Josh was so unsure at first. “I love you and I don't  want to treat you like you are anything less than you are to me.” He proclaimed to you many nights after you confessed your desires. And after many nights and many hours of discussion, you are finally getting what you crave.

You are kneeled before him, all skin bare for only his eyes to see and observe. The hopeful eyes of you gaze up at his tall, broad, and naked form. He was always so much bigger than you but he seems like a giant from this view. He made sure the setting was just right in your bedroom tonight, bed already made and lighting down to a nice dim hue. It was perfect for the moment. He was always so good at setting the mood for any scene you both played out in the past.

Josh approaches you, a subtle sway in his stride as he takes each heavy step in your direction on the floor. He is already in the dominant and controlling mindset he needs for this kind of act. But when you are finally at his feet, the cold and darkened gaze in his pale blue eyes softens as he reaches out and touches your cheek with such tenderness.

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” He whispers, the soft and wobbly tone in his voice showing his slight hesitancy to continue. He has never done anything like this before—let himself get this way with you. And if he is being honest, he is a little confused as to why you want such behavior from him.

The corners of your already wet and ready lips turn up to form an excited grin as you nod your head in confirmation. “Yes, Josh. I'm ready—I'm ready for you.”

He closes his eyes once your needy words greet his ears, a low groan rumbling in the back of his throat telling you that it affects him greatly. It is all he needs to feel ready to do this with you. And suddenly, a small ounce of that doubt he feels dissipates. If this is something you want so badly—something you crave—then he won't be one to deny you of it. After all, his girl will always get what she wants. Especially on a special day like today.

With a subtle gesture of his finger, he beckons you to stand. So as a good girl would, you listen and quickly rise to your feet. With one quick swoop of his arm around your waist and a hand to your throat, Josh picks you up and moves you across the room so quickly that you barely have time to comprehend what is going on. When your eyes open, you see a mirror before you. You stare back at yourself through the reflective glass momentarily before your eyes roam upwards to meet Josh's.

“Alright, little girl. Here's the rules: You will watch yourself this entire time—watch how much of a slut you are for my cock.” He growls low and roughly, his dominant persona now taking over. “You will obey these rules, understand?”

You nod quickly, forcing back a cheeky smile due to the fact that you are finally getting what you have wanted all this time. With the new rules set in place, Josh moves a hand down between you two to line his throbbing tip up with your hole. He enters you slowly from behind, letting out a trembling breath as he pushes every inch into your canal. You bite at your lip, trying hard not to moan like a pornstar already. Though you know it is something Josh loves oh, so much. But you won't let him have that just yet. Oh no, he will have to work for it.

Once he is filling you to the brim, he retracts his hips before pushing in again with more force. You almost fall forward—face nearly clashing with the glass before you—but Josh is quick to tighten his arm around your frame, pulling you close to his chest to prevent any accidents from happening. He finds himself a steady rhythm and watches your reaction through the reflection, enjoying how your lips turn all pouty as you moan or how your beautiful eyes go all watery and lidded with delight from all the pleasure he is thrusting into you right now.

He removes his one hand from your throat and to the wall beside the mirror, using his strength as leverage so he could pound into you at just the right speed to make your eyes roll. And that he does, his tip hitting that sweet spot deep within over and over with each thrust as his fingers on the hand that holds you leaves bruises on your side. He can't help but growl through his ragged pants for breath, feeling much more aggressive than usual. So he moves his arm from your torso to wrap his hand around your throat once more, forcing you to keep your eyes on yourself.

“Look at you; such a beautiful girl.” He whispers as he presses his chapped lips to the shell of your ear, leaving soft kisses between words. “Who would have thought that such nasty thoughts would lay behind these sweet eyes. I really do bring out your inner ‘whore’, hm? So fucking perfect.”

You could see him peering over your shoulder, his eyes piercing into your very soul through the reflection on the glass. The room is filled with the low rumbles made in your lovers throat and the slutty moans of you as he fucks you wildly, his hips not once faltering or losing their steady pace. You watch the scene play out—how your face is flushed from the heat of the moment and the pressure of his hand on your throat, how your eyes water from the intensity of the moment, how your body shivers in delight each time his cock drags through your walls to ignite each nerve in your core like striking a match. He knows exactly how to make you tick.

“Come on, slut.” He removes his hand from the wall to slap your ass so hard it instantly leaves a mark. “Cum for me, beautiful. Come on.”

The contrast between sweet and nasty is exactly what drives you over the edge, sending you into a blissful state. You tremble violently in his arms as he embraces, his touch now tender again. In fact, he holds you as though you are the most fragile little thing in the world for him. The look of you in this moment—all fucked out and exhausted by his cock—it's all he needs to find the release he has been holding back just until you've found your own. It has always been exactly what he needed.

His slightly chapped lips find gentle purchase on your tear-stained cheek, and then your other cheek, and then your forehead, and then your nose. He peppers you in the softest kisses his lips can bring forth. He knows you wanted the rough treatment—to be made feel below what you are, a slut for him to use—but he needs to make sure that you know that it was only a game. You mean the absolute world to him. It would destroy him if something he did made you doubt that even a little bit.

So for several minutes afterwards, he holds you, swaying back and forth slowly as you both watch yourselves in the mirror. He brings his mouth to your ear and kisses its shell, allowing his warm breath to linger on it momentarily before he whispers in words that drip utter love and adoration.

“Happy birthday, beautiful. I love you.”

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭