#and it's next to the coffee shop he works at.. but he's on thin ice there cos he doesn't always turn up for his shifts 😬

[rebouks]

Tristen's place.. He likes collecting retro & not so retro music players, and he spends a lot of time in bed... 🎶💤

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

The Meetup

《Part 2 for Next Caller

《Pairings:College!Eddie Munson x shyfem!reader

《Summary: After your call with Eddie, you can't get him off your mind. You promised yourself to let your fears go and finally speak with him in person. Some things don't go as originally planned because Eddie just so happens to walk into your coffee shop.

《Warnings:fluff,smut. 90s!Eddie, a little tiny bit of dry humping, oral ( female & male receiving) dirty talk, pet names (good girl, sweetheart) phone sex, masturbation (male). Sex toys (fleshlight)

Word count: 7.7k

A/n: Please reblog like and leave a comment to show support. Not proofread ignore any mistakes you come across.

Disclaimer: Please read part one linked at the top to understand the rest of the story.

Mini series masterlist

18+ minors dni

Almost a few days after the stunt, you pulled on the radio with Eddie it didn't take long before word got around on campus. It's all anyone could talk about they wanted to know who the mystery caller was, and Eddie seemed to be cornered more so than usual. As people surrounded him, he wished maybe one of them were you. Hiding amongst the crowd of people.

Anytime a woman called in, his assistant would jump out his skin. He knew he should have shut it down the moment it started, but he trusted Eddie. Now, anytime the phone rings, he instantly goes into a frenzied panic. Eddie just laughs at how over dramatic he was being. He knew if someone called in trying to pull the same stunt as you did, he'd turn them away. He's not gonna tell his assistant that, though. He likes how jumpy and absolutely horrified he gets when there is a female voice on the other end of the line.

You still listened in every show since that night. Almost every time someone called in, they would either want to do what you did or want to talk about you. One thing that pretty much kinda bothered you were some of the girls calling and pretending to be you. Sometimes, you felt like it was bait, and someone was just trying to get the real "Miss caller" to give away her true identity. Much like how tonight was going, if you were tired of it, you can only imagine how he must feel.

"Yeah hi its me calling you back." An unfamiliar female voice spoke.

"Nice try, you don't really sound anything like her, buh-bye." His voice etched with annoyance as he hung up on the fifth woman of the night.

"Anyone want to call in and talk about I' dunno sports?" He sounded absolutely over it.

"I'm fucking desperate over here."

He emitted a long sigh into the mic. "Can someone call in with an embarrassing or some shit?"

You begin to drown out the sound of him talking as he tries to move along the segment.

You felt bad you truly did for what was happening to him now. You don't regret choosing him to help you, but you wish the circumstances were a little different. You hope he didn't hate you for this. You don't think you could live with yourself if he did.

Eddie on the other hand couldn't get you off his mind. You infested it, and no matter how hard he tried to think of over things, you creeped your way back in. He dreamt of you, and every dream was the same. He could hear you speaking to him, but right when he got close enough to reveal who you were, he'd wake up.

He got absolutely chewed out by his boss that following day. His show was close to being taken off the air, but once they saw how much buzz it was getting, they decided against it. He was on thin ice, though, when it came to how raunchy his segment was allowed to get. The conversation made local news in your town, which created more concerns for you.

The thought of someone figuring out how to trace your call back to your home terrified you to no end. Could they even do something like that? You don't know and definitely don't want to find out. Eddie did make a promise to keep you anonymous, but that didn't mean everyone else who worked there did. You try to push the paranoia to the back of your mind and just put all of your focus on school and work. This whole situation should blow over shortly you hoped.

Even with all of the chaos at your campus right now, that still didn't persuade from wanting to go see him play Thursday. Which was perfect timing since your roommate was going out of town that same day. Leaving you to an empty home all to by yourself. Who knows, maybe you'd get lucky and take him home. It was wishful thinking on your part, but still, it could happen.

Little did you know you didn't need to wait that long to see him after all. As you just rang up a customer's coffee order, he was next in line. He was too preoccupied looking at all the coffee options on the menu to see he's the next one to in line. You cleared your throat to get his attention and he looked right at you.

Your heart felt like it was in your throat when his eyes met yours. He looked very good today, making it much harder for you to focus. He had his hair pulled back and wore a oversized black corduroy button-up shirt with black ripped jeans. He gave an apologetic smile for holding you up.

"Uhhh, sorry, I really don't know what this shit means." He laughs, pointing back to the menu above.

Your mouth goes dry, and you try to play it cool.

"Well, what kind of coffee do you usually like?" You asked, trying to forget about who's standing before you. He's just some guy you kept reminding yourself.

He pressed his lips in a thin line, "Well, i usually don't drink coffee. if I did, I guess I wouldn't want it to taste like ass."

"So whatever you suggest."

You giggle and smile, turning to look at the menu as well. "I'd suggest maybe a vanilla latte. It's pretty basic."

"I'll take whatever you tell me to." He holds his hands up in surrender. "I'm putting all my faith in you."

"Wait a minute, are you implying im basic?" His mouth agape throwing a ringed hand over his heart pretending to be offended.

He was toying with you hoping to get you to laugh but instead you panicked.

Swallowing hard." N-no...its just a pretty standard drink to order."

"Hey, it's cool. I'm messing around." He reassured.

"Oh..um okay well then."

You try to regain your composure as your face begins to tingle.

"Okay, and what size? Small, medium, or large? " You asked him, trying to hide the fact that you're rapidly about to lose your mind.

"Oh, I need a large."

You nodded, putting in his order and ringing him up. He stands there a moment too long, and it's making you a little nervous. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

Your eyes grow wide, and you quickly turn to look away.

"Nope." You shook your head.

"You sure? You seem so familiar to me." He bends down on his elbows leaning on the counter. He's trying to examine your face to remember where he knows you from.

"We may have a had a class together at some point." You shrug.

"I mean yeah--but I don't know there is something else." He continued staring while you ran around behind the counter, putting away fresh croissant.

The longer it took for his latte to be finished, the more anxious you got. He wouldn't stop looking at you. You wanted to tell him it's rude to stare, but you don't. He kept trying to make small talk with you, which didn't help your nerves at all. You kept stumbling over your words or clearing your throat because it was getting dry.

You took a breath of fresh air when they finally called his order number. He took his coffee and waited around until you came back. "So, uhh, I don't know if this weird, but you wouldn't be apposed to going on a date with me?"

You blinked twice trying to figure out if you just heard him correctly.

"Come again?" You ask in disbelief.

"Oh, well, I was wondering if I could take you on a date?" He repeated as a small blush creeped along his cheeks.

"Yeah, sure. I mean, I'd love to." You tried to keep your cool, but on the inside, you were jumping for joy.

His smile grows ten times wider when he hears you accept his date. "Great, write down your address and phone number so we can keep in contact."

You nodded and ran to grab a pin and paper, giving him all of the information he needed. He also wrote down his number to give to you as well, just in case you needed to get in touch before your date.

"Cool, how's Friday sound?" He asks, taking the piece of paper you handed him. "Friday sounds great, actually."

"My names Eddie, by the way." He added motioning to himself.

He smiled again, taking a sip of coffee as he began heading for the door. He turns to look at you one last time before leaving. "I'll see you Friday, pretty girl."

"Thanks a latte." He joked, holding up his cup before finally exiting the coffee shop. His face scrunched up with embarrassment as he turned to leave. Why the fuck did I just say that? He thought to himself as he practically chugged down his drink, heading to his first lecture of the day.

You're standing still behind the counter, frozen in place. Did that really just happen? That fast? You started to think someone was pulling a prank on you. Maybe everyone did find out you were the caller and decided to mess with around. No, Eddie doesn't seem like the type of guy who would do something like that, you thought. You just couldn't get over how easy that was, a little too easy.

The week went by way too fast for you, and the closer it got to your date, the more anxious you became. You wanted to tell him so badly it was you who called. Would he even still like you after that? He seemed just as eager to meet you as you wanted to meet him. Doesn't really matter now. You'd tell him eventually anyway. Especially if this date goes well.

You didn't see or hear from him too much during the days leading up to Friday. You figured he was very busy since he still was doing his show on the radio and playing with his band. On top of attending classes, he seemed like he didn't have much free time. Which is why you didn't cancel on him like you were probably going to. After you thought about it for a while, you realized he definitely was making the time to take you out.

Eddie called you a few times to check in and see if you were still willing to go out with him. He'd make small talk to ask how you were and if your classes were going well. He'd crack a joke or two, making you laugh easing your mind of any self doubt you had before.

Now that it was officially Friday evening, you quickly left work early to go home and get ready. He said he'd be come by eight o'clock to pick you up, giving you a few hours to decide what to wear. You searched through each article of clothing hating every single piece. You know deep down he doesn't care about what clothes you're wearing. He asked you out while you were in your work attire. With your coffee stained apron and dumb hat.

Still, you wanted to look nice for him, and you don't get out much as it is. So you opted for just a simple black dress. Dowsing yourself in a sweet perfume and putting on a pair of heels. You pray you don't end up falling and busting your ass in front of him tonight. You were shaved, plucked, and smelt of vanilla and spice.

You were just putting the last touches to your makeup on when you heard a knock at your front door. You did a last mirror check, making sure everything looked well put together. You take a long, deep breath and exhale before you go to open up for him.

When you opened the door to greet him, he was standing there with one hand in his pocket. While the other is holding a bouquet of flowers. He wore a black pullover sweater with the sleeves pulled up to his elbows, revealing his tattooed arms. His dark curly hair loose around his shoulders, and he smelled like mint and tobacco. His smile widened when he saw you for the first time since your last meeting. His dimples on full display, and you couldn't help but melt a little. "You look beautiful."

"Thanks. You don't look too bad, either." You smile, stepping out to stand closer to him. "Nah, I just wanted to impress you."

He blushes, and this is the second time you've seen him do that. He gave a boyish smile and handed you the bouquet of flowers he picked. "These are for you, sweetheart."

"Thank you." You reached out to accept the flowers. "They're beautiful."

There is a moment where you both don't say a word and just stand there gazing at one another.

Eddie cleared his throat. "Shall we?"

You nodded, closing the door behind you and making your way to his van. He walked next to you with a hand on the small of your back. He moved past you quickly to open the door and help you get into the passenger seat. Eddie made his way to the driver side and hopped in no longer after you.

The drive to the restaurant was fairly quiet except for the music playing on Eddie's radio. He humed along, tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel to the beat. You both steal glances here and there when the other isn't looking. Your heart beating a mile a minute.

Eddie seemed calm and collected, but on the inside, he felt just the same. Usually, he was pretty confident around women, but there was something about you that made his heart skip a beat. He doesn't know what it is that pulled him in so quickly. He's not complaining one bit either.

You finally see the restaurant up a head and sigh in relief. He pulled up and parked in the front. He made you wait there while he jumped out of the driver side to jog over to help open up your door. You took his hand and carefully got out while trying not to flash anyone in the process. You wish the dress you finally decided on wasn't so short.

You make your way inside where a hostess greets you both and guides you to a table in the far back. You sit across from one another while she handed you a menu to look over. A waitress soon comes by to ask what drinks you'd like, and you both settle on a Dr pepper.

She returned not too much longer to take your orders and set down your drinks. You and him seemed to be in sync tonight since the both of you ordered a burger with onion rings on the side. Once she took your order, she left, leaving you alone together again.

"So I'm gonna ask a boring question and say what do you enjoy doing for fun?" He playfully asked, taking a sip of his soda.

"Uh, well, I haven't been having much fun lately with work and school taking up my time." You confessed feeling a little embarrassed you don't live an exciting life you imagined he did.

"You don't hang out with friends or go out?" His brows furrowed.

You play around with a piece of paper on the table, avoiding his gaze. "Uh, well, I don't have that many friends here."

"I mostly just keep to myself and stay home a lot." You continued on.

He frowns. "Boyfriends?"

You shake your head, trying not to even think about any of your exes at a time like this.

"You know what? I'm sorry. I shouldn't ask about boyfriends while in the middle of a date." He gave an apologetic smile.

"Hope he doesn't mind sharing you for the night, though." He winked, making you laugh.

He seems to enjoy making you laugh when he notices you're uncomfortable or getting shy.

The waitress finally arrived back with your food, and you didn't hesitate to start eating immediately. He watched you with amusement and started eating right behind you. The longer you both talked, the more relaxed you became.

You were already familiar with him and found a form of comfort when listening to his show. But being alone with him felt different. You never thought this moment would come. You almost wanted to cry, thinking it was just some elaborate dream that you'd soon wake up from. The date was going amazing so far, and you never wanted it to end.

"So, um, how's your show going?" You ask him, not wanting to seem like he was the only one asking the questions.

"It's good..well actually I'm in some trouble, but they'll live. More people are listening in now, so I think the money will shut them up." He openly admited, shoving an onion ring in his mouth.

You raise an eyebrow "in trouble for what?"

You already knew but wanted to hear him say. You kept wondering what he thought about that phone call. Even if it might hurt your feelings, you were dying to know. Your curiosity always got the best of you.

He shakes his head. "Maybe I'll talk about it on our second date."

You giggle, finishing off the last bit of your dinner. "What do you like to do for fun?"

"Well, I play DnD when I have extra free time, I play with my band at the bar by campus." He frowned a little at the mention of his band.

"Sadly, we probably won't be playing much together here very soon." He adds.

Changing the subject quickly, not wanting to bring the mood down. "Girlfriends?"

"No girlfriends."

He eyed you up and down, grinning wide poking his tongue on the inside of his cheek. You swear you could see a little twinkle in his eye.

He leans forward, getting awfully close. " You almost ready to go?"

"Um sure, yeah." You respond a little sadly, not wanting the night to end so soon. He waves for the waitress to bring over the bill. Once he was done paying, you both got back in his vans.

The van ride back to your place wasn't as awkward as before, but there was something electric in the air. There is too much tension between the two of you. It felt like the silence was lingering until one of you decided to make the first move.

He pulls up in front of your home and helps you step out of the passenger side. Both of you walking up to your front door, not speaking. This was your chance to invite him in. You thought to yourself. "I had fun tonight."

"Yeah, me too." He smiled, putting his hands back in pockets.

You look up at him and whisper. " Do you want to come in?"

He paused for a moment, hoping he heard you correctly before answering. "Yeah, I'd love to come in."

You unlock the front door and take his hand, pulling him inside and guiding him to your bedroom.

The moment he was finally in his lips, crashed onto yours in a heated kiss. The kiss was sloppy and passionate as your tongues fought for dominance. Your lipstick smears on his mouth. He breaks away to move down your jaw and nip at your neck right under your ear. He nibbled and sucked at your tender skin, causing your knees to buckle. You grabbed onto his biceps, holding on tightly to keep your balance.

He stops to look at you in your eyes. "You wanna get undressed for me?"

You swallowed hard and nodded.

"Words, pretty girl." His voice is low and husky.

"Yes." You panted.

Eddie reaches around to unzip the back of your dress, letting it pool around your feet. He squates down his face mere inches from your heat. He looks up at you through his long lashes. He kisses your tummy right above the waistband of your panties before reaching to grab your ankle. He brought it forward to unclasp your heel. Your hands grip onto his shoulders, steadying yourself. He tosses the shoe to the side before moving to the next one and doing the same.

He stands up, reaching around your back again, unhooking your bra, and letting it fall to the floor, exposing your breasts. Your nipples harden in the cool air of your bedroom. You watch him as he takes his shirt off, exposing his bare chest to you. You notice tattoos you've never seen before. One of a faded demon on his peck and a black widow right under his clavicle. "Be a good girl and lay back on the bed."

You hesitate for a moment as your mind is already feeling hazy. You turned to slowly make your way up the bed, laying back against your pillows. You watch as he took his boots off and unbuckeld his jeans, letting them hang low on his hips. He seductively crawls his way up until he is hovering above you.

You push on his chest. "Umm....I don't think it's a good idea if we have sex."

He sit back on his knees. "Want me to leave?"

"No, we can do other stuff. I'm just not ready to do that." You confessed.

"Hey, we don't have to do anything you don't want to." He reassured you, bringing a hand to gently cup your cheek.

You let out a shakey breath, feeling a little more comfortable . You were worried he would be mad at you, but he wasn't.

"If you don't like anything I'm doing, don't be afraid to tell me,okay?" He's being sincere, you can tell. He wanted you to feel safe with him.

You nodded again. "Okay, i will."

"Good." He smiled and leaned down to give you another kiss to your lips.

He brought his hips against yours grinding his hard cock against your core. You moan in his mouth when his cock applies pressure to your clit over your panties. He pushes against you harder, causing him to grunt. He moved to lay by your side, pressing his front right up against you. His fingers dance and play with the waistband of your panties. You can feel his prominent buldge pressing against your outer thigh. His calloused fingers slowly slips past the delicate lace. You can feel him brushing past your clit. He carefully glides his middle finger in between your wet fold, collecting your slick on his finger. Ignoring your aching bud in the process.

"Fuck you're so wet." He murmured against your mouth.

He pushes one finger inside your entrance, pumping it agonizingly slow. Your head falls back, giving him the perfect opportunity to attack your neck. He nips and sucks on the skin by your ear. Biting, licking, and sucking while his finger is knuckle deep in your pussy. He adds another stretching you open around his thick fingers. His thumb pressing firmly on your clit. You squeezed your eyes shut and let out gasp.

"Think of my cock pretty girl." He whispered curving his fingers upward.

"Mmm!, s-so good." You whimper.

That's all you could respond with your mind completely gone. All you could do was focus on how he seemed determined to make you feel good. You feel him smile against your neck when where his lips were leaving feather like kisses all over. You clench around him as his fingers start working on that sweet spot on your walls.

"F-fuck." You let out a strangled moan bucking your hips.

He grinds his cock against your thigh. "Feel that?"

"Feel how hard I am for you?"

You look up at him with big doe eyes."y-yes I can feel you."

His picks up the pace, his fingers plunging in and out, making your head spin. Your pussy wet and loud taking his middle and ring finger. The tightness in your core building with each pump of fingers. Your moans getting more pornographic. His warm breath on your neck making you squirm.

"You're such a messy girl. My hand is getting soaked." He purrs in your ear.

He ruts harder against your thigh, violently rocking your bed.

"Can I taste you?" He rasped.

You let out groan. "Please"

You swallow hard as your heart feels like it's beating out of your chest. You're already breathless. A small frown forms on your face when you feel his thick fingers leaving from inside of you.

"Ah ah, no pouting." He wiggled his index finger at you playfully.

No one has ever done this to you before. None of your exes cared about your pleasure they only wanted to get themselves off and then leave you to handle the rest. Eddie was the first man to help you cum and now he's going to be the first man to taste you. All of your ex boyfriends were selfish lovers. Which brought on so many insecurities you've been working hard to overcome. There was a part of you that didn't want him to keep going, but there was another part that was telling you to let go and enjoy it.

He gave you one last deep kiss on your lips before moving and kissing his way down right above your sex. He looked up at you again, and his pupils were blown out with lust. He never breaks eye contact as he slowly drags your panties down your legs. He sits up higher for a moment, admiring your naked body spread out before him. You went to close your legs, but he stopped you. "Let me see you."

Thats all you needed to hear before spreading them wider for him.

He cursed under his breath, closing his eyes, trying not to attack the moment you show yourself to him. "I'm gonna make you feel so fucking good."

He dips down again, his face so close to your pussy now. He hums in approval when he sees how soaked you are for him. Your slick dripping down to the curve of your ass. He kisses the inside of your thighs, testing to see how much you can take before you're begging him for more. It doesn't take long before you're already impatient. He nips and sucks at the soft skin, making you buck up against his face. His nose nudging your throbbing clit.

"Patience, sweetheart." He laughed.

You buck up again, wanting desperately wanting his mouth.

Without warning, you feel his warm tongue licking a long strip between your wet folds. You sucked in a breath, never having felt something like this before. "OOh!,Eddie." You mewled

He pulls you down hard against his face, grunting against you. He sucks and laps at your folds, letting your slick cover his face. You grind against his mouth, throwing your head back against the pillows. Your legs go to squeeze around his head, but his strong hands hold them in place. He takes his tongue to flick across your clit making you wriggle. His mouth attaches to your sensitive bud, and he sucks on it softly. You went to push his head away as the sensation is too much. He removed his mouth, checking see to see if you're okay. "You okay?"

"Why'd you stop?" You whined.

He smiled before reattaching his plump lips to your clit slurping and flicking his tongue over it. He watches as you writhe above him. His eyes never left you as he almost seemed mesmerized by the sight before him. You've never felt this desired by anyone before. Your hips bucking as you grind on his face as he begins sucking harder on your aching clit.

You grip the blankets beneath you. "i-im getting close."

His removes a hand from one of your thighs and carefully pushes one finger inside your entrance. You grab and pull on his hair, making him grunt against you. He adds another finger, curving them upwards to stroke that sweet spot on your walls.

Removing his mouth for a moment "Yeah is my good girl gonna cum?" He asked quickly reattaching his lips to your sore clit. Your backing arching off the bed as you pull on his hair some more.

Your walls pulsating around him as his fingers pump in out of you fast. His mouth sucking on your clit harshly as his fingers plunge deep inside your pussy. The wet noises his mouth is making as his tastes you, mixed with the squelching of your pussy fill the room.

He's lapping away at you, getting lost in your taste, driving you absolutely wild.

"Mmphf! Don't stop." You begged him.

You feel that all too familiar tightness building again, and you clench around his fingers. Your legs are twitcing and trembling. You're breathing harder than before. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your orgasm washes over you fast, leaving your body to shake. Eddies mouth never letting go of your clit. While his skilled fingers work on your pussy helping you ride out your orgasm.

He removes his mouth and fingers from you tenderly, not wanting to hurt you in any kind of way. His face glistening with your slick and his lips look swollen. He moves to lay next to you on your bed. You're slowly coming down from your high. Your breathing evening out as you come to. You both lay there in silence for a few minutes.

"Can I taste you now?" Your voice sounding small as you asked.

"Fuck." He murmured under his breath.

"Yeah, you can taste me." He whispers back.

Moving to sit back between his legs, you reached to take off his pants off. He helped you by wiggling them down his legs and discarding them to the floor. You notice how painfully hard he is in his boxers, and you lick your lips. Hooking your fingers in the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down. His his cock spring free hitting his belly button. The head an angry red leaking precum down his shaft. He hisses when the cool air hits sensitive his tip. Your eyes widened at the size of him. You now know he was telling the truth. He was big, and you don't know how you're gonna be able to fit all of him in your mouth.

He grabs it, giving it a few light strokes eagerly waiting for your mouth. Precum still dripping alongside it, getting on his hand.

"Don't be shy." His voice low and deep just like how he spoke to you that night on the radio. "I hope you'll let me be inside you one day."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? He bites his lip, waiting for your response.

"Yes." Your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyebrows raise, and a cocky grin spreads across his face. "You felt so tight taking my fingers. I can only imagine how you must feel when I'm spreading you open."

"Just thinking about you taking my cock. The little noises you'd make as you're begging for more."

He presses his thumb on the leaking slit his mouth forming an O shape at the pressure. The veins along his shaft are prominent from the amount of blood rushing to his cock.

"Making you cry because it feels so good." He's breathing heavier while eyeing you in front of him. He wants to get you worked up until you can't take it anymore. Teasing was his favorite part before anything. He didnt even have to touch anyone before he had them begging to be fucked in some type of way.

He kept going on. The way he was speaking to you brought you right back to the night you called him. You squeeze your thighs tightly together, desperate for any small amount of friction.

"Gonna think about that tight pussy when I'm cuming down your throat." His voice deep and seductive. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Hes thinking about all the ways he'd fuck you. Imagining what your pretty tits would look like with his cum is dripping down them. Filling you up with his cum and watching it dripping out after removing his cock.

Watching him stroke his cock as he thinks about fucking you makes your pussy flutter. You wonder what he must feel like. The feeling of him stretching you open. You're getting tired of him taunting you. You needed to taste him now.

You smacked his hand away, replacing it with your own, giving it a few more light strokes. You move your thumb to press down on his tip. He grunts and bangs his head back against your headboard. You bend down to give the head of his cock a quick peck. You remove your hand and spit into it as you grasp his thick shaft, rubbing it up and down lazily. His mouth hangs open as relaxes and enjoys what you're doing.

Moving your mouth closer, you kitten licked at his tip, tasting his precum. His thrusts his hips as you continue teasing him like he did to you earlier. You take the opportunity to pull away and spit directly on his cock earning you low groan deep from his chest. You begin to suck on the head of cock. Using your spit mixed with his precum as a lubricant to continue stroking his hard length with your hand.

Gliding your mouth down his length until he's hitting the back of your throat, making you gag a little. You removed your hand, resting them on his thighs. You try relaxing your throat while taking as much of him in your mouth as you can. He wasn't even all the way in, and he's already has you gagging. Tears leaking from your eyes smudging your mascara.

"Oh! fuck!, c-careful, sweetheart." He coaxed you.

Drool spilling down your chin as you try to take more of him in your throat. You attempt to keep him back there and focus on breathing from your nose. Sucking lightly on him, you pull him all the way out and swirl your tongue around his tip. "Hmm! your mouth feels so fucking good."

Your tongue wet and warm teasing the head of his cock. Eddie does everything in his power to not push you back down on his length.

He breathed heavily. "Shit! I-I not gonna last if you keep doing that."

Removing his cock from your mouth, creating a loud pop in his absence.

"you like it when I tease your cock eddie?"You asked in a sultry voice.

You wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine.

"Look who's not so shy afterall." He taunted you

You don't know what has come over you suddenly, but having him here in your bed tonight gave you a boost of confidence you never knew you had.

Putting the head of his cock to your mouth sucking it firmly almost forcing him to answer. "Y-yeah I like...I like the way you're teasing me."

You slip his length back down as far he could go in your throat, swallowing around him.

Hearing him like that only spurred you on more. Sucking his cock a little harder than before. Your head bobbing up and down faster. Your other hand moves to cup his balls, and he jerks at the feeling. The sensation of you massaging his balls and your mouth working on his cock practically sends him into a coma of bliss. His abs flexing and his toes curl. His entire body glistened with sweat. "Shit i-im gonna fuck... I'm gonna cum."

"You're gonna make me cum." He panted above you.

With a few more pumps of your hand and mouth sucking harder on his length. You feel his cock twitch and he's shooting his cum deep down your throat. Some spilling out and leaked from the corners of your mouth. He moans out loud and holds your head down until he's finished. You tried to swallow as much of him as you could take. Your mouth not leaving until you're collecting every bit. " S-sweetheart, please."

You let him go with a long string of saliva connecting you to his cock, his cum dripping down your chin. You collect it on your fingertips, bringing it to your mouth, not wanting to waste a drop. Sucking your fingers clean enjoying the salty taste of his cum.

He goes limp as he comes down from his high. His eyes glossed over watching your every move as you lick his cum from your fingers.

You moved to lay back next to him as you wait to see if he will soon leave. His chest rose and fell calmly now, but his head was still foggy. You don't want him to go, but you understand if he does.

"Thank you for tonight" you turn to smile weakly at him.

"No problem." He snorted.

There is a long, drawn-out pause, and you decided it time to tell him your secret.

"Um, I have something to confess to you." You're nervous, and he can tell.

He sit up straight and looks over at you, concern etched on his face. "Yeah? "

"Well, umm, I was the one who called you that night.....on your show." You confessed, looking down, playing with your thumbs.

He blinked, taking in what you just said. Not really sure if he heard you right or if he's still a little dazed.

"Are-- are you serious? " He sounded a little harsh, but he didn't intend to. That night was all he could think about since it happened. You were all he could think about. He lost hours and hours of sleep coming up with different possible scenarios on how he would find you. Who you could possibly be.

"Yeah. Are you mad?" You look over at him, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

His face softens immediately when he notices. "Are you kidding?"

"I've been thinking about you ever since." He sprang up on his knees with excitement scooting closer to you.

You wipe at your eyes and laugh when he takes your hands into his. The fear that was building up moments ago slowly fading away."Really?"

"Oh, you're definitely not getting rid of me now." He exclaimed.

"So, do you maybe want to go out again?" You shyly asked.

"Fuck yeah I do!" He celebrated clapping his his hands together.

You laughed at his excitement. Making you feel so much better now that you got that off your chest. No one has ever made you feel like this before. You felt like you've known him forever even though you just met in person. "Can I call you... like all the time?"

"Yes, absolutely you can." You giggle.

"Hope you don't mind late night ramblings and bad puns," He advised.

"I love bad puns."

He laid back down next, throwing an arm around you. The both of you stayed like that for the rest of the night. Staying up for hours laughing and telling each other stories about your life. You wish you and him didn't have to ever leave this bed.

Another couple of days have passed, and you really haven't heard much again from him since your date. You were starting to think he was just saying all of that stuff because he thought it was something you wanted to hear. You tried not to think like that and just chalked it up to him being extremely busy because he was.

He did talk about you a little bit on his show but never mentioned you were also the mystery caller everyone has been gossiping about. You listened in biting at your nails when he talked about going on a date with a cutie from the coffee shop across from campus.

Eddie never once talked about hooking up with you, and you're grateful for that. He didn't use your date as a way to have another story for his show. He genuinely wanted to take you out and have a nice time. He didn't hook up for a new story to keep his segment interesting. Most of the girls he was with actually asked him to talk about it. Otherwise, he never would have done it to begin with.

You sat on your bed feet dangling over the side, contemplating if you should just bite the bullet and call first. You don't wanna seem desperate, but you also really want to see him again. He agreed to go on another date with you. Since you haven't heard much else from him, you don't want to come off pushy.

Maybe you should call first? Let him know you're equally as interested in him.

You snatch up the phone and the little piece of paper he gave with his number on it. Putting in the digits and waiting for the dial tone to start ringing. You felt like you were waiting forever, but it's only been a few seconds. You were almost ready to hang up and pretend this never happened until you heard him answer.

"H-hello?" He panted into the phone.

He sounded like he was currently in the middle of something. What that something is you don't know yet.

"Hi, it's me....just wanted to call and check in with you." You spoke softly in the other end.

"Y-yeah, uhh, I'm doing good." He stumbled over his words.

He sounded out of breath, and now you're really hoping you didn't interrupt him. Especially if he has company at his place. The thought of that makes you feel a little sick. You're not dating him and barely even know him. You shouldn't feel this way even if he did have someone over. "I can let you go. You seem a little busy."

"Wait, don't hang up!" He exclaimed.

He ponders for a moment on how he can keep you on the other line.

"Wanna help me...with... something? " he asked with a nervous laugh.

You swallow hard before answering. "What do you need?"

You hear him curse under his breath in your ear. Low grunts can be heard, and it doesn't take long before you can figure out what's going on.

"W--wanna talk to you while I fuck this toy." He breathed heavy.

You go to lay back on your bed playing with the hem of your pajama shorts. You know what he wants you to do. Since he helped you out, you might as well do the same for him. It's only fair, right? The last time you did this, hundreds of people were listening. This time, it's just the two of you. Making the situation more intimate, but it also helps take the edge off.

Eddie was currently balls deep in his fleshlight when you called. He just got out of the shower hair still wet and sticking to his body. All day long, he kept thinking about you. He's been painfully hard and wanted to see if he could come over to your place again but didn't want to be so forward. He didn't want you to think he was using you to get off. He really really liked you and hoped there could be something more between the two of you. So he was going to do what he normally would and take of it himself. That was until you called him, and it sparked a little idea in his brain.

He was leaning back against a wall with one hand on a chair next to him, trying to keep his balance upright. Lube was all over his toy, leaking out onto the soft curls between his legs and balls. He glided the toy up and down his length at a steady pace trying not to cum so soon already. His mind races with vivid thoughts of you.

"What do you think about when you do that?" Your voice coming out so small in his ear.

He smiles to himself. "Well I--was thinking about you."

"Like, what exactly?" You played innocent.

Eddie knows what game you're playing, and he has no problem going along with it. He pulls his cock almost all the way out of the toy only to slam it back down hard causing him to groan loud. His legs almost giving out from under him. He pulled out the chair next to him and plopped down.

Biting his lip to stifle another moan.

"Thinkin' about you squeezing around me." He breathed heavily in your ear. "Wishing this was your pussy instead of some..F-fucking toy."

Sinking his cock back inside making a loud schlick noise you can faintly hear in the phone. Pumping his cock while his other hand runs along his abdomen. He's trying to balance the phone between his shoulder and cheek praying he doesnt drop it. His face and chest flushed a crimson red. He lets out a loud moan when he thrusts upward. "Ooh! Shit!"

"Did I feel good?" You purred into the phone.

"God yes--- so fucking tight. the way you hugged my fingers when i was knuckle deep inside you."

You squeeze your thighs together involuntarily, and you can feel a wetness pool in between your legs. You bite down on your lip hard listening as he fucks himself while talking about you. You want to touch yourself so badly. Your nipples hardening under the sheer thin material of your tank top.

Pumping his cock faster in the toy, lube splashing all over his pelvis and wrist dripping down onto the of floor. He's making a total mess and he doesn't care. He thinks about how messy he could make you.

You interrupt him from his thoughts

"What do you wanna do to me?" You whisper.

"Fuuuck, I wanna do the nastiest things to you." His voice ragged.

Moving the toy up and down his cock as he spoke in the phone, trying to keep It balanced as best he could.

He lets out whimper, "Wanna fill you up with my cum and clean it out of you with my tongue."

"W-wanna..fuuuck...wanna cum all over those pretty tits." He's panting and grunting louder in your ear.

....."Yeah?" You cooed.

"Make you cum in all sorts of ways you never even imagined you could."

He legs kick up, and his stomach tightens. He was getting close but didn't want this to end, not yet.

You're still lying in bed, looking up at your ceiling. You never thought you'd have this burst of confidence yet again, but it's different with him. You don't feel ashamed of anything. The way he's coming undone just by talking to you only made you never want to stop. You felt empowered.

There is a throbbing ache between your legs that you desperately want to take care of. You try to ignore it and put all of your focus on him. You wiggle around clenching up. Doing anything to ease that ache.

"Tell me what you think about you when you touch yourself." He breathed.

"You think of me?"

"Yeah," you muttered quietly.

"So tell me." He commanded gently.

You stammered. "I um, I think about what you would feel like inside me."

"Oh yeah?" His voice getting low.

Goosebumps prickle all over your skin when he does that voice. You squirm in your bed just thinking about that night he used it when he helped you cum over the phone. It was domineering and seductive.

"Mmhm, you're so big." You whimper.

"I don't think I could fit all of you."

"Fuuuck." He groans

"You wanna feel my cock struggling to stretch you open? Is that it?"

You whined into the phone. "Yes, I need it so bad Eddie."

His cock steadily plunging in out of his toy in a brutal pace. He's getting closer to his release, and the phone drops with a loud thud in your ear. His other hand moving to cup his balls mimicking how you massaged them. His hips thrusting up and all you can hear is the squelching sound his cock is making in the toy.

"Oooh shit!" He groaned louder. With a few more strokes and he's spilling his cum inside the toy. Still pumping his length, milking himself of every drop. His cum spilling out and coating his balls. He lays there in the chair, head falling back before realizing he dropped the phone. His head all foggy, and his vision is blury.

He went to get up, but his legs gave out, and he fell back down.

"Shit"

"Fuck"

You heard him cursing from afar. You laughed to yourself, knowing he probably had fallen down.

"Hang on!" He called out

He leans over and reaches out far to snatch up the phone off the floor. His breathing is ragged when he goes to talk. "I've never came that hard in my life."

Smacking a hand on his belly he changes the subject.

"Okay, so what were you originally calling me about? " He asked still panting in the phone.

"Umm, well, I wanted to see if you were still up for going out again....Maybe?" You closed your eyes, waiting for his response.

"Yeah, actually, you know my band is playing Wednesday. Why don't you come see us." He said matter of factly. Like you didn't just help him jerk off on the other line.

You don't understand how one minute he can say some of the most dirtiest things to you and the next be totally nonchalant. All you want to do now is hang up and take care of the ache between your legs.

"I'd love to!" You accept his offer excitement etched in your tone.

He lets out a laugh. "Great, it's a date."

Before you both go to hang up, he stops you.

..."Oh, and thank you for helping me this time." His tone sultry.

Your eyebrows shot up, and you gulp. "No problem--it was fun."

"Goodnight, Eddie." You said sweetly.

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

You both stay on the line, neither one wanting to be the first to hang up. Eventually, you had to hang up first since it seemed like he wasn't going to be the one to do it. You roll over on your side, trying to relax and ready yourself for sleep. Your mind racing with excitement that you're finally going to see him play.

Maybe after your date, Eddie can take you back to his place this time. The ache between your legs was not subsiding. You needed him, and after your date, you decided it was time to have him.

[synthetickitsune]

Milk Swirls Of Destiny ✧ y.jh

Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x reader (gn) Genre: coffee shop au, fluff Summary: Yoon Jeonghan is mildly inconvenient at best and infuriating at worst. He's somehow the worst and the best coworker you have. Definitely the most annoying. Word count: 6.8k Warnings: food mentions A/N: he just lives rent free and his pretty best friend too and @hanniedream is holding me hostage in brainrot (aka being my partner in crime and emotional support and muse here) [series masterlist] [next chapter - wip]

“Aaaah… I see now. Hm…” Jeonghan swirls the cup slightly, a look of concentration on his face.

“What- what is it?” the girl standing on the other side of the counter stumbles over her words. She’s looking at him with bated breath. Her hands are clasped together as if she was praying. As if she was looking at something holy. You scoff quietly and roll your eyes once you turn your back towards them. Like there’s not enough work to do.

“Look here,” Jeonghan says and points to the squiggly line where he messed up the milk pour for a flower design. His face is the mask of seriousness. “See the waves? Clear sign of turbulent times ahead. But it smooths out eventually - it looks a bit like a star here, see?”

No. No, it doesn’t.

“-That means you’ll succeed. Just hang in there.”

The girl seems on the verge of tears as she takes the cup from Jeonghan, clutching it with both hands as she thanks him relentlessly. It’s only after a couple minutes that she finally walks off with what has to be a cold and disgusting latte. 

You understand trying to predict the future from coffee grounds, tea leaves, whatever, but to do so from a milk pour in a latte made by a barista who couldn’t pour a heart if his life depended on it? 

“You’ll scare off the customers with that sour face,” Jeonghan nudges your ribs with his elbow once he comes stand next to you and finally starts helping you with the backed up orders.

“Yeah, and the thin ice you’re dancing on will break under you one day when the customers start complaining about their coffee being cold by the time you’re done with your little fortune teller charade,” you snap back. He snickers.

“Someone’s grumpy,” he hums, “I’m here now, we’ll have these done in no time.”

You’d like to believe him. You really would. But you’re annoyed and you know it’s only a matter of time before he runs off again.

It’s not his fault that the new guy called in sick last minute. The boss knows that it’s better to have at least one more person behind the counter whenever Jeonghan is working - partly because he’s busy with his fortune telling side hustle and partly because he brings in a lot of customers. A lot of customers. And without fail all of them become annoyingly obsessed with him, it’s only a matter of time. It’s fine as long as they only come in and stare at him, it’s the ones who have to have their coffee made by him and have him read their fortunes. Like he’s not just making shit up. You’d swear you saw some fan pages dedicated to him online. 

You guess the traffic he brings to the cafe is the only reason the boss is okay with him doing his thing and leaving the rest of you to struggle.

For now though, you work efficiently and neatly together. Working with Jeonghan, when he is doing his actual job, is always smooth. You don’t need to talk to get the orders to the waiting customers fast. At times like these you only have half a mind to cringe at the winks and apologetic smiles he sends to his flock of lovesick fans. Sometimes you want to tell him he’d get even more tips - like he’s not already getting a ridiculous amount - if he let his fingers brush against theirs, but whenever you open your mouth to do it, you can’t. Your stomach twists when the words make it to the tip of your tongue. It must be because you couldn’t witness that without gagging.

“See? We’re doing so well,” he hums proudly, and you fully intend to give him a genuine smile back. You really do. That is until you see the customer he’s handing the cup to. He frowns a little at the way your face falls and your lack of reaction. Before he can say anything, though, the girl squeals: “You’re the one who can read the future, right?”

It honestly looks like she’s meeting an idol. To be fair, Jeonghan has all the predispositions to be one and has the professionalism to match. You’d think the flustered but excited smile he gives the girl is genuine if you didn’t know any better. He always gives them conspicuous smiles like his role is a secret between the two of them. Like he feels seen by them. You sigh, your smile purely professional while you hand the glass to the other customer and simply motion towards the straws and sugar packets. And then you rush to work on the next drink.

Jeonghan breaks character for just a second to give you an apologetic smile - which you pointedly ignore. You’re too busy. Just one scan of the growing line and pool of waiting customers is enough to tell you Jeonghan won’t be helping you any time soon.

And eventually, any time soon turns into well after rush hour, with the most dedicated - and delusional - fans forming a line of their own just to get the most useless fortune reading of their lines. 

It’s honestly admirable in its own way that he acts with the same dedication with all of them, no matter how many there are. Right now though, you finally get to sit down and can’t be bothered to try and think anything good about him. You feel abandoned. Betrayed.

You know you’re the one being dramatic now, but you can’t help it. Your social battery is drained. 

You didn’t even get to go on lunch break - you couldn’t leave the other newcomer, Chan, there alone. No way he could handle both taking and making the orders. He hasn’t even been properly trained for that yet. And it feels like Jeonghan slacked off the whole time. Honestly you had no idea how this could be profitable for the owner but hey, it’s her business and not yours.

You’re still sulking when you finally take off the apron and your work shoes. Even walking to the station and walking home doesn’t seem appealing right now, but you really need a nap. And a nice warm meal. Still, you can’t find the energy or will to pack your stuff, so you’re just zoning out for a couple minutes. Which turns out to be a mistake.

The door flies open to reveal a disheveled Jeonghan. His hair is a mess, like he’s been the one getting through the rush. Once he sees you, however, he breathes out seemingly in relief and smoothes down his birdnest of a hair with his free hand. In the other he’s holding a cup of something iced. 

“I thought I didn’t make it,” he smiles at you, carefully coming closer. You heave a long and exhausted sigh.

“Leaving all the work to the others again?” you say, and although you try to sound unbothered, there’s a bitter edge to your voice. He frowns a little, turning his head towards the door for a second.

“I made sure no one was there when I left,” he shifts his weight, “And I just wanted to bring you this. As a thank you and a sorry.”

He offers you the cup in his hand and you take it. Or you’d like to before he steps a little closer and his eyes fill with that mischief you’re so used to seeing during his interactions with the customers.

Not this again…

“If you look here,” his finger draws a swirl above the transparent lid, “See how it looks like those curls want to tie together? A clear sign someone’s trying to court you. And they must be close.”

While he explains, Jeonghan keeps his eyes on the coffee but once he’s finished he looks at you. His gaze is so hopeful, so so hopeful, and you remember it working on you the first couple tries. It gets old after a while, though.

“Yeah, thanks for the coffee,” you shut down his efforts and take the cup from him, “For what it’s worth, I’d prefer for someone to have my back when it’s busy.”

“I’m sorry,” Jeonghan blurts out. He frowns again when he sees how resigned you look, licking his lips uncertainly. “I’m sorry I made you do all the work. I didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, I bet you didn’t. Like you didn’t mean to on Monday, or last week, or literally any other day we were short on people,” you roll your eyes. Finally you get the motivation to take your things from the locker and leave. 

“Arguably, the cafe being short staffed is the issue here,” he says almost sheepishly - and visibly regrets it the moment you scoff and set the coffee down to cross your arms on your chest. “What?”

“‘Being short staffed is the problem’ yeah - yeah you can argue that and lose the fucking argument because we only need the extra person because you’re no fucking help,” you snap at him, throwing your bag over your shoulder and slamming the locker shut after hurriedly throwing things in. Jeonghan opens and closes his mouth, the corners of his mouth downturned and eyes wide. “Goodbye Jeonghan. See you Friday.”

You push past him and leave, waving at the poor cashier left stuck here with him. 

Jeonghan looks after you until the door closes and the loud noise makes him jump. He looks at the cup left behind, dripping water on the bench. He groans, sitting down with his head in his hands. He rubs his face, knowing he shouldn’t linger here. You might be gone, but his chest feels tight anyway. Now more than ever, like he’s just proving you right by wasting his time here where he is of no help to anyone.

He picks up the cup sadly and takes a small sip. It’s the best one he made, it shouldn’t go to waste. It’s just the way you like it, your favorite he thinks, yet it doesn’t make him feel any better or like you’re still here with him. 

When he returns to the front, a customer has just finished ordering - an older man, and Jeonghan immediately proceeds to prepare the order. His mind is blank but his heart feels heavy. You didn’t even taste the drink…

“Did you seriously just disappear to the back to drink your coffee?” Chan whisper-yells at him after he hands the order to the customer. Jeonghan is about to argue but then he realizes how pathetic he’d sound and just laughs.

“Eyy, I returned just in time, didn’t I?” he bumps his hip against the newbie’s. 

“Dude, you’re just flirting the whole day. Me and y/n did all the hard work, do you really think you’re the one who deserves a coffee break?” his coworker sighs and takes a rag to wipe down the counter. His smile falls immediately and suddenly it’s hard to swallow.

Way to go, Yoon Jeonghan…

Although you don’t work with Jeonghan again until today, you can’t say you feel any better. It’s not like you hate the job - actually you quite like it. The pay’s decent, the boss is fine for the most part, and your coworkers are all nice people too. At the same time you’d lie if you said you wouldn’t rather stay home and sleep and that your stomach doesn’t feel uncomfortably nauseated just thinking of another shift with Jeonghan. Your only hope is that it’s Friday and those usually aren’t as busy in the area. And it’s your last shift for the week. You can do this.

You wash your face and pray. There’s not much else you can do.

The least you can do is to use your limited control over the situation to take the last possible bus so that you make it in time. So you do. Every minute of peace counts. And although it does make you anxious to imagine being late, it’s not like you come late regularly - you never did, actually. So not a big deal. Maybe it’d show Jeonghan what it feels like to be all on his own.

For a while longer, you let the world fade into the background with music blasting in your headphones. It’s easier to ignore people if you can’t hear them. You push it, only giving Chan and Joshua behind the counter a friendly wave to greet them while you pass them. 

You push it further, opening the door to the staff room. You keep the music on until the last moment, until you open your locker and pull out your shoes and stuff your things in, and then you have no choice but to turn the music off and return to reality.

The first sound to reach your ears is annoying high-pitched whining complemented by a fluff of blond hair buzzing around you.

“You’re so mean,” Jeonghan complains, “Are you ignoring everyone today or just me?”

The temptation to just keep your mouth shut is so strong but you never learn. You still have hope that today will be better. And then you’ll need to get along with him. You’re closing the place together too…

Luck seems to be on your side for now, however, and lets you keep him waiting without any need for an excuse.

“My condolences, y/n. He’s so annoying today - he kept bugging us at the front before you came,” your savior, Joshua, declares right as he comes in and heads for his locker.

“Hey-”

“Are you leaving Chan there alone?” you quirk a brow at the newcomer while you change your shoes and throw on a fresh apron. It’s mostly just an excuse to ignore Jeonghan for a bit longer. But also it’s not like Joshua to skirt his duties.

“He can handle himself for five minutes,” he shrugs, “He’s a quick learner and it’s basically empty.”

You hum and snicker, “So was Vernon and you know how that went.”

Joshua shakes his head with a laugh while Jeonghan, very much cosplaying a fluffy and persistent bee, hovers closer to you at the edge of your vision.

This is a conversation he could join in but he doesn’t want to join in on a conversation you have with Joshua - he wants to talk to you! Alone! 

“Aren’t you supposed to be clocking out?” Jeonghan snorts in the direction of the other man. Joshua smirks, leaning against the lockers.

“Aren’t you supposed to be clocking in? I bet there’s already a line waiting for you,” the other never backs down from whatever Jeonghan throws his way. It’s impressive. It’s what he likes about the guy. It’s a challenge and he enjoys one. Even now, he’d bite back - oh, he would. But from the corner of his eyes he can see how your face falls just a little.

“Well, they can all wait because first, I’m gonna do a very exclusive reading for our dear y/n here,” he can’t let you see him weak and he can’t lose, and by changing the direction, he’s definitely not-

“Nah, thanks, I’d rather Shua does it,” you smile at the other man.

Now it’s turn for Jeonghan’s face to fall. Not like you will notice.

(It feels like a dagger to the back. The boss had this big idea of having more people on rotation for those readings, and with his acting skills and similarly mischievous personality as well as good looks, Joshua was the obvious choice. Jeonghan poured his heart into teaching him. Their back and forths were on another level, Joshua truly was the perfect student and the only one who could possibly match Jeonghan’s skill. Unfortunately, Joshua is also fucking crazy and his readings were anything but the wholesome, uplifting messages meant to comfort and heal that Jeonghan is trying to hand out. So in the end, Jeonghan alone is the chosen one.)

Joshua laughs back, throwing out a casual “anytime” that makes Jeonghan gag.

“y/n,” he whines, propping his chin on your shoulder - and he knows it’s just the surprise that stops you from immediately shrugging him off but whatever - “But he’ll just tell you you’re gonna grow a third eye or something. I’ll give you the truth.”

“If I had a third eye, I’d be able to see when we’ll get busy so I can, I don’t know, slip and break my leg and go home,” you roll your eyes and now you shrug him off and he pursues his lips more. 

Is it really that bad?

“We’d miss you here, you’re one of the good ones,” Joshua smirks at you and checks his watch, “Time to go! Good luck, both of you.”

Jeonghan hears you grumble something along the lines of ‘like he needs it’ way too clearly. He lets you walk in front of him, so he can sigh without you noticing. Joshua pats his shoulder while he passes him and gives him a kind smile. He hates how easy it is to like the guy.

Fortunately the cafe remains virtually empty when you come out, so you greet Chan again but with a genuine smile for a change. He seems to notice and beams at you too.

“Shua said you did well today,” you hum, trying to warm up to the newest addition to the team. Safe for the dude who’s still sick and you haven’t seen before. You don’t even remember his name.

“You know Shua, he’s just kind,” Chan dismisses, but there’s a happy sparkle in his eyes. One that is very much missing in Jeonghan’s - a fact which goes unnoticed.

He goes through the motions of cleaning the counter even though it’s sparkling clean. He refills the beans even though the container is full. He checks the labels and everything is in order…

“What’s up with him?” the cashier nods towards him. You shrug.

To be fair, Jeonghan works hard. Usually he’s pretty cheerful too, but now he’s just a lifeless husk and you wonder if it has anything to do with you basically ignoring him. Maybe you were too harsh on him when he was just being friendly.

“Anything needs a refill? Do we need anything from the back?” you slide closer to the man in question and take the rag from his hands. He looks surprised but before you can even blink, he’s smiling at you and smirking mischievously.

“Are you hinting I should go get it myself? That’s so mean,” he grumbles. He’s giving you a very convincing kicked puppy look but it’s not like there’s anything he needs to convince you about. Safe for his competency maybe, but that would take much more than him acting cute.

“I’d do it myself. This is just me giving you a chance to pull your stuff out.”

He grimaces a little, as if he forgot about it. Still he thanks you quietly. This one you can’t blame on him; it was just another of your boss’ bright ideas.   

‘Jeonghan’s stuff’ is really just a cloth, a nice deep shade of purple with golden embroidery of sun and moon and some more astrological motives that he spreads out on the area of the counter where he does the readings. It’s also an assortment of crystal candy handmade by Minghao.

(Minghao is only a part-timer and has the least hours of all of you, and occasionally you somehow go the whole month without seeing him once. You wonder if it has anything to do with the time he needs to make the candies.

They don’t match the cafe’s vibe - they look too luxurious, especially next to the plain looking macarons, roll cakes, cookies and other goodies - but they do fit Jeonghan’s vibe.

They’re delicious too, so you hope that whatever is Minghao’s contract doesn’t change. Although he could give out employee discounts.)

Anyway, Jeonghan’s corner isn’t much, and thank god it’s not flashy, but it’s a little extra something for whenever Jeonghan’s working. You usually notice some of his groupies peeking in through the front window to check if his stuff is out. It’s also a good way to tell if the day will be a good one or not if he’s in.

“Found something we need from the back?” Jeonghan joins you right as you’re finished going through the supplies.

“No, I think we’re good. Shua usually leaves everything ready for the next shift anyway,” you hum, double checking the dates on everything just to be sure. Not that you expect to find anything amiss.

“You’re so nice to him.” You roll your eyes at him before you can stop yourself, which Jeonghan takes a personal offense to. “I always do my best too!”

“Yeah, but Shua is just more reliable,” you shrug. Unswayed by his sulking, you keep working around Jeonghan, who follows you while listing all the nice things he’s ever done for you. You catch Chan watching you from the side and laughing. 

“If you have nothing better to do-”

Just as you’re about to find a task to give to the youngest, the doorbell rings and in walks a pair of friends. Their giggling and badly hushed squeals tell you everything you need to know.

“Better get in the character,” you say, already giving up, and move on to the cake display and check the temperature. The display cooler is new, but after the fiasco that was the last one you want to make sure.

“What do you mean by character?” he puts a hand over his chest. He’s already acting, though. “I just have powers nobody can explain.”

You scoff, almost bumping into him while he keeps shuffling on the floor. He’s just doing it to get on your nerves at this point.

“What the hell?” you hiss at him quietly.

He looks at you for real. The look in his eyes is close to desperate when his gaze flicks towards the girls and then back to you, standing conveniently between them and him. You only laugh a little. It’s ridiculous how dramatic he’s being, and you wonder why he has to be this eccentric all the time.

“Not ‘hell’, they’re powers from a higher good! And I wasn’t kidding yesterday,” he remains serious - whatever his version of serious is anyway, “There’s someone really close to you who’s interested in you.”

You don’t really want to indulge his delusions but since he’s still behaving like a child seeing his least favorite relative and the girls are taking ages ordering, you decide just once won’t hurt.

“Yeah? Tell me more,” you say simply.

At this point he’s basically cornered against the counter and the girls keep looking your way. There’s very few options left how he could cower from them. He seems more focused on you, however, delight written all over his face.

“Literally so close that when you realize you’ll feel so stupid you’ll want to bang your head against a wall.”

“Already do,” you sigh.

You might say that but there’s something charming about the way Jeonghan tenderly holds onto your sleeve, the way his head isn’t buried in your shoulder but you feel his every breath on your skin anyway. He’s careful not to press himself against you and you appreciate that, even though you’re long since you used to people being squeezed together behind the counter on the busier days. His current position makes your work much harder nonetheless. Though you suppose you’re just making yourself look busy at this point.

Not that you’re not grateful to Joshua, but damn, couldn’t he leave at least something for you to do without customers around?

“Yeah? Any guesses who could be your secret admirer?” Jeonghan whispers. The girls are paying already and you have no idea what he's hoping to accomplish. They’ve seen him already when they walked in and they see him now.

Fortunately they sprint over before the silence after his question gets long enough that it’d demand you to answer.

Like somebody flipped a switch in Jeonghan’s brain, he springs us from behind you and greets the girls at his corner, asking them for just a moment to let him work his magic.

You join Chan in Jeonghan-watching while he works after he sends you away to prepare the order himself. Not that unusual, although you’d like to have something to do so that the shift passes quickly. It always pleases the fans, though, and this time too it doesn’t fail to make them swoon over his long fingers, his tongue flicking out to wet his pretty lips, or the bow tied on the small of his back that looks so cute and accentuates his slim waist. It’s always this way. You think you learned what they’re into quite well. And it’s not difficult to see. 

You’re just more used to it now.

“Do you think my training could include some one-on-one with him?” Chan whispers to you, “I mean I have no problem getting a date if I want to-”

“You must be really against dating right now then,” you can’t resist teasing him. You have no idea if he’s dating or not, but you suppose if he wants Jeonghan’s help of all people, he must be desperate. Then you remember he’s just a newbie. He doesn’t know him well yet.

“Hey!” he punches your shoulder lightly, “It’s just- He’s on another level, okay?”

“I guess,” you murmur, “But he’s still as single as us, so he must be a loser beyond getting a number.”

“You think so?” he tilts his head, “Makes sense.”

“Yeah, so you just do you.”

Fridays tend to be slower, what with most of the students from the nearby university preferring a club to a small cafe by the time the end of the week rolls around, but it’s just as well. At least you get to show Chan how to do things properly whenever a learning opportunity comes around and for once it’s Jeonghan who has his hands full with work. So much so that both you and the cashier help - at least when all the customers are waiting to get their coffee and reading.

There’s not much you can do to actually help, but whenever you slide the plated desserts on the counter, ready to be matched with the coffee, prepare the boxes for the takeout orders, or you hand him a cup only waiting for him to mess up the milk, he gives you a grateful smile. You think that when your fingers brush occasionally, he might be doing it on purpose - occasionally here being an understatement, but it doesn’t happen all the time either. Whatever, you suppose that’s his own way of saying thanks. 

Slowly, though, even that crowd starts to thin out. 

Back when he used to work here, Seungkwan would always say that seeing Jeonghan and getting a cake were both a sweet treat for the students coming here on Friday evening. 

You wonder if they’d think of him as sweet if they were forced to work with him and deal with his whining.

It’s not that you want to entertain his quirks when you let him rest his head on your shoulder after the place empties. It’s just for now. And when you pet his hair whenever he sighs deeply, you’re just being a supportive coworker. It’s just that he really did work hard.

Jeonghan’s other shenanigans and the shit he puts whoever is unlucky enough to be on the shift with him through make it easy to forget the effort he puts into what he does. All the talking, making stuff up on the spot, the creativity that requires. You don’t think you could ever match that - especially with your social battery being as faulty as it is. And whenever he can, he insists on preparing the orders entirely by himself - and whenever he abandons you to the rest of the orders, even this is a big help. He never really complains either, his sighs and whining are mostly for attention.

Perhaps you’re too harsh on him sometimes. He doesn’t have it easy, just the same as you. 

“We’re almost done,” you pet his hair one more time and wave goodbye to Chan. For the remaining two hours, it’s gonna be just you and Jeonghan. The man on your shoulder doesn’t bother to lift his head and blindly waves as well.

You look around the cafe, empty safe for a single man at the table in the corner. He looks like he’ll be leaving soon too. It’s a relief, especially after the catastrophe that was your last shift together.

It’s been a while since you last closed with Jeonghan, however, so you can only hope that in the little time you have left he won’t do anything that would sour today’s experience. 

“If we start now, we’ll be finished sooner,” you whisper to him, and finally he raises his head. Over the couple months you learned that nothing motivates him quite like the prospect of going home soon. At least one thing you have in common.

“Do you want to do the clean up here?” Jeonghan suggests, but his tone couldn’t be more hopeful that you’ll say no. You huff and shake your head.

“It’s fine, I’ll just do the lobby and help you out when I’m done,” you grant his wish. Truthfully you don’t really care either way. And at least on lobby duty you get to have some space and walk around.

He thanks you cutely, promising another free reading just for you - which you immediately decline, but you know better than to expect him not to go through with it.

The time you have left passes in a breeze. Barely anyone comes in and when they do, they usually take their coffee to go. Stars really must have aligned for you today. Thus you get to wipe down the tables and the counter, clean the bathroom and sweep the floor before it’s officially closing time. You’re so excited by how lucky you’ve gotten that you don’t mind Jeonghan’s victorious smirk when you automatically take over some of his tasks once the clock strikes the closing time. After all it doesn’t matter that he gets to go home sooner when it’s a win for you too.

Once again you’re amazed by how smoothly you work with him. It’s an effortless flow without the need for words. Sure, the tasks you’re capable of doing on autopilot, but whenever you help out the others, it’s never this simple. 

“Thank you,” Jeonghan smiles at you once everything is done and you join him at the back after checking again that you haven’t forgotten anything. 

“Don’t mention it,” you return the smile and stretch your arms above your head, closing your eyes in bliss. You can’t wait to be home.

“No, I will - I promised, didn’t I?”

You don’t like his tone. You really really really don’t like his tone. Allowing your arms to go limp, you let them hang beside your body. Your eyes stay closed.

“Come on, it’s nothing bad,” his voice softens. Maybe you get why he’s so popular. Or maybe it’s late and you’re tired.

When you open your eyes, there’s a small cup of ice latte being held out to you. You frown but he just chuckles. “I kept it in the fridge.”

“And I was wondering why you were acting so weird,” you sigh but you take the cup - or try to, only he doesn’t let go. “Not again.”

“If you look here,” he dismisses your protests. His fingers are cold against yours. “That line and this line are almost one, see? Your secret admirer is closer than before. You should take your chance.” 

You try not to smile but you do anyway, tired and resigned to your fate. “Anything more?”

“Yeah, actually if you follow this… You’re not listening, are you?” Jeonghan pouts when he realizes that you’re not looking at the coffee at all. He holds your gaze.

“Thank you, I really appreciate this,” you finally manage to slip the cup from his hand. You immediately take a long sip, you need something to get you through the way home. It’s good, great, but that’s no surprise. He might not be trained in latte art, but he makes good coffee.

“What are you going to do about your admirer though?” he wiggles his eyebrows at you. You give him a long look and note the discrepancy in his body language and his voice. He sounds playful, the upward curl of his lips give off that feeling too, but he seems tense otherwise. His eyes seem nervous. The late hour must be getting to him too.

“Wait,” you shrug, then elaborate when he gives you a confused stare, “I’m not into this kind of game, Jeonghan. If someone likes me, they shouldn’t be hiding it.”

He looks caught off guard, his mouth hanging open slightly.

“That is - if there was a secret admirer. I’m not buying your nonsense,” you push his shoulders and turn to your locker with a satisfied smile to take your things and stuff the rest in. Finally you silenced the great charlatan Yoon.

“Hey, my predictions always come true,” he bounces back quickly, “The customers tell me all the time.”

“You literally tell them the most generic shit,” you roll your eyes, shutting your locker, “Look, it was really nice today, so let’s not fight.”

He opens his mouth with, displeasure tugging at his lips. There’s a moment of tense silence before he eventually settles on a short dramatic monologue about never being taken seriously by close minded people like you. You watch him while you sip the coffee and check your watch. There’s enough time before your bus comes and now that your last shift of the week is over, you feel relaxed enough not to mind his company.

You make sure to lock up the place and have Jeonghan check that it’s actually locked. Just to be sure, despite the teasing that follows. There’s no malice in his voice, if anything he looks fond and nudges you with his elbow, reassuring you that he only finds it cute.

Sipping on the coffee while you walk, you enjoy how peaceful the night is. The street is empty, safe for the two of you, but you know it’s not gonna be that way once you reach the main road. For now, though, you actually feel quite comfortable chatting with Jeonghan. He's good company when he’s not infuriating.

“So anyway, I won them the whole game,” Jeonghan finishes boasting about his recent outing with Joshua and the new guy you have yet to meet - apparently he’s called Jun and is hopeless at basketball.

“Sure you did,” you snicker. Just to see him whine and try to persuade you he’s not lying. Although unexpectedly you have to admit that seeing him act out some complicated moves without the ball is both amusing and strangely impressive. He never striked you as someone as athletic as he seems to be. 

“Alright, alright, I believe you. Don’t hurt yourself, you’re working the weekend, aren’t you?” you laugh, holding him by the elbow to stop him from more demonstrations. 

“Yeah, jealous hm?” he frees his arm from your hold and throws it around your shoulders. You scoff and shrug him off. 

“Not really, the older I get the more I value my free time over money,” you push him away when he moves too close again. He just laughs at the annoyed glare you give him.

“You know I think your secret admirer is tied to the cafe, so maybe you should come in. Make sure there’s someone to grow old with you,” he hums thoughtfully, but the look in his eyes lets you know he actually means the suggestion.

“No thanks, I’ll be happy not to see the place for a few days,” you wave him off. The ice clashes together as you shake the almost empty cup. Just in time. The main street is already in sight and with it, the bus stop too. Only a few minutes now and you’ll be on your way home, spacing out with your music. “Also you’re more obsessed with this idea of a secret admirer than me. Maybe you should confront one of yours.”

“What do you mean?” he stops walking suddenly. You stop too, your brows furrow on their own. He looks the most serious you’ve ever seen him. Actually serious.

“Your army of fans, duh,” you shrug, keeping your tone playful to hopefully lighten the atmosphere, “I bet every single one of them is in love with you. They’re not exactly discreet.”

He puts his hands on his hips and takes a deep breath, then exhales just as slowly. If it wasn’t him, if you didn’t know him as well as you think you know him, you’d be scared. Even so you watch him warily.

“I don’t care about them,” he says plainly, “It’s fun for the job, but I don’t care about anything beyond that.”

You swallow uneasily, watching him stare at you with an unreadable expression.

“I was just kidding. I’m sorry,” you apologize. He must notice how uncomfortable you feel because he runs a hand through his hair and gives you a small smile.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he catches up with you, “I just take my magic very seriously.”

You burst out. You’ve had people call latte art magic. Never the fuck ups. At least Jeonghan seems relieved to see you laugh too and you can continue the walk comfortably again.

For someone who spent the day making shit up, he has enough inspiration to keep going. By the time you reach the stop and the bus comes into view, you have tears in your eyes as Jeonghan keeps exaggerating and telling you, very seriously, about the inner workings of his magic and deals he had to make with different deities to acquire his powers.

He only shuts up when the bus stops in front of you and the doors open.

“Thank you for today, Jeonghan,” you babble through fits of laughter, “It was great.”

“Thank you too,” he smiles gingerly, “And don’t laugh at me. Or you’ll make some powerful enemies.”

“I don’t doubt that,” you shake your head, “Bye now.”

“Bye.”

You get on the bus and take a seat by the window. Jeonghan doesn’t move from his spot, you see him get smaller and smaller as the vehicle takes off. 

Despite the coffee, you feel tired. Tired but happy, you realize. You wipe your eyes and chuckle. If only every shift could be like this.

You keep grinning even as you put on your headphones and start the music. The glass is cold against your forehead and you hope it’ll keep you from falling asleep. Although you suppose it wouldn’t be so bad now that you feel this content.

The weekend passes by way too quickly. The bed remains unmade and the couch remains a messy nest of blankets and pillows, although that’s hardly surprising seeing as that’s where you spend most of the time. Some chores got done, some didn’t, but you tell yourself that’s fine. You’ll just do them before or after work, it’d be pointless to waste your completely free days on things like that. Starting on Monday sounds better than starting on Sunday night.

Some part of you feels guilty about not being more productive, but when you lay down in bed, you realize that you hold no tension in your shoulders and you remind yourself you’re not a machine. You need to rest too. Chores will wait. Being productive will wait. What needs to be done isn’t going anywhere - the time you get to spend on your hobbies is.

You settle in bed and set up the alarm for tomorrow. You don’t work until afternoon and you’re going to bed early, but you’d rather be safe than sorry.

Staring at the ceiling, you don’t think you’re gonna fall asleep any time soon, but that just can’t be helped. Just closing your eyes should provide some rest, and who knows, maybe your body will surprise you.

It’s hard to keep track of time with your eyes closed and your mind racing. You’ve already thought of six sick burns that you wish you had ready when you needed them, you’ve won two philosophical debates, and you were about to invent a life changing knick-knack if only your phone didn’t light up and didn’t alert you to a new text message.

You consider ignoring it. Nobody really texts you, so it’s most likely just some spam or they got the wrong number.

But then it rings again.

And again.

You pick up the phone and squint at the screen.

The messages keep going.

[writing-in-the-impala]

Secret Smokes

Pairing: Teacher! Remus Lupin x Reader

Series Summary: When the reader bumps into the new DADA professor on the bridge in Hogwarts she begins to build a friendship with him all thanks to their shared feeling of not belonging and love for muggle cigarettes. Their friendship blooms while they both fight internal battles deciding what is wrong and what is right leading to a lot of fluff, angst, flirting and a rollercoaster of emotions.

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, teacher-student relationship (but like it’s all legal chill), SLOWburn we’re in for a long ride

Word Count: Just over 1k

A/N:

This story takes place in a AU where Harry's parents are still alive so Remus Lupin still has all his friends and there is no war however that doesn't make him any less angsty. Everything else is pretty much the same as the canon universe! Enjoy!

MASTERLIST  | SERIES MASTER LIST | Part 1, Next Chapter

The wizarding world and the muggle world have always felt like two completely different worlds, maybe that's why Witches and Wizards who are muggle-born become outcasts. It's hard adjusting to a school but adjusting to a whole world at 11 is even harder. Even in your last year of Hogwarts you still didn't feel like you belonged, each summer going back to the muggle life that you have always known, working a summer job at a coffee shop and hanging out with muggles rather than wizards. You had friends in Hogwarts of course, some closer than others and even though it helped you feel more at home you knew that after Hogwarts you'd end up working a muggle job.

Maybe that's why entering your last year at Hogwarts didn't seem as intimidating because at the end of the day it didn't really matter what results you got in your N.E.W.T.S. Still in its own way you knew you'll miss the castle and the life you've lived in it. So your final train ride to Hogwarts felt a bit bittersweet. One thing didn't change, once again a new Defence against the dark arts teacher got introduced, this time one called Remus Lupin. He looked a lot kinder and nicer than the last one.

Your first week went by extremely quickly, quidditch practice hadn't started yet so you had more time to just hang out with your friends. All your lessons were easy so far as everyone was settling to being back. The new profesor was quickly becoming everyone's favourite due to his friendly nature, he seemed to befriend every student something no other profesor really did. You didn't really get to interact with him too much one-to-one during lessons as whenever he had free time the girls with a crush on him would jump onto the opportunity. You didn't really care about DADA as you wouldn't need it in the muggle world but you did understand why everyone was developing a crush, you had your own brewing for him.

It didn't take long for you to get home sick, homesick for the muggle world. Nothing really felt right to you, not even the food it just never tasted as good as what your mother would make, you missed your parents terribly it was a lot harder sending them owls than sending owls to wizard families, they didn't really grasp the concept. The twins could see that you were getting down again, they knew this happened every year after summer, and they've always tried to help lift your spirit. "Y/N we were thinking it was a good time to plan the first prank of the year what do you say?" Fred said. "Y/N is in her last year, she can't be participating in your silly games." Percy answered for you. "Who invited him?" George snapped back.

"Percy might be right I can't get in as much trouble as I did last year I don't want to get suspended, I'm on thin ice with old Minnie after the last prank we pulled before summer." You admitted, maybe you didn't care about your exam results but you didn't want to get suspended. The debate continued and you ended up agreeing to planning a prank that you may or may not help with. After dinner you decided to take a quick detour to the covered bridge, at the end of your fifth year you discovered it was empty in the evenings as it didn't lead to anywhere people would go at that time of night, it instantly became somewhere you would go for peace, and once you discovered smoking, it also got added to the list of secret smoking spots.

When you approached the middle of the bridge you saw a figure standing smoking a cigarette, you felt a bit gutted someone was using your spot but also excited at the idea of someone being so alike you. You approached them and they quickly put out the cigarette. "Don't worry man, I'm not a teacher I won't snitch." You claimed as you walked up to them before you could make out who it was.

"I know but I am." The figure replied, you were now close enough to make out that it was Professor Lupin. He was no longer leaning over the edge but standing straight with his hands in his pockets.

"I won't snitch if you won't?" You said pulling out your own packet of cigarettes. And his face turned to a gentle smile.

"I really shouldn't-" He protested. "Oh come on, you're new. This is normal." You preached. "Yeah Minerva and I do this all the time but don't tell her I told you." This got a laugh out of him.

"I may have believed you up until that point Y/N. But that's where you've lost me." He remembered your name and for some reason it made your heart skip for a second, he had so many students that he's met in one week and he still managed to memorise yours.

"Come on I'll give you a smoke if you don't tell anyone?" You reached out the pack to him "Camels?" He questioned while taking one. "You know them?" You took one out the packed for yourself before putting it away. "They're muggle smokes." He stated nonchalant, there wasn't any hate in those words which was rare around these halls. "I like them." You pulled out a lighter to light your cigarette while he snapped his fingers and it was instantly lit. "How did you do that? You instantly snapped back . "Do what?" He smiled while holding the cigarette in his mouth, he was attractive in the moon light. "Light it with a snap." You replicated his previous action. "It's a simple arson spell, just a small flame. I used wand less magic." He explained "If it's wand less why did you snap your fingers? Surely you could've just done it." You pressed. "Yes. You've got me there." He admitted. "So you were just trying to impress me?" Slipped out before you realised how those words could sound flirty, you barely knew the man. Truthfully if he wasn't your profesor and this was an interaction with a student you would be developing a stupid crush on them.

"You could say that." He said, with half a smile on his lips. "I'm the new profesor who you've just caught spending the evening by himself smoking, I don't want you to tell everyone I'm boring now I seem impressive."

"Or insecure." You shot back and he bit his lip and shook his head in disbelief at your words. He decided not to reply, instead went back to leaning over the bridge looking out into the darkness and smoking his cigarette and silence fell upon you both.

"I like the camel ones, just because the camel is cute." You broke the silence after a while, you felt bad for calling him insecure and wanted to kill the awkwardness. He laughed at your comment. "You know smokings bad for you? Even if the camel is cute." He said flicking the butt of his cigarette into the darkness. "I know." You quietly replied.

He checked his watch before standing up straight"Curfew has already started so don't stay out here too long as Snape is the one on duty today." He began to walk away. "Professor-" He turned around at your words. "This didn't happen right?" You questioned nervously. "What are camels?" He replied with a wink. "Have a good evening Y/N."

"You too Professor."

NEXT CHAPTER

[cryptcutiee]

Karma Is My Boyfriend

Pairing: Leon Kennedy X Reader (gender neutral) Synopsis: In search of good karma, you do a random act of kindness by paying for the coffee of whoever comes in behind you. That person ends up being a rather attractive man. Tags: Fluff, Comfort Warnings: Use of pet names (sweetheart, sweet thing), age gap (if you squint) Song: Karma - Taylor Swift Word Count: 1.6K Author's Notes: Ahhh hello Tumblr! I haven't posted any writing in a very long time. This is my very first fic on this account, but I do have more in the works. So if you want to see more from me or a part 2 to this, lmk! This is my first x reader story in years so comments and feedback is appreciated!

The day had barely started, yet everything that could go wrong was going wrong. Alarms you set decided not to go off. You had burned your breakfast. The hot water in your shower lasted a total of two minutes before it plunged you into an ice-cold drizzle. Clothes you wanted to put on had mysteriously vanished into thin air. You had dressed in attire you didn't want to wear when it started to rain as you were leaving. It was a bunch of little things adding up to a horrible morning. That didn't bode well for your luck today, which made you worry. Today was significant. You were waiting to hear back from that apartment complex. You needed to get approved for it. The current studio you were living in was crap, and this place would be a major upgrade. With how your day was going, your hope was at an all-time low.

This is how you found yourself standing across the counter from your best friend at the local coffee shop. They were a barista here, and although gossiping on work hours should be frowned upon, they always had time for you. Besides, it seemed slow today. Nobody was in line, and the few patrons lingering around were sitting at tables chatting or working. So you vented about your entire morning as your friend took down your coffee order. You got your usual which was no surprise. With the way your day was going, why would you try something new?

Your friend's eyebrows quirked up at how much of a nightmare your morning had been. "Sounds like you're having a bad energy day."

You leaned against the counter with a deadpan expression. "No shit Sherlock. Normally I wouldn't care, but I can't afford for today to be a bad day! At this rate, I'm going to get denied." You groaned. Anxiety was eating at you, and with how everything had been going, you had little faith in good news.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Your best friend pulled your attention back, "Thinking like that will just make it worse. What if you put some good energy out there, you know, like karma or something?"

You blinked as you took in their words. Karma? You understood the concept of it. Doing bad would attract bad, and doing good would attract good. A sigh left your lips as you stared across the checkout at your friend. "How do you suggest I go about that?" You're sliding your debit card across the counter as you stare them down, waiting for whatever idea they have.

Your friend put on their thinking face, and within moments their expression lit up with an idea. "What about a random act of kindness? You could pay for whoever comes in next!"

The idea rattled around in your brain for a moment. It wasn't like you believed in supernatural forces, but what exactly did you have to lose? "Fine, charge the next person's order to my card. Please don't make a big deal out of it though! I'm not doing it for recognition."

"You got it! Now go wait over by the pickup end. I'll get your order out."

With a nod to your friend, you moved over to the pickup area. Your fingers drummed against the counter anxiously. Eyes darting down to your phone as you waited for that email from the apartment complex. You could hear the bell on the door as you scrolled through your notifications. You listened to your friend speaking to what sounded like a man, but you kept your eyes stuck to your screen. He ordered a black coffee, and then your best friend said the words that made you focus more on the conversion feet away from you.

"I'm happy to say your order today has already been covered!"

When you looked up to see who you had paid for, you may have encountered one of the most attractive men you have ever seen. He had to be older than you, but he looked like he took care of himself. His shirt clung to his fit form, and those arms looked like they could pop a seam on his sleeves. Maybe karma did exist because the universe had just dropped this gorgeous sight right into your lap.

"Oh?" The man's low timber caused something to crawl down your spine. "By who?"

You could see the gears turning in your best friend's brain on how to answer the question. They knew what you asked for but could also witness your reactions from the sidelines. "By the person who ordered before you."

The man quickly put the pieces together, and his eyes glanced at you, the only person waiting for their order.

Mentally you were screaming and cursing at your friend for putting you in this situation, but at the same time, you were thanking them. As if to send the message home, they called out your name and slid your coffee order to you. Your eyes met his, and you felt your stomach do a flip. His eyes were breathtaking. If you looked too long, you thought you'd drown in them. With all the courage in your bones, you mustered an awkward smile. Hand reaching over to grab your coffee, you noticed out of the corner of your eye as the man moved toward you.

"Hey." A slight smile touched his lips as he approached, "Were you the one that paid for my coffee?" He knew it was you, and there was no point in lying to this stunning man.

"Yeah, I did. Don't worry. It was nothing." You replied, trying to shrug it off. "I just wanted to pay it forward. Trying to get some good luck." That same embarrassed smile glued to your face. Talking to this man wasn't in your cards today, but it was going better than everything else this morning.

"I can't just let you do that without introducing myself. I'm Leon, Leon Kennedy." Leon extended his hand out. Your own wrapped around his for a handshake while introducing yourself. "Why are you looking for good luck? Something wrong, sweetheart?"

Your free hand shot up in denial. "Oh no, nothings wrong! I'm waiting for an important email. It's to see if I got approved for this apartment I applied for." There was no reason for you to be telling Leon all of this. He was a stranger, but he was easy to open up to. "My morning was a disaster, and I didn't want the bad luck to continue, so my friend suggested I do something for good karma." You gestured to the barista in the background, your best friend. "Sorry, that all sounds a little silly."

"Not at all." The corner of Leon's lips lifts into a smirk." It's cute, honestly." Those blue eyes of his glimmered with interest as he spoke. It caused butterflies to flutter in your tummy. Suddenly your nerves aren't about the email. They're more about the man in front of you. "Do you have any plans today? I hope I'm not holding you up."

As fast as you can, you shake your head in response. "You aren't! I don't have anything to do today except wait." You watch as your friend delivers the black coffee Leon ordered. Their eyes glance at you with a knowing look. When Leon turns his back to them, they give you a thumbs up before scurrying back to the checkout.

"Then you'll let me repay you by grabbing dinner with me?" Leon grabbed his coffee, a sure look in his eyes. "It's the least I can do for a sweet thing like you, besides it'll get your mind off that email."

Did you just get asked out by some guy you bought coffee for? He was undoubtedly good-looking and had effortless charisma. Saying no would be a mistake. "Sure!" You automatically flush at how enthusiastic you sound. "I mean, that sounds like a nice distraction."

Leon let out a faint chuckle. "I usually get turned down. Maybe I have all the good karma today." Your eyes meet as he takes a sip of his coffee. "You like Italian? I know a good place, my treat."

"I do." Your lips curl into a soft smile. "Do you want to exchange numbers? Here." You open a fresh contact page on your phone and hold the device towards him. Your fingers brush against his as you pass your phone over to Leon. It causes a light blush to paint your features, and you can only hope he doesn't notice. As he's putting his number in, the faint chime of your notification tone rings out. 

Leon's eyes dart to the pop-up, and he grins. "Looks like I'm your good luck charm." He comments, passing the phone back to you. 

Your eyes automatically search the screen and see an email notification. The apartment complex approved you. A wide smile breaks out on your face. "I guess you are, Leon. Maybe I should keep you around." You can feel his blue eyes on you as you say that.

"Maybe you should." There's a beat of silence between the two of you. It suddenly feels like you got trapped in some romance novel. "So, celebration dinner then? Send me your address, and I'll pick you up at seven." Leon breaks the silence with that intoxicating tone of his.

"That works for me! I'll text you."

Exiting the coffee shop, you feel much better than when you arrived. Your newest contact, Leon, is on the screen, and you can't get that smile off your face.

Karma is the guy on the screen, coming straight home to me.

[unholyhelbig]

Would love some Kate Bishop angst

Title: Past Tense

Ship: Female!Reader x Kate Bishop

Wordcount: 4027

Summary: Kate Bishop returns to her hometown unexpectedly following some bad news. She's shocked when she runs into you and struggles to grapple with her past choices.

Warnings: Funerals, hurt/comfort, drinking, work injury/ burns, spelling mistakes and grammar issues (I'm sure)

[A/n: Hello! Just a little disclaimer, this is probably going to be the last thing I can publish for the rest of the month. I've got a massive work project, I move this coming weekend, and it's my birthday at the end of the month so my time is quite limited. But things will pick up again next month]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Day had barely broken over the horizon, but the world around you was impossible to ignore. There had been snow the night before, something that everyone believed was too cold to be possible. A thin layer of ice had encrusted each car before the soft, powdery type had built up on windshields and culminated under tires.

Large, wet flakes swirled around you and despite the gloves that clung to your skin, they didn’t do much for the numbness in your fingers as you fumbled with the keys to the coffee shop. Moisture had wicked through the fabric, and you hastily took them off before flicking on the house lights.

It was just past 5am and the usual crowd of early risers were soon to arrive. You made quick work of starting all the machines, the cooling cases and the manual grinder. Your baker had been in earlier, filling the displays with various muffins, baked goods, and sweets. A smooth cinnamon scent filled the air and warmed you all over.

“Son of a bitch!” the muffled exclamation formed a smile against your lips.

MJ was bundled up in a sweatshirt, a flannel, and a heavy winter coat over that. Her boots were caked in dry snow. There was a deep red blush against her nose and her cheeks that accompanied her scowl.

“Language, there are children present.”

“We’re the same age!” Peter protested as he pulled himself through the back door. He was dressed in less layers but sported the same winter complexion. He shook the large flakes of snow from his sweater, mumbling “Son of a bitch.”

It was cold enough to warrant you closing the shop. Most of the schools and the businesses in town had called for a snow day, something that didn’t happen often in Connecticut. Frigid temperatures were expected. Below freezing was a way of life and the world didn’t stop craving warm coffee to thaw them out.

This fact was proven when you flipped the open sign and the typical crowd of tired eyes started to line up at the counter. Peter typically had too much energy, so MJ took up the register while her counterpart flitted around and filled the orders. Most were to-go.

You’d known these people for years. They’d come in with a habit that was unmatched by the weather and the any other obstacles thrown at them. Before you opened up ‘The Grindhouse’ you’d gone to high school with them.

Through all the proms, and the homecomings, and the house parties that left you vomiting in the yard amongst their parents’ flowerbeds. Since then, you’d grown up and couldn’t stomach more than a few shots or two glasses of wine, tops.

They’d grown up too, those who had stuck around town. They had families and businesses much like yours. You had homeroom with the accountant that had helped you hedge your money in the correct places, and you made the same bacon, egg, and cheese English muffin for the star football player that blew out his knee senior year.

“Welcome to Grindhouse,” you said distractedly at the sound of the bell above the door, working on clearing the fallen grounds from under the espresso machine. The rag was damp and the floor was already coated in little brown specs that needed to be swept up during a lull.

“What can I get started for you?” MJ asked in her usual cadence.

“Just a plain black coffee, please.”

Your body froze at the sound of the voice, hair falling into the gaze that you refused to lift. There was a strange mix of emotions in the pit of your stomach. That voice, with it’s familiar rasp was one you hadn’t heard for years. Nearly a decade. But it couldn’t be her, could it?

She’d left for New York right after high school. The last you heard, she’d become a doctor. An unrivaled cardiothoracic surgeon that flitted around the world wherever she was needed. There was no reason for her to be back in this small, freezing, end-of-the-earth town.

“That’ll be 2.25, we have cream and sugar on the far wall, but if you need anything don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you.”

It was her. It was most definitely her. There was a crispness to her voice that you’d recognize anywhere. The last you remembered; it was whispered with a quickness that rivaled her hands. Her hands were everywhere. They were warm and calloused and gentle.

There was a sudden bubbling heat against the side of your hand. You hissed through your teeth and pulled back from the espresso machine. There was a large bubbling welt on your skin and a string of curses ready at your lips.

“Jesus, y/n are you alright?” Peter was at your side in a moment with a wet, clean cloth that he had run under cold water. “Do you need the burn kit?”

“No, no. I’ll be alright. Thanks Pete”

He was so attentive and clocked you with a worried stare but you reassured him with the squeeze of his shoulder with your good hand. If you were going to fly under the radar before, it would be impossible now.

You glanced over the counter, pressing the cloth even closer. Your suspicions had been confirmed by the tepid gray stare that met yours. Shock simmered behind Kate Bishops gaze, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand.

Suddenly, you felt dizzy. She looked a bit older in the face, more experienced. There was life there, a form of living that had lowered her shoulders and sealed her lips. The Kate you knew was a bumbling mess- but med school had effectively changed that.

“y/n,” She regarded you.

“Hi, Katie.”

That lopsided, sloppy grin was still the same. It reached her eyes and brightened them. You cradled your hand and reveled in the silence. Peter and MJ had frozen in place, flicking their eyes from you and then back to her.

“Want me to take a look at that hand?”

“What are you doing back in town?”

The two of you spoke at the same time and dissolved into nervous laughter. You shook your head. “I thought you were a surgeon?”

“I know how to treat a burn, y/n, don’t insult me.”

You often prided yourself on your strong will. If you had a weak one, it would have been impossible to build this coffee shop up from the rubble that it once was. Kate Bishop, Doctor Kate Bishop, had a way of melting your resolve.

Peter shoved the small plastic first aide kit into your hands and shoved you forward. There was no choice to hide your stumble other than a confident stride towards her. She led you to one of the tables that spanned the windows at the storefront. They were lined with frost, a biting cold fighting to get its way in.

Kate had about a half-inch on you and radiated a type of warmth that was unmatched. When she grabbed your sleeve and dragged you to a sitting position right across from her, you were practically putty in her hands.

“I’ve been keeping tabs on you.” She spoke without looking at you, unlatching the kit and pulling on the blue latex gloves with practiced ease. She couldn’t see the look of shock on your face. “This place is beautiful. I remember when it was that pizza place.”

“Ah, pizzapocalypse. Who would have thought that a combination shooting range and Italian restaurant would fail?”

Kate chuckled and tenderly pulled your hand closer. Her touch was barely a whisper against your skin, strands of black hair falling into her eyes. She examined the angry red mark. It had already started to blister. The espresso machine was kept at unbelievable levels of heat.

She grabbed one of the wrapped applicators, using her teeth to tear away at the wax paper. Kate squeezed a small dollop of burn cream onto the end. You hated the cloudy clearness of the substance.

“I’ve been keeping tabs on you too, you know?”

“Have you? This might sting a little bit. Do you want a countdown?”

“No, just do it I’m a brave- Fuck!” She’d already started, and you gave her a vicious glare. She shrugged with that infuriatingly perfect grin of hers. “I thought you were in New Zealand for some medical internship.”

“New Hampshire, actually. Not as exciting, I know. It was going well, but Eleanor died.”

There was a tightness to her voice. Typically, you looked away from anything involving wound care. If you were to get a shot, you’d stare at a small spot on the wall that interested you. Drawing blood was more of the same, it was just harder to ignore the needle in your arm.

Kate was working hard at the bandage in her hand and finally pulled it apart. Despite the frustration etched into her features, she applied it with a certain level of care. You didn’t’ say anything. Your hand was throbbing uncomfortably.

“She was old, we knew it was coming and pancreatic cancer, well, it’s a bitch by the end and Susan asked me to fly in for the funeral. How could I say no to that? Flying in for my mothers funeral when I was too busy working to witness her descent?”

“Katie,” You breathed out.

“That should be healed up in a few days. Make sure you change out the bandage.”

You couldn’t’ get a word in edgewise before she started to shove the contents of the case back into their proper places. The chair made a horrible scraping sound that you felt in your teeth. Kate grasped her coffee, colder than it was a few moments ago.

“Thank you for… this. I’m sure it’s delicious.” She had her hand on the door. Her quickness was unmatched. Both in and out of the OR, from what you had read. But she paused, looking at you for a moment. “I’m proud of you, y/n. This place is great. Really.”

Kate had vanished into the whiteness of the blistering day. You watched her navigate the snow with ease. Eleanor had died. How could you live in such a small town and not have heard about the woman’s passing?

The Bishop family was always a private bunch, and with Kate moving right after high school graduation, you hadn’t any reason to go past those wrought iron gates. Kate’s older sister would stop by for a hot drink once every other month or so, but you saw her coming from a mile away and selfishly hid in the back.

Eleanor had died.

There was a softness to her that you remembered fondly, a memory of Kate and you as children in the heat of summer. You’d been stung by a wasp and cried and cried until Eleanor rushed into the yard and scooped you into her arms.

Much like Kate had just done with her soft ministrations, she fixed you right up by applying a mix of warm water and baking soda. An old family remedy, she said. The venom had stopped screaming and the tears eventually stopped for both you and Kate.

Eleanor was a kind, if not private, woman. One that you thought of daily when you clocked the photo of High School Graduation on the dusty bookshelves in your living room. Your own mother hadn’t attended, but Eleanor was right there. She was right there.

“Who’s the girl?” MJ drawled out, leaning heavily on her hands, a goofy look on her face. Peter was next to her, doing the same, both eyebrows raised.

“Kate… She” You picked up the plastic first aide kit. The two of you had a habit of not sitting still and it was better to move to replace the supplies then let them sit out here. Besides, a customer could walk in at any moment. “We were engaged.”

Peter shot up “What?”

“It was a long time ago, it’s not important.”

“You were engaged, I think that’s important. How old are you?”

“First, rude, second; old enough. And really, guys it’s not a big deal. Both of us moved on. Life happened.”

They exchanged a look that, in the past, had never meant anything good. MJ had her arms crossed over her chest and Peter leaned heavily on a broom he had grabbed, hugging it lose to his chest. You rolled your eyes, attempting to ignore them both was impossible in a place this retrospectively small.

“I don’t know, boss. The way she was looking at you… maybe neither of you really moved on.”

“I write your paychecks; you understand that right?” You turned to face them. “Kate and I are done. We have been for a long time. She made that very clear when she gave the ring back and I refuse to push the matter.”

It was collecting dust on your bookshelf next to the photo of your graduation. It was a small emerald, green box that you hadn’t opened since you resituated the diamond ring. It had been stupid to propose, a last-ditch effort to get Kate to stay. She’d said yes. And then she said no.

The baker’s old Subaru wouldn’t start because of the bitter cold. It sounded like an old wife’s tale that made you chuckle to yourself while reading the text that popped across your screen.

Before you had hired him for the long nights, you’d done the baking yourself and it wasn’t a horrible chore. You’d just have to down some caffeine and slam it out; trays filled with mini cakes, with quiches, donuts and cheese tarts. It was like a methodical science project with the bonus of eating the food that didn’t look edible.

It was midnight by the time you’d pulled the first couple trays from the large industrial oven and exhaustion was starting to bay its head. You weighed the option of going home and just spreading out the pastries in the case.

All thoughts of sleep left your mind when a rapid banging filled the store. The front glass doors were being tugged upon. And while you were more than willing to die in this coffee shop, being robbed was not the way you wanted to go. There was less than three hundred dollars in the register.

You grasped at the broom, your hands covered in flower and caked on the bandage that was applied earlier. Another round of bangs as you tried to stay low and reach for the cordless phone. There was a silhouette outlined by the gray white of the snow.

Doctor Kate Bishop.

She’d given up on her breaking and entering and pressed her forehead against the glass, her breath fogging it up. It was hard to tell, but you were sure her eyes were clenched shut. There was a brown paper bag in one hand that looked suspiciously like a large bottle of alcohol.

Your grip was tight on the broom, even as you felt confident, and a little sad, about opening the door. Kate fell forward and a blast of cold enveloped you. She made a small noise at the back of her throat, regaining her posture.

“Were you going to sweep me to death?” Kate asked, “I brought whiskey.”

“Here I thought you weren’t going to come back here with the way you ran out earlier, and now you arrive with gifts?”

It was a low blow, but she had shrugged her shoulders with her goofy grin and snow in her messy hair. “Come drink with me, just for a little bit in our old spot. Don’t make me play the dead mom card.”

Saying no to Kate had always been hard for you. It had been hard when you were children and she dared you to jump from high places, always stopping you by the collar of your shirt before either of you got hurt. And it was especially hard to say no to Kate in your teens when she would kiss hot trails against your throat, marking them with bruises. Not that you were rushing to deny her.

“Really?” You asked, “Aren’t we a little old to be caught sneaking booze in the gym?”

Both of you knew for a fact that the side doors leading into the school would always be open. There were no alarms, or flood lights, because it was a small town and nothing bad ever happens in a small town.

She jutted out her bottom lip into a pout “Y/n, my mom died.”

“Okay, alright. Let me lock up.”

Kate stayed quiet on the three-block walk to the school. It was shrouded in darkness, an inky black despite the swirling gray of the night sky. Your high school had been the largest in the county; two floors filled with classrooms. You’d stuck to the same ones and Kate was the life of the party wherever she went, the bright spot in an otherwise dingy room.

The bottle of alcohol dangled by her side as your footfalls crunched over ice and an ugly brown slush of snow. It felt normal, almost, walking with her. Being with her. Staying in town was a brave choice after being dumped and equivocally left at the alter. You had powered through the looks and the whispered accusations. But some part of you was relieved she’d chosen this interaction to take place in the middle of the night.

When you’d gotten to the double doors of the large gymnasium, Kate’s boot slipped on a particularly nasty spot of ice. Instinctively you grasped her arm and righted her. She thanked you silently before pushing into the warmth of the space. The motion censor lights flicked on and you squinted against them.

“They built a new one, you know? A gym. I think they still use this for craft fairs. Fundraisers. But all the big stuff is off site in this state-of-the-art center.”

Kate blew out a breath, shaking her head. “Remember when Tommy Shepard broke your nose with a basketball?”

“Yeah, I do. I also remember sneezing right after and spraying him in blood. Everyone else was grossed out except for you.”

Kate dropped onto the large eagle in the center of the floor. Her legs were stretched out in front of her, and the bottle was idling between them. You let out a small groan as you joined her. Neither of you had ever been bold enough to inebriate yourselves in the crest. Instead, you’d hide behind the fold-out bleachers that were pushed against the walls, but this would do.

“That stupid EMT wouldn’t let me get on the ambulance with you.” The seal on the bottle cracked viciously, much like your nose, as she unscrewed the cap.

“And I told you I didn’t need to go the hospital. I think I was a liability, though.”

Kate laughed, taking a deep gulp from the bottle. It hit the back of her throat and she hissed in response before thrusting the whiskey your way. You took a smaller sip, let it coat your tongue and burn your stomach.

The mood had stilled, and she took another swallow before setting the bottle between the both of you like a vice or a buffer. You couldn’t decide what.

“Eleanor had very specific instructions in her will. She… shit, she planned her whole funeral out before she died in her morbid meticulousness. She picked white lilies, and a beautiful black casket. She already had a plot of land picked out in her family plot. Music picked out. A fucking guest list.”

You fought the urge to reach out and comfort her. So, you grabbed the bottle instead and gulped down a bigger heaping than before. The amber liquid was dipping down behind the black wrapper.

“The only thing she didn’t do was write her eulogy. No, she left that up to me as one last fuck you because that’s how she operates. She didn’t’ ask Susan to write it, or my dad. She asked me because I’m the one that left home. I’m the one that left her.”

The worst thing you could do was agree with Kate Bishops dead mother. And you didn’t, really. You’d always been happy for Kate. This town was too small for her and the lives that she saved were plentiful. But some selfish part of you understood where Eleanor was coming from.

You were possibly the worst person she could go to with this issue and by the frown on her face, she knew it too. For the longest time, you were there for each other. And if Kate had called out of the blue and asked you to go to New Zealand or New Hampshire, or whatever; you would go.

She’d do the same, you were sure. One call, one letter and she’d be here. But neither of you were brave enough to reach out and heal the wound that festered between you. You pulled your knees up to your chest, rested your chin against them with a quiet breath.

“Maybe you don’t need to write anything. Maybe you can just… say how you feel.”

“Yes, because that has worked out so well for me in the past.”

“Fair point, but she was your mother, not a fling. Even if you don’t have a script planned out, it’s worth just feeling the moment. No matter how shitty that moment is.”

Kate inhaled and held that breath in her chest for a few seconds before pushing it out. Her eyes searched you in a probing way that made your skin prickle. Blush started to claw its way up your throat. You’d blame that on the alcohol, you always were a light weight and it showed in your complexion.

“Is that what you think you were?” her voice was a low and raspy whisper “a fling?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“You never say anything you don’t mean. All you’ve ever done is calculated and well thought out. You’ve always had a plan.” She looked down at the frayed edges of her jeans, playing with the strings to avoid looking at you. “You were my everything.”  

Your voice was a quiet murmur. “Katie,”

She reached out, her warm hand wrapped around your wrist in a tender display of affection. Her eyes met yours and it was the longest the two of you had stared at one another without breaking eye contact. Your stomach was a pit of nerves and heat.

“That scared me when we were young. It fucking scared me out of my mind how content I was with you. I was ready to risk everything, to settle down in a small house and wake up every single morning next to you.” She drew in a sharp and shuddering breath “But we were young, and I hadn’t lived life and that scared me even more.”

“I know, Kate, I know. I shouldn’t have proposed, and I certainly shouldn’t have put either of us in that position. You were right to turn me down. You were right to move on and fight for the future that you deserve.”

Kate sniffed, using her free hand to wipe away the few crystalline tears that dripped across her cheeks. You found yourself pulling her close, letting her sob into the crook of your neck as you held her, your arm wrapped around her center to stabilize her.

Things were boiling over and the tension that had been weighing on her shoulders since she’d first shown up in town started to slowly drain. She missed her mother, she missed you, and that wasn’t something you were willing to process on the crest of the school’s gymnasium.

Kate’s fingers were curled into the fabric of your shirt, and eventually, she settled. Her nose was cold against your pulse point and the bottle of whiskey had been long forgotten. As self-centered as it was, you wished you could hold her forever. Feel her touch on yours for something other than a reminisced sadness.

“If you asked again,” Kate mumbled into the collar of your shirt “If you asked me again, I would say yes.”

“I know, Katie. I know.”

[tonyspank]

CHAPTER ONE | THE PARTY & THE AFTER PARTY

Warnings; Uhhhh idk?

A/N: I never had to actually make coffee at my job, I kinda jus put the filter then dump out the coffee bag so… my apologies if it sounds crazy. (For all my professional coffee makers.)

Jenna Ortega x G!P Reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

"I have a medium lavender ice latte with oat milk for, Ana?" You call out to half full coffee shop. A blonde in about her twenties walks up to the counter, you smile before handing her her drink.

"Have a wonderful day," She grins, "Thank you so much, you too!" Your co-worker speaks up from behind you, "I still don't understand why you're not somewhere strumming your guitar."

You've been working at Hughes Coffee since you can remember, you just happened to be walking by the place and noticed the Now Hiring signs on the door, of course, you had to go through an interview process but you landed the job and became close with the owner and his daughter.

Once she had officially turned eighteen he changed the shop name in honour of her, and she absolutely loved it.

You playfully roll your eyes before turning around to fully face her, "Alora," You begin causing her to hum in response. "I literally have to stay here to keep you in check. Ever since Mr. Hughes changed the name to Alora's Coffee you've been acting a little bit stuck up." You joke, illustrating how much with your thumb and pointer finger.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," She points behind you, "Take care of that customer. I have to use the bathroom," You jump up in the straightest position ever, saluting to her. "Yes! General!"

She laughs, walking to the back. Turning around you're met with a familiar face, "Jack."

He smiles raising his arms, "Bestie!" You chuckle, smiling at your indeed best friend. "Hey, Jack. What's up?"

He smiles, shrugging his shoulders. "Oh, nothing. Just checking in on you—" Suddenly he slams his hands on the counter, you jump and eye the shop as some customers as staring at the two of you.

"YOU REALLY THOUGHT YOU WOULD GET AWAY WITH LEAVING WITHOUT SAYING GOODBYE?" He practically yells, leaning into your face. You bite down on your lip, furrowing your eyebrows as you try and hold in your laugh.

"Uh? I thought I gave my goodbyes to my best messenger, did you not receive it?" Jack leans back, hands still on the counter. "Oh! You mean Jenna?" You nod your head, waving your pointer finger at him. "Yes, yes! Jenna, yup."

"And the same Jenna that couldn't stop talking about you." Your ears perk up at this, and your heart drops, but in a good way.

"Really?" You question, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"Oh, yeah!" He continues. "She was like, she has the cutest laugh ever. She's so funny where'd you meet her at? Y/N this, Y/N that! Oh, Y/N! Blah, bleh, blah." He mocks with a high-pitched voice.

"Really?" This time you can't hide it, and you're smiling like an absolute idiot. "Really. I was going to give her your Instagram but you know, you left early. So insteadddd," He drags out, and you listen in.

"I told her that you're already dating someone, but don't worry! I didn't be specific and tell her that it was me." You blink, and when Jack doesn't say anything else, you blink again.

"You're lying, right?"

He thins out his lips, shaking his head. "No, why?" You go back to being nonchalant, not wanting Jack to have this over you.

One time you had liked this girl freshman year and Jack would not stop talking about it. And every time he'd see her he'd tell her why won't she go out with you, or how she should give you her number. The girl would always laugh and shrug her shoulders.

Or Jack would come up with these fake stories about how you saved an entire family from a burning building, or how you had found the cure to cancer, the girl surprisingly played along, and would say stuff along the lines of, "Oh, I remember that." Or, "Oh yeah! I was there too."

"No reason," You say shrugging your shoulders, Jack nods staring at you a bit longer to see if he broke your shell of nonchalantness, if that was a thing.

Accepting defeat, but not fully he sighs out. "Welp, I have to go now. I promised Mason I'd stop by his place to try out his new sugar cookie recipe."

You send him a thumbs up, "Alright! Have fun!" You shout out, as he walks out the double glass doors.

You turned around grabbed a rag, and wiped down counters. It was rather late in the morning so it wasn't so busy, well, it wasn't as busy as it was earlier this morning, you were dead-ass sweating.

It comes back to you that Alora never came back out, so you decide to head to the back and go inside the employee break room. You're met with Alora laying across two chairs eating a bag of chips.

"Is this what you do every time you say you're going to the bathroom?" She jumps in surprise, sitting up she removes her left airpod. "Hello, friend." She grins cheekily. You send her a wave.

"Don't you think you should go back to the front?" She starts shooing you off with her hand, you back up, but remain looking at her.  "What about you?" She shushes, continuing her shooing motions."

You sigh out, leaning against the counter as you watch the customers in the store talk to their friends or type away on their computers.

You're so into the view you didn't hear the door open nor see the customer walk up towards the counter. Until you hear a ding noise come from the bell sitting on top of the counter.

"Shit," You mutter to yourself, you reach behind you, tying your apron tighter before walking over to the woman. "Fucking Jack," You slightly hear from her and it finally hits you once she takes off her glasses.

"That fucking sneaky bastard." You mumble to yourself.

"Hey, Jenna." You smile, Jenna smiles back placing her glasses in her purse. "Hey," She looks into your eyes, hating to admit she missed them, and so suddenly.

"Now I see why Jack told me to come here." You scratch your head, nodding. "He is a sneaky little bastard." She laughs at your words, "He actually called you the same thing when you left without saying goodbye, well technically you did, but.. I don't know." She catches herself rambling, making you smile.

"Did you want anything to drink?" You ask, drumming your fingers on the countertop. "It's on the house."

"Oh! Sure," Her eyes scan the menu, then you, specifically your name tag. You don't miss the smirk that slightly appears on her lips.

"Surprise me." Just as you're about to respond, Alora walks back out. "Good morning, how are you today?"

Jenna sends her a slight smile, "I'm great, thank you." She gives you one last look before going to sit down. Once it's clear that Jenna is no longer focused on you, Alora grabs your arm, her jaw-dropping. "Was that fucking Wednesday Addams?" You roll your eyes, moving to make Jenna's coffee."

You prepare one shot of Espresso Roast, and as you wait you pull out your phone, opening your messages with Jack.

i hate you

BESTIE

BESTIE DON'T SAY THAT?

i'm not the one who left w/o saying goodbye

I ASKED JENNA TO SAY GOODBYE?

whatever

don't you have to go like

impress her w your barista skills?

you're welcome by the way

goodbye jack

OH NOW U WANNA

SAY GOODBYE

You laugh before putting away your phone. And pouring your Espresso Roast into the mug.

"Her name is Jenna. But yes, she has played Wednesday Addams." Alora watches you, and her smile increases. "You know... I'm very happy that you work here."

You chuckle, preparing your froth milk. Using the Nespresso Aeroccino, you put the milk on the medium froth setting. And add in a bit of vanilla syrup, stirring it in the coffee. "You're only saying that because every now and then Jack will recommend your shop to one of his famous friends,"

She throws her hands up excitedly, "One of his very attractive famous friends!" You lean against the counter waiting for your milk. "Could you watch the counter while I talk to her?" Your voice is lower than usual.

"I fucking got you!" You can't help but laugh, taking your milk and gently pouring it inside the cup until it's almost full. Alora packages up a cookie before softly handing it to you.

"Go get her tiger," Rolling your eye playfully, you make your way toward Jenna, cookie and drink in hand. She sets down her phone and her face lights up seeing you make your way over to her booth.

"A blonde vanilla latte and a chocolate chip cookie for the one and only," You place her order in front of her, sitting down across the table.

She eyes you as she takes a sip, humming in joy. "Wow, this is good." She licks her lips, placing down the cup.

"So... Y/N," She begins. You fight back a smile, looking down at your name tag. "How long have you been addicted to cigarettes."

If you had something in your mouth you definitely would've spit it out. But instead, you're taken aback, "Uh? I don't know? A while,"

She hums, taking another sip of the drink you made her. "Not a lot of people know it but, I actually specialize in helping people with addictions."

You chuckle, "Really?"

"Of course, I'm a professional." You tap your fingers on the table. "So how do your services work exactly?"

"Usually I charge a hefty amount of money, but since we're such good friends. Money is not a problem, instead.." You raise your eyebrows in anticipation.

"Let's make a deal." You nod, telling her to go on. "You let me take you out on seven dates, if I don't manage to at least help you fight your addiction then you don't have to worry about seeing my face ever again. But if I do, then I get to take you out on more."

A huge smile has appeared on your face, "You're going to take me out? To help fight my addiction?" She nods, again sipping on her drink.

"Do we have a deal?" You hold out your hand, and she quickly shakes it.

"It's a deal Ortega," She smirks but doesn't hide it this time.

[niki-phoria]

Hey, it’s me again!

Haven’t been able to send requests for a while because of school and writing the fanfic, but can you do enha x tall!m!reader where enha wheres your clothes (like shirt or hoodie) and you asks “is that my shirt/hoodie?”

Thank u!

- 🕊️

⋆｡°✩ enha reaction - they wear your clothes

includes: masc reader, taller reader kinda implied, lots of fluff, mix of them stealing reader's clothes and him just giving them to enha, boyfriend/hyung used in niki's, written with male reader in mind

a/n: thank you for requesting !! i hope you like it :)) this idea was really cute and i'm actually really proud of a lot of these <33

likes, reblogs, comments, and feedback are always appreciated <33

⋆｡°✩ heeseung

you wrap your hand around the cup of iced coffee you had ordered for heeseung, occasionally sipping on your own drink as you patiently awaited the other man’s arrival. your eyes remain fixated on the door, watching as people continue to drift in and out of the small shop. 

you’re about to reach over to grab your phone when the door is suddenly pushed open once again. you excitedly sit up in your seat as heeseung quickly scans the cafe before he spots you. he apologetically smiles as he wanders over to you, quickly sliding into the seat across from you. 

“i’m so sorry, there was more traffic than i was expecting,” he says. 

“it’s fine,” you say, handing one of the cups over to him. “i ordered your favourite.”

heeseung smiles brightly as he gratefully takes the cup from your hand. “you’re too good to me, y/n,” he murmurs.

you pause, reaching over to tug at the sleeve of his shirt. a soft smile tugs at the corners of your lips as your eyes scan the rest of his outfit - taking in the sight of your boyfriend wearing your clothing. “is this mine?”

“yeah,” he whispers. he raises a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck - a nervous habit. despite the black mask covering half of his face, you can still see the deep flush slowly spreading across his cheeks. “i hope you don’t mind. it reminded me of you.”

“of course not,” you chuckle, leaning down to press a fleeting kiss against his temple. “i’m more upset that you look better in my clothes than i do.”

“aish,” heeseung chuckles, playfully swatting at your shoulder. “come on. let’s go.”

⋆｡°✩ jay

a soft gasp escapes your lips when your phone begins loudly ringing from beside you. setting your work aside, you prop the device up against a nearby cup before swiping to answer the call.

“jay!” you smile brightly. an immediate feeling of comfort fills you at the sight of him, despite it being over a face-time call. 

“hi love.” you watch as he sets his own phone against a nearby wall, showing off the extravagant hotel room he would be temporarily staying in. you squint, leaning in to look at jay’s clothing once again. he’s wearing a familiar oversized t-shirt - one that you had bought while shopping together only a few weeks before. one that had mysteriously gone missing when jay left for the tour. 

a flustered smile tugs at the corners of your lips at the idea of jay wearing your clothes. jay cocks his head in confusion, momentarily glancing off screen before chuckling softly. “you know, whenever you notice something you start leaning in and squinting to confirm if you’re right. so, what did you find?”

“is that my shirt?”

jay glances down at his clothing for a second before glancing away from the camera. despite the somewhat low quality, you can see the way his cheeks flush slightly. “...maybe,” he mumbles. 

“you’re so cute, jay,” you chuckle. “next time, come ask me before you leave. i’ll let you bring a few hoodies along too.”

jay turns back to face the camera, still softly smiling at you. despite the thin layer of makeup still coating his face you can just barely see the slowly deepening flush spreading across his cheeks. “really? you’d do that for me?”

“of course. i love you, jay.”

“i love you too, y/n.”

⋆｡°✩ jake

jake startles awake when a loud crack of lightning flashes, illuminating your previously dark room for a few seconds. a low roar of thunder is quick to follow; the murky clouds hanging around the sky all day finally making their presence known. 

you sleepily push yourself to sit up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. after a few seconds of momentary confusion, you reach out to grab your phone from your coffee table. “did we fall asleep?” jake asks, leaning over your shoulder. 

“i guess so,” you murmur. “it wasn’t supposed to storm until later.”

jake stands up, wandering over to push the blinds of your window open. overwhelming droplets of rain roll down the glass, pooling on the concrete sidewalk below in the beginning of a small flood. the outside world is coated in a thick layer of distortion blocking the view. “maybe i should call my manager.”

you nod. “i don’t want you going out until the storm lets up. i’ll go get you a change of clothes.” he hums in agreement before retreating back into the living room. you jog into your bedroom to grab a change of clothes before handing them to him. 

jake emerges from your bathroom a few minutes later with a flustered smile. your t-shirt hangs loosely around jake’s frame; your sweatpants occasionally drag against the floor with each step he takes. “how do i look?” he asks, joking twirling around.

“incredible,” you smile. he wanders back over to the couch before leaning back against your chest. you wrap your arms around his waist with a soft smile. “like always.”

⋆｡°✩ sunghoon

your concerned gaze falls towards sunghoon once again, watching as he uncomfortably rubs his hands against the exposed skin of his forearms in a poor attempt to warm himself up. even from a distance you can see the goosebumps arising along his bare skin and the shivers occasionally racking their way through his body. 

“excuse me,” you mumble, momentarily slipping away from your conversation and wandering towards his side. sunghoon smiles softly when you approach. 

your eyebrows furrow in concern when you notice his hands are slowly becoming red from the prolonged exposure to the cold. “you’re shivering,” you mumble, wrapping his hands between the fabric of your sleeves. despite the uncomfortable feeling of his cool skin pressed against yours, you begin rubbing your hands together in an attempt to warm him up. “i thought i reminded you to bring a jacket.”

“i meant to, but niki asked to borrow mine,” sunghoon sheepishly smiles. true to his word, the younger boy is wearing a large white hoodie you recognize seeing in his closet before.

turning your attention back to sunghoon, you release his hands in favor of wrapping your arms around his waist. the streetlights above cast just enough light to expose his flushed cheeks. 

you silently slip your arms out of the sleeves of your own hoodie before tugging the fabric off entirely. sunghoon watches in confusion for a second as you readjust it before gently pushing it down over his head. “what are you doing?” he chuckles, though he slips his arms into the sleeves nonetheless; a furious blush spreads across his cheeks. 

you lean in to press a chaste kiss against his flushed face. “you were cold,” you simply shrug.

⋆｡°✩ sunoo

from your position laying back against the couch, you open your arms widely for sunoo to stumble into. he lets a tired sigh escape his lips as he collapses against your body. 

“i missed you,” sunoo tiredly mumbles.

“i missed you too, honey,” you smile, leaning down to press a kiss against his forehead. “how was the show?”

“it was good.” sunoo pushes himself up slightly so he’s looking up at you. “milan was gorgeous.”

“i know,” you chuckle. “thank you for all of the pictures.”

sunoo shifts slightly so his arms are fully wrapped around your torso, keeping you trapped against the couch. “i bought a new pair of jeans earlier.”

“really?” he hums. you move your hand underneath his chin, tilting his face up slightly. a teasing smile tugs at the corners of your lips. “will you model them for me?” he playfully swats at your shoulder, complaints falling from his lips for a few seconds before he stands up nonetheless. you eagerly follow his lead, adjusting your position on the couch to sit up fully. 

sunoo twirls around your living room, showing off the boot-cut blue jeans. “wow!” you cheer, applauding for your boyfriend. “you’re so handsome!”

he chuckles at the praise, hiding his face behind his hand as he walks back over to stand in front of you. you cock your head in confusion for a moment before reaching up to tug at the sleeve of his hoodie. “is this mine?”

“it reminded me of you,” sunoo sheepishly smiles. “i hope you don’t mind.”

“of course not,” you smile, tugging him back down into a hug. “i love it when you wear my clothes.”

⋆｡°✩ jungwon

a soft yawn escapes your lips as you sleepily stumble out of your shared bedroom as you make your way towards the kitchen. jungwon stands at the countertop still in the middle of preparing breakfast for the two of you. an oversized hoodie hangs loosely around his frame. the sleeves have been pushed up to pool around his elbows; eyes flickering between the bowl of pancake batter and the instructions on the box.

your lips quirk upwards into a soft smile as you lean back against the wall to admire your boyfriend. his hair is still disheveled from sleep - strands sticking up at odd angles and occasionally falling into his face. 

a few minutes pass before you push off of the wall, wandering into the kitchen and wrapping your arms around jungwon’s waist. he startles slightly at the unexpected feeling before relaxing against your touch. “good morning jagi.” 

you hum in acknowledgement, leaning your body weight against his back. your hands slip underneath the thick fabric to rest against jungwon’s hips; an amused smile tugging at your lips. “is this my hoodie?”

jungwon lowers his head down slightly in an attempt to hide his flushed cheeks. you lean in so strands of your hair brush against the exposed skin of his neck, making him chuckle at the ticklish feeling. your lips just barely brush against his skin, sending shivers down his spine. you press a final kiss against his cheek before resting your head against the crook of his shoulder. 

“keep it,” you whisper. “it looks better on you anyways.”

⋆｡°✩ niki

“did you ask heeseung-hyung if you can stay over?” you ask, stretching your body out beside niki. 

“heeseung-hyung and my manager,” he nods, momentarily setting his phone aside. “do you mind if i borrow some clothes? i forgot to bring any of mine.”

“of course not.” you push yourself to sit up, quickly rummaging through your closet for a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt for niki to change into. he accepts the clothing with a grateful smile before disappearing into your bathroom for a few minutes.

you poorly stifle a small chuckle under your breath when niki emerges from your bathroom, now wearing a pair of your sweatpants and one of your t-shirts. the fabric hangs loosely off of his shoulders; the fabric stopping around his thighs. 

“what’s so funny?” he asks, stalking over towards you. 

“nothing,” you say, shaking your head slightly. niki waits for you to turn your attention away from him before pouncing onto you. he pins your body against the bed; his hands trailing to your sides before he mercilessly begins trailing his fingers against the most sensitive parts of your body. 

“niki!” you yell. your body racks with laughter as you squirm underneath him. 

“what was so funny?” he repeats, a smile tugging at his own lips. 

“okay, okay, i’ll tell you!” niki relents, though his hands remain resting against your hips - ready to attack at any moment. “you just look really short in my clothes,” you chuckle.

niki lets out a faux offended gasp, bringing a hand up to press against his heart. “short!” he repeats. “i can’t believe you! my own boyfriend!” 

“okay, okay, don’t be a baby about it,” you chuckle, playfully pushing him to lay down beside you. niki smiles when you lean in, catching his lips against yours in a sweet kiss. “i still love you. short or not.”

[manwrre]

This is my contribution to the harringrove relay race!

Title: 💫 heaven at your fingertips 💫

Rating: explicit content

Word Count: 3,055

Tags include: trans male character billy, alternate universe - college/university, domestic boyfriends and afab language while describing genitalia.

•

Despite what anyone with working eyes and a brain might think, Steve doesn’t actually hate his job.

It’s not out of the ordinary for him to entertain the thought— everyday at a campus coffee shop is rough— but he doesn’t dislike it. His hours are pretty flexible and his coworkers are all great. There’s an endless amount of staff drinks allowed on a single shift and Steve’s allowed to bring home as many leftover doughnuts as he wants. His boss and the owner of Bean’d, Todd, isn’t really around to micromanage them but whenever he does pop in, Steve feels lucky enough to be there despite the minimum wage paycheck.

So hate it, he does not.

Not even on the worst days when he’s spread thin and exhausted. Not even on a brutal day like today. The shittiest day that he’s had in a while, he thinks, stepping out of the rundown elevator and unto his floor. The fact that he’s practically home doesn’t even seem to help. If anything, the distance between the elevator and his front door seems longer than usual as he walks. His shoulders are heavyset with eight hours of tension and his feet ache so deeply that the dusty, burgundy of the hallway’s carpets look comfortable. Perfect for a seat. Or a nap.

He doubts his neighbors would mind if he just settled there for the night. Mr Stewart might pretend to be pissed but Mrs Maulkin, who lives next door, is just about the sweetest, little lady. She pinches his cheeks and always goes on and on about him getting more sleep. Once, she’d even watered their plants when he and Billy visited the kids back in Hawkins on break so yeah, she’s pretty neat.

Ideally, she would probably prefer if he didn’t get said rest on her welcome mat but he wasn’t going to be picky. His shift had just about driven all of the pickiness out of him. Whacked it out of him with a broom sometime between the morning rush and the midday rush or maybe, it was between the evening rush and clean up? Point is, it’s been beaten out of him.

Above his head, the yellow bulbs blink almost lazily and he reaches for his keys. He swings the lanyard around his finger almost idly and eyes the peeling, black paint of the apartment numbers.

505……506…….507…….508……509…….Ah.

He unlocks the door, shuffles inside with a sigh and for a second, just stands there. The scent of home surrounds him immediately and some of the day’s weight falls at his feet as he flicks the lights on in the small walkway. He hangs his backpack unto the hook shaped like a little guitar that Billy seems to like so much. Grabs the brown, greasy bag of donuts that Billy also seems to like so much and toes his shoes off.

“Bee, I’m home!” He nudges the pair of kicks out of sight with socked toes and blindly tosses his keys into the nearby bowl. Catches a whiff of himself. Pauses. Almost keels over. All in that order.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he gags aloud.

Beneath the cloying scent of artificial syrups, powdered sugar and dozens of iced matchas with oat milk and brown sugar foam, is the usual sweat and grime of a long day. He doesn’t have to look in the mirror either, to know that his hair is all flat and ugly beneath his cap. too.

He needs a shower and a nap and some food and really, just his fucking boyfriend. Again, all in that order but it’s been a long week of barely seeing each other with finals and the usual shifts so he knows that he’s only gonna cover number five on that list before passing out.

“Billy?” he calls again, flipping the main lights on.

The action casts a soft glow across their little, one bedroom apartment.

Fully furnished and equipped with a couple of leaky faucets and chipped wallpaper but theirstheirstheirs. A year ago, she was all they could afford on their meager savings in California but now, she’s home. Steve studies his social work on the bedroom floor and Billy stocks their shelves with books about anatomy. They cook dinner together on most nights in their dingy, little kitchen, watch trashy horror in the living room and spend every night wrapped around each other.

“I brought donuts again. We were outta the pistachio ones so I got glazed and no, Sam didn’t make them this time.”

He pads across the living room, not a trace of his boyfriend in sight and dumps the paper bag on the counter. He’s convinced that Billy might be asleep— it’s been a long week of exams and Steve cracks the door to their bedroom open, fully expecting the room to be shrouded in darkness,

only to pause.

To take it all in.

Because oh.

Steve can’t help it— he’s drawn to the sight of too naked legs and too smooth thighs. Can’t focus on anything but the way that Billy’s hand disappears between them. Can’t wrap his mind around anything other than the fact that Billy is very much awake and very much touching himself in front of him. In the flesh.

There’s a lot to take in.

Billy’s naked from the waist down and facing the doorway; his legs spread to reveal the pink of his pussy as he thumbs across his clit. Steve’s gaze lifts then, up his bare, little waist and to the thinning material of Billy’s tee shirt, which is the only piece of clothing he’s wearing. He zones in on where the worn, blue material fits snugly across his boyfriends chest,

swallows,

and then meets the amused blues of Billy’s eyes.

Billy, who doesn’t dare hide the heat in them or the intent behind his smirk.

“Hi, Stevie.” he purrs, predatory. Like a shark that’s just smelled blood. “Crazy day?”

The lowness of his voice sends a jolt of heat down Steve’s abdomen; one that settles at the base of his cock all hot and heavy. And in response, Steve’s shoulders drop, his body relaxes and the day’s toll leaks out of him. Sludging. Lethargic.

God, he’s easy.

“Uh huh,” he mutters, unintelligibly, at first. Then, snaps out of it enough to flash Billy a smile.

“Funnily enough, I actually think it’s about to get crazier.” He shuts the door behind him and steps closer. His gaze only stray for a matter of seconds to catalog everything about Billy in this moment. The navy blue of their sheets beneath the blonde. The handful of books on their bedside table. Billy’s hair all tied up into a loose bun. His pebbling nipples. His wet, hot cunt and the fact that he hasn’t stopped touching himself.

“Yeah? I wonder why.” the blonde drawls, quirking a brow.

“Dunno, think I’m about to get laid or something.” He’s teasing and Steve loves it.

“Or something,” Billy mocks, rolling his eyes but Steve’s words have him biting his lip.

He’s trying to come off as unaffected but Steve knows he’s anything but. The soft curls sticking to Billy’s forehead, damp with sweat and all, let him know that this has been an ongoing endeavor. God knows how long Billy’s been pleasuring himself— dripping like this; his cheeks flushed a pretty scarlet, eyes dark and lips an almost mottled red. Bitten plump. Half-parted in pleasure for a beat too long whenever he speaks.

Steve doesn’t have to pretend. He doesn’t want to hide the urgency that he feels or the effect that Billy has on him, so he tugs his shirt up over his head before tossing it aside.

He crosses the distance between them in no time and crawls into the alcove between Billy’s thighs oh so easily. Steve thinks, yes and finally and this is exactly where he belongs when he’s got Billy under him. He thinks holy shit, you’re lovely when his boyfriend stares up at him with wide, dark eyes and pulls him closer by the loops of his belt. Simultaneously, Steve lifts one of Billy’s golden thighs upupup around his waist and lessens the oxygen between them with a kiss so hot that the air around them feels supercharged.

He loses himself in the soft give of Billy’s lips and nips at his cupid’s bow with an impatient noise. Beneath him, Billy opens up like a black hole; this consuming, taking thing and Steve licks into his mouth all too eagerly. The blonde’s answering moan is breathy and high and Steve laps at every slick crook with his tongue—to taste, to feel, to map out and to claim. Beneath him, Billy’s hips jerk to life just as Steve becomes breathless with desire and blindly, he seeks purchase in the rough material of Steve’s jeans. The soppy, wet heat of his cunt seeps through to Steve’s skin as Billy rides his thigh.

“Stevie— please, I need you to fuck me.” Billy gasps into his mouth.

Steve takes advantage of this and busies himself by stamping kisses across the curve of Billy’s jaw and throat and neck. He sucks pretty, purpling bruises into the golden skin there and ruts down against his pliant, waiting body. A taste so distinctly Billy explodes on his tongue; clean and citrusy and tangy and Steve loves it.

Steve groans deeply, “Yea, sweetheart? You missed me?”

“You try being celibate in an apartment with your hot ass– ah, boyfriend for two weeks. A perfectly timed breeze could’ve had to creaming my fucking pants at the quad today,” Billy hisses and Steve can’t help it, he laughs.

“A breeze, baby? Don’t tell me you’re losing your touch,” the amusement is palpable in his voice. He knows that Billy must sense it, even with his eyes closed because then, they aren’t. They aren’t and Steve is forced to meet those dark, dark eyes and trace the expanse of Billy’s flush from his cheeks, all the way down his chest. And without another word, he’s undoing his belt; his fly coming undone and everything. He shucks off his jeans and underwear in one swoop and wounds a hand around his chubbing cock.

It’s hot and thick in his too dry palm but the contact sends a surge of crackling heat up his spine.

He sees Billy’s attention shift. Feels his cock throb as he does that thing; the one where he tongues at his lower lip and his gaze flits between Steve’s and his cock almost thoughtfully. And his mouth is suddenly dry as he follows the subtle quivers of Billy’s stomach. Watches it dip and swell and hears his intake of breath because all the while, the blonde’s hips never exactly cease. They just slow into deep, core aching figure eights until he can’t take it and he’s reaching between their bodies for Steve’s cock.

Billy’s touch is warm but callous-rough and feels like heaven around him. In thanks, Steve winds his fingers into the blonde’s curls to steady himself, while Billy uses the precum at the head of his cock to jerk him off hard and fast. The pace has him fucking into the tight ring of fingers with a choked off moan, “Fuck– oh.”

Billy’s smug. He knows this because the demanding slide of his fist slows and well, he says as much. “Don’t act like you’re not gonna bust a nut the minute I get my mouth on you. That’s gonna make it even more embarrassing,”

“Brat.” Steve spits but he’s smiling and scooting up so that his thighs bracket Billy’s head.

“Pushover.” Billy laughs, genuinely pleased and swallows Steve’s cock into his mouth with a wet noise.

The sudden too hot, too wet of it punches an aggressive exhale out through his nose,“Holy shit, fuck” and he grabs unto the headboard while Billy makes easy work of him.

Billy sucks the head into his mouth with a practiced ease that makes Steve weak in the knees and melts all of the fight right out of him. It’s all familiar but Steve will never get used to this. Will never fail to be amazed at how well Billy takes him; unyielding as he tongues at the sensitive underside of Steve’s cock and groans around him in a way that liquifies his fucking mind. It takes everything in him not to shout when Billy hollows his cheeks and instead, his grip grows tighter in the mess of blonde curls until he’s sure it hurts.

“You’re so fucking good at this, baby. So pretty,” He cradles Billy’s cheek, only to be rewarded by a hint of teeth across the thick vein that Steve favors, near the crown.

Billy moans around the cock in his mouth and Steve’s brain collapses in on itself like a dying star. When he speaks, his voice is a low, warbled thing, “Waited all day just to suck me off, I bet. Just to put that mouth to use, huh, sweetheart?” And then, Billy pulls away to slap the leaking, ruddied head against his tongue for Steve to see. He lets it sit there. Lets the precum pool sluggishly on the pink of it and stares up at him in a way that makes Steve feel like coming home. God, he’s so close.

“C’mon, baby. I wanna cum but I’m gonna do it inside of you,” Steve grabs at his jaw affectionately before shifting sideways and falling onto his back invitingly. It takes everything in him to stay there.

He swats at the curve of Billy’s ass as he moves and swings a leg over to bracket Steve’s hips, ignoring his grumbled complaint of ‘being too lazy’. The next part comes easily, however. Billy doesn’t waste any time before he’s sinking down on his cock in a swift, decisive motion; his pussy opening up around Steve with the tiniest bit of give.

And then everything clicks into place.

Billy’s cunt is slick and he makes the prettiest sight on top of him but Steve doesn’t move. He’s trying his damndest not to and ignoring the flex of his thighs as his pelvis seems to ache with need to just do something. But he doesn’t move because Billy loves this. Billy needs this moment, so he waits. He watches as Billy holds himself tightly and he adjusts to the sheer girth of Steve— his palms lying flat against his bare chest and his hips moving in shallow bursts.

“Oh,” Billy breathes out before sitting up and slamming himself down on Steve’s cock.

“Fuck, there you go,” Steve growls and plants his heels deeper in the mattress with every thrust. He grabs at Billy’s hips and at his thighs, brushing his fingers across the curve of his ass where stretch marks color the skin liquid-gold against bronze. Rivulets like the rings of Saturn. Like Billy’s his entire world and here lies the proof of it.

The thought sends a possessive thrill through him and his grip on Billy’s ass turns bruising. Tomorrow, Steve will nip and suck more galaxies into it but for now, he tries to mold a place inside of him with his cock; deep and hard until he finds the place that makes Billy howl and stiffen.

“Steve— right there, right there, right there. Don’t stop fucking me, please,” He cries, shifting until Steve swears his cockhead nudges against the damn near opening of Billy’s womb. And he knows that Billy feels it too because he flinches, as if surprised, as if the pleasure is tinged with pain but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop.

“C’mon, baby. You can take it, don’t run.” he croons, forcing Billy to do some of the work; to rut back against his cock and envelope it whole and that’s exactly what he does. The blonde’s thighs flex with the strain of working himself open but he takes it so fucking well and Steve loses himself in the suctioning grip of Billy’s cunt. Closes his eyes and swears there are universes being created behind his eyelids. Star by star. Space dust by space dust.

“You were waiting for it, right? Wanted it so badly, gorgeous boy,” he chokes out, needing to let Billy know just how badly he’s got him.

The sound Billy makes in response is winded, all the same and then oh so pleased as he drops his hips into a slow, dirty downward grind. It’s miasmic and Steve feels the sloppy mess of Billy’s pussy against his abdomen and pulsating around him.

“Oh my god— Stevie, I’m gonna cum. Oh please, I’m gonna cum,” he ruts against Steve’s cock in these half aborted, little circles and Steve is equally as devastated by the constant bursts of pleasure and pressure.

The heat in his gut is building just as quickly. It’s a dangerous, tumultuous thing that expands past his groin and into his gut. He feels it in his hips, in his chest, at the back of his mouth and behind his teeth. It’s so close that he can taste it and he meets Billy halfway with the next few thrusts, plunging deeper into him, as if to say, ‘you feel it too, right?’

He’s whispering a mantra of, “Yea, baby? Right there?” and these desperate, half chewed off variations of Billy’s name.

And so many things happen within the next second that Steve can barely keep track of them. Billy muffles a moan between his teeth, whining all high at the back of his throat as he nods. He fucks himself on Steve’s cock with a restless abandon that comes from chasing his own orgasm. And Steve thinks, his womb. Billy’s fucking womb. He must be in it. He wants to knock him up so bad that it’s dizzying. So bad that it’s earth shattering and gravity defying. There’s the build up of white, blinding pleasure and then— the string snaps. Billy’s cumming around him with a shout and Steve’s fucking his cock into him without reprieve; thrusts long and drawn out as they ride the wave together.

He cums for so long and so hard, that Steve thinks he might have passed out a little. When he comes to, Billy’s cunt is still milking him dry and the blonde is plastered to his chest in his own, little world. Boneless but sated.

At that moment, the weariness in his bones hits him all at once and he winces. Shifts a little beneath Billy’s full weight but stamps a kiss to his forehead nonetheless. Billy grumbles into his sweat slick chest before pressing his lips there in return and brushing his mess of hair out of his eyes.

“So… donuts?” And Steve snorts.

“Yeah, donuts. I can’t believe we just screwed and that’s what you’re worried about.”

Billy’s answering smile is wicked and travels straight to Steve’s heart, “You knew who I was before you dated me so now you’re stuck,” and he’s smug about the fact.

His amusement is short lived as Steve’s softening cock slips out of him, alongside the mess of cum and Steve rolls them unto their sides. “Only because rent is killer in California but as soon as I make it big?”

Steve pats his cheek and yawns, “You’re outta here, hot stuff.”

Billy doesn’t fight him, though. Doesn’t argue that they can afford somewhere a little bigger now or that he’s pulling in more money than Steve is at the mechanic’s shop. He doesn’t point out that Steve’s been saying that almost everyday for a year and yet, still brings home his favorite donuts and will cuddle Billy for as long as he’d like after his shift because he misses him.

He doesn’t say it but Steve knows. He feels it in his chest the same way, too and thanks God and the universe for giving him a little bit of the sun and stars to hold; to keep with him forever.

minor technical difficulties meant that this was a little delayed!! so sorry everyone. i had so much fun working on this!! please look forward to the lovely upcoming work from our next contributor, @racketti and many thanks to @harringrove-relay-race for being such an amazing host 💗

[courtingchaos]

Amaretto Sour

Line Cook Eddie x Barista Reader

A/N: Clearing out some things, using this as an intro for Steve in this little universe, getting another pin off my wip list.

No warnings however:

18+ No Minors

“Let me guess, amaretto sour?”

Your head swivels back to the bar from where you were staring through the pickup window at Eddie being absolutely too smooth with it. “I’m sorry?”

The bartender smiles wide and laughs, tucking his towel into the back pocket of his tight black jeans. “You look like a sour kind of girl.”

“Oh?”

“I’m wrong aren’t I?” He bounces his finger at you, eyes squinting while he guesses. “Whiskey, neat.” It only takes you cocking your head before he laughs again. “I’m kidding. Mule?”

“Yeah, those’ll do in a pinch.”

There’s a lock of light brown hair that falls into his eyes, something you just know he uses to his advantage. Between the straight white teeth and the too tight t-shirt you know everything is carefully curated here. His charm oozes out between his lips and the corners of his eyes, the faint lines that decorate the thin skin there a testament to his humor.

“What’s your favorite then?” He already has the copper mug set in front of him while he packs in chipped ice. “I mean I’m making you a mule right now, but for next time.” He tips the Tito’s bottle into the cup for a pour too long before letting his gaze dance over your features.

“Next time?” You can’t help but be impressed. This is one of those men that’s always been out of your league in many ways, but mostly socially. It doesn’t help that his constant grin and the glances he keeps shooting over the rim of his thin glasses makes you want to giggle even though Eddie is right behind you working. Mere moments ago he was holding your attention captive and now this bartender you’ve only just met has you basically kicking your feet and twirling your hair.

“Yeah.” He pushes your cup over in front of you and places the straw in lightly. “Next round on me.”

“Oh I gotta drive home soon.” You’ve got laundry and a podcast waiting for you but he makes a convincing argument when he pouts at you, pretty lips in a downturn.

“You don’t wanna stay and hang?” He plants his hands on the bar to lean in toward you, nothing too close but enough you can catch a whiff of his sweet sea water cologne. “You haven’t even told me your name yet.” There’s a thin cuban chain that sneaks out halfway from his collar that catches your eye. “Or your favorite drink.” He’s laying it on thick and you’re spooning it up like peanut butter, smile pressed up hard into your cheeks.

“It’s a J&G.” Says the warm body practically pressed up against your back, Eddie’s voice above your head where he stares at the bartender. Your attention whips to him just as he leans on the bar too and you get to watch him shoot his coworker a look. “But like she said, she’s gotta get home soon.” He isn’t angry but his tone is flat, a communication happening between them that you aren’t privy to.

“I can have a drink Eddie.” You admonish him lightly with a tap to his arm braced next to you.

“Yeah well Steve isn’t always good at reading a cue.”

The bartender, Steve apparently, looks affronted, chin tilting down to shoot his own look. “Hey, I’m great at reading cues. Better than you, and we were having a pleasant conversation before you-”

“This is my friend. From the coffee shop.” Eddie practically barks it at Steve and it startles you.

“Eddie, it’s fine.” You laugh to try to break the tension you can see rising in his shoulders. You’d love nothing more than to reach over and lay a hand on his neck, dig your thumb in along the tight line and help him relax.

But you aren’t there. Not yet.

“Oh wait.” Steve’s eyes light up and he immediately backs up to lean on the counter behind him.

“Yeah.”

“My bad.”

Your head snaps between the two of them. Steve raises his hands in surrender and apology, a huffed laugh following him through the swinging door into the storeroom.

“What was that about?”

“Nothing.” Eddie deflates a little and drops onto the stool beside you. “Steve is just a lot.”

“I think he was pretty nice.” You say lightly, eyebrows raised high while you stir your drink with the tiny straw.

“Yeah that’s the problem.”

“How so? Am I only allowed to have one friend here?” You tease him with a tap of your shoe against his boot and a conspiratorial tilt of your head towards him.

He grins and reaches over to pull your drink over to steal a sip. “Maybe.”

[hrtsgyu]

thank you for the venom- c. soobin

w.c: unknown, pretty short though :p

genre: fluff </3

summary: having a shitty time at work and struggling on your own but a cute barista has your order memorized and is always waiting for you to come in every morning.

a/n: hello!! soobin time!! i noticed i haven’t written about him yet he literally has a phd in boyfriendology :3 i was originally going to write this as an angst or slow burn BUT IM A SOFTIE AT HEART SORRY !! also yes if it wasn’t clear already, the title is from mcr ><

“hello! what would you like to orde-“ “one black coffee.” you cut off the cute boy. you’re rushing because you have to meet with a client at your studio and you’re completely off schedule. “coming right up..” he goes to make your coffee.

“that’ll be 5.99” you pay and you’re off to your job and you can’t help but think that his smile was cute.

next morning

“good morning! how may i take your order?” he looks up at you. “one black coffee.” your tone is very bland, you really do not want to talk to anyone today. “alright! that’ll be 5.99, pay whenever you’re ready!” he goes off to make your coffee and you pay. while waiting you see him write a note on your coffee cup. he calls out your number you quickly grab your coffee and head out.

work is so hectic for you. having to finish some songs to send to your company, writing a new album for another artist who asked for you and the list goes on and on. you finally had enough and went to go take a walk for some fresh air.

sipping your coffee you noticed a note on it reading “hope your days get better :)” that barista is so sweet. maybe you should lighten up around him.

you don’t go to the coffee shop at your usual time. you woke up so late you had to speed to work and you see your boss. “late again?” “look i’m so sorry i got-“ “i don’t need any more of your excuses y/n. you’re on thin ice. i’m this close to firing you.” he leaves without another word. it’s not the first time he comes to give you a warning. you’ve been late for almost the whole month now. you get into the studio and “fuck my coffee!”

you storm into the coffee shop. you could lash out at anyone. you were mad at yourself and didn’t know how to control it but somehow he did. “hi there! one black coffee?” he smiles at you. “yes, please and thank you.” you quickly realize he already has your order done. “you can pay whenever you’re ready.” you pay once more and before you left you had to ask.

“what’s your name?” “oh! i’m soobin” he smiles brightly, he looks like a bunny you thought to yourself. “your smile is very cute and thank you for the coffee.” “ahh thank you!” he’s so cute when he blushes. you had back to your job and you saw he wrote on your cup. “just wanted to say you’re very cute. hope your day goes well!” why is he making you blush so hard? the rest of the day felt like a breeze.

next morning

you woke up on time, ready to face the world…… until you see a new barista. “hi there! i’m beomgyu, how can i take your order?” “just a black coffee please” “alright that’ll be 5.99” he goes off to make your order after you pay. he calls your number. “have a nice day!” “thank you! you too beomgyu!” he smiles sweetly at you and you spoke without thinking. “where’s soobin by the way” “he’s gonna be out of town for a little bit but he should be back in about a week!” you’re disappointed. “i see, thank you!” you leave feeling sad you aren’t going to see him for a week!! that’s so long!!! he basically gets you through your hard days.

a week passes

you’ve been on top of your shit this past week! not late once! but soobin is back and you can’t wait to see him again so you got all dolled up and headed to the coffee shop. “good morning!what wou-“ “hi soobin!” woah a little too excited to see him. “oh hi!! i have your black coffee ready!” “you know me so well, how’d your week off go by the way” you ask him politely while paying. “oh did beomgyu tell you that? it went well, had fun.” “aw that’s awesome, missed you” he covers his face as he got flustered “i missed you too uhh i never really got your name..” “it’s y/n” he takes note of your name before telling you to have a good day.

this routine goes on for a little while. throughout this time soobin builds up his courage to finally ask you out on a date… that is until he was working a later shift. you hadn’t come in at your regular time in the morning, he had thrown away your black coffee thinking you weren’t going to arrive but thankfully you did! but with another guy..?

“hey soobin!” you walk in cheerfully with the guy hanging on your side. “black coffee?” soobin asked “yeah! and an iced americano please!” soobin can’t help but stare down the guy next to you. he’s tall, handsome, buff and so much more! he can’t help but let his insecurities get to him. you sat down with your friend and soobin hands you the drinks. “here’s my card-“ “no no no! i’ll pay, you paid for us last time..” last time? you’ve been with this man more than once? oh his heart broke thinking this guy was your boyfriend. “oh fine jun go ahead” as soobin paid at the front counter with the guys card he noticed the name on the card was choi yeonjun. as in The choi yeonjun. the famous rapper and choreographer? how’d you even know him personally? and why did you have a nickname for him?

“here’s your card!” soobin sees you aren’t at your seat, figuring you went to the bathroom. “thank you! by the way soobin right? you know y/n talks about you a lot. you really make their day every morning. keep doing what you do.” “making coffee?” yeonjun laughs. “you know what i mean, making them happy. i haven’t seen their face light up in months until you showed up in their life. you gotta make a move though. just a tiny hint, they absolutely loves films.” soobin has the best date plan ever. “thank you yeonjun. also how do you know them?” “they’re my producer friend, they helped me kickstart my rapping career. couldn’t have made it without them.” soobin mentally thanks yeonjun for being talkative. “oh i see! thank you for the idea!”

“what idea?” you came back and sat down in your seat. soobin is startled “umm the idea!” “sure of course, what idea though?” you look at yeonjun confused. “uh sorry umm would you maybe like to come over to watch a movie with me? on saturday?” AHHH FINALLY!!!! you smile very widely. “yeah of course! i’ll give you my phone number.” you exchange numbers and he goes back to serving customers while you and yeonjun start catching up.

saturday

holy shit you’re scared. a date? you haven’t been on a date since collage. how bad could it be? it’s just the guy from the coffee shop. stop being nervous you got this! you can do this! just knock on his door.

as you’re about to knock on his door he opens it before you can even touch it. “sorry i got tired of waiting..” soobin smiles awkwardly. “you seriously watched me for the 5 minutes i was contemplating?” “yup!”

you enter his apartment and you see a fort and a projector. on the screen reads “(500) days of summer.” as you enter the fort you see some of your favorite snacks and a few plushies.

“how’d you know what my favorite snacks were?” you looked around the fort as he enters behind you. “a little birdie told me” his attempt to sound slick. “got it! yeonjun definitely told you” but it’s like you can see right through him. “he came in yesterday..” you giggle at him thinking he’s adorable. you get comfy beside him and he starts the movie.

movie ends

“summer kinda irks me” he says clearly not happy with the ending. “really? i see her point but they were both kind of toxic..” you look up at him while he changes the movie to music.

beautiful stranger- laufey.

“i thought about this song when i first saw you come into the shop. you were in such a hurry and in a bad mood.” you flashback to that moment. “and you were so happy to be working. how do you stay happy all day?” “you.” you blush like crazy. “you injected me with your happiness soobin. i was so miserable before seeing you and when you got my order every morning with that bright cute bunny smile you have, it made my day. the whole day. thank you for the venom i guess” he laughs a little. “venom? that’s a little rough..” you kiss his cheek. “happiness is hard for me but you made it easy.” he looked at you with stars in his eyes and leans in to kiss you. as his lips touched yours it felt like no one was in the world except the both of you. he pulled away and pulled you closer. “you do not know how long i waited to do that.” you laugh. “you’re so lovely and very silly. i like that. i like you.” he smiled. “i can’t wait to take you on dates forever and ever.”

[cloverdaisies]

MEDIA STUDIES: KIM SUNWOO

this document contains a letter to the pretty boy who sits quietly in the back of a poorly lit media studies classroom. ☆*:.｡.

song recommendation : photosynthesis- sunwoo

☆*:.｡. ☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆o .｡.:*☆☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆

LETTER ONE:

MONDAY 5TH JUNE 2007

hi pretty boy,

your sweet peach lips, and chocolate brown eyes seemed to have fell dull today. it irked me to ignore your sad state and pitiful expressions, despite having never interacted with you before now. you always sit at the back of the class, huddled as far back into the corner as humanly possible. you nervously chew on your pencil a lot and enjoy spinning the thinned wood between your two fingers. you smell of a woody-spicy accord every time you breeze past, a scent that is both unfamiliar yet powerful in evoking the warm explosion of butterflies and bees in my stomach.

your smile is full, bright and unavoidably noticeable as it spreads from ear to ear it’s a rare sight now since something in your timeline has shifted. you seem to be aching, in your oversized hoodies and frowned expressions - i wonder what had destroyed the beautiful boy who usually sits peacefully amid his own daydreams. Your voice was deep and smooth, one that could sing any woman to sleep, you looked like you drank black coffee and smoked cigarettes off your balcony every morning. your face screamed a palette of romance, you looked like the lead in a romance novel like the boy who rescues the princess in a fairytale-

“what are you writing?” the girl sat next to me cranes her neck over my page as she tries to read the contents of the page in front of me

“nothing to do with you clearly.” i retorted, scrumpling the page and discarding it in the small trash can towards the back of the class.

the bell sounded to mark the end of class, i left with a slight pink tint on my cheeks as i made short eye contact with the brown eyed boy at the back.

WEDNESDAY 7TH JUNE 2007

media was always a lesson that flew by pretty quickly, considering my only assignments were to analyze music videos and watch movies it wasn’t too difficult and time seemed to just fly by when i had little work to do.

whilst practicing my handwriting out of sheer boredom, i reached to take a sip of my iced caramel latte i’d bought from the local coffee shop shortly before class before i felt a small object hit the back of my head and then bounce back onto the floor next to my desk.

i looked behind me with a look of sheer confusion to see the pretty boy from the back of my class, who didn’t have a name to my knowledge, chuckle at me mischievously.

with a nervous and reluctant smile back, i picked up the scrumpled piece of note paper he pointed to beside me, his hands hidden in the cuffs of his grey hoodie.

in messy handwriting the paper wrote:

hi pretty girl,

thank you for the compliments, your bright eyes and blissful smile seem to have caught my eye too. but don’t be embarrassed i noticed you tend to go all pink in your cheeks and shakey whenever something mildly nerve-wrecking happens to you.

thank you for noticing i haven’t been doing well lately, it makes me feel better to have someone notice. do you wanna go get coffee later? i also noticed you buy one before class everyday.

add me to your contacts, my number is: ***************

btw my name is sunwoo, i’d love to know yours.

☆*:.｡.｡.:*☆☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆

small lil fluff to aid your wednesday evening and hopefully make you feel a lil better !

please ask me some questions with the questions feature! i really wanna use it

sending my love always, wherever you are in the world <3

[queserasora]

TOJI X FEM READER | NSFW | NO PRONOUNS BUT AFAB WORD COUNT: 4.6k wc CONTENT WARNING: profanity, murder, blood, torture, body dismemberment, stalking?, toji is a creep, he is mannerless and acts like he was raised in the wild, he plays more little games, oral male receiving female giving, blood, biting, violence in general, penetration, groping A BADLY WRITTEN SUMMARY: Chapter 2 of What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger // Toji isn't used to not having the upper hand. He finds it in his charitable heart to "watch over" y/n and help her with her "tasks", he is youthful and likes to play games

Previous

You’re not sure how long you had been lying there, inside Toji’s warm but sticky embrace. The truth was, you wanted to leave as soon as your legs could stand to hold your weight. You had formulated a plan in between sloppy kisses. You had never pictured Toji Zenin to be the cuddling type but the other truth was that you didn’t know anything about him outside of his work skills. Toji Zenin, the man, was a stranger to you.

One night of fucking wouldn’t change that.

Having drawn that conclusion made it easier for you to slip out quietly. You gathered your clothes, expertly, amazed that your panties were still in one piece. Without giving yourself time to second guess yourself, you fist the stiff panties in your hand and leave them on the nightstand; a payment for his services. It was the least you could do, after all, he had been a little bit of fun.

When he wakes, you’re not in his arms. When he wakes, he’s pissed. It wasn’t that he had developed some kind of sick attachment. After all, he had just met you, officially, the night prior. It merely irritated him that you had the nerve to leave before he could have the pleasure of throwing you out on your ass, wearing nothing but your soiled panties.

At the thought of them, being neatly chewed up by your voluminous ass cheeks, Toji grins. It was to his surprise that he saw them on the nightstand, crumpled up into a ball. A large hand snatches them from the nightstand, on his way to the shower. His lips split into a large grin. You could run all you wanted. Toji knew exactly where to find you.

Life went by as usual, with you sleeping until noon, waking up only to shower, work out, eat in that order. You’d check your various checking accounts obsessively, compulsively, counting every penny trying to add them up. The idea was to save enough to buy an island, and live by yourself, maybe some monkeys; something inane and ridiculous like that just to have an interesting story to tell in hell that didn’t involve blood and guts. 

You were so busy living from ordinary day to ordinary day, checking the app to see if anyone had posted a request worth the money that you had almost forgotten about him; almost.

It was hard to erase him entirely from your mind when you could feel him trailing you wherever you went. You stood in line at your favorite coffee shop, tapping your foot rapidly. Your patience was wearing thin. There was no way Toji Zenin would make his presence so obvious if he was trying to secretly spy on you. You had reached the conclusion on the first day you noticed–a whole week ago–that he was doing it on purpose. He wanted you to know he was there. He wanted you to feel his presence, be unnerved by it enough to react. He wanted to see you snap.

You had told yourself, time and time again, to not give in; to not give him the satisfaction, but the sight of your pointy boot was filling your head with ideas. What if you crammed your foot so far up his ass that you punctured his spleen? Wouldn’t that be joyful? You’re so distracted at the image of him penetrated up to your ankle by your thigh high boot, screaming in pain that you don’t realize it’s your turn next up at the register.

“Double shot of espresso over ice with a splash of half and half,” you mumble, slipping your hand into a pocket of your tawny double breasted trench coat. You pull out your phone, tapping it on the register. “Thank you,” you add, since unlike some members of your circles, you had manners. You can’t help it. You cast a furious look to the corner of the coffee shop. He sits there, casually drinking a cup of who knows what, legs crossed acting as if he wasn’t there for you. The sunlight casts his tan skin in a white glow, a stark contrast to his messy raven hair.

The sight was offensive, insulting. You aggressively shove a ten dollar bill in the tip jar without looking at it, nearly spilling its contents. Your coffee tastes more bitter that day, and you swallow it down with your anger, hoping that you’d never see him again.

Hoping had been foolish. Two days later, he is back in your orbit as you browse the aisles of the small liquor store. The store owner had called you to let you know a new shipment had come in for your favorite bourbon. You grab the fat bottomed bottle, and shoulder Toji as you pass him. He drops the bottle of whiskey, and it shatters, caramel liquid spilling everywhere. You don’t stop,  even as you smile at the register paying for your purchase, the scent of liquor in your nostrils. 

You don’t stop to think how easy that had been. You don’t stop to think about the reason his guard was down. You don’t stop to think at all, until you’re in your bed later that night, body sore and scrubbed clean of blood. You stop, and you think, and you hate him all over again.

You hate him especially, as you feel him jogging behind you a day later at the local park. You roll your eyes as you pick up your pace and run. He must be part animal, part predatory feline, you think because you barely feel his presence. You don’t hear his feet thudding on the ground but you hear his breathing; at least you think you do. You think you feel his breath, hot on your neck, think you hear him panting, moaning, laughing. Your heart freezes and you pivot on your left foot, swinging your right for a hook. 

Your fist lands on nothing but air. There is no one behind you but confused pigeons on the ground. They piss you off with their soulless eyes so you yell at them, and watch them scatter, flying off into the distance.

“Fuck you, Toji Zenin,” you mutter under your breath. You peer at the nearby bushes, try to spot him under a distant tree but can’t find him. Your eyes are unable to capture the sight of his smirk, the wide build of his strong shoulders. Still, you know it was him, you know he’s near. Steadying your breathing, you clench your fists and order yourself to run.

You’d be damned if Toji Zenin got the best of you. He could fuck off straight to hell.

* * *

You always kept your clothes simple and minimal while working. Black on black on black, with enough fabric to keep your anonymity, and to minimize the cost. It was easier to discard the clothes in a burning furnace than it was to attempt to wash the blood off. The knife is slippery in your hand, so you wipe the blood off on the fabric of your skirt. You feel your phone buzz, for the third time since you last checked it, and you ignore it.

You had gotten a bunch of texts from an unsaved number; awful attempts at flirting, inappropriate requests. At first, you figured they must have the wrong number, a prank from someone who didn’t want their attention. As the texts continued, you knew exactly who it was. But how did he get your number?

He’s mumbling, groaning and yelling against the cloth in his mouth. You look up from where you were counting the torn fingernails on the ground, bloody sinew still attached. Perhaps you should have been a little more gentle. Your phone buzzes again.

“You’re making a lot of noise,” you tell him in a flat tone, bringing your boot up to his crotch. He dodged your foot just in time by widening his knees. You scoff, a smirk pulling at a corner of your plush lips. His blood is splattered on the floor, dripping over the arms of the chair. You wear it on your temple, some on your brown cheek.  “And you’re wasting my time. I told you, I have to be out by ten.”

There was no particular reason. You just liked your beauty sleep. As you give him time to think his pathetic life over, you pull out your phone with your clean hand. Three new notifications from an unsaved number. You frown at the latest one.

‘You’ll be sorry if you ignore me.’

You were impressed he knew how to text full sentences. It wasn’t enough to bring you to text him back. Instead, you pocket the phone once more, and get back to work.

“Now, no screaming or any of that bullshit from earlier,” you grumble as you pull his gag down. “You gave me a headache.” He breathes in gulps, desperate pleas dropping out of his mouth. You tilt your head, take in his hollowed cheeks, the purple swollen eye. “Shut up. I hate repeating myself.” You smack the knife against his cheek, relishing every time he flinched. “I don’t care about rapists, and pedophiles. So tell me where to find your piece of shit distributor before I chop off the little baby octopus in your pants into little pieces.”

You drag the knife from his cheek, to his jaw. You follow the pathetic excuse of a jawline to his earlobe, and you press the tip enough to draw blood. He whimpers, wiggling in the chair trying to get away from you. So you dig in deeper.

“You suck at negotiating you know,” says a voice that was all too familiar. You groan, and since you can’t very well throw your knife in between his eyebrows, you slice octopus man’s earlobe right off instead. A piece stuck to your knife, you flick it off in the direction of the green eyed idiot invading your space. 

The man’s scream is shrill. It echoes in the empty warehouse, bouncing against the concrete walls. Toji crams a pinky finger into his ear and wiggles it, head tilted, face scrunched up. 

“Put the fucking gag back on,” he tells you having dodged the piece of flesh flying at him. Surprisingly, you obey his orders. It was peculiar how you could cooperate like this but can’t bother to reply to any of his texts; and by peculiar he means fucking obnoxious.

“You’re interrupting,” you tell him, standing up straight, tapping the knife against your exposed thigh. “Could you just stand there and look pretty?”

Toji tilts his head, one finger scratching an itch on his scalp. In all honesty, he didn’t give a fuck if he was interrupting. The way he saw it, you had it coming. He had tried to make you come to him on your own accord; made his presence known on multiple occasions. Toji had even gone out of his way, to take the time to type fully thought out messages on one of his burner phones; messages you chose to ignore.

“I don’t give a shit,” he rebuffs, enunciating his frustration with dramatic pauses. 

Frankly, Toji Zenin was not only annoying her, but he was starting to become embarrassing. You fix him with a pointed stare over one shoulder, returning to teasing and torturing your capture with your knife. “Just relax. Let me finish.”

He reminded you of a petulant child, acting out since he wasn’t getting the attention he craved. You purse your lips, back turned to him. There was an odd sense of satisfaction, pooling and circling below your navel. In your time of knowing of Toji’s existence you had not once even imagined him being so inadvertently captivated by a person to the point of idiocy.

He was an idiot, and you quite liked it.

His idiocy continued for several minutes, as he insisted on giving you advice over your shoulder, breaking your concentration. You had been busy digging the tip of your knife into the fleshy parts between Octopus Dick’s toes, when Zenin decided you were simply not working efficiently enough. Pride was a terrible beast to tame but it could not be denied that Toji Zenin’s reputation preceded him. If you thought about him as superior you could consider this a valuable lesson. For this reason, you stand back and watch him work, making easy pickings of the man tied to the chair.

He had begged for his life, pitifully, and found no mercy behind Toji’s eyes.

His green eyes were on you now, a sheen on them so bright it reminded you of ornate chandeliers, and treasures; the thrill of a heist. You swallow a lump in your throat, unwilling to discover that feeling further.

It was just as well, there was cleanup to be done. Working with another professional has been easier than you thought. Not that you would ever admit this out loud, especially to the man next to you, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand.

It feels like you owe him. It’s your excuse as you accept his invitation back to his place–to the place you had escaped from just two weeks prior. It’s your excuse as you abandon your vehicle, trusting him when he said ‘i'll get it taken care of’. It’s still your excuse as you get in his car, and it’s the excuse you remind yourself when he slithers a heavy hand, calloused and warm, between your thighs on the road there.

You exited the vehicle too quickly, eager to get away from Toji’s burning touch. Memories had come flooding, a flash flood with no warning; and you cussed at yourself inwardly. When did you become so weak? So soft? Over a man’s rough hands at that. The shame was enough to heat up your face. Your blood drummed loudly against your eardrums, in an attempt perhaps to inspire your primal instincts. If you became feral enough, you’d fight for survival at all costs. You’re lost in thought, and realize belatedly that Toji had been speaking to you.

He is in your space, invasive as always–a viney carnivorous species of a plant, poisonous and unforgiving. His  hands find the small of your back all too easily. Despite yourself, you sway in his embrace.

“Are you still curious about my cursed weapons,” he asks you, looking down at you with narrowed eyes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was threatening you. “I have an idea. And since you technically owe me,” he drawled, tucking his tongue behind one molar. You observe the gesture, the swell of his cheek, with a small scowl. 

You loathed his persistence, but you loathed the way you wanted to suck on his tongue right there and then more.

“Is this gonna be another one of your little games?” you ask him, trying to keep your face expressionless. You measure your words, take notice of your tone. You sprinkle a bit of disinterest in your inflection, hoping he’d fall for your trick. 

He doesn’t. He never does. His smile becomes crooked, salacious intentions pulling on invisible strings. You feel riveted to your spot, eyes taking in the shape of the scar on his mouth; jagged, a remembrance of violence. 

“I’ll show you whatever you want to see,” his words are measured, heavy, full of barely restrained lust. His fingers dig into your lower back as he pulls you closer, chests flushed against each other. His face dips towards you, angling so his lips almost brush yours; phantom kisses haunting your senses. You smell his breath heady with whiskey, and mint. “But you have to make me cum.” He pauses to lick his lips, eyes searing your skin wherever he looks.  “6 minutes.” His nose brushes against yours and you are beside yourself. Annoyance sits heavy on your shoulders, as your mouth follows his–not touching, parched, seeking. “Think you can do it?”

His tone is mocking, and you are as impetuous as always. 

You don’t let him finish, or name his terms. You are not interested. The only thing holding your interest was the shape of his mouth, you trace it with the tip of your tongue, heated fingers grasping the front of his shirt. You hear a grunt, a mumbled question from him but ignore it. 

You feel smooth around his lip line, soft and enticing against his scar. He pulls away slightly, unsure of why that unsettled him. His fingers grip your hair, he holds you steady as he looks down at you. “Leave the scar alone,” he tells you in a breathy voice.  You seem to regard him questioningly. He readies an argument, prepares to kick you out on your ass if you don’t listen but it appears you were as smart as you were attractive.

He grabs your ass with both hands, grabbing ample amounts of flesh and muscle. He loves the way his fingers dig, as if there were endless amounts of you; a bounty on top of a bounty. He wanted it all, all his greedy hands could get a hold of. Your mouth is demanding as it claims his tongue. He pretends to resist as he walks back towards his platform bed. When you come up for air, face flushed, eyes dark and ravenous he takes a seat at the edge of the mattress. 

Eye contact seemed imperative, the goal of the mission. You hold it even when your heart runs for its life, trying to tear its claws into the flesh of your chest, squeeze past the bones of your ribcage.  You hold it, as you lower yourself to your knees in front of him. Kneeling shouldn’t be this easy. Kneeling should have taken some thought, some consideration, some goddamn bribery; something more than the possible sight of his cursed weapons, more than the hungry need to slide your hands up his thighs.

You obey your needs, a starved animal with no restraints. It was if you never had spent a day in civilization. The zipper of his jeans comes down easily, he watches you and you swear the room temperature skyrockets. You can taste the humidity in the air. Your tongue darts out, nervously licking the corners of your mouth. 

“The clock started ticking the moment your knees touched the carpet,” he tells you with an air of importance. He looked down at you as if he was benevolent; the most saintly. You scoff when he meets your eyes. There was nothing saintly about Toji Zenin, you think as you finally release his hardened cock from his jeans. You admire the length and girth of him, knowing full well this was not his full potential. Intent on goading it out of him, your hands wrap around his shaft, stroking slowly at first to gauge his reaction.

He bites his lower lip, watches you as he clutches the bed sheets. His hands had ideas of their own, but he willed them to stay still; willed them to ignore the animalistic desire to pull you by the hair and fuck your mouth stupid. 

Your  hands become eager, picking up the pace. You’re aware of the time limit, somewhere in the back of your mind. You’re aware that this was a stupid game, one that made no sense, and only served to satisfy Toji and his obsession with control. Yet, you play along, yet you bring your tongue to curl around his tip, taking in the slick precum on his pink tip.

There’s a moan in the back of your mouth that you try to push down with the tip of his cock. You hollow your cheeks, fight your gag reflex as you try to take all of him in. If you pushed past your limits, sucked him with force and the violence of your will, there was no way he wouldn’t break. You wanted to see him fall apart, feel him crack and erode away under your touch.

Hands should not betray their master. They should heed command, bide their time. Toji thought this with some amount of bitterness as he grasped bundles of your curly hair. He pushed his hips up once, a low groan falling out of his moistened lips. He should hold back, resist, make you work for it but your mouth felt excruciatingly hot tonight. If you kept this up, he would become a loser in his own home.

That was simply unacceptable.

He jerks your head back, your hair tangled in his thick fingers. “You can’t possibly think it would be that easy,” he tells you, looking down at your flushed face. His heart threatens to throttle him at the sight of you; the small trail of glistening drool oozing down your chin, the way your eyes reflected no fear only desire and desire alone. “Fuck,” he mutters as he pulls you up by the hair, forcing you on the bed. You flip over as soon as you bounce on the mattress, unwilling to give up the upper hand. You knew he was close, you just needed a few more minutes.  Arms reach for him, and he fights to push you back. You become a tangle of limbs, mouths like car wrecks, teeth nipping and pulling at skin. 

“You’re wasting my fucking time,” you spit as he pins you to your stomach to his bed. He is on top of you, grinding his hardened cock against your ass. His mouth is on your neck, your shoulder, biting and kissing. He holds you down by the nape of your neck, one hand pressing you down. His breath is hot against your ear.

“That’s the point, sweetheart,” his whisper against the shell of your ear is almost too much to bear. His hands slip underneath your body, squeezing in between you and the mattress. They find their home on your breasts. He grips them possessively. “You should have figured that out by now.”

You throw your head back, aiming for his nose but despite his blood pooling in his crotch, he is still in control of his senses enough to avoid you. Using surprise to your advantage you push him over, climbing over his body to straddle him. You trap his hands, gripping his wrists above his head before he can push you off. You’re not an idiot, you realize as you grind down on his cock, that he could push you off easily if wanted to.

This little nugget of knowledge pissed you off and it was made worse that you couldn’t explain why, not even to yourself.

“Are you going easy on me?” you ask him, teeth gritted, voice taut. Your efforts to push him off the cliff of ecstasy only bring you closer to it. Dammit, was he made of steel? He smiles up at you, relaxes his fingers. There’s an odd serene look on his face, as if he was perfectly content to lay there underneath you while you pretend to be in control. “You’re such an ass.”

He laughs at you, turns his face slightly as if he could see all the sides of you, every angle you thought you hid from view. 

“Is that what you really think?” he asks you. He knows what he was. He knows you’re aware. What was the use of name calling but stating the obvious? He took pleasure in watching your discomfort, as if giving in and admitting defeat was as bad or worse than losing a limb. “Give it up. You’re already out of time.”

You yell softly, restrained as you bite down on his lip, tugging until you feel the taste of iron. He groans, and captures your bottom lip as soon as you let him go, sucking hotly. He runs his tongue on your bottom lip, then the top. “Come on, let me fuck you.” You resist, let go of his wrists to push aside your panties.

“Get this through your head, Toji Zenin,” you tell him, breathless, as you kneel over him, adjusting his tip at your entrance. “I’m the one fucking you.” You kneel back down, slowly, mouth dropping open as you slide down his cock. You feel him stretch you, fill you, centimeter by centimeter. You press your lips tightly, trying to forbid the whimper from being audible but it’s useless. Your head lolls at the pleasure, eyes fluttering close. You hear his soft laughter, feel his fingers grip your thighs.

“Then fuck me already,” he says raising a hand to slap your ass. The crack is loud in the room, and your back arches at the feel. He groans low, feeling you clench around him. “You’re taking your sweet time.” He pulls you close, stops just before devouring your mouth. “I thought you said you weren’t a patient person.”

You despised the easy way he got under your skin. You despised how you don’t hate the way he remembers the words you say. You despised the way our hips move on their own accord, eager to please, eager to find the glowing bead of pleasure at the end of the abyss. Your hands wrap around his throat, and squeeze.

“Remember,” you breathed out, thoughts scatter and run as a moan interrupts your drive. You feel him flattened his feet on the bed, grip your hips. You feel him as he starts, pounding into you. You cry out, falling over at his speed and strength. His mouth finds yours, you taste the blood on his lip, bury your fingers in his hair as you moan.

“Remember what?” he asks against your cheek, diggings his fingers into your ass now, angling his hips. You close your eyes tightly, feeling him hit that special spot that makes you lose control every time. Your legs feel shaky, your toes curl. 

“What I said….” you say weakly, aware that it didn’t matter anymore; your false bravado or your stubborn tenacity. The truth was in the pudding–or in the slick cum making your thighs slippery, the wetness sliding down his cock. You had no chance in hell of fucking Toji Zenin. Toji Zenin always fucked you.

He laughs against your ear, moves his face slightly to kiss your temple. He keeps his mouth there, lips pressed tightly against your skin, one hand on your head to keep you in place. His other hand grips one of your hips, holding you in place as he continues to thrust up into you. You cry out, hands splayed out on the mattress on the sides of his head. He laughs at you again, a little softer, letting you ride out your high. His thrusts only slow slightly.

“Come on,” he says, rolling you over. You watch him breathless as he takes off his shirt and you realize how ass backwards everything was when Toji was involved; down to the way  you were both still mainly clothed. “We have all night. You’re not giving up on me yet, are you?”

There’s a cold finger sliding up your spine, leaving fear behind on its wake. You had barely made it out last in one piece. You weren’t sure you could survive this time. 

“Fuck you, Toji Zenin,” you tell him, fully prepared for them to be your dying words. He leans down, encapsulates you in his arms.

“With pleasure.” His smirk is dangerous, fire in the staircase, no exits found. He was impending doom, and endless possibilities. Death, life, and all its contradictions. You swallow, and accept your fate.

If you died, you died.

[floralembarrassment]

Selfish fools (1/1) (jegulus)

"What do you want from me, James?" Regulus sighs, long since defeated and the words aren't even anything more than a genuine ask.

And James, James who is always fixing and working and trying. Is now overflowing with emotion. He raises his voice, not yelling but just clear and loud.

"I want forever with you Regulus! I want everything with you!"

Regulus is stunned and his mouth presses into a thin line. James takes a deep breath and speaks in a much quieter tone when he begins next.

"I - I want to wake up next you, your face soft and your mouth still slack from sleep. I want to pour your coffee and bring it out to you on the balcony where we read our half of the paper and then switch. I want to go to the shops with you and bring you home flowers and little treats each day. I want you to huff at me when I fold the towels wrong or nag me when I leave the bed unmade. I want to sing with you in the car and eat ice cream as the sun sets. I want to plan trips with you that we'll never go on and wait to watch tv shows together. I want to write little notes when you're away so I remember to tell you things that make me think of you. I want to find out you actually hate my father's secret chicken recipe." James ramble off each want for his life with Regulus, checking them off on his fingers or otherwise wild gesturing with his hands.

Regulus doesn't say anything, just takes it all in. James knows better than he isn't just blankly staring at him and that he is listening but when Regulus' affect doesn't change, James drops his arms to his sides. He shakes his head before he hangs it, and his next item is actually a wish. If he were on his knees he would be begging.

"I want you to yell at me. Would please just come back and yell at me..."

And it's then that the sobs take over and his chest heaves and the tears spill down his face.

Regulus steps forward and cups James' cheek. Lifting his face so his eyes meet his own, Regulus wipes away his tears.

"So what do we do now?" he asks mostly because he is unsure. He would do anything for James, even to the detriment of both of them. And that's what he is choosing to do now because James asked and Regulus can't say no.

"Come home with me. Please just come home," James says as more tears roll down his face.

And because James asked and because Regulus is so so selfish, he obliges.

[depressedhouseplant]

🔞 Five Ways To Friday (Minsung) 🔞

Synopsis: When Jisung meets the new barista at his favorite coffee shop, he discovers the pretty brunette is good at more than just making coffee

Tags: Smut, face fucking, come play, oral sex

Jisung’s first thought when he walked in to get his 7am coffee that Monday was “Who the hell is that cute barista?” He was lithe and thin like maybe he danced or did a lot of yoga. His dark hair fell into his eyes as he stood over the machine steaming milk for the drink he was making. Jisung got his coffee from this shop 5 days a week before he went to work and he’d never seen this boy before. The boy looked up when he heard the door.

“Be with you in a minute,” he said.

“No problem,” Jisung waited at the counter by the register. It was abnormally quiet. There were only 2 other people in the cafe and the boy working behind the counter. He finished the drink he was working on and called the name of the person who ordered it. The boy came over to the register.

“What can I get you?” he asked.

“Iced Americano with four shots,” Jisung said.

“Need quite the buzz, huh?” the boy said as he rang up the order.

“Gotta kick start the day somehow,” Jisung replied.

“Moving to the morning shift is killing me. I’ve had more than my share of espresso this morning,” the boy told him. “Name?”

“What?” Jisung asked.

“For the order,” the boy replied.

“Right. Jisung,” he said. He scribbled his name on a cup and Jisung already had the total ready.

“Same thing every day?” the barista said as he took the money.

“Five days a week,” Jisung replied.

“I’ll do my best to remember,” he nodded.

“Thank you, Minho,” Jisung said.

“What?” the boy asked.

“You’re wearing a name tag,” Jisung pointed out.

“Right. It’s still early,” Minho smiled. He was even cuter when he smiled. “Order will be up soon.”

“Thanks,” Jisung went to the other end of the counter to wait. This guy was cute. Really cute. He stopped himself right there. He’d kicked his latest conquest out of his apartment at 5am. Picking up a guy on a Sunday night was bad idea to begin with and he’d only been a decent fuck. At least he didn’t have a way to get in touch with him again so Jisung wouldn’t have to brush him off. That was always the worst part. Even if he told them it was a one time thing, some of them still didn’t get it. If this guy worked at his favorite coffee shop and had taken over the morning shift then he definitely couldn’t screw it up. Which meant no screwing him.

“Here you go,” Minho put Jisung’s drink on the counter. “I gave you an extra shot for free.”

“Umm, thanks,” he said.

“You look like you could use the boost,” Minho smiled. Why did he have to smile? Why couldn’t he be grumpy about being on the morning shift?

“Is this your new shift?” Jisung took a sip of his drink.

“Yup, 5am to noon. Then I get to spend my afternoons in class. Sleep is for the weak,” he laughed a little.

“You’re in school?” Jisung queried.

“I just graduated university and now I’m working on my Master’s in health science. I want to be a nutritionist for dancers,” Minho replied.

“That’s specific,” Jisung said.

“Dance is my passion and I want to help dancers stay healthy,” Minho told him.

“That’s funny because I work right next to the university,” Jisung said.

“What a coincidence,” Minho said.

“Agreed,” Jisung replied.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asked.

“Five days a week,” Jisung grinned.

“Looking forward to it,” Minho said.

“Have a good day,” Jisung raised his cup.

“You too,” Minho replied.

Jisung tried to shake the memory of Minho’s smile out of his head as he walked. Maybe he already had a boyfriend. But he’d been flirting with him. Right? Or was it just lack of sleep and lack of caffeine talking? Jisung was in the studio before he even realized it. Something about Minho stuck with him. Jisung couldn’t put his finger on it and it was driving him crazy.

The rest of the week, Minho and Jisung had pleasant conversations as Minho made Jisung’s coffee. Minho was still sneaking an extra shot in there for him. When Jisung picked up his cup on Friday morning, he saw something else written on it under his name. It was a phone number. He looked up at Minho who had just started making another drink.

“Text me,” he mouthed. That erased any doubt in Jisung’s mind that Minho had been flirting with him. Jisung spent all day debating whether or not to do it. If he’d taken the time to give Jisung his number then Jisung should at least say something. He finally worked up the balls to text him after he left work.

Jisung: Hey, it’s Jisung.

Minho: Hi Jisung.

Now what? He picked up guys who were half drunk in bars. He had no idea what to say next.

Minho: Are you hungry? I’m about ready to chew off my own arm.

Jisung: I could eat. I’ll need to go home & change first.

Minho: I need a shower. Just got out of my last class. Meet for dinner after?

Had he just asked him out on a date? Jisung was telling himself not to panic.

Jisung: Sure. Any suggestions?

Minho: There’s this great pizza place near campus. You do like pizza, right?

Jisung: I’m suspicious of people who don’t.

Minho: LOL perfect. [address sent]

Minho: Text when you’re changed?

Jisung: And ready to leave, I assume?

Minho: That was implied.

Jisung knew it definitely wasn’t.

Jisung: I’ll text you when I’m ready to leave.

Minho: Perfect. See you soon.

Jisung: You too.

He was going on a date. Not some random hookup. An actual legitimate date. And the thought terrified him.

Jisung got there before Minho did. The place was packed and the only table was a small booth toward the back of the restaurant. Jisung was about to text Minho asking where he was when he slid into the booth next to him.

“Sorry I’m late. Ran into one of my students on the way out and she can be a talker,” he said.

“No problem. One of my coworkers is like that,” Jisung replied. Minho sat so close to him that their thighs and arms were brushing each other. There was enough space in the booth for someone Minho’s size to give Jisung a little more personal space. Jisung wanted to slide away from him, but he didn’t want to offend him. Not offend him, but not get too comfortable.

“I normally just get pepperoni. I’m pretty boring,” Minho told Jisung.

“Not boring, just simple tastes,” Jisung replied. Minho smiled and laughed a little. Jisung almost forgot how uncomfortable he was when he looked at Minho’s smile. The server came over and took their order. He was quickly back with 2 beers.

“I don’t usually drink beer, but I feel like it goes with pizza. Like an egg and cheese biscuit goes with coffee,” Minho said.

“Egg and cheese biscuit?” Jisung asked.

“That’s what I always have on my break. I don’t really like sweet pastries,” Minho shrugged.

“Then I’ll take the pastries you don’t want,” Jisung said.

“Deal,” Minho clinked his glass against Jisung’s. The rest of dinner went well with idle conversation about work and school. When they got up to leave, Minho held out his hand to help Jisung out of the booth. Jisung hesitated, then took it. He finally got a good look at what Minho was wearing. Mostly from the waist down. He was wearing dark skinny jeans and ankle boots. He had on a fitted t-shirt that showed off the outline of his well sculpted upper body. Minho didn’t let go of Jisung’s hand once he stood up. Jisung wanted to let go, but stopped himself. Minho simply smiled at him as they walked out. Once they were outside and out of foot traffic, Minho weaved his fingers through Jisung’s and turned to face him. Jisung’s heart was in his throat. First sitting close to him in the booth, now holding his hand, what was next? Kissing? In public? He’d never done that before. He’d never done any of it before.

“Why are you so anxious?” Minho asked.

“I haven’t been on a date in a while and I really like that coffee shop,” It was half true. He’d never been on an actual date since he was old enough to date.

“I won’t hold it against you if this date doesn’t go perfectly,” Minho replied. “I’ll still do my job.”

“How did you want it to end?” Jisung swallowed hard.

“Kiss me and I’ll tell you,” Minho stepped closer to him. Jisung could feel the heat of Minho’s body against his and his breath on his face. He could kiss him in public. People did it all the time. He’d be fine. Jisung awkwardly lowered his chin and pressed his lips against Minho’s. Minho let go of Jisung’s hands and put his arms around Jisung’s shoulders. This wasn’t so bad. He enjoyed the kiss. He still felt stiff and unnatural, but he could feel the hint of a deeper desire. One that he’d be tempted to take advantage of behind closed doors.

“How do you want this to end?” Minho whispered when they parted.

“I’d like to start somewhere more private,” Jisung replied.

“My place is just around the corner,” Minho told him.

“I’m not the kind of guy to invite myself over…” Jisung began.

“I’m inviting you,” Minho said. He took Jisung’s hand again and led him down the sidewalk. Jisung willed himself to close his fingers around Minho’s hand. Why did it feel so awkward just holding hands? People did it all the time. It wasn’t weird. That didn’t change the fact it felt alien to him. Minho held his hand all the way until he had to get his keys out to get into his apartment. Jisung was relieved to let go. He was also relieved that they were about to be alone.

“So what are you into?” Minho asked.

“What do you mean?” Jisung raised an eyebrow.

“What gets you off? What will you do behind closed doors?” That certainly cut to the chase.

“I like to be used. I like for my partner to use me like a toy,” Jisung replied, wrapping his hands around Minho’s skinny waist.

“Aren’t you lucky? I like to use my partners. I like to make them into nothing more than a desperate hole. And then I like to fuck them,” Minho kissed him. This time it was much harder and deeper than outside. He hooked his fingers in Jisung’s belt loops and pulled Jisung into him. “You want me to use you?”

“I would love for you to use me,” Jisung replied.

“Go sit on the couch,” Minho nodded in that direction. Jisung dutifully sat while Minho still stood in front of him. He lifted up his shirt a little, revealing the lower part of his perfectly toned stomach. Jisung was practically drooling.

“You want some of this?” Minho teased his shirt a little higher.

“Yes,” Jisung squeaked. Minho straddled Jisung, but stayed up on his knees. Jisung started eagerly kissing and licking under Minho’s belly button. Minho folded his shirt up and put his hands on Jisung’s shoulders. Jisung started sucking a hickey directly below Minho’s belly button.

“Don’t you want what’s below there? I think you do,” Minho moved his hand from Jisung’s shoulder to his hair. Jisung opened Minho’s jeans and pulled down his underwear. His cock brushed against Jisung’s chin, the tip wet with precome. Jisung wrapped his lips around the tip and gave it a long lick. Minho dropped his head back and moaned. He pushed his dick further into Jisung’s mouth and Jisung took it. Jisung used all of his tongue to lick the underside. Minho bucked his hips and thrust into Jisung’s mouth. Minho tightened his grip on Jisung’s hair. He started slowly undulating his hips and working his cock in Jisung’s mouth against his tongue.

“Are you gonna let me fuck your mouth? I strongly suggest you say yes,” Jisung looked up at him and relaxed his jaw.

“I thought so,” Minho grinned down at him. Minho adjusted his hand in Jisung’s hair and started thrusting hard into his mouth. It was hot and wet against his cock. Minho fucked him harder, groaning as his dick grazed against Jisung’s teeth. Jisung had a solid grip on his ass, though Minho wasn’t going anywhere because he still had his pants on. He slowed down and started bucking his hips up, rubbing the tip of his cock against the roof of Jisung’s mouth. Jisung relaxed his jaw even more.

“I’m gonna come so fucking hard. I hope you’re ready,” he breathed. Jisung did his best to nod. Minho put his other hand in Jisung’s hair and pounded into his mouth. He felt his orgasm build from deep between his hips. He held Jisung’s head in place as he came. He thrust into him as Jisung drank down all of his come. Minho let go of Jisung’s hair and leaned on the top of his head when he finished. Jisung still held Minho’s softening cock in his mouth.

“You can move,” Minho panted. Jisung leaned his head back and held Minho up by his shoulders.

“Was I a good enough hole?” Jisung asked.

“Very,” Minho replied. “I’ll fuck that perfect ass of yours soon.”

“In the meantime, I’m going to touch this beautiful body of yours,” Jisung told him. “If that suits you.”

“By all means,” Minho stretched out on the couch as Jisung undressed him then undressed himself.

“I might even be able to wake you up again,” Jisung whispered when he got on top of him.

“Good luck,” Minho replied.

“I don’t need luck,” Jisung smirked.

“Oh fuck,” Minho arched his back against the couch as Jisung massaged one of his nipples and played with the other with the tip of his tongue. Jisung had spent the last half an hour licking, sucking, nipping, and caressing Minho’s body. He was hard again and panting as Jisung refused to relent on his nipples. Jisung finally picked up his head and looked at Minho.

“Are you ready again?” he asked.

“I’ve been ready. For a needy hole, you sure know how to make me beg,” Minho replied.

“This needy hole is ready to get a cock in his ass,” Jisung rested his chin on Minho’s stomach.

“Get in the bedroom,” Minho ordered.

“Yes sir,” Jisung winked as Minho goaded him toward the bedroom.

“I think I’ll take you on your back. I want to see you,” Minho said.

“See what I look like when you’re fucking me?” Jisung teased.

“Exactly,” Minho agreed. Jisung got on his back and spread his legs. Minho didn’t waste any time opening the other man up. He rolled on the condom, lubed it, and looked down at Jisung.

“I expect you to scream,” Minho said.

“I’ll do my best,” Jisung smiled up at him. Minho braced one hand on the wall and slid his dick into Jisung. Jisung moaned.

“You’re thick,” he purred.

“Thank you,” Minho leaned down to kiss him.

“Why don’t you pound that thick cock into me? Make me want to scream?” Jisung challenged.

“You read my mind,” Minho replied. He started with long, slow strokes. For as much as he slept around, Jisung was surprisingly tight.

“Gonna torture me first?” Jisung asked.

“Maybe,” Minho ran his hand down Jisung’s chest and barely grazed his cock. Jisung moaned louder this time. Minho slowly brushed his index finger across the tip causing Jisung to take more of Minho’s cock.

“Jesus Minho,” Jisung braced his arms against the bed. Minho lightly circled around the head. Jisung started panting and grunting. Minho put his hand down and went back to thrusting into Jisung.

“Don’t stop,” Jisung whined.

“I’ll do what I want to you,” Minho replied. “And right now I want to pound you.”

Minho pounded into him until Jisung stopped writhing under him. Then Minho ran a finger up the underside of Jisung’s dick and teased the bump right under the tip. Jisung keened and balled up his fists in the sheets.

“You want me to finish you? You want me to play with your cock so you can come all over yourself?” Minho stopped to look down at him.

“Yes,” Jisung gasped. Minho took just the tip in his hand and made short quick strokes. Jisung cried out and let a stream of foul language spill out. Minho hit his prostate one last time and Jisung came. He came more on Minho’s hand than his own body. He screamed and writhed as Minho worked him through. Once he finished, Minho held out his hand.

“Clean it,” he said. Jisung dutifully licked his come off Minho’s hand.

“Thank you,” Minho kissed him with no thought that Jisung had just licked come off his hand.

“You’re welcome,” Jisung grinned, fucked out and content. Minho braced both hands on the wall and fucked Jisung as hard as he could. His second orgasm of the night pumped into the condom. Minho bucked his hips against Jisung’s. Minho slid out of Jisung, peeled the condom off, and lied on top of him, sweating like he’d forgotten to turn the air conditioning on. Jisung put one arm across Minho’s back.

“You still alive?” Jisung asked.

“Maybe,” Minho mumbled.

“That was some great fucking,” Jisung observed.

“Yeah,” the other man agreed.

“I’m not the kind of guy to invite myself to spend the night, but…” Jisung looked up at Minho.

“I’m not letting you and your perfect ass go anywhere,” Minho said.

“Okay then,” Jisung laughed.

“Holding hands isn’t so bad after all,” Minho picked up his head.

“Who knew it was decent foreplay?” Jisung kissed him.

“Are you gonna let me hold your hand in public now?” Minho asked.

“We’ll see,” Jisung replied.

“I’ll wear you down,” Minho said.

“I’m pretty stubborn,” Jisung countered.

“I make your coffee,” Minho pointed out.

“Touché,” Jisung smiled.

“I’m going to sleep for a bit,” Minho said.

“I like that plan,” Jisung agreed.

“Wake me up when you’re ready for another round,” Minho yawned.

“Then it’ll be a power nap,” Jisung laughed.

“Good night for now, Jisung,”

“Good night for now, Minho,”

[acasualcrossfade]

It’s On the House

Written for @thefreakandthehair Sping Fanworks Challenge 2023, Prompt: Mud

Stranger Things, Steve/Eddie, Steve and Eddie

Words: 4326

Read this on Ao3 and find me at thunderously_halo over there :)

Summary: Steve works at Ungrounded, Hawkins’s new café in town next to the record store. When a person clad in all black bikes up with a guitar on his back, Steve is intrigued. Through many closing shifts, Steve learns more about the person, Eddie, and eventually helps Eddie after he gets caught in the rain.

--

“Large iced coffee and a chocolate chip loaf, warmed for Megan!” Steve called, holding up the bagged dessert as he slid the freshly made coffee forward. He turned back to the machine to foam milk for the cappuccino. He stepped to the side to let his boss, Keith, place a cup on the pick-up counter.

“Tuesday Special for Hannah!” Keith called.

As much as Steve hated closing shifts, he hated the company-mandated uniform a bit more. The uniform was no more than a tan-colored shirt and jeans, but the shirt was his least favorite. It had the words “Get Ungrounded” written in groovy letters on the front, and had a giant printed coffee bean on the back.

“I’m gunna go on break,” Keith said, scooting past Steve.

Steve sighed, already knowing that was code for I’m leaving, close up on your own . He was used to it by now, and as the last of the evening rush dwindled, Steve felt the familiar peace that came with the closing shift. A few of his evening regulars were already seated at their usual tables; the booths on the side were left empty except for one study group that sometimes came in around finals season.

The quiet of the café was his favorite. As the sun started to set, the streetlights glowed brighter against the dimming sky.

Traffic thinned and bikers were scarce.

Which was why when a biker whizzed past the window, Steve’s head snapped up in surprise. He abandoned all thought of cleaning the next table and watched as the figure on the bike, dressed in all black, gracefully dismounted. It wasn’t until the figure turned to lock their bike that Steve made out the hardback guitar case strapped to their back. The two seemed to move together as one, and Steve was sure if he strapped a guitar on his back, he wouldn’t look like that.

Steve finished wiping down the table before glancing up at the biker again. The figure had removed his helmet and was walking towards the coffeeshop. Their long hair flowed along with them, and Steve suddenly panicked.

Was it cooler to meet him at the counter or greet him at the door?

Why was he suddenly worried about that?

He was saved from having to figure it out as the man headed into the record shop next door.

A rush of relief seeped through Steve, and he went back to cleaning tables.

--

Steve was in the middle of bussing tables when the door opened and a customer walked in. He grabbed the last of the dirty mugs before heading towards the counter.

“One minute,” he called, before setting them all in the sink behind the register. And when Steve looked up, he immediately recognized the man standing at the counter.

It was the biker from earlier.

The biker stood patiently at the counter, taking his time to read the menu and glance at the dessert case. The man looked comfortable in his dark gray shirt and denim jacket, and his skinny black jeans were ripped in the knees. The light breeze from the coffee shop's weak AC blew the man’s flyaway curls around his face and made his features look soft and welcoming. The man carried his guitar case, and had set it down to lean against the counter.  

His brown eyes studied the sweets and he rocked back and forth slowly as he contemplated, then turned his interest to the snacks along the side of the counter.

“What can I get for you?” Steve asked politely, doing his best to keep his voice from cracking. It always happened when he was nervous. The man had this gracefulness to him, and Steve automatically felt pulled in by it. His apron suddenly felt crooked and he fought the urge to straighten it.

The man’s gaze traveled from the snacks to the small card of specials next to the register. His brow furrowed as a soft smile played on his quirked lips. “What’s the Tuesday Special?”

“It’s a java chip Frappuccino with strawberry and peppermint drizzle,” Steve explained. “And you can get it with or without whipped cream. It’s pretty popular.”

The man nodded approvingly and spent a moment debating before finally shaking his head. “Another day. But can I grab a chamomile tea instead? Large?”  

Steve typed in the order and then looked up again. “And what’s the name for the order?”

The man shifted to the other leg. “Oh, Eddie is good. E-D-D-I-E, though,” he said, standing on his tip-toes to peek over as Steve wrote on the cup. “Not E-D-D-Y.”

“Gotcha.” Steve wrote it on the cup. Eddie. The name fit him.

“And can you do me a favor?” Eddie asked, his voice going quieter. “Or, well, can I make an order in advance?”

Steve glanced around at the quiet coffee shop before nodding. The evening rush had died down, leaving the coffee shop in a quiet ambience. The evening regulars sipped their coffees and there were a few study groups gathered at some of the tables.

“Yeah, sure. I can also bring it to your table since it’s not too busy,” Steve mentioned.

“That’d be great.  I’m waiting for someone and I want to order for them.” Eddie thought for a moment. “It’ll be a medium hot chocolate with whipped cream with a bit of cinnamon sprinkled over it? And can you bring it in like, 20 minutes or so?”

Steve added a note about the hot chocolate before putting in the order. “So it’s one hot chocolate with whipped cream and a bit of cinnamon,” Steve repeated as Eddie nodded along. “Okay Eddie, I’ll have that ready for you in a bit.” Steve took a handful of crumpled bills from Eddie and handed him his change.  

When Steve handed him his tea, Eddie smiled once more before heading back towards the windows, taking a seat at one of the booths in the far corner.

A few more people trickled in, and Steve watched as a young kid headed to Eddie’s booth. In one hand, the kid held his windbreaker and in the other, a briefcase.

Steve hid his smile as he watched Eddie jump up to greet the kid, pulling him in for a tight hug. He placed a hand on the kid’s shoulder as he spoke to him and Steve watched the young boy nod a few times before hugging Eddie again.

They must know each other pretty well.

It wasn’t until the boy sat down and opened the briefcase that Steve realized it was a case of colored pencils.

The boy fished a few figurines from his jacket pocket and Steve watched as the two started exchanging pencils and erasers. Steve was sidetracked from his watch as a few more students came in for a light night caffeine fix. By the time he glanced back at Eddie and the boy, they were both sketching quietly.

Moving easily through his evening duties, Steve carefully rinsed the dirty mugs and closed up the sticky syrups. He snuck glances at Eddie’s booth more than he should, and each time he saw them, both were in deep concentration.

They pair worked in quiet tandem; the boy shaded something furiously as Eddie sketched quietly. They’d each turn the figurine every now and again to capture it in different stances. And Steve found that Eddie looked most comfortable with one leg hugging his chest, and his other stretched in front of him. There was a quiet, unspoken bond between the two; more than once, Steve caught sight of the boy holding up his drawing and Eddie giving him a high-five and a wide smile.

Work was busy enough to keep Steve at the counter, even though he burned with curiosity to see what they were drawing. Between drawings, they sipped their drinks and at one point, both of them dissolved into giggles at the kid’s whipped cream mustache.

Steve caught the boy’s name as they laughed. Will.

Steve’s finished stacking the clean mugs as laughs burst from the back table. Eddie and Will are giggling over one of Will’s drawings, both talking about something called a Thessalhydra.

Steve made a mental note to look up what a Thessalhydra was.

--

Steve just finished collecting the dirty mugs from the Tuesday evening rush when he caught Eddie walking through the door. Instinctively, he straightened his apron and headed to the counter.

“Hi, what can I get you?” Steve was glad his voice stayed even.

“I’m thinking I want something sweet. Is there anything you’d recommend…” Eddie paused and leaned closer over the counter to peer at the nametag clipped to Steve’s apron. “Anything you’d recommend, Steve?”  Eddie rocked back and forth as he studied the dessert case.

Steve’s ears warmed at the way Eddie said his name. Somehow, Eddie made it sound more melodious than five letters.

“Well,” Steve started. “That chocolate chip loaf is pretty popular, and we’ve got some good donuts, too.” Steve searched the bottom of the case, but shook his head. “Our iced raspberry lemon loaf is good, too, but it looks like we’re sold out.”

Eddie tapped his chin before pointing to the loaf at the top. “I’ll give the chocolate chip loaf a try,” he requested. “And also small mocha.”

Steve smiled. “Good choice.” He took Eddie’s crumpled bills and brought out the man’s order.

“Do you want your loaf warmed?”

Eddie’s face opened into surprise and playfully grasped his chest, pretending to swoon. “I think you just became my hero,” he sighed dramatically before smiling. “I am truly both thankful and amazed such a thing exists.”

Steve waited for Eddie to add an order of hot chocolate like last week, but instead, Eddie handed over a crumpled bill.

“I’ll have that right out for you, Eddie,” Steve said with a nod, and Eddie headed back to his usual table. Instead of colored pencils, Eddie set a worn notebook and pen on the table. Steve could tell that from the way the cover bent upwards, it had been folded and bent backwards multiple times. Eddie settled into his usual perch and started writing.

When Steve brought his mocha and warmed chocolate loaf, Eddie smiled at him with the pen cap wedged between his teeth and Steve felt something warm inside him at the sight.

Steve wondered what he was writing. Could it be songs? Or poetry? He couldn’t dwell on it for long as another few late night students sauntered in. Steve stole a last glance at Eddie, and found he was crossing something out on the page. Steve caught Eddie’s slight frown before turning back to his own evening duties.

Steve glanced up at Eddie once more and found that he’d started gathering his things. As a pair of headlights swung into the parking lot outside, Eddie rushed as he shoved the notebook under his arm and grabbed his guitar. He was almost to the door when he turned to Steve at the counter. “Thanks again for the dessert rec,” Eddie called, and lifted one hand to wave to Steve.

Steve’s ears went warm as he nodded and smiled, raising one hand to wave back.

--

Over the next few weeks, Steve picked up on Eddie’s schedule. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, he biked in to teach guitar lessons (Steve saw him chatting with the kid and their parents outside one Tuesday). And Steve learned that Eddie had a specific drink depending on what he was doing there; art with Will meant a large chamomile tea and anything that dealt with the black notebook meant anything caffeinated paired with something sweet. Steve discovered that Eddie loved anything sweet, and it only took two weeks for him to nail down a favorite pastry. His usual was now the warmed chocolate chip loaf.

Steve found that he enjoyed picking up these small details about Eddie. Each one felt like collecting a piece of something special. And catching him writing, or better yet, pondering what he could be writing. The entire sight pushed Steve’s heart into overdrive.

Steve spent any free time of his shifts sneaking glances at Eddie as he sketched or wrote.

Was it creepy?  

Steve was no stranger to having evening regulars; he knew that Mr. Westler was recently divorced and Candice and her young son Grant were going to the movies on Friday.

Eddie as a coffee shop regular felt different. No other regular made Steve excited to come in for his closing shifts. And he found that he even hated the uniform a little less.

After a month of observations and a goodbye wave at each shift, Steve begrudgingly accepted that seeing Eddie and serving Eddie was something he looked forward to.

--

It rained hard the next Tuesday shift and Steve looked outside as thunder rolled across the sky. The darkened sky made the overhead lights in the coffee shop glow a warmer yellow.  The water on the window caught the headlights and lighted storefronts from outside, making the windows look like a watercolor painting.

Steve appreciated rainy days. The evening rush wasn’t as busy since people wanted to stay out of the rain, but, there was always a possibility of a rush for people to escape the rain. There’d been a slight rush in the afternoon, and Steve realized as time went on that Eddie most likely had stayed home. A bike whizzed past as Steve handed out a small Americano to a student. He watched curiously as the back wheel flicked up water, causing it to patter against the window. Steve’s brow furrowed.

Biking? In the rain?  

The figure hurried in and it’s clear that they weren’t just wet from the rain. They’re soaked .

Water ran off the sides of the jacket sleeves and some of the patrons stared offensively at the dripping sight. It’s not until the man swiped back a handful of plastered curls when Steve blinked in shock.

“Eddie?” Steve’s heart stuttered, trying not to focus on how wide and innocent Eddie’s eyes looked as he slogged towards the counter. Questions bounced around Steve’s mind, but he cleared his throat and grabbed a few clean rags from under the counter.

It’s the closest thing to something dry that Steve can think of.

“They’re clean,” Steve explained. “And we’ve got some more in the back.”

Eddie immediately pressed the towel to his face and shrugged out of his guitar to lean it against the counter. The water droplets pearled against the hard casing of his guitar case and dark flecks decorated Eddie’s shirt and jacket.

“What….What happened?” Steve asked slowly. He suddenly wished the coffeeshop had bigger towels.

“Caught in the downpour,” Eddie replied quickly as he toweled off his neck and chin. “I never saw it coming,” he sputtered sadly. Eddie shook slightly and Steve realized the flecks on Eddie’s shirt weren’t the design, but were flecks of mud and sediment. Water is caught in his hair like crystals, and they shine down his curls and pearl at his ends. Some of the heavier drops  splash to the floor.

“My uncle would have driven, but he’s already at work.” His face disappeared into the towel again before moved on to his jacket sleeves. “And I didn’t want to cancel the lesson.” He shivered, swiping the towel down the front of his shirt. His hair hung in soaked strands. “But I did not plan to be soaking wet like this. Fuck, it’s cold.”

It isn’t until Eddie starts patting the back of his jacket when he abruptly stopped. He twisted to look at the back, and then turned again, trying to see it better.

Steve suddenly envisioned a kitten chasing its tail.

Eddie cursed quietly. “The mud got sprayed up my jacket,” he moaned. He held up the handful of soggy towels. “Can I get these dirty? Is that okay?” He rotated around  again, trying to get a better look at his back. “Actually, do you mind telling me how bad this is?”

Steve tried to keep his composure, but he was sure that his ears were fire-engine red. “I, uh, it’s not…” Steve thought of skirting around the question, but then he saw that Eddie’s back was splattered with mud. He winced out of sympathy. “It’s pretty dirty,” he finally settled.  

Eddie groaned and studied his jacket. “Do you mind getting some more towels? I think I’ll need a few more.”

There aren’t any more towels under the counter, but Steve grabbed the few stacked next to the sink. “Here, try these.”

Eddie took them and dabbed at his soaked sleeves. “Guess this is coming off, too,” he sighed. The wet denim fought him and he yanked it to free his arm. When he turned to look at the back of his shirt, Steve caught a glimpse of Eddie’s quarter sleeve tattoo. An outline of a wing peeking under his left sleeve.

The weak breeze of the AC did nothing to help Eddie as he shivered in his black short sleeve shirt, and Steve suddenly wished he could wrap him in something warm and dry.

Steve paused, checking the coffee shop. There were only a few people that sat around, and all of them looked served. Steve lowered his voice. “We actually have extra uniforms in the back,” he offered. “It’s not the most stylish…” He glanced down at his own tan monstrosity. “But they’re dry.”

“Are you sure it’s okay? I-I,” Eddie started before shivering. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Keith is gone for the day,” Steve explained. “Besides, he can’t do much more than tell me off a bit.” He shrugged. “We gotta get you outta those wet clothes, come on.” He lifted the counter and it opened like a drawbridge and Eddie stepped carefully behind the counter.

“It’s kinda…fun to be back here,” Eddie mused as he took in the view from the café. “I feel like the king of the café.” He twisted to look at Steve as cleared away the few carts in front of the storage door. “Is this how you feel every day?”

Steve couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Eddie, soaking wet but serving coffee to other evening regulars. “Not exactly, but now that you mention it, Café King does have a nice ring to it.”

Eddie’s squeaky converse followed Steve’s sneakers into the storage room. Steve had only been back there a handful of times, but he didn’t remember it being such close quarters. Eddie felt attached to his back, but Steve found his presence surprisingly warm, despite the man’s shivers. He searched the shelves, certain there were extra shirts somewhere.

“Oo, it’s a little creepy back here,” Eddie whispered. “Looks almost haunted. Have you seen ghosts back here or like, felt cold spots?” He peered at Steve through one of the shelves. “Or have you seen anything out of the ordinary? Something you can’t explain?” Another smirk played at Eddie’s lips.

Steve gave him an intrigued look. “There was that one time I tripped over a sack of beans that were back here.”

“A bag of beans?” Eddi repeated.

“Yep, it was on a cart but I didn’t see either.” Steve nodded towards the wall. “So I redid some of the lighting.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “You...what?”

“Here, flip that switch on the wall?”

Eddie kept his brow furrowed curiously as he slowly flipped the switch by the doorframe. Instead of the expected harsh lighting of a storage room, the lighting of the storage room was done up in yellow Christmas lights that hung, strung from the ceiling.

“Okay, wait,” Eddie paused, looking around. “This is the coolest storage closet I’ve ever seen!” His hair flicked out cold droplets of water as he turned in a slow circle to take it all in.

“Yeah, I sometimes get migraines so this room is a bit darker than the coffee shop ones,” Steve explained. His cheeks heated in muted humiliation; why was he talking about this?  

“It feels so cozy in here,” Eddie replied. “And if anything, you could keep the lights out if you’re sensitive to low lights, too.”

Steve nodded. “Exactly.” He turned to Eddie to ask how he knew about migraines, and immediately was reminded the man was soaking wet. “You must be freezing.” Steve went back to searching the shelves.

“Will gets them. Migraines,” Eddie explained. He hugged himself as Steve searched the next shelf. “Kid’s a trooper, though. He’s better at catching them early.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Sucks that they can start so young, too.” He moved to the next shelf. “Found ‘em!” Steve called, holding up a tan shirt that smelled faintly of stale coffee. “And looks like they left behind some chef’s pants.” Steve held up the black and white checkered pants, holding  back a laugh. “Is small okay for the shirt?”

“This’ll do,” Eddie responded gratefully as he took the shirt. “Thank you so much, Steve. I also did not expect to be doing any of this.”

Steve felt another strong urge to wrap Eddie up and watch him sip warm chocolate. He pushed away the thought. “You can change back here, and if you want, there’s some hangers and such back here if you want to hang up your clothes.”

Eddie looked down at the clothes he held. “That’s so great, thank you. And I can get my clothes back when I return them.”

Steve nodded. “Sounds like an even trade.”

Steve nodded once more before turning out of the room to let the man change. He couldn't help himself as he took one more glance at Eddie, dripping wet under the soft lights.

Eddie emerged from the storage room looking considerably drier. There was more color in his cheeks and he wasn’t shivering.

“You look better,” Steve smiled.

Eddie’s lean frame swam in the shirt, but the tan brought out the chocolate in Eddie’s eyes. Even with the tan shirt paired with the checkered chef’s pants, Eddie looked… cool . His curls were more damp than wet, and some of his usual flyaways did their usual dance in the light breeze of the AC.

Steve blinked. Could this man pull off anything? Or did this mean he liked a man in uniform?

“What, soaking wet isn’t my best look?,” Eddie playfully replied before going serious. “But really, I cannot thank you enough. You’re truly saving my life.” He ducked under the counter and reached for his guitar.

Steve shook his head. “Well, we don’t just let anyone wear the tan,” he laughed.

“It’s an honor, truly,” Eddie laughed. He gave Steve another one of his famous bows. “And are you closing on Thursday?”

“Yeah. “ His ears heated at the thought of Eddie knowing his schedule.  

“Okay, cool, I can bring these back then.”

Steve nodded. “See you then.” Suddenly, he grabbed one of the drink trays. “Here, use this for the way over. It could be a good makeshift umbrella.”

Eddie gave him another grateful look. “You’re a genius, Steve,” he rushed. “Truly.” He grabbed his guitar and held up the drink tray in a wave. “See ya later!”

Steve lifted his own hand up to wave back. “See you!”

It isn't until Steve closed up that he remembered Eddie's clothes in the storage room. He quickly headed back there, and sure enough, the man's jeans and usual denim jacket were laid out on the shelves. Without another thought, Steve grabbed them to take them home to wash.

--

Thursday’s rush is busy enough for Steve to miss Eddie’s graceful dismount, but Steve caught sight of his parked bike as he cleaned up after the evening rush.

Eddie arrived at the café later  with his guitar on his back. “Hey Steve,” he bounced, holding up a paper bag. He took a sneaky look around before placing the bag to the counter. “I’ve got the goods.”

Steve didn’t stand a chance against the smile that broke out on his face. “What are you, a drug dealer?” he joked. He took the bag. “Thanks, though. And besides, Keith left at like, seven thirty. As usual.” He pulled out a bag of Eddie's folded clothes, the ones he took home to wash and dry.

"Steve, you washed these? And folded them?" Eddie gave him a wide-eyed look as he stared into the bag. "You really didn't have to do that."

Steve rubbed his neck nervously. "It's nothing," he replied shyly. "Just a little mud."

Eddie took out his denim jacket and unfolded it before slipping it on. Nice and clean, it seemed to be glad to be back on his shoulders. "Well, thanks again, Steve. I feel like I'd be an Eddie-ice pop without you."

“Speaking of, is today a chamomile tea day or a mocha day?”

Eddie beamed. “I’ll take the usual small mocha and a chocolate chip loaf.”

“Warmed,” Steve added with a smile. His heart squeezed as Eddie beamed at him. He nodded towards Eddie’s notebook that he held under his arm. “So, do you write poetry?”

Eddie gave Steve a shy smile. “No, actually. Songs, they’re songs, well, half-songs. So kind of like poetry.” He patted his pocket before reaching in and producing a small folded piece of paper. “Actually, I’ve got a show coming up next week. It's a pretty small show, but it’ll melt your pretty little face off.”

Steve took the flier and looked it over. “Yeah, I’d-I’d love to come. Thank you.”

Eddie smiled. “And if you need, café-mandated uniforms are okay to wear.”

‘Hey, I thought you were done hating on the tan,” Steve laughed.

Eddie gave him a pointed look. “I’m not hating on it, I’m just saying their welcome at my show.”

And later that night when Eddie wrote, all leg-bouncing and pen-biting, Steve carefully set a second mocha in front of him.

“On the house,” he said.

Steve knew he’d spend the rest of his night remembering Eddie’s million-watt smile.