#anon in the studio like yeah this sounds reasonable as fuck! drop it

[comet-forgot-you]

Hiii comet, how are you? I'm the anon who asked for bassist reader x Max (reader eats Max backstage after the show) and it was the most perfect thing I've ever read!!

I was thinking about a part 2 (if you want to do it, if you don't want to that's fine!!) where R's band need to hire a photographer to take their pictures for an album and it turns out Max is the photographer hired, so they pose for the photshoot and at the end R tells the band to go ahead and stays behind to help Max "organise her stuff", but R acutally ends up eating Max again (reader loves giving Max head confirmed!!). At the end R is trying to ask Max out on a date but it's too nervous about it and Max is like "🤨🤨 you just eat me out like its the air you need to live and now you can't ask me out? 🤨🤨" but kind cocku about it because well its Max... she'll be cocky about it!

Again only write this if you feel like it, no pressure and no need to do it 🫶🏼🫶🏼

yes ofc bby. pt. 1 here.

smut. 18+ pls.

do not repost for any reason.

music blasted through the speakers of your car as you sped down different streets, heading to some rundown part of town for a photoshoot. your band had grown over the past few months, your fans begging for any new music from you guys. you had spent almost 2 years working on your newest album, and it was finally finished and ready for release.

you pulled into an almost empty parking lot, the only other vehicles there being ones of your bandmates. you parked next to them before getting out, heading into the studio. your band’s music rang through the small building and you followed the sound until you found them.

“late as always,” your drummer, alex, spoke the second they saw you, a bright smile on their face.

“shut up,” you mumble, moving to join their small group, wrapping an arm around the guitarist. they laugh at you and you cant fight the smile that makes its way onto your lips.

“this is max,” alex introduced, nodding over to the girl standing in front of them, camera in hand. you recognized her the second you saw her, of course you did. you hadn’t been able stop thinking about her after the concert. she always seemed to pop into your mind the second you were horny and alone in bed. you always thought back to the pretty noises she made, her taste, her smell, her. you has been hoping you’d meet her again at some point, this time making sure that you would see her again.

“max,” you mumble, nodding towards her, “nice to see you again.” a faint blush crosses her cheeks at your greeting, a smirk pulling at your lips.

“hey,” she greets quietly, suddenly nervous.

“wait you guys know each other?” you look over to your bandmates, nodding.

“yeah, met her at the last concert.” you glance over to the girl, the memories of your last encounter running through both of your minds. she nods slowly in agreement.

“lets get started, yeah?”

hours pass before the shoot finally ends, your bandmates starting to head out, talking about heading to a bar. “i’ll catch up with you guys later, i’ll stay and help her out.” your group exchanges looks before nodding, shooing you back into the studio.

the music had changed since your group had walked out, changed to a much softer tone of music. “max,” you call out, walking into the now empty studio. she lets out a startled scream, jolting at your sudden appearance. you cant help but laugh, shes so cute.

“jesus fuck, you scared me. i thought you guys left,” her hand is against her chest as if she were slowing her racing heart.

“im sorry,” you laugh out, leaning over slightly. “im sorry. they left, but i forgot something, had to come back.” why did you lie? your heart was pounding and you could feel your cheeks flush. max looks around the room, searching for anything you could’ve left behind, but you fix her attention back to you.

her large eyes meet your own, flickering down to your lips. “hi,” she says shyly. you smile, letting your hand drop from her jaw to her neck.

“hi,” you whisper back. “i haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” you confess quietly, eyes flickering down to her lips. max’s head tilts slightly, eyebrows furrowing.

“im surprised you remembered me,” she mumbles quietly. the statement makes you scoff, hand dropping even further, holding her hip.

“how could anyone forget you? i told you i wanted to see you again.” max looks away, flustered. she scoffs.

“yeah right, im sure you say that to everyone.”

you don’t. you tend to be forgetful, never seeming to maintain a memory of names, but max’s stuck with you like it was handwritten in your brain. “i don’t.” max rolls her eyes, her hand dropping to hold your wrist. you tug her closer to you, “can i kiss you?”

max doesn’t respond, her eyes searching your own. your eyes cant choose where they want to be, flickering between her eyes and lips. “please,” it’s desperate, you need to kiss her so badly.

max doesn’t respond, her hand instead cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss. her lips are soft, and you’re reminded of when the first time when she told you her name, the way she bit her lip.

you take her bottom lip between your teeth, tugging it as you moved to press kisses against her jaw. max’s hands find your head, her fingers tangling in your hair. “i need you,” you whisper in her ear, your hot breath sending a shiver down her spine. max takes your hand in her own, tugging you through the studio into a small lounge area. she tugged you on top of her as she laid back on the small couch, your lips connecting once more.

your hands wander all over her, you fingers caressing the skin just beneath her clothing. “please,” she whines out, arching into you. you smile against her lips, pulling her shirt off. your trail kisses down her body, sucking deep marks into her pale skin. one hand held you up, the other struggling with her jeans, too caught up in covering her body with decorations of you to focus your full attention on getting her pants off.

the second you’re able to unbutton her jeans, you pushing yourself off of her, pulling the denim off of her, underwear, too. your eyes meet her soaked cunt, the one you always thought about. you’re tongue is on her before you know it, lapping away at her folds.

max is a whining mess between you, unable to keep herself still. her whines slowly turn into moans as you continue against her cunt, your tongue swirling around her clit in a slow, teasing manner. max’s fingers tangle in your hair once more, bucking into your face.

“stop,” she groans out, referring to your teasing actions against her pulsing clit. you cant help but chuckle, the vibrations leading to more moans from the girl. your tongue goes from teasing her sensitive clit to prodding at her entrance. “please,” max is desperate, she needs you as badly as you need her. you give in almost immediately.

you wrap your lips around her clit, fingers slowly sinking into her cunt. its more like they’re sucked into her cunt, her pussy greedily taking you in. “fuckk,” you groan out against her cunt. her walls flutter around your fingers, a pathetic whimper leaving her lips.

you scissor your fingers in and out of her, lapping at her cunt like it was your final meal. max arches her back off of the couch, pushing her cunt into your face. she was close, you remember the way her body reacted the last time.

her walls clamped around your fingers, loud moans bouncing off of the walls. its not long before her orgasm is washing over her and you’re lapping it all up, not a single drop wasted.

you help her ride out her orgasm before fetching her clothes, the ones you had thrown mindlessly throughout the room. you were stalling, really, trying to build up the courage to ask her out.

you handed her her clothes, watching her intensely as she redressed herself. she glances up at you, eyebrow raising. “need something?” you swallow your nerves, now or never.

“you, um. i just wanted,” you huff at your inability to get yours words out, eyes avoiding hers. “i just, do you, fuck.” this was so stupid, how were you stuttering this badly trying to ask her on a date?

max scoffs, pulling her shirt over her head, “you just ate me out like your life depended on it, whatever it is you’re trying to say, say it. quit being nervous,” she spoke,

moving to stand only inches away from you. you reach a hand out to hold her waist, her words making you feel even more nervous. you groan out, head falling back slightly before you respond.

“do you want to get dinner sometime?” max smiles, pressing a light kiss to your lips.

“yes, i do.” she smiles, walking away from you to retrieve a pen from the small table beside the couch. she holds her hand out and you place your hand in hers. she writes her number down on your palm, the sensation making you want to cringe but you stay still, too afraid to pull away.

the second she lets go of your hand, you’re pulling it back to read the numbers written down, they’re clear, a small heart drawn beside it. you don’t even make it out of the building before you’re entering her phone number into your phone and saving her contact. you didn’t want the ink to accidentally smudge, did you?

[dnfaltstream]

I'm the anon who sent the Allium duo neg, I'm sorry I don't mean to put a target on your back Zoe I care for you

But yeah no, there's just a lot about Tommy style content that makes me mad. Cuz like, I'm an afab poc, and like the same age as Tommy right? And if I was popular and online and acted the way that he did I would get eaten alive by the internet. I'd be called a bitch and annoying, and he can just do those things and not take accountability?

Like people will actively take accountability off of him? Like when Wilbur had to tell him that it wasn't his audiences responsibility to tell him about important issues, that was like A Thing. Because people had just been letting him get away with his ignorance, and he was just not really doing much about it himself, and it like can you not have any self awareness?

And the whole child thing. Oh My God that's shots so annoying. It's funny as a joking thing! But the reason it's funny is because he's not an actual literal child! It's a joke because he's a teenager, and he's mature enough that it's not actually making fun of him! Stop treating him like he's a fucking baby! Like, yeah, he's the youngest of bench trio but neither tubbo nor ranboo ever were treated like Tommy is and it's stupid

You don't have to post this, I don't want to come across like I actually hate Tommy (nor do I want you to come under fire for what I say), I do quite like his content (more so than ranboos at least, again I find him kinda boring and also the whole "genderman" thing kind of thing kinda pisses me off as an nb because as far as I'm aware he's cis (?) And I'm not saying he has to come out to be liked by other people, but it's just an example of people not part of a community being considered representation) but when he gets into content mode and he can hide behind a screen it just feels like he purposefully brings out his worst traits

Sorry I just wanted to rant, there's other things I've wanted to say specifically about dsmp stuff but I've been considering actually posting that on my account because I want to piss of c!Tommy and c!ranboo apologists specifically but whatever

actually i AM gonna post this ! because i think you make some Points and say it really well

[kidney9-9]

Vocal Lessons (Tom Holland)

Anonymous asked:

im actually a sucker for Tom smuts i cantttt, that vacation one was too good!!! Because i love the idea of the reader catching Tom entertaining himself with his hand (if ya know what i mean) could you maybe do a request around that, i don’t really mind how you do the story line, but make sure it’s extra smutty oh my🥵

hi anon! thank you very much :)) I’m glad you liked that one, and I hope you like this one as well! thank you for sending this in! feel free to send in any request you guys would like to see! Please Read the Warnings!! (no mention of protection, but can be imagined!)

Masterlist

Tom Holland x Reader (Smut with Plot) (Strangers/Client-to-lovers) Word count: 4.6k Warning: smut, inappropriate use of microphones and headphones, mirror sex, floor sex, strangers/client-to-lovers, frustration, oral (male and female receiving), teasing, small mention of smutty audio, cursing, masturbation, and dirty talk

-

The walls were decked out with pictures, and autographs of amazing actors and artists. Two chairs were seated in the middle of the room, with many microphones and a few headsets. The floor was completely dull, but up on the celling, was a mirror facing down on anyone who was in the room. You always thought you had the coolest job, getting to vocal train celebrities for movies and songs, but today you were feeling a little ticked off. You have been working all day with actor, Tom Holland, who had absolutely no idea how to moan sexually in the microphone. It sounded ridiculous, to be seated there with a man, moaning into a mic, and trying to teach him how to copy it. You were trying your best, but he just really couldn’t do for some reason. When you met him, he was very kind to you, and you thought at most it would be a thirty-minute session.

You sighed out, looking at him with irritation and frustration as he coughed into the microphone instead of moaning. It wasn’t that hard in your mind, all he had to do was lean forward and let out a few noises, but he was proving it to be impossible. “Hey, okay let’s try another version.” You brought out, signaling to Tom to sit up straight, and breath in. He watched as you sucked the air in, tilted your head back and closed your eyes, breathing out the sounds, resembling moans. He shuddered at your voice; glad you didn’t see his reaction. You glanced over to him, as he tried copying your actions. But he just couldn’t do it, it was way too hard. You were just here moaning all day, and he was trying so hard not to make a sound, knowing he would embarrass himself with a popping boner. He already had one, but he was trying his best to hide it. You had no idea he was arguing with himself in his mind.

He felt guilty. The looks you were casting him were starting to make him feel like he was in a sauna, and he started sweating from the lights. It’s been five hours with only the two of you, moaning into the microphones, and he’s been trying so very hard not to listen to your moans. How was he supposed to though, when he was wearing the headphones? And to moan along with you? It was way too hard. You were very attractive, and with the way the lights hit you, and the sounds of your moans, he tried very hard to keep it down. He had failed though, and you didn’t even notice. He was so grateful that you didn’t even look down at his lap, because it was obvious, with the way he was crossing his legs.

You were also very much his type. He couldn’t help but be attracted to you, watching as you scrunched your eyebrows in concentration as you listened to him splutter out bullshit about why he couldn’t moan.

It was nearing six hours now and you had to take a break. It was getting too late and you were getting too annoyed. You didn’t want to come off as rude to him, but you were also so confused why he couldn’t simply moan with you. It was just so strange! It was an easy task, just let out a sound and sound like he’s having sex. But nope, you glanced back to his face, with hidden irritation, was this guy a virgin? You were just too confused. You had to leave, just get out of there for a bit, maybe grab some food.

“Hey, uh let’s take a break. I’ll be back in a few; you can stay here. Do you need anything?” You spoke up, pushing the microphone away from your face, and taking off the headphones. You internally groaned, thinking about all the audio recordings you’re going to have to delete after you finally teach him how to moan. Tom popped up, still with hiding his erection, and took off his headphones. “Yeah, sounds good! And I’m all good, you don’t have to get anything.” He smiled back, and you instantly sighed out, relieved.

You stood up and waved to Tom as you practically sprinted out of the room. You huffed out a breath, shaking your head again at the situation. You walked out of the studio and went down to the deli across the street. It was a great place to relax, it was usually quiet, and it had the best sandwiches. You ordered you favorite one, and sat down, with another sigh. You didn’t get your sandwich for a little bit, but you were alright with that, as long as you got some rest. Oh, how much you hoped you could finally get him to moan into the microphone.

Tom was fucking moaning now. He couldn’t help it, the moment you left for sure, he pulled his cock out. He felt relieved it was finally out of his pants and he gasped when he placed his hand around the base, closing his eyes lightly. He pumped it softly, gasping and moaning in relief, from waiting so long. His thoughts were surrounding all about you. When he heard he had to come here and get lessons, he felt so irritated. It made no sense that he had to be trained how to moan, and he expected the instructor be an old annoying man, but no, it was you. Tom felt so surprised, seeing you moan for the first time, and then immediately after he felt a twitch.

Now, all he could imagine was your moaning again, how your eyes closed tightly, and you moaned like you were orgasming. You told him to play along with you, but he couldn’t, he was too busy and enchanted by you, and started to twitch again. Now, he circled a finger over the slit, gathering pre-cum and smearing it down the rest of his cock. He pumped again softly, groaning from the relief, and he started going slightly faster, enjoying himself.

His mouth was propped open, and he tilted his head back, looking into the celling mirror with another moan. He could just imagine, looking up and seeing you slide your mouth over his cock sloppily, and the two of you enjoying yourselves. Another image faded its way into his mind, as he pumped harder but slower this time, now completely imagining you and him together. You would have your legs spread out, as he circled his tongue over your clit with loud sounds pouring out of the two of you. His loud groans and moans filled the studio, trying to work himself out of the hardness he tried so hard to fight. They echoed back through the headphones, as he slid his hand down over again.

You were three steps back into the studio, when you heard it. You gasped in relief, thinking he finally got it, how to moan into the microphone. You placed your bag onto the ground instantly, and ran over to the room the two of you were working in. In front of you, Tom’s loud moans echoed into your ears and you gasped again at the sight. He gazed over to the door, thinking he was just imagining the noise but once he saw you, he stopped. The two of you stared in shock at each other, and you both turned dark red.

Tom quickly took his hand off his cock, trying to push it back into his pants with utter embarrassment and fear. “I’m so sorry!” He cried out, stumbling up to stand, and wiping his hands on his trousers with a scared tremor. You were still in shock, but you kept replaying it in your head- the scene of his hand wrapped around his cock standing tall and moaning loudly.

You didn’t know what to even say, but a thought hit you, what if you just…play along? What was the harm in that? Nothing was, both of you were frustrated in very different ways, but you loved a good fuck. You took a small step forward, blinking and breathing in, trying to understand what to do. He was moaning, and you were stubborn- you had to do your job, but maybe you could do it in a different way? All he had to do was moan on screen, and maybe if he could repeat those lovely moans you have been waiting for all day, it would be considered a success. “Tom…” You trailed off, scratching your neck, still blushing on interrupting him. “What if- would you maybe want to do that again?” You asked, instantly regretting your words as his jaw dropped in shock at the suggestion.

“What do you mean?” Tom managed to press out, as he zipped up his pants, still shaky. You stepped over to your microphone picking it up and playing with it. “Moan,” You bit out unsurely, just hoping you weren’t overstepping boundaries.

Tom felt his eyes pop out, “Moan?” He questioned, stepping a little closer to you, now with a feeling stirring in him. Your eyes slowly gazed up and down his body with a small nod, making Tom shiver slightly. He took another step forward closer to you with a loud swallow, trying to understand you fully, “What do you mean?” He repeated, in a lower tone and gazed at you.

You sighed out, licking your lips and looking down at Tom’s lips. “I mean, do you want to play along with me?” You propositioned, and Tom felt his breath hitch, gazing back down to you, feeling his lust start to flare up again. He moved one of his hands closer to you, reaching out to hold onto your arm.

“Fuck…” He whispered out when you took one last step to him. You looked back up to his eyes, “Want to play with me, Tom?” You questioned, with a light tone, holding back a smirk as he shuddered slightly again. Your hand trailed up onto his shirt, feeling his heartbeat speed up.

Tom closed his eyes, and sighed out, making sure this was real, as your hand slid slightly further down. “Yes, fuck yes, please.” He spoke back making you snap your eyes back to his face with a smile now, happy that he agreed. Your smile made Tom shake his head at you with a small chuckle, “I’ve been trying to calm down for so long.” His confession made you raise your eyebrows with a spike of frustration.

“You mean, you weren’t moaning into the microphone because of that?” You questioned, pushing him back slightly, now feeling angry and horny. Tom gasped at your actions as you continued pushing him back all the way to the wall, still holding onto the wireless microphone. Tom hit the wall as you pressed your hand deeper on his chest as he started nodding frantically, “I didn’t want to- I just, fuck-” He paused as you dropped the microphone, not caring about the screeching feedback. Your other hand went down to his belt, tugging it free.

You brought your other hand to help, as Tom shuddered again at your movement. You quickly tugged it free, and you snapped it off with force, making Tom gasp at you. “Fuck, I just didn’t want you to see what reaction I had.” He explained, making you pause again looking up to his face with curiosity. You scoffed at that, and you dropped your attention from his trousers, quickly tugging his head down to yours.

You kissed him with a frenzied fury that he only met back with twice as much. This time, he pushed you backwards, while he walked back to his chair, kissing you even harder. You felt your legs knock into the chair, making you buckle back, and Tom leaned forward, not wanting to end the kiss. You ended up pulling away from him as you fell back onto the chair with gasps for air. Tom breathed in heavily, as the two of you gazed at each other.

“You made me wait for six fucking hours, Tom. Fuck…” You trailed off, wiping the saliva from your chin as he chuckled at your words. His hands went to his shirt, unbuttoning it, “To be fair, I wouldn’t have waited so long if I knew this would happen.” His words sent you into a silent agreement. You casted your gaze down to his chest now, after he shrugged off his shirt. He grinned at you when you looked back up to his face.

You stood up, flushing at every single action that went on between you and Tom as he zipped his trousers back down, leaving his underwear on. You didn’t make any movement to take your clothes off as Tom reached back down and slid his shoes off. You glanced back behind him, and walked over to the door, locking it and making sure no one else would see or walk in, like you did. But it didn’t really matter since it was only you two here now. You circled back to the wall, grabbing the microphone you dropped earlier and gazed back to Tom as he spoke up, “I’m sorry about how long we’ve been in here by the way.” His words made you blink, and you shook your head at him.

“It’s fine. Sit down,” You paused, turning back around and facing him as he raised his eyebrows at you, but still sat down into the chair. “Put your fucking headphones on.” You finished up, making Tom hold back a gasp. He didn’t make any move to take his cock out of his underwear, but it was starting to bother him even more. He took the headphones off the stand and placed them over his head as you brought your microphone up to your mouth.

You breathed out, feeling your heart race at what you were doing. But it felt good. You moved over to Tom slowly, watching his reactions as you lowered yourself in front of him. His legs spread apart with a touch of your other hand, and you whispered into the microphone, “You better fucking moan.” You were still angry at the fact he held it off for so long, but on the other hand, you were slightly impressed. He huffed out a breath of air at your words, starting to shudder as your hand moved closer to the top of his boxers, and you scooted even closer.

He chuckled at your words, grinning down to you with a flushed face, “Then make me.” He mumbled back, making you scoff. In an instant, one of your fingers slipped in under his boxers, and pulled the band back, letting it go with a harsh snap to his stomach. Tom flinched at the feeling, with his eyes widening back to you, “Fuck…” He trailed off when you rolled your eyes again at him. You didn’t move to take his boxers off still, instead ghosting your hand over his erection, making Tom hold back a whimper.

He wasn’t going to moan just now, of course not. He was going to try and wait it out but when you pushed your hand in slightly more, to hold onto his clothes cock, he whimpered at the feeling. You smirked, feeling satisfied with that little noise as Tom scoffed at himself, hearing it play back even louder through the headphones.

You moved the microphone right up to your lips, giving it a soft little kiss while staring back up to Tom. He shuddered again from the feeling, the noise bouncing into his ears. You grinned at the reaction, and leaned back down to the microphone, sending a slow lick. While doing that, your other hand stroked his clothed cock, and looking into his eyes. Tom bit down his lips, huffing out a few breaths and dropped his head back, finding his original goal of not moaning to be difficult.

You giggled out at him again, and moved the microphone down to your other hand, where the mic just lightly touched his cock, making Tom shudder. “Please…” Tom begged, gazing back down to you, hands going to your shoulders to pull you in closer. You giggled again from his beg, finding it satisfying and finally deciding not to tease him anymore. You moved the microphone to tug down his boxers, grinning at his relieved facial features.

The microphone barely touched his cock and Tom felt himself groaning at the relief. You raised your eyebrows, proud that he finally let out a sound like a moan. You pulled the microphone away, and took one of his hands, handing him the microphone. He left it in his grip, confused at why you gave it to him, but your hands grasped around his base, and you leaned down giving it a soft kiss. Instantly, Tom understood why you had him hold it right there, as he felt and heard the pleasure, doubling it. You smiled into your actions, feeling how he tensed up, gripping the microphone even harder.

You moved your lips further, closer to his tip, giving it an open-mouthed kiss, making Tom let out another groan. You kissed again, sliding your tongue on the underside, and Tom responded with another shudder this time. You pulled away slightly, only to go back pushing him into your mouth, gathering saliva over his cock, and you moved further down, collecting as much of him as you can.

“Oh, oh, fuck, shit.” Tom grunted out, trying to calm down, feeling your mouth and tongue on him, and the sounds you were making. He could feel the loudness in his ears, and he felt like he was experiencing euphoria. He opened his eyes, looking straight up to the mirror on the ceiling and he chocked on his moan, realizing his imagination was playing out.

Tom tried calming himself a little bit, but you licked and brought him back to your throat, making him whimper. “Wai- wait, I don’t want to-” He started, and you instantly pulled away, worried that he didn’t want to continue. You gazed up to him confused, as he continued to breathe heavily.

“I don’t want to come right now.” He finally explained, and you smiled back to him, laughing at his statement. “Yeah, that sounds good.” You agreed, standing up as he cursed at himself, looking down at his frustrated cock. He wanted to drag this out as long as possible, to get every pleasure out of it. He gazed down at your clothes with a shake of his head, “May I?” he asked, signaling to your outfit.

You nodded to him, as he stood back up with a smirk, immediately pushing your shirt up, over your head, and bringing you back into another heated kiss. You hummed into the kiss, opening your mouth to allow him to push his tongue in. You moaned into the kiss, making Tom groan along with you, and you felt a spike of pleasure run straight to your heat. He walked back towards the wall with you, still holding the microphone in one hand, as his headphones ripped off his head from walking too far away. You barely cared about the expensive headphones as he pushed you back against the wall, similar to your earlier actions. One hand snaked over your stomach, and up further to your right breast, giving it a soft squeeze.

You gasped as his fingers trailed underneath your bra and pinched at your nipple. Tom grinned, pulling away from the kiss and breathing hard, looking down at your chest. He moved the same hand back around your back, quickly unclipping your bra and tugging it forward to let it fall near your feet. You kicked it away as he quickly leaned down, sucking your nipple into his mouth. You gasped again at his bite, and Tom’s other hand quickly went to your mouth, twirling the microphone to the other end.

“Suck.” He murmured to you, pushing the end of the microphone into your mouth and you instantly started; gathering the spit around it as he turned his attention to your left breast. He smiled down at your breast, knowing you probably wouldn’t see, and leaned down giving it a soft lick. You whimpered around the base of the microphone when he took your nipple into his mouth, licking round and round. He softly sucked and bit, making you moan again, and he sighed again, finding pleasure in your voice.

You felt yourself throbbing as he licked away from your nipple, sucking and going back to your neck. You pulled the microphone out of your mouth when you started feeling lightheaded by it, and you tilted your head to the side, giving Tom more access to your neck. He bit down on your neck, making you gasp, and he continued sucking and licking, pressing little open kisses over you. He leaned back, breathing in greatly and gazing back to you.

“Still got to get you to moan.” You whispered, grinning as he laughed back, stepping a little away from you to wave a hand through his hair. He cocked his head back to you, “Do you really think you can?” Tom taunted back, making you roll your eyes playfully.

You pushed yourself off the wall, going back to the center of the room, and sitting on the floor. “Come join me,” You paused, looking over to him with an innocent feature on your face, “Pretty please?” Tom shuddered again at that and instantly followed your actions, coming down and laying back.

He glanced up to the mirror with a slight breath in, watching as you slowly shook your way out of your pants. His breathing came out unsteady as you both made eye contact through the mirror, and you leaned back down to sit. He shook himself out of the stance and turned his body towards yours, “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He whispered, leaning in and kissing your lips again. By now, your lips were all puffy and red, and saliva dripped down from your chin, and it was smeared across your cheeks.

You smiled into the kiss, before pulling back. The two of you took a few moments to gaze at each other in admiration and silence. You smiled down at his chest, seeing the sweat glisten from the studio lights and he broke the silence. “Can I?” He stuttered out, now feeling unbelievably shy as he wondered how this all happened.

“Can you what?” You questioned back, muddled by his shyness. He glanced down to your heat and you felt more redness travel to your face, “Can I eat you out?” He asked, sitting up and looking back down to you. You laughed at his question, instantly nodding, “Yeah sure.”

He grinned in excitement, shimmering down and going in between your legs, looking down in amazement. You giggled aloud from his facial expressions but once he looked back up to you, you quieted down. He smirked to you before going straight in with a long swipe, striking right at your clit and you gasped at him. He smiled at the noise and licked again, harder this time, and taking the microphone out of your hand. Your head was tilted back, watching from the mirror as he continued to lick at you. You gasped when he plunged two fingers in you, going back and forth as he licked around.

He finally stopped licking, and started sucking straight on your clit, and you moan loudly from the feeling of his fingers and mouth. “Fuck Tom!” You moaned out, feeling extremely happy this was happening. You glanced up to the mirror again, watching as he went down on you with lust and desire. The microphone in his hand came up to your entrance as he took his fingers out and looked back up to you with a silent question.

You looked back to him with a quick nod, and gasped when you felt the cold piece of the end of the microphone slowly move against your entrance. You were wet enough, and so was the microphone from your saliva earlier, and Tom slowly pushed the microphone past your entrance as he continued rubbing at your clit. Moans and groans came out of you as he pushed the microphone in, and you gasped at the feeling of being full.

You felt the throbbing continue as a heat flared up in you. You started feeling moaning more and more, “Tom, please.” You cried out, feeling him slide the microphone back and forth with force. He leaned down to the head of the microphone with lust as he licked around it, collecting your juices as you watched from above, shivering and squirming from the sensations. Right when you started to feel like your orgasm was near, Tom pulled out the microphone, smirking at you.

He quickly replaced the microphone with his cock, as he plunged back into you with a loud moan. “Oh fuck, how are you so tight?” He moaned out as you sighed feeling even more full now. He moved both his hands, gripping your hips tightly, and pushing back into you with another loud groan.

You moaned as well, but you couldn’t help the small chuckle coming out of your mouth, “Tom, you moaned.” You giggled out as he laughed along with you breathless. He leaned down, kissing you deeply again, and you opened your mouth, accepting his tongue. You groaned against his lips as he pounded into you again, this time deeper and slower. You pulled away from his kiss as you grinned to him, quickly rolling each other over, to where you were on top.

Tom’s eyes automatically fitted up to the mirror and he moaned at the sight. You were perked up on his cock, riding him feverishly. His hands went back to your hips, helping to lift you up and down, and you lulled your head back up to the celling with a sex-dazed look. You licked your lips as you and Tom made eye contact in the mirror, “Fuck, do you see the way I’m riding you? Do you like it?” You pressed out, grinding down deeper onto his cock, making Tom grunt out.

He was breathing heavily, “Yes, fuck, I love it.” His voice came out rushed as he started lifting you up and down faster with shaky palms. You nodded along with him, as you started to feel your orgasm build up again, “Tom, I’m going to come.” You muttered, breathing unsteadily as he slammed you harder and harder against his hips. He groaned at your words, feeling the pressure in him as well. You closed your eyes, moaning loudly, with your head dropped back, feeling yourself come on him. He gasped at the feeling of you clenching around his cock, helping him along, as he pulled you off with a moan. His come came out in spurts and you both watched each other in the mirror above you with heavy breathing.

“Well, fuck.” You whispered, trying to calm your breathing. You gazed back to Tom, moving the side of your head to the ground. He chuckled out, gazing back at you with a dopey smile, “Yeah, you made me moan.”

You two sat silently for a few moments, watching each other before breaking out into laughter. “Great, shit. That was good. Maybe next time just tell me you were horny, Tom.” You replied, wiping the sweat off his face with a small smile.

Tom sat up with a happy smile, “Next time?” He questioned, looking down at you with excitement. You nodded in return, huffing out a laugh, “Don’t you remember? I have you booked for the entire week; you also need to learn how to scream properly. Today was just for moaning.”

-

tags: @itscaminow​ @lozzypoz321​ (taglists are open for every character/person)

[solarune]

between the lines

Anonymous said: can I req an imagine with johnny where your their songwriter and he catches feelings for you? 🥺  thank you!

pairing: johnny seo x fem!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: swearing, hyuck is annoying as always

word count: 1,947

a/n: i’m going to consider this my official “i’m back!” post since it’s been a while since i’ve written. for anyone who cares, yes i will still be uploading my summer fic that’s literally a month late lol don’t worry. life happens, what can i say. i think this is my first request that i’ve gotten so thank you to this anon for sending this in, i hope you like it :-) also dedicating this to @127-mile​ who i, for some reason, always associate w johnny even though i know that ten is your ult. surprise, i’m your 💚 anon!!

Has that painting always been there? I don’t think I remember it- Wait, why am I trying to think of something else, it’s not like he can read my mind. 

Your shoulders sag.

Wait. Can he?

You stare at Johnny as he talks to the producer beside you, looking for the slightest hint that he’s capable of reading minds.

If you can hear me, look at me right now.

When he doesn’t look up at you, you let out a breath that you didn’t even realize that you were holding. You definitely wouldn’t have been able to handle it if Johnny was capable of reading your mind. It’s already driving you crazy that this is the fifth time that you had to break eye contact with him while he was singing one of your more romantic lyrics. You’re not sure if it’s the exhaustion that you’re feeling from how late it is or your overthinking brain but you swear he does it every single time, and your heart feels like it’s about to beat right out of your chest when he looks at you.

“(Y/N)?” Jaehyun calls out, pulling you out of your internal existential crisis. “What do you think? You’re the songwriter after all. How did you want it to sound?”

Your mouth opens and closes as you struggle to find the right words while also avoiding Johnny’s gaze on you. You grab the lyric sheet from the table beside you—not that you actually need it, you just want to have something to do with your hands—and look down at it. “Can you guys sing it one more time?”

You force yourself to not look up, even when you feel the man’s stare on you once more, instead acting like you’re reading along with the lyrics while they’re singing. The way that they’re singing is wrong, the hours that you spent writing this song already telling you that, but you pretend to be contemplating just to give yourself a few moments to breathe before putting on your professional persona. You have no time to be acting like a teenager with a crush when you have a job to do. 

“Try singing a bit softer,” you suggest as you finally look up at the two idols. “Imagine you’re saying this to someone who’s sitting right in front of you.” Your eyes flicker to Johnny for a brief second before looking back down at the paper in your hands. “So you shouldn’t be belting the lyrics out because you’re not yelling this to them. Your voices should be… full of fondness rather than happiness, if that makes sense. I can’t really think of any examples that you might be able to relate to.”

“Like you’ve known them for years and they just did something really cute that you can’t help but smile at,” Johnny says, and you nod along quickly.

“Exactly like that,” you agree. “This song should bring out feelings of contentment, warmth, and stability. It’s about a timeless love so you shouldn’t sound like you're bouncing off the walls because you just told that person about your feelings and they reciprocate them.”

“Warmth,” Johnny repeats softly, and when you look over at him, he’s smiling at you in the exact way that he had just described moments before. Like everything you do is just completely endearing to him. 

You blink and the expression is gone, and before you can even begin to comprehend what just happened, the producer is already ushering the two into the recording booth. Your eyes follow Johnny’s every move, watching the way he puts the headphones on, the curve of his lips as he laughs at something Jaehyun says, and the way his fingers nervously tap at the music sheet stand.

“Okay is it just me or did Johnny just give you the look?” someone asks loudly in your ear, causing you to jump in your seat and the other producing staff to glare and shush the boy beside you. You turn around to see Mark with his knees bent so he could speak into your ear, a blush on his face for being scolded while Haechan snickers from his spot on the couch.

“A look?” you ask, not quite sure at what Mark is trying to get at. “What look?”

“No, not a look,” he shakes his head, a few strands of his unstyled hair moving out of place as he does so. “The look. The Look, you know?”

You stare at him in the hopes that you would magically understand what Mark is trying to tell you and he stares back, as if trying to connect with you telepathically. It doesn’t work. You shrug and wave your hands in the air, encouraging him to go on.

“You know,” Mark mumbles as he scratches at the back of his neck. You would think it was Mark that was caught staring from how shy he’s suddenly become. “He was staring at you and smiling at you… and stuff.”

“Oh my God, it’s even more confusing when you try to explain what you mean,” Haechan groans in exasperation. The youngest sits up straight and looks at you pointedly, and even though you’re older than him, you feel like you’re about to get scolded. “Johnny’s into you, (Y/N). Broke his promise of No Simp September because that man simps hard for you, he literally doesn’t shut up about it. So please either accept or reject him soon because I’m tired of hearing him talk about your ‘eyes that hold all of the universe’s stars in them’ - his words not mine.”

“Thank you for clarifying,” you respond drily before spinning around in your chair and scooting closer to the sound board. 

You cross your arms over your chest, and any outsider looking at you would think that you’re some hard-at-work songwriter observing the artists to make sure that they don’t mess up. In reality, you’re having yet another existential crisis because Johnny likes you? Johnny Seo, the man that you’ve had a crush on literally since you were first hired at SM Entertainment years ago to become one of NCT’s main songwriters, has a crush on you? You didn’t want to get your hopes up but Mark and Haechan’s words only seem to confirm your previous suspicions that Johnny was indeed staring at you before. 

You let your mind wander as you only half pay attention to what’s going on around you, not even noticing that everyone has decided to take a break until Haechan is shutting the door behind him and you’re the last person left in the studio. Or at least, you think you are until you turn around and see Johnny lying on the couch that the youngest was just previously occupying.

“What are you still doing here?” you ask him as you stand up to stretch out your limbs with a soft sigh. “I thought you would’ve been one of the first ones out so you could get some coffee with Jaehyun.”

“Well I wanted to talk to you about something,” Johnny says while rubbing at the back of his neck, and you have to stop your eyes from widening because this cannot be happening right now.

“A-About what?” you stammer, and it’s taking everything in you to not burst out the door and run all the way back home just to avoid the specific scene that’s been playing over and over in your head every single week before you fall asleep. “Are you worried about the song still? I think you guys did great this time around.”

“No, it’s not about that,” he says with a shake of his head. “I wanted to talk about the lyrics to your song. You told us to imagine saying this to someone sitting right in front of you when we’re singing this. Is there someone you were thinking of when you were writing the song?”

You really wish that the ground would swallow you up right now. 

What the fuck are you supposed to say to that? Oh yeah, I was thinking about you actually, haha funny right? You know because I’ve been in love with you basically since I’ve met you and all that. And if you read in between the lines of all of the love songs I’ve written, all you would see is your name because it’s so painfully obvious that they’re all about you.

“No one in particular,” you reply, your voice higher than normal and you rush to clear your throat. “I was just trying to help you guys out.” Johnny nods and you mimic his actions, the awkward atmosphere almost suffocating you as you look anywhere but at the man in front of you. “Is there someone that you were thinking about?” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. It’s now or never. If you don’t have the guts to confess—and assuming that Haechan and Mark are right—then maybe Johnny does.

“There is, actually,” he nods and you feel your heart rate increase at his words. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about; I need some advice. There’s this girl- obviously- And she’s just, like, amazing. She has this loud laugh that’s so contagious and she gets so excited about such small things and I don’t know what she puts in her hair but it always smells really good. And I’m pretty sure I’ve liked her ever since I first met her but I didn’t figure that out until like last year. But ever since I did figure that out, I’ve been trying to drop hints whenever I’m with her but she just doesn’t seem to get it. I’ll visit her randomly on my days off and bring her coffee when she’s at work and send her videos that remind me of her. I look right at her when I say something romantic but nothing works. Even now, I’m literally telling the girl that I like that I like her without actually saying it out loud and she probably still doesn’t get it.”

It feels like your brain short circuits at that last sentence. Well, your brain felt like it was short-circuiting throughout the entire thing, so it’s more like it just stopped working at that last sentence. “Wait- what-”

Johnny stands up and moves close to you until he’s only an arm’s length away with his dark eyes looking straight into yours. “(Y/N). I like you. Like, I really like you. And I would like to take you out on a date- if you’ll let me.”

Instead of answering his indirect question, you opt to confess your own feelings. “There is someone that I think about when I write all of those love songs. It’s only ever one person. And it’s only ever been you, Johnny. I think about you every single time, ever since we first met.” Your cheeks feel so warm after your confession but your heart feels like it’s soaring when you see the wide smile that breaks out across Johnny’s face at your words. “I really like you too. And I would love to go on a date with you.”

“Fucking finally!” Haechan exclaims as he bursts into the studio while Mark tries to pull him back and Jaehyun just stands there laughing. The boy’s yelling causes you to jump and causes the smile from Johnny’s face to fall as he glares at his roommate. Haechan ignores that, walking right past Johnny and flopping down on the couch before he takes a sip from his iced coffee. “Now that that’s over with, can we hurry up and finish for today? I wanna go home and play Valorant.”

[stateofloveandnegan]

Alcohol - Eddie Vedder

Could you write an Eddie vedder one shot where he and the Reader argue because the reader has drug problems or bad drinking habits or something like that

it has literally been months to a year since i’ve written a one shot or anything of the sort, so pleaase, bare with me! I do hope you’ll enjoy this and don’t hesitate dropping a request if you’d like an idea of yours to be written by me!

Requested by: anon

Trigger warning(s): alcohol addiction, a bit angsty

It isn’t easy, to have a boyfriend who’s a famous singer in a very famous band. It’s very hard, actually. Sure, he cares for you, he loves you. And the rest of the boys and their partners do, too. But sometimes, the burden of the fame takes its toll on you. Hence why you started drinking in the first place.

The alcohol, it just gives you a better feeling. The feeling of not fully being in control anymore; you like it.

It’s only recently that Eddie’s realised what you’ve been doing. That you’ve been drinking the thoughts and weight away. And he doesn’t really approve, at all.

But every time he mentions something of the sort, you manage to sneak out of the conversation and continue your life as if nothing has happened.

   “(Y/N), Eddie’s been looking for you.”

Stone speaks as he finds you in the treehouse. You and Stone built it when you were younger, and Stone knows this is your spot when you want to be alone or have things on your mind.

But, like often these days, he sighs as he sees you. Drunk out of your mind, half asleep on the beanbag you once placed in the house.

With a weak wave of your hand, you brush it off.

   “Let him look, I don’t wanna see him now.”

The main reason you don’t want to see him is, well… jealousy. Eddie’s been getting so much attention from other girls and it sucks. It truly sucks.

Deep down, you know it’s not his fault for looking so damned gorgeous and being such a sweetheart. But he doesn’t really know how to handle the attention, so he often just lets the girls say inappropriate stuff, especially towards you.

They’ve said things about you that you wish you’d never heard. They say such mean things out of jealousy. At least you know better than to drag others down, instead you just sulk on your own, with a bottle of whiskey. Or whatever strong liquor you can find.

   “No, (Y/N/N/). You’re gonna get up and come with me. You can’t keep doing this.”

But really, who is Stone to tell you what you can and can’t do? Okay, so he is your best friend. More your brother than anything, to be honest. But still, it’s your life and you are old enough to decide what you want to do with your own life. Even if it is messing it up with alcohol.

And so, Stone leaves. He knows he shouldn’t cross any lines with you, especially not if you’re drunk.

Days pass and you’ve been avoiding Eddie like the plague. You know he’ll speak up about it once he sees you. And instead of facing that conversation, you feel like avoiding Eddie and drinking more and more is the better choice.

Sometimes, your mind doesn’t work very logically. Even though, in your head, it makes sense to go for this option instead of facing your boyfriend of a year and a half. It’s the idea that it’d most probably turn into an argument that has you drinking even more.

Just to drown all those annoying voices and thoughts in your mind.

You manage to avoid Eddie for an entire week without him finding you. But then, one night, when you’re sitting in the Tree house once again, three bottles of wine, some beers and a bottle of vodka around you, Eddie comes up.

Feeling your heart clench when Eddie’s face comes into your view. Stone must’ve told him about the spot.

It’s funny, isn’t it? That you and Eddie have been together for over a year and this is the first time he ever sees the tree house. You always made sure to keep it a secret, because everyone needs to be alone every now and then, right? You didn’t want anyone but Stone to know about this place. To avoid moments like these…

Where you desperately want to be alone. But there your boyfriend comes up. And as much as you love him and want to kiss and hug him. You just want to be alone, because seeing him makes the jealousy return and you hate the feeling.

   “Stone told me you’d be here.”

He doesn’t sound very pleased. And as you squint your eyes, you can see the look on his face. Which is even more displeased than his voice.

   “Babe, c’mere.”

You mumble. Maybe it’ll help to just act like nothing’s wrong?

   “Missed you, wanna cuddle…”

Holding your arms out and making grabby hands at him as you have a drunk smile on your face, albeit it being fake.

Eddie takes a moment to look around, letting out a very agitated sigh at the mess of empty bottles.

   “Is this your new lifestyle, then? Getting drunk every fucking day and avoiding everything and everyone.”

The tone in his voice stings a bit, it’s harsh. Sighing dramatically as you move to sit up a little, but it doesn’t go without a bit of trouble.

   “Don’t act like you never drink, Ed. You’re not a saint, either.”

Your voice now a lot less friendly. Even though you’re rather (very) drunk, you still know pretty much everything you’re saying and it comes out well. Moving to stand up in front of him.

He isn’t much taller, at all. He’s rather short for a guy. But that’s one of the things you love about him, that he isn’t much taller than you. You love his height, you love him. Everything about him.

The words you said to him make him even more annoyed, hand moving up as his finger points at you.

   “Don’t pull that shit on me. I almost stopped entirely for you, (Y/N). Because you didn’t like me being drunk so often, and look where we’re at right now? The tables have turned. And for what? Tell me, (Y/N), just please tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

His voice isn’t as angry anymore, more a bit pleading now. He really just wants to know what’s wrong so he can help you. So you can work past this. Even if it won’t be easy.

Taking a step closer to you, he reaches out for your hands, but you push his away, not wanting to be held. Even though you desperately want to be held by him. It’s hard, isn’t it? Not knowing exactly what you want. Wanting two exact opposites at the same time.

   “Please talk to me, sweetheart…”

And that’s when you break, the lump that has been in your throat for so long finally too much to handle. Tears form in your eyes and spill without any warning.

   “I can’t do it anymore, Eddie! I just can’t… the fame, it’s too much for me.”

His face goes quite pale at that, that isn’t what he expected. Though he knows you’ve always been one to live a quieter life and be more in the background of things. Not for a second did it ever cross his mind that his job, his life was too much for you.

Soon, he grows rather annoyed again. At the way you’ve been acting and the way you suddenly throw this onto him instead of just talking to him like a girlfriend would do.

   “So instead of telling me, you avoid me for days, a week!, and become a drunk bitch that doesn’t give a shit about anyone anymore?”

Okay, yeah, he crossed a line by saying that. Shaking your head in disbelief, eyes full of tears, your bottom lip quivering. But no words come out. Your throat is too dry to form any.

Eddie realises he went too far with that, and you can see him opening his mouth to say something. But honestly, with the haze that’s your mind right now, the pain in your heart and the heavy weight of his fame, this is the drop.

   “A year and a half, that’s what you just threw down the drain.”

Clumsily grabbing your jacket, you make your way to the exit, but it’s a tree house… and you’re drunk. Getting back on the ground is quite the challenge.

But you manage to do it, without Eddie following you. He knows you, he knows the worst thing to do right now is to follow you. First of all, your emotions are all over the place. Second of all, you’re drunk. You need time to sober up and process it all.

A week passes before you manage to find the courage to face Eddie again, dressed in one of his hoodies as you make your way to the studio you know he’ll be in with the boys.

Breaking up with him was the wrong thing to do, and you’ve signed yourself into rehab to get rid of the addiction. Next week, you’ll leave to go there.

Swallowing thickly, you open the door and make your way inside, soon spotting the band. Most guys smile at you, a bit sympathetically, but Eddie, he doesn’t seem very happy to see you. In fact, there’s barely any emotions on his face, and that’s very unlike Eddie.

Opening the door to the area they’re sitting in, you smile a little before you speak up.

   “Hey, Ed, can I talk to you?”

Voice soft and quite vulnerable.

He doesn’t really react, which stings, but you don’t show it. It’s Mike who eventually gives Eddie a push.

   “Don’t be a child, go talk to her.”

With a roll of his eyes, he gets up and moves passed you into the hallway. At least there’s some privacy.

Nodding at the boys, you send them a bit of a smile before following Eddie and closing the door behind you.

   “I just wanted to say sorry, Ed… I didn’t mean what I said and it was a mistake. I’ve signed myself into rehab, to stop the drinking. And I want to start seeing a therapist about what’s been so hard on me. We can get through this, I promise.”

It’s silent for a moment after you say those words, as if Eddie’s trying to find the right words to say, and maybe he is.

But what he eventually decides to say, breaks your heart into a million pieces.

   “I don’t want to be with you anymore. The breakup wasn’t a mistake.”

Your whole world seems to fall apart at those words, eyes looking at Eddie as if he’s turned into a ghost.

   “B- But… Eddie, c’mon, it was a mistake. I know I’ve been acting like a bitch and I should’ve talked to you about it, I know that. But I’m going to fix this, I am!”

His expression doesn’t change and he merely shakes his head.

   “It’s too late, (Y/N). I realized I’m better off without you.”

Not able to face him any longer, you turn around and make way for the exit, leaving the studio as quickly as you can.

There’s only one place to go to now; the tree house.

Getting into your car, you practically race towards the woods, parking the car at the nearest parking lot before making your way through the trees towards the right one. Climbing up into the house before you let all your walls down. Everything coming out all at once, all the emotions.

You’ve never been so heartbroken before. Feeling like your heart has been stabbed through with a knife.

That night, you fall asleep in the tree house, on the bean bag. Fortunately, you always keep a warm blanket in the tree house in case of emergency. Right now is an emergency.

The next day, you wake up feeling sore and broken. The events of the day before replaying in your head over and over again.

Okay, yeah, most of it is all your fault. You are the one that didn’t cope well with things in the first place. But you’re working on it. Not everyone just signs themselves into rehab. It’s a big step to acknowledge the addiction. And you took that step.

If only you’d known this would happen… then you would’ve done all of this much sooner. Like you should have, anyway.

In the days that follow, you make sure to stay away from any of the boys, not wanting to be confronted by any of the pain. But that’s not a very easy task, since you’re all in the same friend group and such. Their favourite spots are yours, too.

Eventually, much like you tried to avoid, you spot the boys sitting at one of the tables in the bar you always go to.

They don’t spot you yet, so you decide to use that to your advantage, especially when you hear your name being mentioned.

Sitting down at a table nearby, but not close enough for them to notice you, you try to listen to what they’re saying. Mike’s voice comes through first.

   “You do realise we’ll be gone on three weeks, Ed? If there’s any chance left to fix things with (Y/N), you need to do it soon.”

They’ll be gone? Where would they go? Before you can think more, you hear Eddie groan, one of those groans that tell you he’s having a hard time thinking of the right thing to do.

   “It’s better like this, isn’t it? Us going on tour won’t do her any good. I won’t be around and she needs someone that can support her, especially now she’s going to rehab.”

On tour, that’s where they’re going. They’re going on tour- wait, is that the reason why Eddie acted so cold? Why he said he didn’t want to be around you anymore? Because he wanted to protect you from him being away?

Before jumping into conclusions, you decide to wait a bit longer, ears still entirely focused on the boys’ voices.

   “She loves you, Ed, don’t be so fucking dumb. She loves you and she needs you. Of course, it won’t be easy with you two being so far apart, but there’s phones, isn’t there? What if you just call every day? Or as much as you can.”

That was Stone’s voice, oh how you love that boy. Even though he isn’t really a boy anymore. The closest thing to a brother you’ve ever had.

   “You love her, don’t you?”

Dave chimes in. Woah, you didn’t know that guy could still talk. But Eddie’s answer distracts you from the thoughts about Dave.

   “I do, yeah. It felt so fucking awful to push her away like that…”

Possibly the biggest smile ever enters your face and you can barely contain your excitement. Slowly and carefully standing up, you make your way over to the boys’ table, standing right behind Eddie.

   “I suppose we can still work it out.”

Your voice soft and gentle, a small smile on your face as the other boys already look at you, smiling too.

Placing your hands on Eddie’s shoulders, you feel him tense up a little, but then relax. He slowly turns around, those beautiful eyes of his meeting yours.

He swallows, his throat a bit dry from your sudden presence, before he speaks.

   “You mean that?”

Nodding, you give him a genuine look.

   “If you can forgive me for how I’ve acted, I can forgive you for pushing me away. And if I recall it correctly, I just heard you did it only to protect me. Even though you should have given me the chance to make a decision. I understand why you did it.”

He stands up, taking your hands in his own as he looks deeply into your eyes.

   “I love you, (Y/N). but I do think we have to talk about some stuff before we can continue.

   “You’re right. Let’s have a chat.”

[strayfreckles]

all on you.

☕︎︎ hwang hyunjin x reader (ft. ryujin, felix, & yeji); highschool au, friends-to-lovers au, barista au, bulletpoint fic.

maybe you would’ve gotten out of highschool with your emotions (and pride) unscathed if it weren’t for hwang hyunjin and his so-called romantic, obnoxious—and, in your case, unfortunately effective—antics.

includes: fluff, angst (especially in the middle), mutual pining, somewhat slow burn (?), gn!reader, barista!reader, a hefty amount of swearing, the only consistent thing you’ll see here is how utterly terrible this is, fluctuating humor

notes: this was requested by a wonderful anon! before you dive in, i’d like to inform you that this is my first fic of any kind, so please tread gently 😔✋ though constructive criticism is appreciated !! hope you enjoy (and hopefully not cringe too much sdkdnkdks) <33

wordcount: 2.8k

let me be the first to say that you absolutely abhor romance films with every existing fiber and cell in your body.

like, you cannot physically withstand the atrocity that is occurring right before your very eyes and you have to tear your gaze away before you bash your head to the nearest table.

and though you do admit that you’re overreacting sometimes

you also admit that you’re a massive dumbass for falling prey to one of the most common—and one of the most infuriating tropes—that is falling for your best friend.

yeah, hwang hyunjin? that boy holds your heart between his palms and with every smile you fall deeper and deeper

you’ve known that kid since you started eating crayons in elementary, and since then you’d been attached at the hip, clung to each other through all the clownery of middle school

finding each other in places is like a sixth sense; it only takes you both less than a minute to find the other before startling them with a quiet “hey, you”

but time is impatient, and that timid, starry-eyed boy you knew became the dimpled heartthrob come highschool—geared with the smarts and the talents and love-laced words that sent boys and girls running after him

but to you he was always just that kid who nearly consumed clay cakes because “it looked so real!”

until he wasn’t

it just came to you like a blow to the face, in the middle of sophomore year, sitting on hyunjin’s bedroom floor on a weekend trying to cram revise for your upcoming exams

you decided to take a quick break, and made the mistake of looking at hyunjin

and my oh my was he stunning

every laugh that tumbled from his lips sounded like a fucking symphony

and the bastard was just playing with kkami !!

he looked so damn soft as he planted kisses on his coat

every single constellation you knew was embedded in his irises

haha heartbeat go brrrrrrr

and maybe all you wanted was for him to never stop smiling, because he looked the most beautiful when he did, and maybe you wanted to brush his hair away from his face because you couldn’t see his eyes all that well and what the fuck—

you just malfunctioned

because that was your best friend

he noticed you staring, of course, and had the audacity to smirk, and in a second you wanted to set yourself on fire

“y/n, i know i look good, but at least try to be subtle.”

“you look like a low-budget minion, hyunjin.”

“i’d rather be a minion than a shabbier version of gru, thank you.”

(many fists were thrown that day, and hyunjin learned not to pick fun at your clothing lest that he face humiliation)

for the first few months you were in constant denial, even going so far as to blame hyunjin himself for forcing you to watch countless romcoms on your weekly sleepovers

but once you catch hyunjin staring at you with that fond look in his eyes, one he’s carried since childhood, your heart finally has the courage to murmur into the concaves of your chest, i am in love

it gets worse around senior year

the summer after junior year you land yourself a job at miroh café, a coffee shop at the heart of the town bc you’re broke as fuck and you need the cash

and, as expected, hyunjin becomes a frequent patron

he’s armed with a pickup line every single time he orders

and every single time you have to tell your heart to calm the fuck down he’s always been like this c’mon gimme a break

it’s even gone to the point where the regulars mistake him as your boyfriend

and as if your conscience nagging you 24/7 wasn’t enough mental baggage, your coworkers and fellow seniors, felix and ryujin, decided to weigh in

“if that isn’t the look of someone who’s simping over you then i don’t know what is,” ryujin nudges you, and from the repetitive force you’ve sustained from the past week you’re surprised your ribs aren’t bruised yet.

“you act like you’re not in the same dance crew,” you scoff, “ryujin, he flirts with everyone—he even had the balls to hit on chan!”

“let me remind you that denial is always the first stage of falling in love,” felix chirps, cheerful as he replenishes the pain au chocolat in the display.

“and let me remind you that i’m holding a very hot cup of coffee straight out of the machine; ‘accidents’ can happen, felix.”

of course, you weren’t in denial—you’d been past that stage long ago

it’s just that you didn’t wanna give yourself false hope

you didn’t want to lose this beautiful thing with him that’s lasted for nearly a decade because of your stupid emotions

so you’ve trained yourself to remain indifferent to the many compliments and lines he sent your way, hoping that if you could fool the others into thinking he didn’t affect you, maybe you could fool yourself, too

but oh ho ho, do i have some news for you (☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞

you don’t know how hyunjin’s pulse speeds up whenever he sees a handwritten note on his coffee wishing him good luck

you don’t know how often he forces himself to stop staring at you whenever you’re not looking

you don’t know how stupidly happy it makes him when he sees you smile

especially when he’s the reason why.

maybe everything about you makes hwang hyunjin happy

and maybe if you weren’t so kind and gentle and considerate during the times he lost a competition then maybe he wouldn’t have fallen this hard

but you were (and still are)

during the times you cried from laughter at all his antics

or cracked a smile at one of his pickup lines

he’d think that maybe—just maybe—he could stand a chance

but every time he did, he’d spiral into self-doubt

because there’s no way you would ever fall for him

you’re the kindest, most talented person hyunjin has ever known who deserves the universe

and he’s just… him

even if he did plan to confess, he’d be putting everything at stake; you’re too important to him, losing you would be a loss too heavy for him to bear

so he’s content with playing this role

even if the idea of you being with someone else hurts him so much

he’s content with reminding you everyday—even if it isn’t direct—that your mind is like no other, and that anybody would be blessed to have you

you both think it's always going to be like this

with you struggling to keep your feelings from showing

and hyunjin battling his inner demons

and those left to perceive the “discreet” ogling across the room and the hidden yearning in your voices are none other than (you guessed it!) felix and ryujin 🤩

it was funny the first few months

but now it’s just plain frustrating and they want nothing more than to bash your two oblivious heads together because y’all !! are !! idiots !!

no matter how much they persist, they’re always met with either a sad, gentle smile with a shake of the head or a monotonous “ha. you’re really funny.”

both have considered dropping your asses but they can’t because they love y’all too much

so all they can do is hope for a change

and change does indeed arrive when september rolls around

dance practice has just ended and hyunjin feels hyped because it’s movie night and he can’t wait to cry to kimi no na wa again

and lowkey stare at you for the entirety of the film

he exits his dance crew’s studio and is about to go straight to 7/11 for snacks when he spots the team’s newest recruit by the road, waiting for a ride home

hwang yeji’s only moved here two months ago and in a short span of time she’s already become one of the well-liked kids at school

but she’s a kind & humble sweetheart who deserves all the love & attention !!

so being the good sport he is, hyunjin approaches yeji with the brightest grin, having only talked to her a few times prior

“hey, there! yeji!” when the girl turns to him, her smile looks and feels like liquid sunshine. “waiting for your date?”

yeji turns rosy when he asks, like she does when everyone teases her about her special someone, who she’s been crushing on for weeks and who she finally had the courage to ask out. “c’mon, stop that. i don’t even know if they like me like that—they probably think it’s just another friendly date.”

“they’re a fool if they don’t end up liking you after, then,” hyunjin quips, hoping the bitterness doesn’t seep into his tone and wishing he has half the luck and strength yeji has, and she laughs.

“you know them, actually.”

“oh?”

“yeah! y/n l/n?”

oh.

o h

hyunjin can only blink at her dumbly, feeling like a thousand arrows are digging into his skin

you… with hwang yeji?

is that why you asked about her the other day? because you like her back? and that her feelings are far from being one-sided?

watching a dark cloud loom over his features, yeji thinks about asking if he’s okay when he blurts out an inaudible excuse as he walks away, zooming past the convenience store when he does

when he heads off he doesn’t even look at where he’s going, relying solely on muscle memory

he feels like he wants to grow smaller, biting his lower lip and clenching his hands into fists

he doesn’t even know why he’s upset

you were never his to lose

why would he regret what couldn’t be in the first place?

when his feet instinctively halt in front of miroh café, all he can do is stare blankly at the glass doors, at your figure behind the counter

but he wills himself to move away again, and when he does he clashes with another body

“hey, watch where you’re... hyunjin?”

ryujin stares at him with her mouth half agape, and she flinches when she sees his eyes glistening, his face flushed with the shade of pure heartbreak

“did you know about them?” he’s afraid to raise his voice, because doing so would mean there’s no stopping his emotions, “about… y/n and yeji?”

the lack of response provides the answer, and hyunjin walks away from the block

that afternoon, a cup of coffee with his name scrawled on the front went forgotten on the countertop

that evening, hyunjin doesn’t show for your monthly tradition for the first time in five years

you spend the rest of your evening obsessively checking your phone for text from him, wracking your brain for reasons he couldn’t come

of course, there are multiple reasons: like schoolwork (you are seniors, after all) and the upcoming dance competition

but you know he would text you over the slightest inconvenience, so why isn’t he saying a thing?

you rack your brain for anything you might’ve done, and your chest tightens when you think that maybe—just maybe—he’s finally caught on to you

you try to distract yourself with other thoughts as you lie wide awake in your bed: like your midterm exams, the nearing debate tournament… your date with yeji

bright, splendid hwang yeji who shares the wittiest jokes in biology and has the most colorful personality around

the first time you spent time with her she made you smile so wide it made your cheeks hurt

her laugh is the loveliest one you’ve ever heard; like dewy lavender fields beneath the spring sunshine

but every time you hear it you’re reminded that it isn’t hyunjin’s laugh, that you aren’t with him and every time you realize it you wanna cry

bc yeji’s been nothing but sweet and considerate this whole time and you’re more than guilty at the fact that all her attentions will be wasted because of you and your stupidity

you barely escape the wrath of crying yourself to sleep when you finally doze off when the clock hit two am

the next day at school, you both barely even make eye-contact

even the underclassmen who’ve heard the frequent calls of your names feel uneasy when they don’t hear hyunjin’s high-pitched voice or your shrill tones

felix especially, who’s experienced the trauma of sitting in between you two at history and feeling the tension that nearly chokes him

you’re more than terrified to look at him at him in the eye, terrified that once you do you’ll realize he doesn’t gaze at you the same way anymore

something inside hyunjin aches every time he spares you a glance, because every time he does it’s painfully obvious that he’s always been hopeless

in all honesty, hyunjin wouldn’t have shown his face at all if it weren’t for the tiny thread of patience inside ryujin snapping

so here he is, inside miroh a quarter before closing time

felix’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head when he sees him, so he sends a pointed look to his coworker,

“what did you do?” he murmurs. ryujin’s eyes are sharp when she looks at him, and he feels his blood run cold.

“what i needed to.”

no, she didn’t threaten to kill his entire family, if that’s what you’re wondering

she merely gave him… a warning

so one can imagine the surprise you feel when you emerge from the staff room, and felix drags ryujin outside to give you privacy

you both remain silent once they’re gone, neither one of you moving in place

until quiet words escape your mouth, and the familiar greeting makes hyunjin’s heart clench:

“hey, you.”

he doesn’t make a sound, so you continue, the tension heavy

“you owe me three dollars, by the way. i just wasted a perfectly good iced latte with the other day when you didn’t…”

when you trail off, hyunjin opens his mouth to let out an apology, and he realizes with a start that the words tumbling out are completely different:

“why didn’t you tell me?”

“what?”

“why didn’t you tell me about yeji?” hyunjin’s eyes begin to quiver when they meet yours, “we’re best friends, aren’t we?”

your jaw tightens, i told you. best friends. nothing more. “because you worry too much about everything; if i’d told you about us then you’d—”

“y/n, we’ve been together for a decade!” hyunjin intervenes, “we’re always going to worry about each other, whether you like it or not. and this— this is… i…”

every coherent thought vanishes as hyunjin grapples for more things to say. he knows he’s being selfish, undoubtedly so, but he wants you. he wants you so, so bad. the fight in him leaves until, eventually, all that’s left to say is the truth: “please, don’t go. don’t go… with her.”

your heart is close to breaking your ribcage when you stare at his face, you wait for him to say anything, to justify why he’s said it, but when the quiet settles, all you can see is red

“this is why i don’t tell you about these things,” you grit, trembling violently. “when i do, you say— say stuff that make me believe that you feel the same way i do when you actually don’t.

“and i hate you so much but in the end it’s all my fault because i’m the idiot who caught feelings for their best friend and—”

hyunjin doesn’t let you add anything else, because his lips are on yours and you’re overwhelmed with the feeling of him, him, him

the kiss doesn’t leave any room for doubt; he’s shaking, and his legs might give out, but he wants you to know that everything he feels is real

you’re both gasping for air when you pull away, but his hands still linger on your face and he traces the edge of your mouth, and you can do nothing but pull him closer by the waist

“still hate me now?” he asks, and you chuckle breathlessly, putting your forehead on his.

“yes, very much so,” you look at him tenderly, and he yelps when you pinch him gently, “this is all on you, y’know. if it weren’t for your godforsaken romcoms, we wouldn’t have ended up like this.”

“but if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have ended up with a boyfriend, amirite? ow, shit— i’m kidding!”

bonus!

“oh, thank fuck,” felix exhales, looking through the windows one more time before ambling beside ryujin, who looks pleased with herself as she places her apron on the crook of her elbow. “so, spill: what did you tell hyunjin?”

she smiles, “i told him not to give up before he’s even tried anything; sometimes, there are people who are worth taking that risk for.”

just as felix is about to commend her for sounding the most wholesome he’s heard her, she adds: “and i threatened to revoke my tutelage—his ass is failing calculus so hard.”

[closer-stars]

Good Thing - Mingi (1)

Member: Mingi Genre: A lil of drama, tension, fluff, maybe angst depending on how you look at it. Requested: Yes Word count: 8k  Content: Dance team leader y/n. Basketball captain Mingi. Both of them are stubborn. Enemies to Lovers. Mentions of food. Mentions of near fainting. Mentions of tension. Academics. Slowburn.  Notes: after a long creative block, I’m back once again with long fics. Divided this into two? three? parts. This was supposed to be short, what the fuck. Anyways, I hope this fits your expectations, anon! Please I didn’t expect this to be so long, but here we are. I was already itching to post something after so long so here we are. 

[ Mountain ] Capt, the venue’s already taken. :(((

That wasn’t a good sign. You were in class when you received that message from your best friend. It was a good thing your professor allowed gadgets as long as it was used for note taking. In true student fashion, you lower your brightness just a bit as you switch tabs to reply to San. 

[ You ] Look for the next best. I trust your decision. I can’t stay too long, prof might catch me not paying attention.

You close the tab quickly and catch up on what your professor discusses. Fingers fly across your keyboard as you continue to add additional connections and theories that aid in the discussion. Your best friend and your second co-captain, Wooyoung, was slightly struggling with keeping up with the note keeping, you were already sure that he would ask you for help. 

[ Mountain ] Don’t kill me, Please. :c 

That didn’t sound good. 

[ Mountain ] 6-9pm. Court 2. 

That is definitely not good. Before you could reply, the bell rings and a chorus of laptops closing, notebooks closing could be heard in the room. Your professor quickly reminds the class of an exam the following week along with other reminders that just fly through your ears. 

“Did you catch what he said about brand identity?” Wooyoung asks as the two of you leave the classroom with heavy feet. Your coach had thought it was a good idea to have all of you go through house drills for the first half of the training last night. Fast forward to today, you and Wooyoung were struggling with walking. Even with just simple walking, Wooyoung would make pained whines. 

“I got them. I’ll send you my notes when we get a seat somewhere. I want my coffee while I massage your old muscles.” The both of you found a good shady spot where you could discuss what to do in tonight’s training session as your coach had personal issues to deal with. “Can you message the team where our training’s going to be tonight? San said it’s at Court 2, 6 to 9 PM”

“Heh, six to nine and okay.”

“How mature of you. I’ll be back.” You (try to) jog to the vending machine as you get yourself a quick dose of caffeine. By the time you get back, taking small sips of the caffeinated bean water, Wooyoung stares at you as if he had realized something. “What?” You ask as you settle down next to him. 

“Court 2? That’s the only available one left for tomorrow?” He asks. 

You shrug. “It’s either we get free venues or we pay a meal’s worth for studio rentals.” You reason as you send your notes to the male. As a student-dancer, you knew how hard it was to get studios and have it come straight from your own pocket. The competition was three months away and you didn’t want the team’s finances to run dry this early. 

“Can you at least try not to bite off Mingi’s head?” Wooyoung pleads, almost pouting. 

Song Mingi is the team captain for your university’s basketball team. That said, he’s also often the face of the school due to his grades and being captain of the team. He also often got in your nerves whenever you cross roads. You’re also fairly popular in and out of school: captain of the dance team, often competing in outside school competitions, and even being featured in some big time gigs. The gigs paid the most for your bills. 

You pat your lap so that he stretches his legs from the muscle pain. Careful fingers press on his muscles, causing him to yelp in pain. “Breathe, you baby. I’ll try my best.” You snort, clearly entertained by how low his pain tolerance can be outside dancing. “Tell San we’re in the usual spot if he wants to--”

“Ello!!”

Speak of the devil and he will appear. Your co-captain and best friend as well has appeared a few feet away. “Captain!” He calls out, once he could see your face. Him noticing Wooyoung first then you wasn’t a surprise anymore. These two often plot pranks on you during down time since your second year in the team, this was old news to you by now. “Captain, I’m really sorry. Court 2 was the only one available. The other team already got our first choice and-” he goes off, rapidly defending himself. 

“San, it’s okay. I know how annoying that team is. Let’s just do our best tonight so we can take over the studio for finals okay?” You shake your head, understanding the issue. The dance competition had your own team versus other dance teams inside and outside the university. It was a big event that tickets to watch were always sold out. 

“Please. I don’t think I can handle you snarking Mingi off when he tries to drop by.” San mumbles. 

The thing is, Mingi and you had a handful of common friends. The expectation of his course, Business Administration, being more difficult than yours, a Media Arts student. His tendency to be just as stubborn and strict as you are in your respective fields made it hard for both of you to see eye to eye. 

“I don’t think I’m ready to see their bitch face anywhere outside the stage.” Wooyoung mentions lightly. It was an obvious fear though. The amount of auditionees for your team each year was pretty hefty, the reason? Your friends had pretty faces. To put it simply, your resting bitch face is scary even if unintentional but an intentional one had a lot of people staying clear of you. To whom do you give the intentional one? Shallow auditionees and Song Mingi.

By the time you’ve eased the knots on Wooyoung’s leg, you’ve finished your coffee. “Guys, I promise I won’t fight him tonight.” You say with a sigh. 

San just looks at you with a raised eyebrow. 

You pout at him. “I promise! Besides tonight’s cleaning and drills. If I get distracted by that demon, give me the spiderman reps.” Wooyoung places his other leg on your lap, a cheeky grin on his features. A look of empty annoyance shoots from your eyes at him but you still do as he needs. Your two best friends give in with groans. It’s next to impossible to reason with you sometimes. It’s also your stubbornness that brought the team to the current greatness it had. 

“Three sets of spiderman reps. After training.” 

The bell rings, signaling your next class which was quite unfortunately, with the two of them still. San rises from his seat, your bag and laptop already in his hands as he waits for the both of you. 

“Last class for the day.” He states as you take your belongings from him. 

It’s going to be a long day for the three of you. 

“Five minute break” The entire team’s breathless from the drills. Some of them walked off the burn, others drinking water, others opted to lie on the cool tiled floor. You were part of the first group. You bend your back a little to get rid of the soreness that was starting to wear on you. The burn on your arms and shoulders is already a familiar feeling to you but you still hate it. At least it means your body was getting stronger, if the burn only started to set in now. When you reach for your water bottle, you realize that it was already empty. “Fuck..” You groan as you look for a water refilling station. 

The nearest one was near the basketball team’s court. 

Whatever. 

You make your way to the station, making sure that you would go unnoticed by the basketball team as they did their drills. So far, so good. No one paid attention to you as you fill your bottle up with water. That was until Jeong Yunho had noticed you. 

“Hey! Are you training here too?” His warmth made it hard for you to despise him even if he was best friends with Mingi. Why couldn’t he be the captain instead?

Eyes shoot up and you’re greeted by his pink hair. You wave at him quickly then take a sip of water. “Hey Yunho! Yeah, Is the music too loud?” 

He shakes his head, a few strands of hair covering his view. He pushes it back and it was there when you realize just why he had a large following. “Don’t worry about it. The guys appreciate a little music every now and then.” A sigh of relief slips through your lips. At least the volume isn’t too destructive for everyone. Why wasn’t he the captain instead?

“I have to go now. Good luck with your practice!” You bid goodbye quickly, your Mingi radar was going off.

Yes, you had a Mingi radar in your head. 

When you turn on your heel, you are greeted by his stoic features. Even without words, the tension was pretty thick in the air. “Anyways,” you mumble onto your bottle as you try to walk past him. 

“If you’re going to train in here too, being conscious of your noise would be helpful.” Mingi’s voice drips with deep annoyance towards you. You on the other hand, are trying your best not to do spiderman push ups so you just hum in response. 

“When I talk to you, you speak.” He says, rubbing his temple in annoyance. It was moments like this that genuinely make you wonder how he is the face of the school when his attitude was absolute horse shit. 

“Noted with thanks, Song Mingi.” You say simply. Yunho looks at the both of you in mild alarm. He was aware of your less than stellar relationship with his captain but he never saw how bad it was until today. Is it easy to keep your face from shooting lasers at the tall male? No but you were going to do your best. The two of you exchange steely gazes until both of you look away, stalking back to where your team was. 

“What took you so long?” Wooyoung asks as he watches the rest of the team clean the choreography, with San leading at the back. 

“Mingi tried to stall me.” You explain under your breath as you take your spot next to Wooyoung as your eyes keep an eye on their movements. With those who have been accepted, you weren’t as intimidating as you make yourself to be. You wouldn’t admit it openly, you viewed them as your family. You weren’t strict all the time, knowing when to have an iron fist and when to relax. Thoughts were drifting elsewhere that you found yourself gnawing mindlessly on your own water bottle as you watched everyone go through the choreography. Two blinks and you’re focused again. To the untrained eye, it already looked pretty good but to the three of you, you knew it could be better. The team holds the last post for a few counts before doubling over for air. “Catch your breath first then from the top. Seventy five percent energy but I want you guys to focus on your angles and extensions.” You state, much to the relief of some. 

“Does this mean you’re going to have to do spiderman reps?” Wooyoung asks, trying his best to not show his excited smile at seeing you struggle. Little shit. 

“If you’re looking forward to it so much, do it instead.” You shoot back with a smirk. You direct him to join the team in dancing with a quick jerk of your head to their direction. “Join the run. I want to see how you’ve been doing as well.” You stand up. “San! Join the team in the run. I want to see how the two do as well.” 

That’s how the rest of the night goes: repeated countings, claps, and feet stomping to the beat, with the occasional cheering from members to keep the energy up. Before you let everyone go for the day, you asked for one more run of the piece to record. The only issue now is who to ask to hold your phone because all possible places for your phone were either too low or too dangerously high to be on its own. 

You spot Yunho coming out of the basketball court with his bags. His training must have ended. “Jeong Yunho!” Your voice manages to surprise everyone with the volume. Who knew you could bellow at such strength? The tall male’s startled by your voice and walks over to you.

“I didn’t know you could yell that loud. Do you need help with something?” He notes bemused at such a feat. 

“Training can do that. Can you record our run for us, please?” You raise your phone up, hoping he says yes. Everyone’s tired and so are you. His hand is outstretched and it makes you sigh in relief. “You’re the best.” You say. “Start recording when I press play.” The tall male gives you the okay signal as he raises the phone’s angle to make sure everyone’s seen in the screen. Bless his soul. He does as you told him. The run goes without a hitch, by now everyone knows to give their all in the last run to which they do. As your team dances, you notice a familiar brown mop of hair in the peripheral vision. ‘Focus.’ You force yourself to do so as you do your segment, all while cheering for the others who were starting to lose breath. He stands next to Yunho, watching your entire team dance. A small part of you hopes that he’s watching the team as a whole. Once the run was over, a few of the members drop their sore bodies to the floor, relishing the cool feeling of the cement. You dismiss the team, telling them to cool down and stretch on their own as it was late. You walk over to the angel and the demon, both with different emotions displayed on their features. “How was it?”

Yunho hands your phone back and flashes two thumbs up. “That was really cool! You guys really keep with your team’s legacy.” 

Those words make you smile through the exhaustion that has set on your features. “Thank you, you probably have to go now since it’s late. Thanks again for helping us!” You wave him goodbye, doing your best to not look at the demon next to him that stares you down. Just as you were about to leave them be, he speaks up. 

“You looked tired the entire time.” Mingi says with a shrug. “Gotta be an example to your members, y’know?” 

Without looking back at the two males, you heave a sigh. You were tired and the stress for your team and academics was setting in. “Song Mingi, I really am in no mood to deal with your lack of a filter. Please just leave already.” Before you could stop yourself, you find yourself looking over the male. “You call yourself the captain when you’re here throwing unneeded comments. Please do reflect first on yourself before trying to fight me.” You say with a roll of your eyes as you take the chance to leave. 

You don’t see Yunho drag Mingi away before he could say anything. You do see Mingi greet some members of your team and your two best friends as if he didn’t just try to rile you up. You also do see Wooyoung and San’s concern for you. “Don’t do the spiderman reps today. Just do it tomorrow.” Wooyoung immediately pipes up. He knows how you get when you’re angry, the last time you tried to do something out of spite, you sprained your wrist.  

“Let’s just go grab some late dinner. I need food.” Your voice comes out breathier than usual. Too exhausted to bother keeping up a front as you wipe your sweat with the collar of your shirt.. 

The three of you were seated in a fast food chain, dietary plans be damned. You needed something filling and if it was going to be through nuggets, a burger and a big cup of iced coffee then so be it. You had your head in your hands. The two had taken cared of your order, both of them returning to your table with trays full of food and drinks. 

“This is just so shitty..” you mumble, staring at your nuggets. “I have to deal with the mess the alumni left the team with. I mean, I don’t mind covering the expenses from the gigs I’ve done but it’s not going to be enough. Not being in a studio is already so..” you couldn’t continue your thoughts so you shove the entire nugget into your mouth. 

“Don’t beat yourself up. You’re doing everything you can for the team.” San reminds you while he eats his burger. How he manages to fit what looked like a double decker in his mouth was still a mystery to you. 

“The team already knows of the issue since day 1 and they know you’re doing everything you can.” Wooyoung adds gently. He hated seeing you be so tough on yourself.  

Both of them were right but it doesn’t stop you from beating yourself up for having to do your best with tied hands. This isn’t a choreography where you could still move as freely even if you had your hands tied. This is real life with no practice. 

“I know you’re still annoyed at Mingi’s comments but come on, he doesn’t dance. So don’t pay attention to him.” San reminds you, already halfway with his burger. Boys with their almost insatiable appetites without gaining that much weight is something. 

You take a deep breath, pushing the strands of hair that cling to your face as you pull yourself together again. If you were going to cry, it wasn’t going to be here. “Fuck it. I’ll enjoy these nuggets. San, where are we training tomorrow?” 

“Studio. Yeosang got us a discount.” 

“Perfect. Also, make sure he stays in the team once I graduate. His strengths could be so good for house segments also that discount trick he has.” 

“Don’t talk about leaving us yet!!” The two of them cry out at the same time, and by chance they harmonize. 

“Don’t leave the dance team for the choir. Both of you are taking over my position.” You shoot back with laughter. 

The next training comes and it’s a lot more peaceful for your head. Your coach was back teaching another segment for the entire time. Whenever your coach was around, you cut back on your jokes and made sure that everyone didn’t go too out of line with their ways to keep the morale up. The training session leaves everyone much more exhausted as compared to yesterday. 

“Good job guys, you guys did a lot better compared to the last time I saw you. Let’s go for gold.” Your coach says as the three of you, along with Yeosang manage the payments. It’s that type of comments that make this entire competition season worth it. Once all the payments were settled, everyone was slowly going on their own separate ways to deal with their own requirements. Wooyoung and San were going to head to a computer shop to play for a game or two, how long that would be was unknown. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Don’t be late for our history class… Please.” You stated, knowing just how your professor was strict with attendance and tardiness. 

San whines at you. “We won’t! We promise.” 

Wooyoung interjects, “Call him an hour earlier, you know how he is in the mornings.” 

You shake your head at their antics and wave them off. “Fine, see you guys.” You readjust your bag as you slowly make your back to your dorm. A long shower and a hearty meal were needed before you could focus on your papers. After you freshen up, you pick up your laptop and other essentials as you make your way to your usual coffee shop. 

The staff in the coffee shop already knew you. The amount of late nights you spent here to catch up on your studies to the point where they have to tell you to leave as they were closing was innumerable. They also know your current situation just based on your orders. If your order of coffee is stronger than usual, you were most likely stressed. If you had a meal with your drink, you were going to be forcing yourself to finish your requirements. 

You ordered a macchiato with an extra espresso shot and a sandwich. 

By the time your orders came in, you were taking down notes from the reading on your screen. You thank the staff for bringing your order to you, probably having missed them calling your name from the adrenaline in your body to get all of these finished. It’s only when you look up that you catch sight of two familiar faces that were ordering. An exhale and you reach for your earphones. Once you find them you plug them into your laptop, going back to work. 

An elbow jabs his side, and he pulls out his earphones, looking at Yunho with a miffed expression. “What? Yunho, there’s barely any free table here. Let’s just get our orders and leave.” Mingi grumbles. The spare tables were outside but that also meant being in the company of smokers. Yunho pays no heed to his best friend’s complaints and gestures to the table next to yours. 

“That one’s free.”

“You’re insane.” 

“I’m just pointing it out! Besides, air con.” Yunho also adds with a grin. Since last year, his rivalry with you had become a little blurry. He doesn’t remember what the two of you constantly fought about at this point but he clearly knows he can’t stand your presence. His best friend on the other hand, wanted to change that before all of you go on your own lives. 

The air con point was a strong one to fight against. Instead of fighting against it, he just grumbles and lets Yunho do as he wishes. At least if a fight breaks out between the two of you, he could point it at Yunho. The logical part of his head also reasons that if a fight breaks out, his reputation along with the school’s would be destroyed. He couldn’t win. 

He waits for their orders off to the side, prolonging the inevitable of having to sit near you. Once their orders have arrived, he and Yunho carry them towards where you are. 

A hand appears at your peripherals and you look at the owner. The recognition taking a while to set in. The dazed look in your eyes after being disturbed was a little amusing in his perspective. 

“Hey, sorry for disturbing. Is this table free?” He asks with an apologetic smile.

Your eyes scan the entire coffee shop for possible places for them to stay just so they don’t disturb you. All tables were taken. “Uh yeah sure, go ahead.” With that, the two boys sit next to your table as you go back to your work. 

Thankfully, the boys leave you be as you continue to write and read. When you let own a yawn, you knew you had to give yourself a bit of a break. You pull out your earphones as you start eating again to give your brain a break. You look at your list of things to do and a little bit of relief sets in when you manage to finish a good portion of what can be finished tonight. 

“About time you ate.” 

That was enough to cause you to choke on your coffee. You look at the source of the voice and it was Yunho, who was obviously amused with your reaction. 

“Did I scare you?”

“You’re still here?!” You ask incredulous, when you shift your gaze to your front, you were greeted with the devil. Mingi obviously looks like the reading material isn’t much of an interest, not that you could blame him. A small tinge of sympathy sets in you when you realize his notebook was filled with calculations. Yuck. 

Yunho tilts his head in confusion then nods. “Yeah, we have an exam coming up.” The male peeks over his laptop to see that Mingi was on a different topic. “I thought you were studying for history.” 

“Marketing had more things for me to deal with.” The other states in a flat voice as he continues to spin his pen. 

That’s when you notice that there were some eyes on your table, to be specific, on Mingi. It made you a little thankful that you weren’t as out there in the public as he was. It didn’t change the fact that you feel a little bad for the both of them. “Is this under Professor Hwang?” You ask as you catch sight of a familiar reading on Yunho’s laptop. 

“Yeah! Did you take it already?” This causes both pairs of eyes to land on you. 

“I took it earlier today. Do you guys need help?” 

That was enough to make Mingi lean a little forward, for Yunho to look a little more awake. “Are you sure? You’ve been working hard with your own thing.” Yunho reasons carefully. Your to-do list reaches your view again and you take a moment to gauge how good you can juggle your work and theirs. As much as you despised Mingi, Professor Hwang’s anger was something you’d rather everyone avoids. 

“When’s your exam?” By now, your gaze has shifted to your laptop screen as you try to look at your schedule. 

“Friday..” 

“Give me your schedules.” You say, giving Yunho your contact details. “Both of your schedules. I’m already thinking of how to squeeze you into my schedule.” The two boys look at each other in surprise but they give you their schedules, your tone left no room for any opposition. No wonder you were the captain. No wonder people are intimidated by you. Mingi found it impressive. 

“I’ll message Yunho when and where to meet me. We can’t meet during the day, tell me immediately. If both of you want a study session after our respective trainings that work too. Just keep in contact with me with any update.” It wasn’t a request. It’s an order. 

You didn’t even notice that Mingi had pulled his hoodie down to look at you properly. Your attention was too focused on what Yunho was talking about regarding the coverage. None of you really intended to do so but you eventually were giving them tips on how to study for her exam, and they promise-- well more of Yunho promises to make it up to you after. 

“Excuse me, We’re about to close up for the day.” the staff informs gently as he goes to the next table that still had people poring over their books. 

With that, the three of you pack up your things. You finish the rest of your coffee. 3AM. You have 5 hours of sleep left to last through the day. “I’ll see you both depending on your schedules.” It was a reminder for Yunho to send their schedules and he does immediately. You bid them goodbye, as you leave the coffee shop on your way back to your dorm. 

“So they put away their rivalry with you, Mingi.” Yunho notes with a glance at the male who put his hood up once more. He hums in response. To others, he might as well have ignored his best friend for the comfort of his own thoughts. Yunho knows better. Mingi just wasn’t the type of guy who openly admits his thoughts. 

“If we’re studying with them later, can we choose a spot where no one’s looking at us.” He mumbles. Yunho felt for the guy. He didn’t want the role of captain, wanting to just play basketball with a team. Yet being the captain also meant that he would eventually become the face of the university and potential love calls from potential sponsors. The poor guy could barely focus on his studies without having strangers oogle at him when he was outside university grounds. 

“Will tell them.” Yunho returns as the two make their way to their own apartment. 

You reach your room after freshening up. 3:15AM. You were definitely going to need a strong cup of coffee throughout the day. A reminder to call San when you wake up was prepared. With that, your sleep was swift. 

The cursed wind chime alarm jolts you out of your slumber. 8AM. A curse elongated by a dry groan escapes your lips. As you wash your face, you call San’s phone. “Pick up the phone, you sleepy butt.” You mutter as you prepare for your day. 

He finally answers the phone though with a whine that pleads for more sleep.

“Get up. We can’t be late for class.” 

His whines could’ve been mistaken for cries but you hear the sheets ruffle under his movements. 

“I’ll buy you a donut, San. Just please get up and get ready for class.” The things you do for your friends. 

“I’m up, I’m up. Can you get the birthday cake version please?” 

“I’ll buy it after class, so you better show up.” You hang up just in time for a message to come in. 

[ Yunho ] we’re free at 2-4 pm and 10-2am later! 

[ You ] I can help 2:30-4 meet me by the benches near the chemistry department. 

The class goes by painfully slow but you give San the money for the donut. Before he could complain that he wanted you to buy it for him, you quickly cut to the chase. “I just need to help someone with their studies until 4. See you guys later.” 

You arrive at the benches with a sandwich in your free hand. No sign of the two boys yet, so you choose a bench away from prying eyes but visible enough for the two to see you. With some time to spare still, you take a few bites of your sandwich as you look through the notes as a refresher. The shuffling of feet against the pebbles and grass catch your attention. Did you expect Mingi to come first? Maybe this exam really meant a lot for him. 

“Yunho’s following shortly. He just had to use the restroom.” He explains when he notices your wandering eyes. That shuts you up as you give him a polite nod, letting him settle on the bench opposite you. 

“I think you forgot something.” 

When did he strike conversations with you? He hands you your earphones then rubs the back of his neck. 

“You left before Yunho or I could catch you.” 

Your jaw drops slightly at the sight of your favorite earphones. How could this have slipped your mind? This pair was your favorite and your most used due to your activities. “Oh my god. Thank you for taking care of it.” There was no hint of underlying annoyance in your voice as you kept them in your pocket. 

Just then, Yunho jogs towards where the two of you are, sitting next to you. “Sorry to make you wait!” Mingi lets out an exasperated sigh, as he brings out his notes. 

“It’s fine. Let’s get started now cause I don’t think we’ll have any strength to study later.” 

That’s how the ninety minutes go by. Quizzing the two guys on certain topics while giving them tips on how to do well for the exam. It’s not in you to spoon feed them the answers, and even if you did, the exam was half multiple choice and half essay. With every right answer they gave, you would smile brightly and nod. The smile seems a lot brighter around Yunho, when it came to Mingi your smile was a mix of pride and surprise. Not that you thought Mingi slacks off on his studies, he just seems like the type to not pay attention to things that don’t interest him. 

Mingi also notices how you seem to open up when things go smoothly. Almost the entire time, your eyes were on Yunho as he carried the conversation with questions and clarifications over the topic. When he hears his question on the connection of the uprising to succeeding events, he pipes up.

“Wait, Yunho. That’s not part of the coverage, also, a totally different event.. You confused it with the other one.” Mingi explains, brows slightly scrunched as he explains the event to the best that he can from memory. 

You look at him with an impressed smirk. He definitely had brain cells that give him the credit that he deserves. You gesture to him as you shift your gaze back to Yunho. “There’s your answer.” 

Just like that, the bell rings, telling all students that the ninety minutes is over. The broody male is the first to pack his things up, thanking you under his breath. The pink haired male on the other hand, thanks you profusely and waves goodbye to you as they head to their last class. 

You don’t realize the breath you were holding until they left, eyes drop to the earphones that Mingi had returned to you. It’s a nice change you suppose, as compared to all the daggers you’ve thrown at each other. 

Today’s training was held in the same place. Court 2. You could hear the basketballs bouncing against the court floor along with the squeaks of rubber shoes against the floor. If you listened carely, you could hear Mingi cheering for the other members as they continued with their drills. You had your own drills too. This drill being new choreography. The team was picking up the new choreography faster as compared to the past. Those who weren’t part of the segment your coach was teaching were off to the side, cleaning what they know. San and you were part of the group that was learning the new segment. Both of you being the centers. The choreography is admittedly trickier. You didn’t think you’d be doing krumping next to San but here you are. Your group goes through it over and over as your coach directs on how and where to execute the movements. Occasionally, your coach would ask some of you to try a stunt or trick. He wants the gold as much as the entire team and it sometimes reaches the point where he forgets he’s leading student-dancers. 

Your group was gasping for breath afterwards that you had to remind your coach to check on the others and teach the other segments that need to be taught. It worked and it gave your group some more time to breath and rehydrate themselves. Only five weeks left. Ideally, after this week would be intensive cleaning and minor editing. Everyone already had the mix but your coach constantly would try to change little things. Were you worried that this would be rushed and cost the team a place in the top three? Definitely. Being an overthinker and having a coach who was just as bad, if not worse wasn’t helpful. You thanked Wooyoung and San for reminding him of the logistics and reality of things. 

The next few hours go quickly and everyone is admittedly, surprised and relieved that they finished the piece. San gives you a quick massage to relax your nerves as your coach asks the team to do the entire piece, cleanliness not really being something he’d look into for now. The entire number goes by with a few road bumps, none of which he seems to mind. At least he had mercy after being reminded, and by the last run, everyone lets themselves crumple to the ground. Training was officially done for the day. Everyone pays their share for the coach for the day then leaves. Wooyoung and San help you gather the payments then leave quickly, both having to cram papers that were due in two hours. 

This leaves you and your coach alone.

“When is the team going to pay? I need the money too.” You knew where he was coming from. His family had some health issues that had to be dealt with, it was why he didn’t come the other day. You’ve been pestering the team the past few days in the chat for their share, some of them always pushing it back. Your body wanted nothing but to eat something then sleep. Even if you had your gigs as a source of income, it was enough to get you by. With how your coach urgently needed the money and how you couldn’t think clearly, you caved. You ask for his bank account details and right there, you transfer the money to his account from yours. You put the phone screen to his eye level to show the proof of transfer. 

“There.” You say, waiting for him to notice the proof before packing up your things. He nods and you try to keep a note to raise your talent fee in order to make ends meet. He thanks you for the payment and as he was about to discuss another matter regarding the team, he gets a call which you assume is from his family. 

“I have to go. Let’s talk tomorrow.” 

You nod, bidding him goodbye before packing up your things. Holy fuck you were hungry and stressed. Studies, dance and now money? Of all times it had to be when it was near hell week? You want to cry. 

“What are you doing here? It’s late.” Mingi asks, his tone clearly not helping you in your current predicament. 

“What, I can’t stay here now? Is this your territory, Song Mingi?” A groan slips from your lips, but at this point it just sounds like a growl. “I can’t let myself catch my breath here?” You spit out. For once, his eyes widen at your venom. 

“I’m asking because it’s already midnight. You know how the streets outside can be a little dangerous at this hour.” He’s exasperated. A small part of him can’t get himself to be his usual self around you after having helped him in his studies. 

You immediately stand up from your spot, about to give him a piece of your hazy mind. Only, when you stand up, you feel the blood suddenly rush and your head spins for a moment. You lose your balance in that moment and the man knows better than to say anything that could make this worse. 

Maybe it was because of his long limbs that you’ve come to be envious of, or his quick reflexes from his basketball history, regardless he manages to hold you up before you crumple to the ground. His finger gently pulls your lower eyelid down to peek at the color of your eyes. Pale pink. You need to eat and drink something fast. 

“You need to eat.” He states, holding your bag with his free hand as he tries to keep you up. 

You knew that you weren’t really fine but you still had some sort of want for self preservation that you let out a weak lie. “I’m fine.”

“No you aren’t.” The chances of you putting up a fight were low so you let him guide you to the nearest food chain. 

It was the same fast food chain you go to with Wooyoung and San every post training. You couldn’t get yourself to look at the menu, the smell of meat, fried strips of potato and grease were overwhelming you. The bright lights made you want to shut your eyes. He notices this and brings you first to a booth far from the noise of people. “Stay here.” He doesn’t know why he said that, you were in no position to go anywhere else as you bury your features in your arms. He crouches down to your hunched level. “Do you want anything in particular?” You shake your head weakly. “I’ll buy you something okay?” You just nod. No strength in you to say that you didn’t want him to pay for you, that you were broke, that you just wanted to go home and sleep. 

The time he was off buying your meal, you were floating in and out of consciousness. You reach for your water bottle, to finish what was left before the food came. All that was left were two mouthfuls of water which you suppose could stave off the hunger pains. As you wait for Mingi, you fish your phone out from your bag as you message the team to remind them of their unpaid dues. Your next gig wasn’t going to be until after this competition. Could you juggle a gig within the next five weeks while dealing with your student duties? Probably not but it is being considered. 

Mingi arrives shortly with a tray full of food for you and him. “I owe you.” You mumble as you straighten up at the sight of food. He shakes his head as he hands you a double burger, orange juice, and ice cream. For him, a burger, nuggets, ice cream and coke. 

“You need this. Call it even, you’re helping me with my exam.” 

You stare at him for a moment then look at the meal. You were hungry and you couldn’t stop yourself from digging in anymore. The size of the burger makes it a little tricky for you to take big bites, forcing you to take small bites slowly. All of which was Mingi’s plan. After seeing how pale and weak you were, having you eat quickly all of a sudden wasn’t going to be good for you. 

“H-hey, is everything okay?” Mingi asks, alarmed as he hands you some tissue to wipe your cheeks with. “You’re crying.” 

The pad of your thumb brushes against your cheek and you could feel the wetness of your thumb. You take the tissue from his hands as you wipe your eyes. “I guess it’s the stress.” You mumble. It still hasn’t set in that you’ve reached your limit and you’re just wiping away the tears as they come. 

“Wanna talk about it?” He offers. For tonight, he puts aside the sour relationship he has with you. 

So you do. Through the tears and food, you share what’s been causing you distress. The internal issues of your team thanks to the alumni’s mishandling of the finances. The financial issues of having to cover some of those issues with your own money. Your academic workload. The pressure of being a captain when you feel like you just became one because there was nobody else willing to take on the role. Along the way, you ended up admitting your jealousy towards Mingi: how the school tends to favor the basketball team as compared to the arts and dance teams, how he’s doing so well as a captain, how finances is the least of his worries for the team. 

That takes him by surprise. The entire time he’s been giving you hell, you’ve been going through your own hell. The idea of internal financial issues never crossed his mind, though that was mostly due to the fact the school covers the expenses for travel and what not. Along with the sponsorships his team receives from sports brands. While he was so caught up in his own jealousy towards you, he didn’t realize that you had your plate just as filled as his, if not heavier. He says nothing, opting to eat his food as you unload everything you’ve kept from everyone. It was obvious from how affected you were, just how passionate you are for this field and to be disregarded, disrespected and be the one to clean up after the mess would clearly take a toll on anyone. He watches you carefully, you’ve stopped crying but your eyes were puffy. It takes a while before you take a deep breath and that was a sign you finished with your tirade. 

“Are you open for my own thoughts or is it better if I just listen?” He finally asks after finishing his burger. 

You let him take the floor this time as you continue eating your burger. 

Here, he admits his wrong doings to you. Just as you were jealous, so was he. Jealous of how you could keep a low profile despite having performed in front of so many people over the years. How he thought you were doing well in juggling your academics with your workload. How you could manage a team as the sole captain, even if Wooyoung and San were your co-captains. He also admits how he thought your team was doing well in terms of finances considering the clothes you have for the performances. Along the way, he apologizes for having added to your hardships. “If you guys need help with financial stuff, just tell me.” Maybe the words passing around of how rich his family was true. 

You stare at the male, your drink halfway to your mouth. That was enough to make him backtrack his words. “I mean, if that’s okay with you.” Instead of saying anything that could worsen the situation, he just opts to eat the rest of his food in silence. 

For the first time that night, you chuckle at his actions. Fingers brush through your hair as you push away the strands that block your vision. “I’ll think about the offer. Thank you though for it.” 

For the first time, he actually shoots you a genuine smile. He walks you back to your dorm, not minding to carry some of your things. It was a quiet walk, not that any of you minded, at least this silence was comfortable as compared to the tensed ones of the past. 

Once you reach your place, you take your bags from him. “Don’t forget tomorrow okay?” 

He stares at you, confused at what prompted you to say such. A few seconds pass and it clicks. “Ah! Yeah, we’ll be there, same place?” 

You nod as you unlock your door. “Get some sleep Mingi. It’s been a long night.” You bid him a good night with another smile before retreating into the safety of your abode. 

The male realized that your smiles seem to make him feel odd emotions. 

The following day goes by quickly. You manage to do alright in your exams and presentations-- though a good portion of your presentation being candid. You go through your usual routine of buying your lunch as you wait for the two in the same spot. 

You didn’t expect Mingi to call your name out, especially in disbelief. Yunho following him shortly. “What’s the occasion?” Yunho asks as he eyes your business formal attire. You look down at yourself and you realize that they are probably more accustomed to your casual wear and training clothes. 

“Oh, presentations. Some of my professors are particular about the attire so…” you trail off with a shrug. “Anyways, let’s get started before you need to go to your next class.” 

You twist your questions a little more this time, testing their memory and understanding of the events. They manage to answer your questions with ease, even going as far as connecting the events to events that happen after. Your heart swells with pride and confidence. If they pass the exam, they were going to do so with flying colors. 

The bell rings and it’s the same old once more. “That concludes our last session. You’ll do great tomorrow.” You say as you give them a standing ovation. Yunho was the first one to react. 

“Whaaat, it’s that fast?” He whines with a pout. With your attention sole on the faded pink male, you don’t catch Mingi’s mixed expression. Just when the two of you were getting along, both of you were going back to your own lives. “We won’t see you anymore?” He asks, almost like a child whose lollipop was taken from them. 

“Boys, you got class. You’re going to be late!” So you shoo them off. Mingi nods and stalks away, Yunho waving to you as he jogs after Mingi. 

“You think we’ll do okay tomorrow?” 

“We’ve been studying for this more than needed. We better, man.” 

You watch them jog towards their next class until San notifies the group chat of their venue for the upcoming days. 

[ Mountain ] Hey everyone! We’re using the studio for the remaining weeks starting today! ^^ 

[ Welsh Corgi ] fries are on us every pre-training so be there early!

[ You ] *only on wooyoung and san :p 

Who knew that today was going to be the last day you’d see Mingi and Yunho?

Part 2

[kalypsichor]

all things must pass [ beatles x reader ]

summary: Moving on is easy. The hardest part is finding a reason to stay.

prompt: If you vibe with it, maybe hcs or something about beatle!reader reconnecting with the guys after the breakup? warnings: none

masterlist

see end for notes

For half an hour, everything is like it used to be.

You’re all still in the industry making music and crowding the charts, so it’s no surprise when the ex-Beatles are invited to some big shot gala in London. It doesn’t take long for you all to gravitate towards each other; you find Paul at the refreshments, he waves Ringo over from the table, and the three of you find George blending into a potted plant near the back.

The champagne loosens lips and bubbles into easy laughter, low chatter about the week and the news. Ringo is the most laid-back. He still plays on your guys’ albums. It’s him, really, that acts as a conduit of conversation between the group, insulating any tensions below the surface. You tease Paul about his new look and George, mostly content to just listen, jumps in from time to time with a dry remark that makes everyone chuckle.

“Having a little meeting without me?”

Half an hour is all too short.

Your little circle breaks open and accepts a fifth: John. Yoko isn’t far behind.

Acerbic. That’s what it is. Everything from his stance to the set of his lips, crooked and tight. His words, too, although those betray what his eyes try to hide: hurt.

“Not at all.” Ringo smiles and gestures with his glass. “We were just waitin’ for you to join.”

John ignores him, stares steadily at Paul. Ringo’s grin doesn’t falter, but you’re standing right next to him. There’s a little gap between his sunglasses (prescription, he says) and you can see the smile lines smooth over, pulling down a slight furrow between his brows. To anyone else, the slight change would be unnoticeable.

You suspect that Ringo’s sunglasses help him mask more than his worsening vision.

“How are you, John?” Paul settles on. Yes, that’s the safest option, the blandest one. John knows this, if his dry chuckle is any indication.

“Fine.”

Yoko melds into his side and John’s arm curls around her as she speaks. “And you, Paul?”

“Oh, great.” Paul scratches at his beard and as if on cue, Linda appears at his side. “We’re startin’ a band, actually.” They share a smile, one that immediately makes you feel like an outsider.

No one says anything for a while. The party goes on, the murmur of noise parting around you all like a stream would a stepping stone.

“We’re doing good, too,” you say, itching to break the silence. “Ritchie’s been busy, running ‘round our studios, eh?”

Ringo laughs. George only lifts the corner of his lips and stares into his wine.

“It’s like Liverpool all over again,” Ringo says. You all laugh except for John. There’s nothing else to do. It sounds like canned laughter on television, and the thought drops your expression.

Paul picks up the conversation again. It’s like throwing a life raft into the ocean, but none of you know what you’re trying to save. “So, George. Congrats on the triple album. Number one here and in the States, yeah? You beat the rest of us to it, you bastard.” George smiles and shrugs. “Guess we should’ve listened to you more in the studio.”

You can see the life raft sinking.

“Yeah, you should’ve,” George says. Simple as that, but the words still make you flinch. There’s no sharpness to what he says. George isn’t angry. No, he’s moved on. On to finally having his music out there, on to being heard. You’re torn between being happy for him and wanting to grab him by the shirt collar, grab all of them, and drag them back to how it used to be.

No, you’re not that torn. Happiness is the obvious choice. And you’ve moved on all the same, going your separate way.

Do you miss it? Being an ‘us’? At first it felt like being torn into pieces, but with every day that’s passed you’ve found it harder and harder to want to go back. There were the disagreements, the fights and the lawsuits. Just as bright in your memory is all the laughter, real laughter, and the wonders and excitement of being at the top together. The toppermost of the poppermost. But as you’ve gotten older, you’ve come to realize the naivete of holding onto things. Change is only natural. Change comes with growth. And, sooner or later, you had all known you’d grow out of the Beatles.

Yes, moving on is easy. The hardest part is finding a reason to stay.

Ringo goes first. Pats you all on the shoulder and ambles off to the bar for a drink or two or nine. He’ll see you at the studio next week, yeah? His words are slurring into each other but you know his drumsticks won’t be missing a beat. George follows him, murmuring about making sure Ringo gets home okay, and catches up to the man with long, easy strides. He doesn’t look back.

That leaves John and Paul and their wives. And you. John looks at Paul. Paul watches John. Yoko stares up at her husband and Linda smiles apologetically at you. What she’s sorry for, though, you have no idea.

You can’t find anything to say that won’t fall to deaf ears, so you say your good nights and turn to find your way to the exit.

The sound of your name being called from behind slows your steps. It’s John. You look around for Yoko but he’s walking with you… alone. Your confusion doesn’t go unnoticed.

“She’s getting our coats.”

You nod and come to a stand still, searching his eyes. He’s struggling to say something. You’ve known John long enough to know better than ask what. He has to find it himself.

“Didn’t get to ask earlier, but. How are you?”

It’s not what John really wants to ask, you know. “I said I was good,” you say carefully.

“Right.” John nods and clears his throat. “And the others, they’re alright?”

Your gaze softens at his obvious embarrassment at the question. Your hand finds its way to his. “Yes, John. Everyone’s okay.” Then, more quietly, “We miss you.”

Like being shocked, John tears his hand away from your hold. His face is flushed, eyes guarded but sharp. Piercing. You don’t look away, no matter how much it hurts.

“Fuck off,” he sneers. His words are loud, rising tone attracting attention from some of the other guests. It’s always been like this with John—hot and cold, one second vulnerable and vicious in the next. “You think I want to hear your, your- what, sympathies? Don’t fucking lie to me. I know you’re all glad to finally get away.”

A hand on his shoulder—Yoko. The touch seems to drain the anger from him and he deflates, chest still heaving a little from his outburst. When his eyes meet yours again, they’ve gone flat. Uncaring. His default, you’ve learned over the past decade, for whenever he starts caring too much.

Not that there is such a thing.

“We’ll see you,” Yoko says as though nothing has happened. You just nod and watch her lead John out of the doors and into the streets. Before they step outside, though, the passing glare of a car sets their silhouettes aflame; two people with smiles for no one else but themselves, noses almost touching, eyes closed.

It’s time for you to go, too. Tomorrow will be another early morning, another late night. Before you step out into the dark that swallowed John and Yoko, you look back over your shoulder. Paul is still standing where you left him. His head is turning back, not from looking at you, you know, but from watching the others leave. He looks so small from far away. Just a man. And Linda in front of him, with her hands on his shoulder, seems almost to be the only thing keeping him standing. She says something to Paul and he finally moves on. They disappear into the crowd of partygoers together.

And you, alone, disappear into the night.

- - -

what a short request. but it caught my imagination in a whirlwind, which resulted in this!

@ the anon who requested this, it’s probably not what you had in mind. sorry! but i’ve been reading a lot about the beatles and their stories and i wanted to put some of my thoughts to writing. well, not really my thoughts, but my interpretation of the aftermath. their relationships with each other and how they changed and fell apart is fascinating and convoluted. i hope i did it all justice... and i hope some of my symbolism didn’t fall short...?

lemme know your thoughts on this different sort of fic in the comments or by submitting a sentence or two! i’d love to know :)

[starkeristheendgame]

Peter tattooed Tony's name on his ass after a drunken night on his 18th birthday. And then Tony found out.

I had so many ideas for this and I fucking loved this prompt. Honestly Anon, thank you so much for the burst of inspiration! I absolutely love this concept and spent like two-hours just staring into space and internally fic-writing 😂

Its not exactly a ‘drunken night tattoo’ AU, but that’s because any respectable tattoo shop will not tattoo you if you’re drunk, or if you’ve consumed alcohol within the last 12 hours. So in respect of the professionals and in the interest of promoting safety, this is a slightly different base!

TW: Very light D/s Dynamic | Slight possessive behaviour | Under-negotiated (but consensual)

Peter couldn’t even blame being drunk. He wished he could; really. People did stupid things when drunk. It seemed to be an immediate write-off excuse for anything, instantly accepted as a valid reason for any stupid decisions.

Peter had been completely and utterly, stone-cold sober at every point in this process. He’d been sober when he’d scanned one of Tony’s signatures onto his phone. Sober when he’d booked the consultation with InkSpren Tattoo. Sober when he’d walked into the studio a week later in a pair of MJ’s velvet shorts.

He wasn’t entirely nervous. Pain didn’t really scare him as much as he supposed it used to. Especially not pain from a set of tiny, teeny needles. He’d gone with MJ for her first tattoo, and she’d taken it pretty well. Well enough that somewhere around the first hour, she’d begun to snore.

His tattoo artist was named Dave. That was comforting. Dave sounded like a nice name. Normal. Friendly. Guy-Next-Door-Dave.

Peter faltered in the doorway.

Dave was a 6″1 male with a beard and more tattoos than Peter thought possible to fit on one man. He was in the process of sapping on a pair of gloves, and eyed Peter critically when he noticed him lingering in the doorway, before motioning for Peter to join him.

“Lay down on your front. Arch your spine a little. You’re gonna have to pull those down under the cheek,” he instructed, reaching into a small tub to pull out some sanitary wipes. Peter tried not to feel embarrassed as he did as told, crawling up onto the bed and settling comfortably, before he squirmed, tugging down his shorts and his boxers both.

The wipe was cold and Peter huffed out a breath in surprise, nose scrunching as he forced himself to relax again. It was fine. It was a wipe. “I’m going to apply the stencil now. You wanted it dead-centre on the right cheek, yeah, mate?” Dave asked after a pause, and Peter nodded.

It would be more accurate to say that MJ wanted it there. Or at the least… That was the spot she’d chosen, when he’d lost the bet. Or… The pseudo bet. It was better to say that MJ had simply said she didn’t believe Peter would ever do something like this, and.

Here he was.

The stencil felt a little like rice paper. A little wet, and having some strange, scary dude palming his asscheek was definitely an experience, but Peter lay quietly through it, glancing nervously at his phone. 

God. He hoped Mr. Stark was too busy to call him today. Or worse, face-time him. Was Mr. Stark watching him through the camera? Had he hacked the microphone?

“Alright. Get up and have a look. We can wipe it off and re-place if its not right,” Dave instructed, and Peter moved gingerly, keeping hold of the waistband as he shuffled awkwardly over to the mirror and twisted.

There, emblazoned in dark purple on his asscheek, was Tony Stark. In a perfect replica of Tony’s elegant, eccentric scrawl. “He’s gonna kill me,” Peter breathed, staring at the stencil with growing horror. He caught Dave’s quizzical, raised eyebrow, and forced a grin. “Yeah, yeah. Its perfect. Right in the middle there. Great. Thanks.”

He lay back down, and after a brief warning, Dave begun.

“You lost a bet or something, kid? Or are you just…Really into the whole Iron Daddy thing?”

Peter wheezed.

Iron Daddy?!

“Lost a bet,” he managed to hiss out, burying his face into his arms. Oh, god. Thank whatever Deity was lurking up there that MJ wasn’t here to witness that. She’d immediately demand that the stencil was changed. Dave gave an affirmative sound from behind him.

“Why this guy? You a big fan or something? Or is it the opposite?”

“Uh… I guess a fan? I Intern. At SI,” Peter replied, wincing at a particularly harsh nip from the needles. It wasn’t so bad, all things considered. It stung, but it wasn’t the raging fire of pain that some people mentioned when they spoke about getting tattooed.

“Mmph. Must come with a nice paycheque. You gonna show him?”

“Absolutely not” Peter responded instantly, to Dave’s amused chuckle. Christ. Mr. Stark would fire him on the spot. He’d take back the suit. He’d get a restraining order. What mentor wanted their name on their eighteen year old mentee’s asscheek?

Then again.

Tony was egotistical enough that he’d probably love it, and think it was the most hilarious thing in the world, and Peter really wasn’t sure which one was worse. Not to mention that both involved him dropping his pants in front of his boss.

It was quiet for a little while after that, just the buzz of the needle and the odd puff of breath at the occasional sting from the gun.

“You know anything about knitting?” Dave asked after a pause, and Peter frowned, considering. He knew a little about sewing. He’d made his own suit, before Mr. Stark had showed up. Aunt May had taught him back when he’d thrown a tantrum over ripping his favourite shirt as an eight year old.

“Uh… Not really? I mean, I can sew a little. But I’ve never knit anything,” he remarked back, pondering it. Knitting was soft sweaters and thick scarves. It made him think of little old Russian ladies on their porches.

“My Ma wants to knit. Says she’s at that age. Told me to get her some wool and those special needles. I dunno the first thing about knitting.”

And that was how Peter learned that Dave’s Ma was what Peter imagined Ms. Romanoff would be when she was eighty, and that Dave’s main job was actually as a Doggy Daycare assistant at Paws ‘R Us.

“All done,” Dave announced, squirting a weird, green froth over Peter’s asscheek before wiping it lightly with a series of cloths. “Go take a look.” 

Peter obliging, sliding off the bench and twisting to see his butt in the mirror.

“Aw, man. This is gonna be on my mind literally every time I see him,” Peter complained, clapping a hand over his face. There, in what looked like thick Sharpie across his ass, was Tony’s signature. Forever. If he ever died, it would be with this stamped across his butt.

“He ain’t gonna know none, unless you drop your kick in front of him,” Dave shrugged, peeling off the gloves. Peter had to concede that he had a point. He had zero intentions of ever telling Mr. Stark what he’d done, and in the three years they’d known each other, Mr. Stark had never seen Peter in less than a shirt and bottoms.

MJ looked moderately impressed when she pulled the hem of his shorts down, peering at the taped-up tattoo with her phone flashlight. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” she shrugged, flopping back onto her bed and resuming the video she’d been watching on her phone.

Peter shuffled around to lay on his stomach on the bottom of the bed, slapping at her ankle. “Never tell a Peter Parker he can’t do something,” he announced, and MJ rolled her eyes.

“I never said you couldn’t do it. I said it was a stupid thing to do, and you argued it, and then decided it was your new personal challenge.”

Peter paused, then tipped his head. “Fair.”

Hiding it was both predictably and surprisingly easy. Peter spent the next few days sitting very gingerly and working himself up into a lather about meeting Mr. Stark on the weekend. Would Tony somehow know? What if MJ had emailed him to spill the secret?

What if Peter and his big mouth spilled it for him?

Except… It went fine. Tony picked him up in a sleek, red sportscar and they went straight to the Tower. Peter was taking a gap year in order to process what he wanted to do with his future. 

Spiderman suddenly changing locations would be suspicious, and sooner or later, someone would think to check on new students at local facilities. People moving for jobs, that sort of thing.

Mj was just… Refusing to comply with the Government agenda or something like that. Honestly, Peter was thankful. With Ned moving to San Francisco for college, things could get a little lonely.

Bar the odd self-conscious squirm, it went as any other meet-up went. They stuffed themselves silly with food in the penthouse and messed around with tech and prank-called Steve and by the end of the night, Peter had almost forgotten about his tattoo.

The twitchy, nervous fear that Tony would somehow turn around and demand to know why he had his name tattooed on his ass eventually faded, and life resumed as it had before he’d gotten the ink.

Which, of course, is exactly when things had to go wrong.

Really, Peter should have expected it. His luck ran in a pattern, and he should have walked on egg-shells the moment he realised things were relaxed and easy and his tattoo was still a secret.

It had been about a month since the tattoo. When he was alone, Peter couldn’t help but stare at it, running his finger over the shiny, black skin. Tony’s name, emblazoned like a brand across his ass. 

It became the focal point of more fantasies than his ass could keep up with, lazing floppy and exhausted and lube-covered on his bed, his mind reeling.

He imagined Tony tracing the letters with his tongue. Imagined Tony pinning him down and tattooing it himself. Imagined a different world where the branding was deliberate. A mark of ownership. Or a surprise. The look on Tony’s face when Peter would bend over, revealing his name.

And, as predicted, hiding it was no trouble at all. Peter had his own room in Tony’s penthouse, so if he needed to shower or sleep there, he had complete privacy. It helped that the Iron Spider and that Tony’s Mark II for the fabric Spiderman suit fit over his regular clothing now, so he didn’t even have to strip to do his thing.

The one thing he didn’t factor in, was a disastrous inventory day combined with the decision to wear white boxers. There’d been a raid on a medical facility kidnapping people to experiment on and most of the equipment and tech had been turned over to Tony for examination, classification and destruction. Peter was there to help, sleepy-eyed and not quite as focused as he ought to be.

He didn’t check the lid on the canister was tight before picking it up.

He didn’t see the drop of oil on the floor where Dum-E had been trundling around, moving things.

He slipped with a whelp, still clutching the container as he slid and twisted, bumping canister first into the edge of the table. He was vaguely aware of Tony shouting as his vision filled with pink dust that stung his eyes and seemed to cling to his clothes.

“Peter! Jesus H - Get in the med-shower, now! I turned away for five seconds kiddo, how did you -” Tony’s frantic muttering stops and starts as he grabbed onto Peter’s arm, dragging him across the workshop to the tiny little emergency shower stall in the corner. 

Peter could do nothing but stagger along, blinking frantically to clear his eyes of dust and pink.

It doesn’t even fully register he’s inside the stall until the first blast of water rained down on him, cold like ice before immediately coming something akin to tepid. He spluttered, trying to flatten himself back against the wall as his hair fell down into his eyes and the water streamed down his mouth, his hair, his back.

He gasped as the water trickled down his thighs, soaking through the cotton of his sweatpants and making them heavy. His shirt clung to his torso like plastic wrap and stuck-peeled uncomfortably with each heaving, shuddering breath.

“Yeah, sorry. This thing acts for burns too, so. Gotta keep it cool,” Tony murmured from outside the stall, head tilting sympathetically even as Peter scowled at him from under the battering stream. “Take your clothes off,” Tony instructed, turning to look over his shoulder.

“What?” Peter squeaked, eyes widening as he wrapped his arms around himself protectively. Tony glanced back at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“Relax, munchkin. My moves are smoother than that. It was a powder. Its likely it got inside your clothes, too,” he pointed out. Peter wanted to argue. Wanted to say if he just stood here long enough the risk was over, but.

“Turn around,” he huffed adamantly, scowling harder at Tony’s snort. But the genius complied, turning away and folding his arms as he observed the settling dust cloud. Peter counted to ten slowly, teeth chattering under the cold spray before he peeled off his shirt. 

The water on his skin was even more unbearable and he gave a whine of protest as he begun to work at the strings of his sweats, letting them fall with a disgusting, heavy slop.

“I was naked in front of you before,” Tony pointed out conversationally and Peter spat out water, shaking his head before pushing his hair from his eyes.

“That doesn’t count. The armour ripped your clothing off in beta deployment,” he pointed out, though he couldn’t help softening at the memory, snickering as he turned his back to Tony, scrubbing at his body. 

It had been hilarious. The actual deployment had gone fine, it was just when Tony had deactivated it that the armour had shrunk in on itself, taking his beaten old tank top and ratty workshop jeans with it.

“Both were an accident. Both involved one of us witnessing the other in a state of undress. Although my back has been dutifully turned since you commanded it, by the way. And both were equally hilarious in that my own armour undressed me, and you essentially became a - What is that?”

Peter jolted, having sunk into a daydream state of listening to Tony talk as he wiped himself down. He looked over his shoulder to find Tony staring straight at him, expression delighted and curious. Or, rather, straight at his ass.

Oh.

Oh no.

“Nothing!” he yelped, twisting to flatten his back against the wall. He’d left his boxers on for the sake of not trusting that Tony wouldn’t forget his vow of not looking, and had completely forgotten they were white. 

Which also meant that his dick was now flat out bared to his mentor. With a howl of frustration he twisted so he was side-on to Tony, curling up and glowering with all the muted rage he could muster.

“Its a logo. On my boxers,” he ground out.

“I think not,” Tony shot back gleefully, leaning on the protective railing with an absolutely manic glint to his eye. Peter almost groaned aloud, head falling back under the spray. It was too late. He was doomed. His heart begun to pound and the air he was sucking in felt like it wasn’t enough.

“You have a tattoo. On your ass. Right there,” Tony pointed out, as though Peter didn’t know it. Peter tried to glare but it came out feeble, weak. Fuck. He was screwed. So screwed! 

“What is it? Who’s name is it? Its clearly a name,” Tony continued, pestering for the information.

“Go away!” Peter barked lightly, shifting restlessly under the cool stream. Tony just shrugged easily at him and leaned through the gap, hitting the OFF button for the water. He seemed unfazed at Peter’s shuffling or his attempted aggression, smiling at him sweetly.

“You can tell me, or I can ask JARVIS. JARVIS is nice, he’ll tell me.”

And Peter’s blood runs cold, because there’s no doubt that JARVIS will. Peter never swore him to secrecy, and Mr. Stark’s name on his ass isn’t anything concerning to the AI.

“Its nothing! Oh my god, its just a tattoo!” he complained, making a shooing motion at his mentor as he side-stepped his sodden clothing. “Go get me a towel. And clean clothes. Please,” he huffed, fingers digging into his sides where he’d wrapped his arms around himself. Tony gave him a devilish grin, then gestured upwards.

“J?”

“It appears to be your name in your own handwriting, Sir,” JARVIS dutifully responded, his voice ringing like church bells through the room. The silence that followed was deafening and panic seeped like ice through Peter’s veins as Tony’s childish, gleeful look faded into complete, lax shock.

This is it. Everything he’s done, the last two years, the friendships and the Internship and Spiderman being Iron Man’s little tagalong… All gone. He’ll never eat day-old pizza with Clint again. He’ll never have Dum-E running over his foot again. The terror and panic bubbled up before he could stop it.

“Oh my god. Mr. Stark - You can’t - I’m so sorry. I swear, I wouldn’t have gotten it and especially not there but I just - I never thought you’d see it and -”

“Turn around,” Tony cut him off mildly, but his tone was firm. It was enough to snap Peter’s jaw shut as he stared, nails digging into his ribs as he blinked under the droplets that fell from his lashes. He sucked in a breath, staring in confusion.

“…What?” he breathed, pressing back against the shower wall as Tony advanced, unlocking the cubicle door to lean against the frame, eyeing him like a prime cut of steak.

“I said turn around,” Tony repeated patiently, raising one hand to make a little spinning gesture with his finger, as if Peter was a trick dog. Peter shook his head, horror quickly dawning as he realised not only what Tony was asking, but also the fact that if his boxers were that see-through…Facing the man directly was probably not the best idea.

He shuffled to the side as much as he could without baring either delicate matter. Tony’s lips quirked in amusement at this and he hummed softly as Peter shook his head. 

“Mr. Stark, its not - Its just your name, I swear. You sign it like every day, you don’t need to look,” he pleaded, shivering in the cool temperature of the workshop as the water begun to dry on his skin, running down in rivulets.

“I don’t sign it on your ass every day,” Tony pointed out, stepping closer. Peter wanted to stall, to argue that technically Tony hadn’t actually signed his ass, except his mentor was moving closer, reaching out slowly as though he might spook if he moved too fast. 

He was so close Peter could see the flakes of gold in his eyes, could smell the minty-motor-oil combination.

The first brush of Tony’s fingertips had his skin jumping like a colts, the touch so gentle it almost tickled. It was on the arch of his hips, skating the waistband of his sodden boxers before pressing just slightly to encourage him to turn. Tony’s gaze was tipped down, dark on his own.

“You can say no,” Tony reminded him softy, the hungry look in his eyes fading for a brief moment, replaced by something tender and careful. Peter sucked in a breath but didn’t resist as he was spun slowly on the spot, hands coming up to brace on the tiles. 

“How long?” Tony asked after a moment, thumbs pressing into the backs of his hips, breath hot across his shoulder.

“A month,” he managed to whisper, pressing his forehead to the wall as Tony’s thumbs slid along the waistband teasingly, catching and pulling but never dipping it more than an inch. 

Peter shuddered under the gentle touches, lips parting when Tony finally begun to slide the sodden material down his hips, over the large swell of his ass.

“You should have told me,” Tony rumbled, head ducking to mouth a lazy, open kiss to his bare shoulder, his stubble scratching just slightly. Peter shuddered as he felt the fabric slip to under his asscheeks, tight in the groove where it met his thigh but not overly uncomfortable. “Should have shown me sooner” Tony murmured into his skin.

And then the warmth of his breath was gone as he leaned back, and Peter could hear the gravelly, husked fuck that he uttered as he looked down, palm sliding around Peter’s flank so he could swipe his thumb across the dark sheen of the ink. 

Peter held his breath, tensing at the touch, though it didn’t hurt. Tony’s hand left his side to slide down between his shoulders soothingly.

“My name. On that perfect, juicy ass. Branded on there forever,” Tony was murmured, voice lethal and rasped as he stroked over it slowly, reverently. “Does that make you feel good, sweetheart? Knowing my claim is on you? In such an intimate place, too? Did you choose this?” Tony hummed, breath ghosting down Peter’s spine as he sank slowly to his knees.

Peter wasn’t about to let Tony know that actually, stamping it on his ass had been MJ’s idea. Especially not when Tony pressed a gentle, scratchy kiss over the tattoo. 

Especially not when he licked over the letters slowly, palms falling down to cup Peter’s asscheeks firmly. It was all he could do to whine, high and pathetic as he trembled under Tony’s hold.

Tony continued to mouth at the tattoo, lavishing it with nips and sloppy kisses as he kneaded at Peter’s asscheeks, almost distracting him enough to spread them with his thumbs, the kisses slowly travelling right until hot air right over there made Peter jolt, eyes snapping open.

“Mr. Star - Ahhhh-Ohhh,” his yelp faded into a gasp, which trickled into a breathless moan as Tony planted a firm kiss to the swirl of muscle between his thighs, sucking ever so slightly before promptly laving his tongue in a fat, wet stripe upwards.

“No idea what it does to me, kiddo. Seeing my name there. Marked on you forever. Marking you as mine,” Tony spoke against him, licking and kissing thoroughly between his words as Peter scrabbled at the tiles, desperately trying to keep himself from rocking back against Tony’s tongue.

One of Tony’s hands left his ass to stroke across his flank, delicate in its search before wrapping around his cock with a surprising firmness. Peter’s hips immediately jumping forwards into the grip and his moan was staggered as Tony paired it with a thrust of his tongue.

He mewled, embarrassingly high and and desperate as he threw one hand back, sliding his fingers gently into Tony’s hair. It was soft, far more silken than he had expected for something that stuck up in odd places when not professionally attacked by a stylist. 

Tony gave a soft sound of encouragement, nipping at him and sliding his hand up to stroke at the tip of his flushed cock.

“Mr. Stark, please,” he gasped, fingers twisting lightly in the soft, dark locks and hips stuttering minutely between Tony’s hot, wet tongue and his firm, slow grip. He wasn’t going to last; not with Tony Stark finally touching him. Not with the scrape of his stubble and the husk of his voice.

Tony chuckled against him, the vibrations making Peter shudder before he rose slowly, kissing a wet path from the small of Peter’s back to his shoulders, never stopping in stroking him slowly, firmly. 

“So eager, sweetheart. So precious,” Tony breathed against his skin, his hand leaving Peter’s hip to fumbled between them, knuckles brushing the round meat of his ass as he tugged his belt free of its buckle.

The slap of cold metal made Peter jolt, hips bucking in Tony’s grip and wrenching a whine from his throat as Tony squeezed him lightly, dipping his thumb into the tip and pushing at the bead of pre-cum that oozed there. 

“Steady, darling,” Tony huffed into his ear, the smirk audible in his voice. Peter opened his mouth to reply, but then there was the sudden feel of a thick, long cock resting in the line of his asscheeks, heavy and hot and he could do nothing but groan weakly.

“Hush, sweetheart. I’m not gonna take you apart yet. Not here. When I do that, you’ll be on my bed, spread out and sloppy for me,” Tony soothed, jerking him off in steady, tight strokes as he rocked his hips, dragging his cock between Peter’s asscheeks with a soft hiss of pleasure.

Tony flattened against his back, careless of the fact that Peter was still dripping water as he nuzzled into his neck, one hand roaming from Peter’s asscheek to his own cock and back, petting and stroking.

 Peter could feel the slow, hot build of an orgasm coiling in his gut, could feel his thighs shaking with the effort of keeping still as he let his head fall back onto Tony’s shoulder with a feeble  gasp.

Tony pressed open-mouthed kisses to his temple, training down to his neck where he nipped softly as he thrust against him, a seemingly never-ending, thick drag of heavy cock that Peter instantly wished was buried deep within him. 

Tony’s moans were deep, slow things, soft in his ear as he pushed his hips back, arching his spine to give Tony a better, tighter angle.

“Fuck, sweetheart. So good for me. That’s it,” Tony purred, one hand dropping to briefly pinch over his tattoo, speeding up his hand and his thrusts as they moved together. It was Tony’s cock catching on his rim that did it, pressing there briefly as though he was slide right in, paired with the ragged gasp the older man gave at the sensation.

Peter’s hips stuttered forwards and his high moan pitched into a yelp as Tony gave him a rough down-stroke, his cock jumping in his grip before painting the tiles in milky splashes. Peter shook in Tony’s hold, eyes squeezed shut and chest heaving as Tony worked him through it, continued to chase his own pleasure.

“My sweet boy. All branded as mine, coming on my cock and my touch. Look at you, baby. So good. So good, Peter. Fuck. Seeing my name, my writing on your ass… I’m gonna ruin you later,” Tony promised, voice ragged, hand falling from Peter’s cock to squeeze his ass, thumb sliding over the signature as he chased his own orgasm. Peter fell breathless against the cool tile, rocking back against the firm, heavy slide of Tony’s cock.

“Please, Tony. Fuck me. Mark me. Take me,” he rambled, breath hitching as Tony pulled back with a groan, nails digging into his ass. 

The older man looked down, managing to pull his hips back and angle his cock in just enough time to paint thick ropes of cum right over his tattoo, the thick, creamy liquid sliding over the ink wetly. Peter let out another mewl, his cock twitching feebly at the thought as Tony panted behind him.

There was a fumble, the rustle of fabric, and Peter opened his eyes, looking over his shoulder in time to see Tony snap a photo of it. His cheeks burned with arousal and humiliation, but Tony dived forwards, capturing his mouth in a firm, wet kiss. 

Peter was breathless by the time Tony pulled back, the corners of his mouth tingling with stubble burn.

“Marked as mine. Twice,” Tony murmured into his cheek, pressing another soft kiss there.

[lucarioisinthevoid]

Twitch Streamer AU???

(I planned on pushing out a FEW AU asks, but then realized I don’t even have so many. There’s going to be a FNAC event, but that will be an event, not a specific AU ask, so- I guess this is it! Very cursed AU, thank you very much Anon Small warning for mentions of blood, I think? Nothing too bad.)

Streamers, youtubers, content creators. Some people are all of these, some people are none, and some are just one- because each of them needed a very different talent. Those who could do seemingly everything were few and far between- And they ruled the entertainment scene! Thankfully though, the main three as most called them, were also always out for new content to watch. Thus they boosted those that they saw potential in. With some taking the boost and then going off to do their own thing- And some becoming good friends. It always started with a letter. Mike had the habit to do things on stream, as long as no personal details were not visible on them. He used a false email which he regularly changed, and he generally kept himself as safe as possible. Opening emails on stream could be rather fun, even if it was a risk. Sometimes it encouraged people to send bad things- So to prevent the worst, nothing would be downloaded and all emails containing images would be put into the spam bin. Better safe than sorry, the internet was full of terrible people. This day so far had been successful. And by successful it meant that Mike was SCREAMING. “I HATE SUPER MEAT BOY. I WILL COMMIT VIOLENCE AGAINST MEAT IN A MINUTE. I HAVE A BIG F-CKING STEAK IN THE KITCHEN, AND I WILL THROW IT AGAINST THE F_CKING WALL. I WILL GET A HAMMER.” The chat was going wild, cheering. The chat’s phrase of today was “tender Mikey” and it didn’t help at all. “I DID. NOT. HIT THAT! I DID NOT!” A donation popped up, with a robotic voice. ‘Oh hai Mark!’ “NOT FUNNY! NOT F-CKING FUNNY. I’M SUFFERING HERE AND ALL OF YOU SUPPORT IT. YOU’RE ALL F-CKING MONSTERS HERE, I HOPE YOU KNOW THAT. AND I’M NOT F-CKING TENDERIZING THE MEAT WHEN I SLAP IT AROUND, I’LL RIP IT INTO PIECES AND CONSUME IT RAW!” Standing up, he genuinely went to get it- And fifteen minute later he had slightly calmed down, his hands and room slightly bloody. The chat was still celebrating and donating- another thing that never failed to make Mike BEG them to stop and use the money for something GOOD and SENSIBLE, LIKE THEM-FUCKING-SELF- but he had gotten out most of the energy. “Alright. Alright everyone. ENOUGH. I gotta stop you HERE. It’s email time.”   A celebratory jingle played, as Mike booted up the website, opening the inbox. Memes, storytime, I’m-not-fucking-reading-that-and-you-know-it, and- One of the emails caught his- and the chat’s- attention, however. Sender: Fazbear Entertainment Topic: Challenge Needless to say- once again the chat was out of control and this time there was NOTHING Mike could do to stop them. After opening the email, Mike slowly took a deep breath and looked into the camera, between concerned and honored- But that wouldn’t be enough to rip him from his carefully maintained persona. So he audible scoffed- albeit him being unable to hide an excited grin. “Alright bitches and bastards in the audience- we’re firing SuperMeatBoy up again. You won’t be catching ME losing to a pink son of a bitch anytime soon!” After the letter- provided it was accepted and responded to, the production happened. The deal was that a teaser was dropped on the big channel- The entire video itself was put on the smaller one, attracting the viewers over and hopefully make them more likely to want to see the other works the creator had put out. It was a win-win overall, the big channel being able to vary their content, testing the water for new things- and the smaller channel getting a boost and a lot of tips from very experienced creators. Henry and Dave were very generous people. Jeremy was sitting there, taking deep breaths, trying to stay calm. So far, everyone seemed to be rather kind, even if Jeremy was basically a complete nobody. Hell, he never wanted to be anybody. He just wanted to stream himself baking, for those who never had someone baking with them. Because baking could feel stressful, especially when you were missing ingredients or- many reasons, actually. Not only baking, but cooking too- Sometimes playing games on request, but not much in terms of requests ever came in. And now he was here in an actual studio, soon to be seen by an insane amount of people. A cooking competition. Sounded silly- you couldn’t really FIGHT in something like that… But… Henry and Dave had promised it would be fun. And they were nice. With and without the cameras rolling. Speaking off- There they were, approaching, their assistant coming along. He wore a weird phone-head, to ensure his privacy. Or something. It was kinda weird, but he had just accepted the answer he got. “Why, there you are, Jeremy! Would you like to see the equipment we have prepared?” Henry warmly asked, reaching down with his hand to help his guest stand up. “We have gotten a few extra things, just in case.” As they entered the studio, Jeremy’s invisible eyes went WIDE. “Woah- that looks really nice! I love it here! This is high quality stuff-!” “Fantastic!” Pleased Henry opened his arms in his typical theatrical manner- Before being abruptly interrupted by Dave jumping in, halfway over Henry’s shoulder. “ARE YA READY TO GO!? CAMERAS ARE READY!” “Ah- I- I guess- but-“ “YOU HEARD HIM, BOYS! GET IT ROLLIN’!” “W-wait, I don’t even have-“ “Everyone! Welcome to NOTHIN’ AT ALL!” Henry swiftly fitted in, continuing on with the intro. “Todays challenger is the man, the legend, the baker and occasional chef- Jeremy from Baking With Jeremy!” “Wait, what- that’s seriously your channel name, pal?” A bit offended Jeremy looked into the eyes of the people behind the camera. “U-uh- you guys here- I mean- he has literally called his channel Henry Miller! I- uhm- I-“ Snickering Henry put a hand on his guest’s shoulder. “You are very right about that. Say, are you nervous about losing?” “… n-no. I mean- maybe a little. This place here is big and very professional and I’m not used to many people looking at me…” Taking a deep breath, he gave off a nervous smile for the audience. “… yet, I know- it’s a good thing! And as long as everyone has fun, everything will work out!” “Awwwww, look at him!” Dave said, pleased. “You’re so right! We’ll be havin’ fun!” “But also, I will win.” Henry pointed out. “That is when I have the most fun.” Slightly playful Jeremy smiled. “K-keep that attitude, that will make it even easier to blindside you!” Simon whistled, clearly bemused as he held the camera in place- And Henry smirked. “Sure. Anyhow, the stakes are-“ “Steaks? We’re makin’ steaks? I thought we planned on-“ “Dave. I swear to god.” Henry looked at him from the side, before shaking his head. “What is on the line is easy to see- we have roughly an hour to cook the best meal. If Jeremy wins, we will donate 5000 to a charity of his choice!” “And if the young pal loses, he’ll be joinin’ our channel!” Dave chirped. This was news to the brown-haired boy. “W-wait, we never agreed to that-“ “GET TO YOUR STATIONS!” Someone in the back announced. “WHO’S TODAYS FAVORITE?” Simon checked the stream. “The chat says Jeremy is a clear winner. Nobody trusts Henry to keep his two braincells together for long enough to not forget the salt or something.” “Excuse?!” Not only Henry was APPALLED by the chat, Dave joined right in. “Ya guys have NO taste. I’ll be clearly winnin’… but hey, maybe ya peeps don’t know that I plan to cheat!” Surprised Jerry looked over to Dave’s cooking station. “How… how can you cheat at cooking-“ Before he could finish his sentence, he shrieked as Dave pulled out a flamethrower. “HELL YEAH BABY, I AIN’T WAITING 30 MINUTES FOR SOMETHING TO COOK IN THE OVEN, I’LL BE DONE IN FIFTEEN MINUTES MAX!” “W-WAIT THAT DOESN’T SEEM SAVE-“ Henry just raised his hands, cheerful. “Ready… set…” The Phone Guy made eye- well, rotary- contact with Jeremy, slightly raising a fire extinguisher that was by his side. … alright, it seemed the people here were well-prepared for this scenario. So instead he focused on the ingredients in front of him. Almost manic, Henry’s voice rang. “GO!” And… … that was it! Some joined, with amazing results- Mike rubbed his face. “Who thought that was a great idea. I fucking hate this.” Dave next to him on the couch just grinned. “It’s amazin’ what these websites all offer to sell. You won’t be BELIEVIN’ what’s in this box!” “I’M NOT OPENING IT.” “YOU WILL. OTHERWISE IT’LL HUNT YOUR DREAMS. I’LL PUT THIS BOX NEXT TO YOUR BED. YOUR TOILET. ONTO YOUR DINNER TABLE. INTO THE FRIDGE. I’LL ORDER MORE OF THESE BOXES.” “Jesus CHRIST, calm DOWN-“ “I WILL FIGHT YA TO THE DEATH OLD PAL-“ - and some people just went back to the usual pattern, with the occasional raid from Fazbear Entertainment. They asked first, of course. Each of them fulfilled their own niche, each of them had caught Henry’s and Dave’s attention in one way or another. Henry and Dave however- Well, Dave was the varied creator. Henry liked his niche. He played horror, investigated ARGs, read stories about real and fictional crimes against humanity. The world was a terrible place, wasn’t it? Yet he reveled in it. Aside from that he showed extra effects, he built machines and thought everyone one or another thing about creating special effects at home. From dry ice to genuinely ridiculous chain-reactions, Henry showed them it all. Blood too, multiple forms of it, depending on how and where it would be used. Sometimes breaking it off with more light-hearted one-off games and listening to what his community wanted to see… but the most comfortable he was with horror and analysis. He was a youtuber, a streamer, a content creator… … and one thing more. It wasn’t easy to find the code. But his intended audience were a very small amount of people. A small number of strangers. There was no way to know if anyone ever made it to more than one show, but Henry did not care. It wasn’t for them that he did this. Him and William moved down, down below the set, into the lowest regions of the house. The workshop. Nobody really question why you added what to your home if you were a creative person. Even less so if you were a famous, eccentric creator. Yes, the free reign was what he REALLY loved about his job. Maybe he should build his studio somewhere else- But like this it was so much more thrilling! Wordlessly both of them put on their suits. It would hide their identity perfectly- especially the animal heads that contorted their voices a bit. Enough. Today’s participant wore a mask too- another phone head, differently made, different style, but to hide their identity too. However, the voice was in no way muffled. Panicked the person dragged on the chains keeping them attached to the chair. “H-HELLO!? HELLO!? S-SOMEONE- IS SOMEONE HERE!?” A noisy one! Delightful! Both Fredbear and Springbonnie stepped out of the shadows, one form each side. While Springbonnie put his hands gently on the shoulders of the whimpering person, Fredbear stepped in front of the camera, bowing. “Ladies and gentlemen-“ The low voice sounded more like the one of an animal than from a person. Yet it was smooth and comforting. “- I welcome you to yet another installment of our show. I am Fredbear, and over there is my wonderful assistant, Springbonnie. Today we have brought a simple stranger, a nobody who might not even be missed. Thusly I encourage you to truly be creative with your ideas. And while your votes roll in, maybe I point out that next time we will have another little game-show, with quite the effects. We might even get a real bull! You will not want to miss it.” The board above the camera blinked up, as a bitter fight of votes started, everyone wanting to see something else. Three tiers to vote on! Foreplay (light injuries), main course (heavy injury leading to death) and of course what to do with the body. Below it was a little measure for “face reveal”. Some of their viewers really enjoyed seeing the expressions during and after. It came with a risk to Fredbear and Springbonnie, as the victim being recognizable meant their general area of activity was more obvious- thus it was incredibly expensive. They knew there was every now and again law enforcement mixed up between the genuine watchers. It was thrilling too- Yet Fredbear wanted to keep this game alive as long as he could. Thus it was important to hide what they could. Fredbear was a creator first and foremost, an entertainer second- And there was nothing that attracted an HONEST, an UNRESTRAINED, a PURE audience quite like violence. Once blood spilled, humans degraded and it was wonderful. Behind him, the victim began rattling even more erratic. “WHAT- WHAT IS THIS?! LET ME OUT- PLEASE- LET ME OUT- PLEASE- I- DIDN’T DO ANYTHING-“ Burying his hands into the shoulders of Springbonnie downright cackled, enjoying the mania that always accumulated in these situation. “Be still, new friend! The audience HATES too much whining, y’know? And at least you could die with your tongue still intact, wouldn’t that be nicer than having to swallow the thing? Once it almost killed someone, boy, that sure was a bother!” His voice was changed to a cartoonish, upbeat pitch- “While the votes come in, how about we quiz today’s friend… maybe if you are smart enough, they will want you to live! It happened before… o n c e.” Fredbear took out a long scalpel, the face a morbid grimace. “Surprise us!”

[lost-n-stereo]

A/N: For anon who prompted me “Hallie+Sunshine”. Have a little 4th of July summer fic :)

and the sparks start flying (like the fourth of july)

She gets invited on a camping trip the first week of June, and when she says an invite she means that she quite literally received an e-vite from Helena through Facebook. There’s a group page and everything, with people RSVP’ing and talking about what alcohol they are going to bring and which campsites around the state are the best.

It’s not surprising to see the usual suspects on the list of people going. If Helena is setting it up that means that Luke is definitely going, since they are engaged and it’s just sort of a given. If Luke’s going then Clark and Jason will tag along with their girlfriends, and if the girls go then all of their friends will too. It’s a bit of a surprise to Allie though when she sees Harry RSVP and she kind of wants to comment on his post about how boat shoes aren’t generally camping attire but it feels shitty and she doesn’t want to be a dick for no reason.

The trip is planned for Fourth of July weekend, which is a little cliché but she doesn’t mind all that much. She orders a new tent off Amazon and an expensive pair of hiking boots because she’s not sure where exactly they are going yet but she feels like she should be prepared for anything. Becca calls her and asks if they should do some bathing suit shopping before the trip and they spend the day trying on different suits and drinking their daily calories in the form of food court smoothies.

It’s one of those rare times that the fourth falls on a weekend, so she takes the Friday before and the Monday after off from work and thanks the gods above that she works with a majority of older people that don’t care about the holiday weekend. They decided on a state park that has campgrounds that will fit all of them, she thinks it’s nearing twenty plus people going at last count, and a giant lake with tons of water sports and activities to do. She heard a rumor that someone rented out the entire stretch of sites on one side of the lake so they wouldn’t be bothered. No one said it was Harry but she can make an educated guess that was his doing.

There’s an honest to god party bus taking a large group of people to the lake but she decides to hitch a ride with Elle instead. The girl has a kick ass Jeep with no doors and it feels good flying down the highway with their camping gear piled high in the back and old school hip hop blaring out of the radio. Elle takes a sharp turn into the campground’s parking lot and Allie laughs as her body jerks out of the open door and her hair flies into her face as they jerk to a stop.

“You’re an absolute maniac,” Allie says on a laugh as they unbuckle their seat belts. “I fucking love it.”

Elle just flashes a grin and gets to work on unloading her tent from the back of the Jeep.

“Need some help?”

Allie rolls her eyes at the sound of Harry’s voice behind her and he’s grinning and eating an apple with a pocket knife when she turns around.

“I think we got it, thanks.”

He just shrugs, throws her a wink before heading over to where a group of people are unloading cases of beer out of the back of someone’s pickup. The parking lot is a madhouse. People are everywhere and Allie wonders in amusement if Helena is currently freaking out because there definitely were not this many RSVP’s in her Facebook group.

As if she conjured up the woman herself, Helena rushes up to Allie with a panicked look on her face. There are people Allie’s never seen falling out of backseats in fits of giggles, girls running around in barely there bikinis and dude-bros in board shorts lining up shots on the tailgate of a truck. It’s like a very cliché music video set to the sound of Post Malone pumping from someone’s car speakers.

“Are you seeing this shit?”

Allie laughs and reaches behind the seat for her backpack. “Yeah, it’s nuts. Who even are all these people?”

“Friends of friends,” Helena says, rolling her eyes as she takes a headcount. “There has to be over fifty people here already. It’s a good thing Harry rented so many campsites otherwise we’d be totally fucked.”

It’s the first confirmation she’s heard of Harry being the party benefactor but it doesn’t surprise her at all. He was always the one throwing giant parties in high school. His parents even rented an entire hotel for their senior prom, not just a banquet hall but the entire fucking thing.

“Let’s just be thankful no families with children will have to be in a tent next to that.” Allie points with her chin to where Lexie is currently pushed up against the side of a Suburban with a guy kissing down the column of her throat. “So much for a low key camping trip, ‘Lena.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Harry says, coming up to them with a Stella bottle hanging between his fingers. She wonders why he’s just randomly popping up when she knows his friends are here somewhere. Allie notices for the first time that he’s wearing flip flops, briefly stunned by the sight of his sort of bare feet. She’s not sure if she’s ever seen this man’s toes in the entire time they’ve known each other. The four years since high school have been good to him but that’s not a surprise. He has unimaginable wealth and a great job on top of that so she’s not shocked that he’s doing so well for himself so soon after graduating.

She went to school for accounting, ended up at a decent firm after graduating where the median age is mid forties, but she’s living in Brooklyn now which she loves and that’s what counts. Last she heard Harry was living in Manhattan but she doesn’t go that way often and someone like him probably wouldn’t be caught dead in her neighborhood.

Not that she cares or anything because what Harry Bingham does with his time has nothing to do with her.

“Better hope you get your deposit back,” Allie quips as she grabs a bottle of water out of her pack. Harry holds up his beer and asks if she wants one of her own. “No, Harry. It’s like nine-thirty in the morning. And don’t even say it’s five o’clock somewhere.”

Harry chuckles and takes a deep pull from the bottle. She shouldn’t think it’s sexy how he licks his lips after but well, it is. He smirks a little like he knows what she’s thinking and she rolls her eyes.

“I wasn’t going to,” he tells her. “I was just going to remind you that it’s Friday, you’re not at work at that stuffy job you go to every day, and it’s a fucking holiday. Enjoy yourself for once, Pressman.”

There’s not an ounce of heat in his words but it still cuts a little because she has fun, thank you very much. She might spend a lot of time in her studio apartment and she may only have a small group of good friends but she’s happy and that’s what matters. Helena just looks between them with her eyebrows raised, as if she’s waiting for world war three to start right there in the parking lot but Allie just shrugs, grabs the beer from his hand and chugs the rest of it before using her thumb to wipe foam from the side of her lip. Her heart pounds a little as Harry tracks the movement with laser focus and then she’s the one smirking, pushing the empty bottle into his chest.

“Looks like you need a refill.”

The absolute shock on his face makes her feel better than it probably should and Helena’s jaw is practically on the floor.

“Well played, Pressman.” Harry tilts his bottle towards her in what may be a show of respect and leaves again without a word.

“What the hell was that?” Helena presses when he’s out of earshot. Allie just shrugs, asks Helena if she’d mind helping her grab her tent out of the back of the Jeep so she can set up camp somewhere.

***

It’s dark when the real crazy stuff starts to happen.

There’s a group of people running around naked because someone thought it would be a good idea to go skinny dipping in a national park. Allie is pretty sure there are supposed to be park rangers patrolling but she supposes it wouldn’t be hard for a certain someone to grease a few palms to keep them away for the night.

Speak of the devil…

“You look like you could use a drink.”

An ice cold White Claw drops into her lap and she gasps, her thighs bare since she’s just in a bikini top and denim cutoffs.

“What in the fuck, Harry!”

He just laughs, drops down beside her in a pair of bright orange board shorts and nothing else. “Just paying you back for that little stunt with my beer this morning.”

Allie rolls her eyes, pops the cap of the cocktail and drinks half of it in one go. “You deserved that. You’re always antagonizing me. Been that way since we were kids.”

“Bullshit,” he says but when she looks at him out of the corner of her eye he’s grinning a little, fingers playing with the string of his shorts. It’s fucking distracting. “Maybe I was flirting.”

Her cheeks heat a little but she knows Harry, has known him practically all her life. Maybe sometimes things he’s done could be considered flirting but that’s only because he flirts with everyone.

“I’m sure,” she says, finishing off the drink and tossing the can into a bin nearby designated for recycling. “Shouldn’t you be over there with your friends?”

“They aren’t as fun to fuck with as you are.” 

Allie points at him. “Ah! So you admit you like fucking with me!” 

There’s no denying his eyes go a little dark and then she’s wishing that she could take that back because now it just sounds dirty. She’s expecting a dirty comment in return but that’s not at all what she gets.

“Maybe I just like talking to you. Maybe…”

She tilts her head a little when he doesn’t continue. “Maybe what, Harry?”

His teeth scrape across his bottom lip a little as he thinks but then he shakes his head like he’s literally trying to erase a thought from his mind. He stands up abruptly, brushes a little dirt and sand off his board shorts and throws her a casual wink.

“It’s nothing. Have a good night, Al.”

***

She wakes up with the hangover from hell and finds herself cuddled in between Sam and Grizz.

“What the shit?”

Grizz mumbles a little, presses his nose into the back of her neck and she giggles. “Shhh, you’re so comfortable and my brain is heavy.”

It makes no sense at all but she also completely gets it because her brain feels heavy too. It’s hot as fuck in this tent, which she realizes now is not her own. She tries to piece together what happened after Harry left her the night before. Not that she got blackout drunk or anything but she did let Becca and Grizz talk her into Jägerbombs which are never a good idea.

Sam’s eyes blink open and then he smiles and it reminds her of the sleepovers they used to have as kids. She signs, asks him if he wants some coffee and he nods, so she gets up to go find the little brew pot that Helena said she was bringing.

She can see the row of little camp areas stretching all the way down to the end of the lake, each with its own barbecue and campfire area. Every site can fit three or four tents and the one she set her tent up in is shared with Grizz and Sam, Helena and Luke, and Becca. Grizz’s tent is huge with multi rooms and she knows it’s probably because he’s really into spending time outdoors, fishing and camping all over the state. What they are all doing this week borders somewhere on glamping, because she’s almost positive she saw someone set up portable solar panels to run some gaming station and a small television. 

There’s a pack of water bottles next to their makeshift “kitchen” by the campfire so she grabs one, empties it into the brew pot and waits for it to get hot so she can make coffee for her and her friends. Most of the campsites are quiet, which makes sense because it’s eight in the morning and the party raged until at least six this morning. When the coffee is ready she brings a cup to Sam, who puts a finger to his lips and nods to Grizz, who’s already passed out again. Allie grins, hands him the cup and signs have a good morning to him before quietly leaving the tent. 

“Top of the morning to you, Pressman.” 

Harry is helping himself to a cup of coffee from the pot and Allie rolls her eyes. “Don’t you have someone else to bug this morning, Bingham?” 

“I like bugging you more,” he says with a smirk and she doesn’t miss the way he doesn’t say maybe like he did the night before. It’s like he’s finally acknowledging the fact that he’s always trying to get under her skin. She used to think it was because he was annoyed by her but after last night she wonders if maybe she was wrong about that. “Cup of coffee?” 

Allie huffs and takes it from him. “I made that for me and my friends, if you couldn’t tell.” 

Harry puts on a fake pout, which makes his lips look really fucking good and she tries to ignore the little flutter in her stomach when she notices it. “I’m hurt, Al. I thought we were friends?” 

“Why are you even up this early?” She asks, ignoring the question of their friendship. It’s not that they aren’t friendly but they aren’t exactly hanging out on weekends either. Which...okay so she knows they are quite literally hanging out on a weekend right now but that doesn’t count. They have just always known each other, from him being in the same class all through school as Cassandra. She remembers one year when they were science partners and he was at their house once a week during the second semester to complete a project. Cassandra had complained about him being lazy and incompetent but Allie knows he put effort into it because she’d sometimes hang out in the kitchen while they worked and he was always putting in his own ideas just to have her sister throw them out. Which, if you know her sister, is par for the course on pretty much everything. 

“Work hours,” Harry says with a roll of his eyes. “No matter what I do or how late I stay up the night before I’m always up at sunrise. What about you?” 

“Same,” she admits. “I feel like a total bum if I sleep past ten.” 

They both laugh and she realizes they are actually having a conversation, even if it’s stupid and doesn’t really mean anything. But he’s not picking on her and she’s not throwing attitude back at his snark and it’s actually sort of nice. 

“So I hear we have a busy day this morning,” he says as he lowers himself into a folding chair that’s set up near the unlit campfire. “Helena has planned our day down to the minute, it seems.” 

Allie chuckles, pulls up a chair and sets it near him but where she can still see his face. “Sounds like my girl.” 

“Actually it’s my girl,” Luke says from behind her and they all laugh. “You made coffee? Allie, you’re a lifesaver.” 

When she looks at Harry she sees a little flash of disappointment in his eyes and she can’t help but wonder if it’s because it’s not just the two of them anymore.

She also wonders if the same look of disappointment flashes in her own eyes when Harry gets up, tells them he’s off to get ready for the day, and leaves her and Luke to wake up the rest of their friends. 

***

Her feet hurt. 

It was Helena’s idea to take a drive up the road to a hiking trail less than ten minutes away from the lake. And while Allie might have remembered to purchase new hiking boots what she forgot to do was break them in before wearing them. 

“You look miserable,” Harry comments as they move up the trail, which just seems to go up and up and up. He’s not even breaking a sweat and she sees well worn boots on his feet which surprises her. “When was the last time you went hiking?” 

“Um...never?” 

Harry chuckles and pulls her to the side, his hand on her arm as he guides her to a large rock just off the path. “Let me help,” he says, kneeling down in front of her and unlacing her boot. Helena passes by, eyebrows high, but Harry just waves her off, tells the group they will catch up. 

“What are you doing?” Her voice is far more breathless than she wants it to be but holy shit, Harry Bingham is crouched in front of her, picking up her sore foot delicately and placing it on his knee. 

“Helping,” he says simply as he unlaces her boot and works it off her right foot, followed by her sock. After repeating the same steps with her other foot, he places them gently on the ground before standing in front of her. “Lift your legs.” 

“Excuse me?” Her face flushes but he just smirks, grabs each foot and places them on his thighs with her knees together.

“You need to elevate your feet,” he explains as he positions her just so. “It’ll work, trust me.” 

They probably look ridiculous, him standing in front of her with a pair of dark sunglasses covering his eyes and his hair a ruffled mess and her perched on a rock with her feet on his legs. But he wasn’t wrong and after a few minutes she can feel the pain lessening by the second. 

“How long do I have to do this?” 

Harry looks down at his watch. “About fifteen minutes and we’ve been here for eight so get comfortable.” 

Allie laughs and tilts her head back. “You’re not sitting on the hardest rock known to man. My bony ass can’t handle this.”

“Your ass isn’t that bony,” he says but it’s not an insult, she can tell. It’s definitely a compliment, and a heated one at that.

“Spend a lot of time checking out my ass, Bingham?” 

Harry just shrugs, a little grin playing on his lips as he looks down at her. Her cheeks heat again and she rolls her eyes for something to do because she’s not exactly sure what to say back. The last thing she expected this morning was to be hiking with Harry, who’s apparently some sort of expert, and then have him basically admit to checking her out before. 

“We should catch up with everyone,” she says a few minutes later and he checks his watch again, nods and moves her legs carefully so she can put her shoes and socks back on. “Thanks,” she says quietly as she flexes her toes. “That really did help.” 

“You should trust me more often.” He puts a hand out for her to grab and she accepts, ignores the little electricity she feels when her skin touches his. It’s hard not to be attracted to someone like Harry, who exudes confidence in everything that he does. And he’s obviously not bad to look at even though he dresses like a future senator eighty percent of the time and wears his cockiness like a badge. He just keeps showing her these little sides of personality that she’s never seen before and frankly, it’s hard to ignore. 

They make up time quickly, thanks to Harry’s hiking skills and her mostly refreshed feet. When they reach the others everyone is standing at the top of the little mountain they just climbed, eyes focused on something in the distance. 

“What is everyone looking at?” Allie asks no one in particular but stops short with a little gasp when she takes in the view they are all gaping at. The entire lake is visible from their viewpoint, the crystal blue water shimmering in the mid afternoon sun. She can see their side of the lake, with people milling around the sites like little ants. There are boats pulling people on water skis and tons of water crafts making waves for people in floating inner tubes. The lake is surrounded by trees on three sides and Allie thinks it might be one of the most beautiful views she’s ever seen in real life. 

“This is breathtaking,” she says, mostly to herself, but then she feels a hand bump hers as Harry steps up next to her. 

“It sure is,” he says quietly, his eyes sliding from the view before them to her face and then back again. His pinkie touches the side of her hand just barely and the idea to reach over to hold his hand is sudden and unexpected. She doesn’t do it but she finds that she wants to and that confuses her even more.

***

“Fifty bucks says I can chug this entire bottle of Jack in under a minute!” 

Allie rolls her eyes as she passes by a group of guys that she went to high school with, all of them former jocks and not so bright. 

“Pretty sure fifty bucks isn’t going to be enough to get your stomach pumped,” she tosses back in their direction before heading towards the campfire that’s currently warming the majority of her friend group. 

After the hike they spent the day in the water, swimming and riding around on the Jet Skis that Helena had brought for the weekend. Harry offered to rent a boat to take them out but the boats were all rented out by the time they made it back to the lake.

“Tomorrow then,” he had said, dropping his credit card on the counter and winking at the girl making the reservations. Allie’d rolled her eyes and Harry had just laughed and winked at her too.

It’s hard not to notice that he looks really good right now, sitting by the fire with a bottle of beer hanging from his fingertips, his skin perfectly tanned from being in the sun all day. He’s wearing board shorts again but he finally put a shirt on, a white button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. It annoys her that he can make anything look good. 

The little smile he gives her when she walks up to the fire pit is almost too much to handle. 

“Need a drink?” Becca asks, pushing a wine cooler into her hand before she can even answer. Allie laughs, thanks her and lowers herself into a chair that just happens to be next to Harry. He smirks a little around the mouth of his beer but doesn’t comment on where she chose to sit down. 

“When do the fireworks start?” She asks Helena, who checks her watch before pointing towards the west of the lake, where there’s no trees and wide open skies. 

“They will be over there in about an hour,” she says. “They won’t be super close because they are technically lit in town but we’ll see the show pretty clearly.” 

They sit around for the next forty minutes drinking and laughing around the fire. Luke and Clark decide to have a rock skipping competition and Allie laughs as everyone scurries around to find the perfect flat rock to enter. Right before the fireworks are about to start Harry nudges her, leans over so he’s almost whispering in her ear.

“Want to find somewhere quiet to watch the show?” 

Everyone around them is either drunk, searching for rocks or both, and no one is paying attention when she nods, stands up and tells him to lead the way. 

They walk side by side next to the lake heading away from the party that’s already raging despite the fact that it’s barely ten at night. Allie practically chokes when they pass a couple full on having sex against a tree and Harry laughs, steers them away from the obnoxious moaning and towards an empty spot on the beach. 

“I should have bought a blanket,” he complains as he settles in the sand and Allie smiles as she drops down next to him. 

“A little sand never hurt anyone. Don’t be a baby.” He quirks an eyebrow at her and she giggles, which she only does when she’s this side of perfectly drunk. 

Harry is quiet as he pulls his knees up and sits with his arms dangling in between them. “You’ve been different today,” he says so softly she can barely hear him. “More like you used to be.” 

“What does that mean?” She’s sitting cross legged and stays that way as she turns so she’s facing him. He just shrugs which makes her roll her eyes. “You’ve been different too.” 

“Oh yeah?” He asks with a raised eyebrow and she nods. “How so?” 

She snorts, leans back on her hands which makes her knees touch the side of his leg. “If you’re not going to tell me, why should I tell you?” 

“What are we, twelve?” He says on a laugh and she shrugs, giving him a dose of his own medicine. He sighs, like it’s a total inconvenience to explain something that he started anyways. “You were fun. Carefree.” 

“It was a good day,” she says and he nods. “And you were flirting with me, which is new.” It’s a bold statement because maybe he wasn’t, maybe it was just like all the other times when he was flirty because he’s Harry Bingham and that’s just how he is. He charms, it’s in his DNA. 

Harry scoffs a little and shakes his head like she’s missing something. “Me flirting with you is not new, Allie.” 

The way he says her name does something to her, the way she can see his tongue when his mouth forms the word. They aren’t saying anything, just staring at each other when the first boom of fireworks sounds off overhead. Neither of them startle or even really acknowledge the show going off above them. She likes the way the colors flash across his face, bright blue and neon pink, and before she realizes what’s happening he’s leaning forward, pressing his lips against hers quickly in a surprisingly gentle and innocent kiss. 

He pulls away first, rests his forehead on hers with a little smile playing on his face. 

“What was that?” The words are practically whispered, breath feather light over almost touching lips. 

“Something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.” He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t go to kiss her again, just smiles softly before pulling away.

Allie smiles too and pulls away, rests her hands behind her in the sand and settles in to watch the show.

***

“Where did you run off to last night?” 

The campsites are stirring the next morning with activity as everyone wakes up after the sun is high and the weather is warm. Helena is sitting by the campfire, a cup of coffee in one hand and her phone in the other. 

“I went for a walk,” Allie says carefully, not sure if she should say anything about what happened with Harry or not. They only shared one little kiss, and while it was wildly romantic with the fireworks sounding off above them, she’s not quite sure where they go from here. “What are you up to?”

Helena holds up her phone. “Trying to secure our boat for the day online. Harry already gave his credit card information to the rental place, I’m on hold.” 

It’s then that Allie can hear the hold music playing quietly from Helena’s phone which is on speaker mode. Allie snorts when she recognizes the song, some piano version of a top 40 hit, and pours herself a cup of coffee. 

A few minutes later a woman’s voice comes over the line, letting Helena know that she’s secured a boat for them that they can pick up in an hour. Helena thanks the woman and ends the call, stands up and wipes sand from the back of her shorts. 

“This place is too fucking sandy,” she says and Allie laughs into her coffee mug. “I’m going to start rounding up the usual suspects. You’re in, right?” 

Allie nods. “Definitely. I’ll get ready and meet you back here at ten.” 

She finishes up her drink and heads to her tent to get ready for the day. There are two options for swimming suits, the one she wore yesterday which was bright blue and white, perfect for the fourth. But she decides on the flashier suit she’d purchased just because it was beautiful in the store and she couldn’t help herself. She slides on a pair of denim shorts and throws a sun hat on for good measure. She’s just finished applying sunscreen when a throat clearing at the tent’s entrance makes her jump. 

“Jesus, Allie.” 

Harry is standing there, one fist up to his mouth as he takes her in from head to toe. And now she knows this bathing suit was worth the price tag because he’s looking at her like he never has before. 

“That suit..” 

Allie laughs quietly and looks down at the top, a white ruffled halter top embellished with gold jewels that sit right under her breasts. There’s an additional piece connected to the bottoms that wraps around her middle that is purely for show, the gold jewels trailing down her stomach to meet the top of her shorts. With her recently tanned skin the stark white of the suit pops, making her look even more sunkissed. 

“You like?” She asks with a cocked eyebrow and Harry nods slowly as he takes her in.

He looks around outside quickly before stepping into her tent. “That is by far the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he says when he’s right in front of her. She inhales sharply when he gently touches the jeweled piece on her tummy. He’s making her feel all kinds of things and he’s not even touching her skin. 

“I’m glad you like it,” she says breathlessly and it makes him smile. Feeling a little bold she pushes up closer to him, leans up so she can whisper in his ear. “Wait until you see the rest of it.” 

Harry lets out a little groan that makes her giggle as she pushes past him. She’s not exactly sure why she’s being so bold, or flirty at all for that matter, but it’s like their kiss from the night before has unlocked something she didn’t really know how to admit before. 

She sort of likes him.

Half an hour later she’s got a beer in her hand as the boat floats lazily along the lake. It was big enough for a fairly large group of people and they are everywhere, laughing and drinking like it’s not before noon on a Sunday. Helena and Luke are talking quietly and kissing in a corner and Allie finds herself wishing for the first time in a long time that she had someone in her life to giggle and kiss whenever she wanted. 

“They are disgustingly in love, don’t you think?” 

Harry chooses that moment to drop down beside her, his chin nodding towards the engaged couple. 

“I think it’s sweet,” Allie says, her eyes taking in Harry’s board shorts and bare chest. A pair of Ray Bans cover his eyes as he lays down in the lounge chair next to hers and gets comfortable. He rests his phone face down on his stomach and Allie snorts. “You’re going to get a weird tan if you leave that there.” 

Harry just smirks and glances at her suit. “You’re one to talk, Pressman” 

Allie just shakes her head with a laugh. “I lathered myself up in sunscreen before we left. I think I’ll be okay.” 

Harry shifts in his chair and gives her a heated look. “I know, I saw.” 

She remembers him coming in after she put on her sunscreen, wonders how long he was standing there before he cleared his throat.

“Perv,” she says with a smile to show him she’s not mad and he laughs, a bright and loud sound that makes a few people look their way.

They spend the day eating, drinking and playing in the lake. By the time they dock she’s perfectly buzzed, warmed by the setting sun and the margaritas Elle made for the girls on the boat. 

“Let’s party!” Clark yells as he jumps into the sand and Allie rolls her eyes as everyone cheers as if that’s not what they’ve been doing all day. But it is their last night here so she follows her tipsy friends through the campsites until they arrive back at hers, which is apparently party central tonight.

Someone turns on music and Billie Eilish starts playing, a thumping bass beat that has everyone up and dancing around the now lit campfire. Elle stumbles up to her, a wide grin splitting her face, and Allie knows the girl is definitely tequila wasted right now which means she’s probably feeling on top of the world.

“Dance with me!” 

Allie laughs and lets Elle pull her into the crowd of people dancing to “Bad Guy” like it hasn’t been on the radio for the past two summers. She turns when she feels eyes on her, sees Harry sitting on the tailgate of Luke’s truck. His eyes are following her every move, and he doesn’t look away as he takes a pull from the long neck bottle in his hands. Even from this far away she can feel her skin heat when he licks his lips, eyes fixed on her like he doesn’t see anyone else. 

“Dude, I think Harry likes you!” Elle yells over the music and Allie stills, tears her eyes away from him to face her friend. 

“What makes you say that?” 

Elle shrugs, which looks ridiculous because she’s drunk dancing all over the place. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since we got here. Go talk to him.” 

Allie pales, looks around to see if anyone is listening to this conversation. It’s not that she really cares what anyone thinks, and he has been flirting with her more than usual. But he’s a known womanizer and it honestly scares her a little to think that maybe this is just the norm for him. Flirting with a girl until he gets what he wants and where will she be then? In a surprisingly sober move Elle puts her hands on Allie’s shoulders and looks her in the eye. 

“Stop being afraid, Al.” 

Allie takes a deep breath and nods, stands up taller and squares her shoulders back as she heads to where Harry’s sitting. 

His eyebrows go up a little in surprise when she stops right in front of him, practically standing in between where his legs are open and dangling off the tailgate. 

“What are we doing, Harry? You kiss me last night and then never mention it, and now you’re watching me like…” 

“Like what?” He asks when she doesn’t finish her sentence and she melts a little at the deep and husky tone of his voice. “Tell me, Allie.” 

“Like you want to do it again and never stop.” 

He lets out a little breath of surprise as she steps in between his legs and leans up to kiss him. When he doesn’t immediately return the kiss she sort of panics but then he’s sliding down off the tailgate and pulling her into his arms to deepen the kiss. It’s not like the sweet kiss from the night before, it’s raw and full of emotion, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip until she’s weak in the knees. 

There are hoots and hollers around them as he continues to kiss her but she doesn’t care. Maybe it’s the faint tequila buzz she’s still feeling or maybe it’s just how drunk she’s getting off this kiss, the taste of expensive beer on Harry’s lips as he sips at her lips her right there in front of their friends. 

“Maybe we should rejoin the party,” he murmurs against her lips several minutes later and she smiles, reaches for his hand and pulls him in the direction of his tent one campsite over. 

“Maybe we should have our own?” 

He practically growls in agreement and follows behind her as she makes her way through the crowd. Elle winks her as they pass and Allie just grins, turns around to see Harry’s eyes lit up with alcohol and want, as they make their way over to his tent. 

***

The lake is quiet when she steps down to the shore the next morning. It’s still early, everyone getting some much needed rest after the debauchery of the night before. Even from Harry’s tent, where they spent the night making out (plus a little more) and talking until neither could keep their eyes open, they could hear the party raging from the next campsite over.

“Morning, Pressman.” 

Allie smiles when Harry comes up behind her, puts his arms around her waist and drops a kiss to her temple. “Good morning to you too.” 

“I didn’t like waking up alone,” he admits quietly. “I fell asleep with you in my arms, kinda wanted to wake up like that too.” 

The sentiment is sweet and it makes her heart beat furiously in her chest. “What happens next, Harry?” 

He kisses her cheek. “What do you mean?” 

Allie sighs, turns around in his arms so she can look up at him. “I mean, we’re on vacation. This weekend has been fun but what happens in two hours when it ends?” 

“Then we don’t let it end,” he says simply. “You swear like Brooklyn and Manhattan are two separate planets. We can do this, Allie. I want to.” 

She inhales sharply, surprised by how earnest his words are. “You do?” 

Harry rolls his eyes a little and chuckles. “Allie, I’ve liked you since high school. This shouldn’t be such a shock.” 

“I didn’t know,” she says but maybe she just missed it. Maybe all the flirting, every time he randomly joined in a conversation, maybe it wasn’t him being a womanizer. Maybe he really did just like her. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” 

“Honestly?” He asks and she rolls her eyes as if to say duh. “It just never felt like the right time. You were younger, your sister hated me. One of us was always dating someone else. And then life, you know?” 

She nods because she does know. “Well I’m glad you told me now. But I do have issue with one thing that you said.” 

His eyebrows dip together. “Oh yeah? What’s that?” 

Allie smiles as she leans up to kiss him. “Manhattan and Brooklyn are like two different planets.” 

Harry laughs and wraps his arms around her, dropping kisses from her mouth to her shoulder and then back up again. 

“Guess we’ll just have to compromise,” he says, turning her around so they can watch the sun shine on the still water of the lake. “Some nights at my place, some nights at yours.” 

“Sounds perfect.”

She settles back into his arms, enjoying the way the sun warms her face as it rises high in the sky, welcoming the new day.

[moonb-eam]

I loved the skate park one shot you did with Robbe and Eliott! It was adorable 😍. I can actually picture Eliott and Sander being friends! Or brothers / cousins as I have seen others say in the wtfock tag. I would love to see a Sander/ Eliott fic of some kind as friends or family! Maybe Sander could go to Eliott and Lucas for advice cause he thinks he really messed up and he has no idea how to fix this! Or something? ... I love everything you write and I just want to see them interact! ❤️

okay, here’s the dealio, anon.

i have so many other prompts to fill but since i first saw this ask i kept thinking about it. it just wouldn’t let me go, because firstly, i had no idea that people were talking in the tags about eliott and sander being friends or cousins, which blew my damn mind what a Concept

but secondly, one of the main reasons i started posting skam france fan fiction was as a coping mechanism for shit that was going on in the show that made me angry and sad

this is all to say, i took the prompt and wrote 3.7k with it ✨

hope you like 🧡

He thinks about him, and the charcoal in his hand slips, a slow, even curve that goes jagged, a thick black line breaking his canvas in half.

He wants to knock the canvas to the ground. He wants to tear it to pieces. He wants to ignite it with a match.

The skin over his eye still pulls, the bruise along his cheekbone still stings.

Everything fucking hurts.

Sander drops his piece of charcoal down to the easel and turns away from the canvas, running his hands up the back of his head and scrubbing them through his hair, not caring that he’s getting black fingerprints stuck in the bleached strands.

He can’t even draw. That’s been taken away from him, too.

Not taken away. There’s a voice in his head, a voice that sounds like rocks against windows and cracking ice. This hasn’t been stolen from you, you lost it didn’t you, you lost him, you lost your heart, you lost your mind—

He doesn’t stop walking until he reaches the far wall of the empty studio, leaning his forehead against cold glass, his body slumping forwards. He tries to take deep, even breaths, tries to find something to centre himself on, but when he closes his eyes all he sees is Robbe.

He dreamt about him last night, about the space at the base of his neck, right above his collarbone. He dreamt about pressing his face into that spot, surrounded by soft, warm skin and that clean cotton smell that’s always attached to Robbe’s clothes. He dreamt about feeling the vibrations of Robbe’s gentle laughter under his cheek, about Robbe running his hands through his hair and saying, Sander. I love you.

He woke up sweating, tangled in threadbare sheets, faced with the early-morning blackness of Antwerp. He’d wanted nothing more than to sink back into that dream, and to never leave it.

Being awake is a curse.

He takes another breath, pressing his forehead further into the glass and he’s listing off different shades of black in his head to try to find something to focus on, and it’s working, a bit.

pure black, onyx, eigengrau, xiketic

“Sander?”

He startles, knocking the side of his head against the wall as he stumbles back, whipping around to the studio doorway.

That French guy is standing there. The exchange student. The one with the annoyingly perfect blending technique.

Eliott, his brain supplies.

Eliott has one hand gripping onto the strap of his backpack and he’s staring at Sander with his eyebrows furrowed, his mouth turned down at the corners.

“Is everything okay?” He asks, then bites down on his lip, regretful, like he knows there’s only one possible answer to that question when you find someone collapsing into a wall in an empty studio on a Friday afternoon.

Sander blinks. “I didn’t think anybody would still be here,” he says flatly.

Eliott shrugs. “Yeah, well.” He gestures vaguely to the hallway behind him. “I had to finish some stuff and I needed lots of space for it…” Then he grins, bouncing on the spot. “And anyway I have to wait for Lucas. He’s coming here from the train station.”

Right. Lucas. The famous boyfriend back in Paris.

His name is Lucas, Sander heard him gushing to Greta one day in class, excitedly scrolling through the camera roll on his phone. He’s a science student, still in Lycée. He’s amazing. He’s so smart and funny, and he’s so thoughtful, but he doesn’t always let people know that.

Out of curiosity, Sander had craned his neck forward to see the screen of Eliott’s phone. And yeah, not bad. Cute. Really cute, actually, with wide, clear eyes and a full, teasing smile. But, personally, Sander has always preferred brown eyes over blue.

“Right,” he says to Eliott, and he doesn’t know what else to do, so he walks back to his easel, taking his canvas down and propping it up in the corner of the room reserved for unfinished works.

There’s the sound of a phone going off and Sander turns towards it, heart soaring, but he sees Eliott pulling his phone out of his pocket and he’s smiling down at the screen, rapidly typing out a reply, and Sander's heart sinks back down to the bottom of the ocean. He crouches to the ground and gathers his charcoal back into its box, securing it with an elastic band, his face burning.

What was he even expecting? Why would Robbe message him when he knows, he knows Robbe saw Britt’s Instagram post, and he heard Robbe was at that party which means he saw them together and he must hate him but that was what Sander wanted, wasn’t it?

“Hey. Sander.”

Sander glances up from where he’s packing his bag and Eliott is staring back at him, tapping his phone against his chest.

“I don’t want to be…prying. But you, uh, you seem like you’re having a hard time right now. So, if you want to talk about it, we can. Talk about it. And if you don’t want to, then…we don’t have to.”

Eliott is fumbling through this speech, giving it in stops and starts of heavily-accented English but he holds Sander’s eyes the entire time, and Sander has always respected straightforward people, but more than anything else, he’s struck by the care colouring Eliott’s words into soft pastels across the harsh white of the studio, the concern painted clearly across his face in shades Sander had forgotten existed.

He really doesn’t know the last time someone worried about him.

Apart from Robbe.

This is why, while Sander’s first instinct would normally be to make a lame joke or change the subject completely, instead he sits back on his heels, takes a deep breath and asks, “Did you ever…hurt anyone?”

Eliott tilts his head. “Because you tried too hard not to?”

“No. Because you meant to.”

Now there’s something dawning behind Eliott’s eyes, something that looks a bit like reluctant understanding. Or, perhaps, undesirable understanding.

Eliott asks, “Does this have something to do with that boy? The one that came at the end of class.”

For all that Sander’s brain has thought of nothing but Robbe, Robbe, Robbe for weeks, it’s nearly impossible for him to say his name aloud. “Yeah. Robbe.”

He doesn’t think he deserves to say it. The word is too sweet on his tongue. It tastes too much like the last time he said it, when Robbe was swaying towards him on his bar stool and flashes of blue and purple light were playing tag across his face and he was so beautiful, so delicate and so mesmerizing and somehow, impossibly, he was Sander’s.

He was.

Eliott sighs, and leans against the doorframe, his backpack sliding down his arm to the floor.

“It never works the way you think it will.”

Sander’s head snaps up. Eliott is staring at a spot just over his shoulder. There’s a faint line between his eyebrows.

“At one point,” Eliott says at length, “I didn’t think I could ever have what I have with Lucas. I didn’t think that sort of thing was meant for someone like me.”

“That sort of thing.” Sander echoes dubiously.

Eliott’s eyes snap over to him. “Love.” He says simply. “Being in love. Being loved. Without any, uh…” He waves a hand out, searching for the word. “Inconditionnel.”

“Unconditional.” Sander nods. “Yeah. It’s similar in English.” He sees a loose thread in the knee of his jeans and he tugs at it, tearing a hole open at the seam. He’s hoping Eliott will keep going, will give him something solid to latch onto, but he seems to be waiting Sander out now, like he knows Sander’s only given him the prologue to the story.

Sander wants to tell him. And he doesn’t want to. Because saying it aloud will make it more real, in a way. It’s as if, as long as the words stay buried inside of him, there’s still a chance that this is a dream Sander will wake up from, and when he wakes up he’ll be a different version of himself. One who’s normal and can love and be loved like a normal person and won’t have a built-in self destruct button.

“I…” He keeps his eyes fixed on the hole in his jeans, pulls harder on the thread. “I hurt him. Because I needed him to hate me.”

Eliott’s voice is very soft when he asks, “Why?”

“Because being with me…it was ruining his life.” The words feel dramatic coming out and Sander drops the thread, falls back onto his ass and throws his arms out, palms flat. “I know how that sounds, but it’s true. He was so messed up from kissing me that he…he said shitty things. He said he thought I drugged him, as if I could ever—and then, then, we, one night we went out and we…” Without even realizing it, Sander’s hand has drifted up to his eye. He lowers his hands to his thighs, digging into the muscle there. “Something happened. Something that was really bad and he got hurt and I. I can’t see him hurt like that. Ever again.” He drops his head to his knee, eyes shut tightly. “From the moment he met me, his life went to shit. I was ruining him. I was.” He doesn’t realize he’s crying until his voice breaks on the last word and there’s something wet sliding down to the tip of his nose and he wipes it across his jeans, coughing to try and mask the sound.

God what a fucking mess Sander has made. He’s fucked with everything good in his life and now he’s crying in front of a French guy he barely knows and it’s all just…a fucking mess. There’s no way out.

“D’accord.” Eliott says quietly from his post at the door. Sander hears him shifting on the spot, then his phone buzzing in his pocket, and for a brief moment, Sander hates him. He hates his buzzing phone, hates how Eliott gets to wait for someone and Eliott gets to message someone and Eliott will get to kiss someone today, probably. Someone he loves. Someone who loves him. The jealousy is a violent flash of lightning that surges through him, makes his fingers tremble.

It makes him spit the rest out coldly, bitterly, pure black tar from between his teeth.

“We were victims of a hate crime.” He says. “These two guys, they saw us kissing and they beat the shit out of us, left us on the street. And do you know what I did? I abandoned him. When he really needed me. I got back together with my girlfriend. I stopped responding to his messages. I let him see that we’re back together.” He laughs and the sound hurts on its way out. “He must wish he never met me.”

He’s expecting Eliott to leave at this, to realize this is way more fucked up than he thought it would be when he first decided to play the caring classmate. Maybe he’ll shoot Sander a look of disgust for good measure. What he’s not expecting is for Eliott to take a step away from the wall, a step towards Sander, his face marred with worry.

“Wait. What the fuck. A hate crime? Did you report it to the police?”

It sucks the lightning storm out of Sander’s veins, that worry. His head drops down on his shoulders.

“It wouldn’t do anything.” He says. I can’t, he doesn’t say. I’ve been in the wrong place at the wrong time before and it’s not good for me, he doesn’t say.

Eliott is shaking his head. “It would. Saying it out loud means it happened. It’s real.”

And fuck if Eliott isn’t tapped directly into Sander’s head. It makes him shiver.

“I’m so sorry.” Eliott says. “No one should ever have to experience that.”

Before Sander realizes what’s happening, Eliott is coming over, he’s kneeling down onto the floor in front of him and he’s pulling him into an awkward, long-armed hug, and he’s saying it again, “I’m so sorry.”

Out of every possibility Sander considered for this conversation, he didn’t imagine this.

It’s like his body can’t decide if it wants to pull away or fold in closer, locking up in indecision and leaving his arms hanging limply at his sides.

He hates that a relative stranger is comforting him like this, seeing him so broken and vulnerable, so laid bare, but at the same time it feels so fucking good to be held, to be looked after, that he doesn’t ever want the hug to end.

Then Eliott is the one pulling away, planting his hands on Sander’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, in a rush, “I shouldn’t have done that without asking. But it really looked like you needed it.”

Sander stares at him. He thinks his mouth might be hanging open.

Eliott squeezes his shoulders. “You need to know: what happened to you wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything to cause it, and you did nothing to deserve it.” Eliott blinks and his own eyes are wet. Sander looks down to break his gaze, everything feeling to raw and too wrought for him to handle.

All he can say is, “Yeah. Well. Maybe.”

“And you should know,” Eliott continues, “that you’re not helping him by deciding he’s better off without you. You can’t decide for other people what will make them happy. You can’t decide what’s good for them.” He drops his hands from Sander’s shoulders, and falls back, mirroring Sander’s posture. “I tried that, with Lucas. I tried to push him away because I thought he would better off without having to deal with me. I thought he wouldn’t be able to handle what being with me is really like.”

Sander shifts on the spot, a bit uncomfortably, because there’s that feeling again. It’s like Eliott can see the inside of his head, can take the tangled web of his thoughts and unravel it to something tangible. Flawed and tragic, but true.

“I didn’t trust him.” Eliott says. “I underestimated him, which is something I did a lot in the beginning.” A small smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “But he keeps surprising me.”

“How could I ever fix this?” The words pour out of Sander in frustration, curling around his face like smoke. “I’ve fucked up too much. Too much to be forgiven.”

“Robbe may surprise you, too.”

Fuck.

The very idea of it, of seeing Robbe again, of explaining himself to him, of Robbe forgiving him.

The very idea of being able to hold him again.

It sets Sander afire from the inside out.

“You need to be completely honest with him.” Eliott says. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he slowly stands from his spot on the ground, brushing off the back of his jeans. “And with yourself. You need to show him how you feel but you also need to tell him. You need to make it right. For both of you.” Eliott bends down to retrieve his backpack. “And Sander…” He pauses. “Maybe it’s not my place to say this, but I think you really need to report that attack. Together.”

Sander feels a bit like crying, and a bit like laughing, inappropriately enough. There’s too much happening inside of his head, there is always is, but it’s too much in a way that feels like being awake is necessary. It’s important.

“How did you do that?” Sander asks, staring up at Eliott. “How did you know exactly what to say to me? You don’t even know me.”

Eliott smiles, and it’s sweet and bitter. “Maybe, but I think we’re very similar, actually. I think we both try to…hm. Comportement autodestructeur.”

“Self-destructive.” Sander fills in automatically.

Eliott nods. “We are both like that, and it made us lose the best parts of ourselves. Lucas, he fought for me. He fought for us, and so we found each other again. I don’t want to imagine what it would be like for me if he hadn’t. I don’t want to imagine that for you either, if Robbe makes you feel the same way Lucas makes me feel. So. You have to fight for him. That is what I’m saying.”

Sander digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

“I don’t mean to—”

“No.” He cuts Eliott off, pushing himself up from the ground. He’s shaky as he tries to stand. “No, it’s. You’re right. I know you are. It’s just a lot.” He takes a long, deep breath, and he’s listing off shades of brown in his head for something to focus on, something to keep him from crumpling back down to the ground.

chestnut, raw umber, taupe, wenge, robbe’s hair, robbe’s eyes

“Hey.” Eliott’s interrupting him again, driving a wedge in front of the runaway train of his mind. “How about you come with me? You can meet Lucas. Get a drink with us, and we can talk. He can give you advice on how to be brave.”

Eliott’s grinning as he says it, a look in his eyes like he’s kidding but he’s also not, and Sander knows he’s not, because he actually could use some pointers on being brave right about now, when all he’s wanted for the last week is to disappear from the face of the Earth. To do nothing but go to sleep.

It’s so much more difficult, being awake.

“Will he mind?” He asks, sliding the strap of his messenger bag onto his shoulder.

If anything, Eliott’s smiles grows wider. “Nope. He’s been saying for weeks that he wants to meet my Belgian friends.”

Friends.

Yeah. Sander thinks he could really use some friends right now.

Eliott and Sander are outside of the school’s entrance for only a few minutes, watching the sun set and sharing a cigarette, and then there’s a tiny blur crashing into Eliott from out of nowhere, latching its arms around his neck and climbing onto his back, nearly knocking Eliott over with the momentum.

Sander flicks the cigarette towards the ground, and watches with a small smile forming on his face, what feels like the first in a long, long time.

“Eliott!” The blur cries happily, and then he’s speaking in rapid-fire French, his metropolitan accent managing to sound lazy and rushed at the same time, his vowels melting together to form one long stream of exclamations.

Sander manages to catch something about a nightmarish train ride, a desperate need to eat something, and then, when his feet are back on the ground and Eliott has turned around to face him, I missed you so much. My love.

They kiss, and it’s slow, soft and intimate and Sander looks away, taking a drag off the cigarette. He checks his phone but the only notification is from Britt, telling him that he left a sweater at her place, and she doesn’t want to keep it but she also doesn’t want to bring it to him, so he’ll have to drop by to pick it up himself.

Sander sighs.

I’ll come by tomorrow, he replies. He wants to tell her she can just give it away, or throw it out, he doesn’t care, but he can guess that for her, it’s for closure. Something she can do to tell Sander that she’s over it, over him, and Sander doesn’t want to take that away from her.

He owes her that, at least.

“Hello.” Another heavily-accented voice is saying to him, cutting through his thoughts. His head snaps up and the boy/blur himself is standing in front of him, offering a hand to shake. Eliott is next to him, an arm draped across his shoulders. “I am Lucas.” He announces, like he’s the king of France declaring himself to a pauper, and Sander already likes him.

“Sander,” he says, shaking Lucas’s hand.

“Eliott says you are coming with us for drinks?”

Sander shrugs. He flicks the cigarette to the ground and smothers it with the toe of his boot. “Yeah.”

Lucas squints at him, biting down on his lip. Sander tilts his head to stare back at him, not sure what Lucas is looking for, if he’s measuring him up to determine if he’s worthy to be Eliott’s friend, or if he’s trying to extrapolate on the inner workings of his heart just from what’s written across his face. Sander wonders if Lucas can read wasteland somewhere along the lines of his forehead or in the hollows of his eyes. When Sander woke up this morning, that was all he could see when he looked in the mirror.

Lucas must find something satisfactory in his appraisal, because he’s nodding, and Eliott leans close to whisper something into his hair and Lucas smiles, something soft and sad, and he says, “Ah, oui. D’accord.” He slips out from Eliott’s arm and steps froward, gripping onto Sander’s wrist. “Come on. You will pick the bar and Eliott will pay for the drinks.”

Eliott makes an indignant, protesting noise at this, but Lucas waves him off.

“It’s an emergency, Eli! We have to get him vodka and make a plan.”

Sander is staring down at Lucas, feeling a bit like he’s being pulled into a tornado. “A plan for what?”

“For how you will fix it.” Lucas says, as if it’s obvious. Sander throws a look at Eliott over his shoulder, wondering just how much of Sander’s private life he’s shared, and Eliott shrugs like maybe he overstepped but he’s not sorry about it.

Lucas is practically yelling into his ear. “We need somewhere with good food and cheap alcohol.”

And Sander, who’s thinking about being brave, being honest, being vulnerable and being able to hear Robbe’s voice, to press his cheek to that spot at the base of his neck, he points down the street, towards the centre of town.

“That way,” he says.

“Good.” Lucas says. He reaches back for Eliott’s hand, pulling him along with them. “Let’s go.”

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

BTS while masturbating (alone and with s/o watching)

Anon who made this request, fuck you. I'm dehydrated and sweaty this was so hard to get through

I love you but like. .why would you do this to me

Warnings: SMUTTTT, even a little fluff bc I’m soft for these boys

Word count: 3096

gt

Namjoon (RM)

Namjoon is the kind of guy to work himself up with his imagination before he ever touches himself

Lots of times he doesn't plan it, but you'll send him something or he'll just think about you and he'll excuse himself and it doesn't even have to be sexual

Once you sent him a video and you weren't even topless, just close to the camera, giving him a half smile and a slow wink

It was literally 10 seconds of video you thought nothing of it

But the second he watched it his mouth went dry

He rolled in his chair to lock the studio room door, already unbuckling his belt

He's already rock hard when he takes himself in hand and he replays that ten seconds over and over

It sends an ache right up his cock when you drop that slow wink, smirking at him, and he remembers you doing that while looking up at him with your mouth full and he comes with a low grunt all over his hand

When he's breathing normally again and cleaned up, he texts you "I miss you"

Sometimes you'll see him nudes to help out while he's on tour

But you're a little shit so sometimes it's like midday when you know he's busy or with a lot of people

He never knows if he'll unlock his phone and see a text from you or a picture of you spread eagled, and he loves it

His favorite pics are when you have your face in frame as well as your body

There's a video of you touching yourself and when you pan up to show your face, you're biting your lip in concentration and it makes him come hard every time

So video chat sex is scheduled and you're always super excited

You never get off harder than you do while you're watching him unless he's physically there

He doesn't even take his cock out until you're halfway there, giving him a show as he tells you where to touch yourself and what to show him in a deep, commanding voice

He strokes himself slow, teasing himself, and you can't take your eyes off him

He scolds you for stopping to watch him but he's smirking at you, revealing those dimples

He's not loud but you can tell by the way he talks that he's close, the sound of his breath growing short

He dirty talks better than anyone you've ever known and his voice gets lower and lower toward the end when his fist pumps faster and he throws his head back against the chair

He always wants you to come first and he wants a close up of your face

"I wanna see your face when you come for me. You look so beautiful when you come undone."

After you come he's always right at the edge, his voice breathy and hoarse

"Show me your pussy, baby, spread open for me." It's not a command anymore he's almost begging and you can't comply fast enough

He groans then, and you don't know if it's because he isn't loud usually or because of how desperate it sounds but it always makes you ache low in your belly because you want him so bad

He always praises you so much

"Look at that, look at how wet and open you are for me. You have such a pretty pink pussy, baby."

He can also get pretty dominant though and honestly you don't know which makes you hotter

Sometimes he'll say shit like, "I wish I was there, I'd ruin that pussy, fuck you so hard you won't be able to get out of bed," or while you're showing him your face, "I want to fuck your mouth so bad, make you gag while I'm coming down your throat."

He won't just turn off the camera when he's done, though

He'll talk to you for another hour, face close to the camera, soft smiles and hanging on your every word

Seokjin

Seokjin either wants to get off in 5 minutes to get it over with or make it a whole production, edging himself for an hour so that he comes super hard

He's touch oriented sexually so he loves your pics and videos but he doesn't need them

He can remember exactly what your skin feels like beneath his palms when he slides his hands up your thighs to part them

He can remember how hot you felt when he was inside you

He's rough with himself, beats his dick like it owes him money when he's trying to get off fast

On the opposite spectrum though, he'll drag it out during video chats, hand loose around his cock, moving up and down slowly

Definitely loves how turned on you get watching him, smirks at you when you moan, wants you to show him how wet you are

He looks amazing, broad shoulders tense with concentration, brow furrowed

He likes to see you touch yourself, not just your pussy but your breasts, your stomach, your thighs

He can imagine your hands are his that way

He won't talk much but he'll be kinda loud anyway, whiny low pitched moans

The louder you get the faster he'll come, especially if you say something about how hot ut makes you to watch him

You love the way he bucks his hips into his hand when he's about to come

He'll chat with you for a few minutes afterward but not long

Then when you hang up he'll text you bc he forgot to tell you something and you'll chat for an hour via text

Hobi (J-Hope)

Usually pretty quick about it, he'd much prefer it were your body instead of his hand so he'll do it for stress relief mostly

He'll just flip through your nudes and get it over with when you're not watching or think about a particularly adventurous time, like when you spontaneously decided to give him road head on a long trip to see your parents and he drove like a snail for two miles before he pulled over to fuck you in the backseat

When you're video chatting he wants to be a whole exhibitionist and drag it out but he gets too worked up at how you bite your lip and moan as soon as he takes his cock out and he'll come fast with you watching, making intense eye contact through the camera

At first will like to tell you what to do but he will stop and just watch you in awe soon enough, praising you between moans

So much dirty talk but it's 90% praise

"God, how are you so beautiful? I'm so hard for you, babygirl, I want to fuck you so bad."

He will deadass consider flying you out when he's super horny

Will have a sex dream about you and FaceTime you at 3am

"I know it's late but you were such a naughty girl in my dream. It's only fair you help me out. Let me see your tits, yeah?"

You roll your eyes but when he pouts you do it

You always do whatever he wants, really, because afterward he gives you that sunshine smile and you’re done for

Plus it lets you know he’s always thinking of you

He’ll reward you when he gets home with multiple orgasms

Yoongi (Suga)

Will sext you a paragraph about how he saw a flower that reminded him of your pussy

It's almost poetic really

When he thinks about you like that it makes him miss you so he'll try to schedule a FaceTime with you asap

He doesn't think of much of anything when he's jerking off just to get it over with

It's just a physical need at that point

But right before he comes he'll think of your face, the way you look at him when he's inside you

When he's done he'll call you for no reason and even if it's late he'll text you something low-key sweet like "thinking about you, brat."

Will scold you for sending him unsolicited nudes when he's busy but if you stop for a few days he'll text you "what you wearing today?"

It's rare that he'll touch himself while you watch

He loves to watch you, though

You hardly ever schedule a video chat just for sex it'll just happen

You'll just be talking and your sweater will fall off your shoulder and he'll raise an eyebrow at you

"Hey, don't tease me, brat. Show me more."

He'll watch you touch yourself for an hour if you let him, getting close to the screen to see you better

Talks a LOT in a low murmur,

He'll definitely tell you what to do but if you disobey his orders it'll make him have to stifle a moan

He'll praise you whether you listen or not though

He won't exactly rush you to hang up after you come but he'll be antsy because watching you makes him rock hard

You beg him to let you watch him but he won't for the longest time

When you surprise him on his birthday by fucking yourself with a dildo during video chat he can't stop himself from pulling his cock out of his sweatpants, stroking himself with a low growl

"You dirty girl. You miss my cock that much, huh? Look at how well you take it even though I know how tight you are."

He leans back in his chair and gives you a full view but he'll stop if you do

"No fair, doll, tit for tat, yeah?"

He's so distracting though, that desperate look on his face, his sharp breaths

He stands up when he's about to come to use the wastebasket for quick cleanup but it puts him right next to the camera and you gasp because it's the hottest thing you've ever seen

He's embarrassed after, chuckling and hiding his face

"You're in for it when I get home, brat," but his soft smile says otherwise

Jimin

 He loves your pictures but when he wants to get off fast he always watches your videos, the more audio the better

Could really just jack off to the sound of your moans tbh If you cry out his name in a video that'll be his favorite one

He'll call you to help him get off, usually in the mornings, and if he's short on time you'll just talk him through it without facetiming him

You just have to tell him how much you want him and he's bucking into his hand

Sweet and apologetic later for waking you

Even though he was a little shy the first time, turns into a whole thot when you're watching him

All slow smirks and whiny moans and eye fucking the camera

 At first he won't let you see below his waist he'll sit so that he's only visible from the shoulders up

You'll get whiny because he's such a fucking tease he's throwing his head back and moaning but he won't let you see unless you beg

"Wanna see?"

 "You know I do, Jimin, come on!"

Frowns. "That's not the magic word."

"Please! I bet you look so hot!"

 He'll definitely give in if you praise him

Will take his time, ends up edging himself to keep teasing you

 Won't tell you what to do but will practically beg you to do something instead

 "Please let me see you finger fuck yourself," he says in a breathy voice

 Talks a lot AND is loud, you have no doubts everyone in a three mile radius knows what's up

He'd love it if you used a bullet vibrator or something because it makes him so hot when you lose your whole mind but he will be highkey pissed off if you try and bring out a dildo

Sulky and salty af

 Would really kind of freaking out if you started to fuck yourself with it, would stop everything and be low-key upset

"That thing can't make you feel like I do. No, I'm not mad, just selfish. I just don't want any other cock in you but mine not even a plastic one."

When he's close he'll say shit like "Tell me how much you miss this cock, yeah?" and ""Tell me how much you want me," and now he IS commanding, voice deep and authoritative

If you say his name in just the right way he'll come so hard he'll be trembling after

You'll have to hang up on him, he'll fall asleep with you facetiming him if you let him, he misses you so much

Taehyung (V)

Tae is v traditional when it comes to love so in the beginning he'd be almost too respectful

He'd never ask you for nudes or videos but if you sent them you'd kinda rock his world tbh

He'd send you a text back that was just: 😮

The first nude you sent was almost artistic you had just the right lighting that accentuated your curves

 It wasn't even that hot it wasn't as if you were spread-eagled or anything

 Just lying on your bed, naked, sunlight streaming through the blinds

 The second he gets it he calls you, voice deep and almost strangled

"Jagi, you're so naughty! You can't send me pictures like that. I got so hard in the middle of practice!"

Of course that just makes you send them more and you find out which ones are his favorites because he'll call you and complain about you teasing him

 Once you sent him a pic of you lifting your skirt to reveal just the edge of your white lace panties and he had to go to the bathroom in the middle of a meeting to jack off

 Your slow, striptease videos are what he uses most often

Very visually stimulated so after he knows you like sending them he may make a few requests

 Will never look at porn when he's in a relationship it would feel weird and you turn him on way more than strangers would

 He might be low-key salty if you tell him you watch porn, actually

 "Are the guys in them handsome? Ugh, Jagi, I don't like it. Don't watch them anymore, yeah? I want you only thinking of me when you touch yourself."

First time you get horny via video chat and pan the camera down to reveal your breasts he gasps like he's clutching his pearls

But he watches with his face close to the camera and he can't stop licking his lips

 He's so quiet, only humming low in his throat to encourage you, fidgeting in his desk chair

 You pan back up to your face

 He groans softly. "More," he says hoarsely, throat dry

 You shake your head. "Not until you show me how much you want me,"

 You thought he'd blush but he doesn't, just slides his chair back and unbuttons his jeans to pull himself out

 You don't have to tell him twice, is what I'm saying, and he's stroking himself and moaning immediately

 You think it's even scarier that he's not actively trying to turn you on, he's just effortlessly sexy while he chases his orgasm and you'll do whatever he asks when his voice is that deep and husky

 He'll ask you to show him different things but it won't really be asking but be quietly authoritative

"Will you show me your tits? Ah, that's my good girl. Pinch your nipples."

 Starts out quiet, ends up loud

 Praise praise praise

 "Look at my beautiful girl. I miss you so much."

 But once he's comfortable he talks dirty af

 "I want you so much, want those pretty lips around my cock, big doe eyes staring up at me." Or "I can't wait to stretch out that tight cunt of yours, Jagi."

 Long, slow strokes, makes eye contact with you when he comes, moans your name

 Breathing hard when it's over but he's not really embarrassed

Wants to talk to you for a long time after it's over, v affectionate and lovey dovey

Jungkook

 Poor baby doesn't have time to treat himself so it's usually quick and efficient

 Will find a particular image of you in his memory banks and play it over and over

 Maybe your face when you come or the curve of your hips while he's fucking you from behind

 He never once asked for naughty pictures or videos until you sent one

 Now he's never not asking for them while he's on tour

 You run out of ideas for positions

 Like how many ways can you make a picture of your pussy entertaining

 He thinks they're all fabulous he's never been happier

Videos are absolute gold, though, especially when he knows you made them just for him

 As a joke you once sent him a video of you writing his name across your tits but it made him so hard he thought he was gonna die before he could get home and take care of it

 The first time you touch yourself on video chat it's because you see how his eye follows the line of your collarbone when his hoodie that you're wearing slides down

So you playfully tug it down to reveal your breasts and he lets out a surprised squeak and then blushes

 "Tease!"

 You shrug. "Don't have to be. I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

He's mortified at first but the more you tease him the huffier he gets

 When you slide the camera down to slowly walk your fingers along your inner thigh to the edge of your panties, he lets out a low growl and pushes his desk chair back

 When he pulls his cock out he looks at you through the camera almost like he's angry

 "See what you do to me? It isn't fair to be so far away from you and want you so bad."

 But he likes the look on your face and how wet you get watching him so he gets bolder

 He'll tell you what to do, hesitantly at first but then in a confident voice when you obey

 Low curses, heavy breathing, but not loud

 He won't talk much other than to tell you where to show him and where to touch yourself but sometimes he'll praise you in a low, even voice and it's always sweet

 "You're fucking perfect, you know that?"

 He's majorly embarrassed after he comes, red faced

But he'll want to do it again the next time you FaceTime

[pacificwanderer]

Whole bunch of anons about “leaks” etc. So, don’t read under the cut if that’s not your jam :) Also, as an aside, I’m going out on a limb here (not really lol) and am gonna say that I think the recent bout of “leaks” are actually speculation based on “toy leaks,” that is, the short phrases on the backs of packaging and nothing more (as in, sure, they’re leaks, but not “plot” leaks from some mole in DLF). Hence, the reason the “leaks” are all over the place and shift around everytime confirmed information (trailers, etc) gets released.

Many retailers get product for major releases weeks in advance (I know because I used to work at one lol), so if they have endcap resets coming up, they’ll get a whole big product display for a specific endcap. If they want displays around the store, they’ll send bulkouts with product. DLF has huge sections in major retailers, so the square footage they need to cover with product is insane. I can only imagine what gets shipped early to them (and I suspect staff who don’t have overnight crews end up doing a hell of a lot of setup prior to their major releases).

Case in point, Walmarts were selling TRoS toys up until a few days ago because they were mistakenly marked for sale (they’re not supposed to be out till Force Friday in October). Once they caught on, they shifted the skus back to whatever bucket they should have been in (and customers weren’t allowed to buy them after that point).

Anyways, makes a whole shitton of sense now that I think about it and is another great reason why you should always take “plot leaks” with a grain of salt because, for the most part, they’re just speculation masquerading as “leaks.” Contrary to popular belief, most people aren’t willing to lose their jobs to get internet points with random strangers. But taking a quick peek at the back of a retail box? That’s more believable (though can still get people fired, so be careful toy leakers).

Remember when MSW spoiled all the Reylo scenes in the Last Jedi? Oh wait... *checks notes* they didn't report on... any of them?

Remember also how they had no idea about Dark Rey, or Palpatine, and seem to conveniently forgotten half of the cast this time around SO FUNNY how that happens.

Not that I believe MSW but I like this new update from them: "If this rumor is accurate in the way I've heard it described, it sets the tone of Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker hard and fast. This movie is about saving Ben Solo and bringing Rey into the fold."

So, they’ve gone from “there’s something between them, but it’s not love” for tlj (which was wrong, by the way lol there’s totally love between them if you’re not looking to miss it), to she’s gonna kill him, to he’s gonna try to kill her, to she’s going to save him and also become a part of his family? Sounds like backtracking after the latest comic got released and it was revealed that Ben was, indeed, abused by Snoke (WHOEVER COULD HAVE SEEN THAT COMING, Oh wait. The entirety of the Reylo fandom).

The idea or the “leak” that has Ben personally telling Rey that she is a Palpatine after what he said in TLJ is so stupid and nonsensical. Like if Kylo really wanted her by his side in TLJ then he should have said that her heritage is of the Sith or the Dark Side and that’s what comvinces her to follow that “destiny” or something. JJ did said that IX is not gonna retcon what happened in TLJ so I find this leaks hard to believe but who knows what the hell happens in IX. Anything can happen.

It’s nonsensical to believe that any dialogue at all has made its way out lol. Set descriptions, I could get. But actual dialogue? LOL GTFO. But you’re right, how much more convincing would it be to be all “YOU’RE EVIL, JUST LIKE ME! LET’S BE EVIL TOGETHER!” I mean, that’d be a conversation I’d wanna try first lol.

MSW: “...I do seem to remember first hearing of the flashback sequence [Leia and Luke training] and it being a secret location within Pinewood Studios itself.” A ‘secret location’?! If it was so “secretive” then how the fuck do you know about this?! Also how the hell do you know the context of the scene already when we know they are still editing the film and the script was too guarded?! How the hell do you know what the characters are talking about?! 

All of the above, and honestly, how much do they really have of Carrie? I know some resistance scenes were cut out with her, and maybe some Maz stuff, but training Rey? When she herself didn’t want to train to be a Jedi? Really??? Iirc, Luke offered to train her and she was like nah? I’ll have to check on that. Leia’s connection with the Force has always been instinctual in the movies, so... It’s more believable that 3PO could train her lol what with all the shit he’s seen/helping her read the Jedi texts. Yeah, super secret, SO SECRET that random dude bros on the iternet found out about it!!!

It's funny how half the fandom thinks Rey is Luke's daughter because of MSW and no one is paying attention to to the fact that Disney/Lucasfilm have been defending Rey Nobody *and* they have allowed multiple people from the cast and crew to joke about Rey and Kylo being sexually attracted to one another. And then there is John Williams who shows Reylo scenes on the screen when he performs Han and Leia's love theme live in front of thousands of attendees who aren't even into shipping, lol.

Lol people still believe that? Man, it’s 2019. Reylo is real.

Do you think it's possible for Ben to have a convincing redemption if he he were to bring Palpatine back? I was already a bit disappointed that the Sithtroopers respond to him and the Knights of Ren but if he intentionally brings Sheev back it just seems like it'll be more difficult to convince the audience that he's worthy of redemption? I would like this movie to focus on him making good decisions for once, instead of bad ones until a last minute good one like Vader.

There’s nothing that’s going to happen to the Emperor that’s going to happen by accident. Period. He’s had plans working in the background the entire time, so if he comes back, it’s because he wants to come back, not because some accident on Ben’s part made it happen. Honestly, don’t pay attention to leaks that are basically rephrasing box text that says “yeah, kylo should be the most powerful person in the galaxy, but really he’s just fucking around like always, looking for answers to Force questions when he should be focusing on taking over the galaxy” which says to me that he never really did want to take over the galaxy. At all. He has it all, literally, and he’s still not finding what he wants. Which means he still has some exploring to do. Makes sense to me given how sad he looked at the end ot TLJ. These “leaks” also don’t really take into account that we’ve seen Kylo on that desert planet, like why is he there? What’s going on? Honestly, we know a whole lot of nothing about this movie and I’m sure the “leaks” will shift (again, just like they did last time) once the actual trailer gets dropped. Try not to worry about it :)

Hey so I'm kinda confused right now about some supposed "leaks"? Apparently its been "confirmed" by Lucasfilms that Kylo himself is resurrecting Palpatine? I saw some Reylos on twitter saying that Kylo was going to uncover secrets of the dark side and that it would lead to Palps being resurrected. I don't really keep up with leaks or extra material like comics so I'm kinda lost here. Do you know any thing about this? It just doesn't make sense to me why Kylo would do any of what was said?

It absolutely was not confirmed that he brings back palpatine, some box text on the back of his black series figure says, “As Supreme Leader of the First Order, Kylo Ren wields more power than ever before. Nevertheless, Ren continues to search for secrets of the Force from the depths of the dark side.” So, secrets from the Force, doesn’t say shit about palpatine but they’re jumping to conclusions because it “confirms” (in their mind) recent “leaks” (which I actually think are rephrased speculation based on TOY leaks) that speculate he’s looking for Palpatine. Why he’d trade one asshole master for another is beyond me given that he wanted to burn it all down at the end of TLJ. I’m gonna wait till I see the trailer/read more comics/official sources of info, before bothering with this sort of thing. These “leakers” didn’t say shit about Palps returning before his laugh at the end of the first teaser, so they didn’t know shit about it and are only speculating NOW. The only person I saw predict Palp’s return was Wayward Jedi, which was speculation proven to be right.

Cheers all!

[thelazyeye]

hi em !! could you write something with potter eddie? like clay and stuff

YES I SURE AS FUCK CAN. I took a pottery class in high school and I fell absolutely in love with the art. Anon you reached into my chest and stole my whole ass heart. This wasn’t meant to be long but I saw an idea and I ran with it and I really, really hope you like it! Enjoy, anon!

There’s Clay Underneath My Fingernails, Earth Underneath My Skin

When Eddie first enrolled in ceramics in high school he thought he would hate every second of it. His curriculum demanded that he take an art class every year and, naturally, on the day of registration Sonia had kept him home because he looked ‘feverish’ despite having literally no fucking temperature. And, as luck would have it, no other art classes had openings that fit with what he needed to graduate. So, ceramics one it was.

He dreaded it. It was messy, useless, and a waste of his time. All art classes would be a waste, honestly. He wasn’t Bill. He didn’t understand how to draw and paint lines that somehow came together to look semi-decent. Or, dare he say, beautiful. He wasn’t artistic. He understood math and money and mechanics. He knew how to put stuff together, not create stuff.

He had no idea how good the clay would feel in his hands. He didn’t know how satisfying it would be to build something up from nothing. And surprisingly, he had no idea how good he was going to be at it.

So, Eddie spent the last semester of his senior year wrist deep in clay, building and molding and sculpting until he had filled an entire bookcase with stuff he made by hand. He learned how to make mugs, whistles, bowls, chalices, containers, jars, everything imaginable. He even made a box that he designed to look like a book. The top cover came off on a hinge that swiveled back and forth. He got an A on every assignment. Who knew something Sonia did could have paid off so well.

These days, Eddie finds himself at the local studio at least a few times a month. It’s enough time to sculpt something, bisque fire it, glaze it, and throw it in the kiln for its final fire. He churns out one piece a month, two if he’s dedicated or has extra spare time. His apartment is full of handmade mugs and vases. He gives a lot of his pieces away, never really bothering to sell them. Maintaining a store is too much effort and he isn’t in it for the money. Pottery is something he loves, not something he’s trying to build his life around.

The clay is cold to the touch, firm and slick as he moves his fingers around the first mounts of a new pen holder he’s been thinking of making for his desk. He has a design in mind so he works. He divides the clay up and rolls it between his hands and the wooden tabletop. When he’s done he wraps them around each other, coiling the clay until he has a base and the wrapping up the sides. He adds swirls and notches and bumps for texture. He doesn’t notice as other people file in and out of the studio. He just rolls, wraps, and molds his design, watching as what he’s pictured in his mind comes to life before him.

“It’s unique,” comes from behind, a gentle voice that startles him out of his concentration. He knows who it is without looking.

“Thank you,” he answers, soft and distant. Too wrapped up in the way he smooths out the inside of his sculpture for support. Too focused on the bend of his coils, the wrap of his spirals.

“Are you planning on finishing it tonight? I can throw it in for the first fire before I leave and you can come back and finish it tomorrow,” the voice says back, all easy charm. The same way it’s always been. “The shop opens at 10. Maybe we can grab breakfast and then head on over?”

Eddie stops at that and turns. His heart practically leaps into his throat as the studio owner leans over him. He’s got thick glasses resting on his nose and thick, black hair curling out of the bun on top of his head. It was infuriating. No hair that unkempt should look that fucking good. “Tempting, Richie. But I’m gonna have to pass.”

“Oh, come on Eds!” Richie cries, throwing his head back and draping his arm over his eyes. It’s for dramatic flair and it makes Eddie crack a soft smile. He turns back, though, quick not to let Richie see it.

“Not my name,” comes out quick. The venom that used to be there has long since died, though. It melted with the snow and left something blooming inside of him. It settled in his chest, taking root in his organs and binding itself to his nerves.

Eddie has been coming to this studio for the better part of 2 years now. He found it shortly after he moved to Monroeville. It was the perfect place to step away, to unwind after a stressful week. He met Richie the first time he came in. Richie was trying to set up him in the studio and get him everything he would need to become a regular member. The interaction was so bad that Eddie had almost abandoned the idea altogether. Richie was crude, he didn’t seem to take anything Eddie said seriously, and he pried too much for Eddie’s comfort. Serious boundary issues. He was everything Eddie had spent most of his life distanced from and Eddie was more than prepared to walk out of the studio forever just so he’d never have to see Richie again. He did walk out that day, a scoff on the end of his lips and his jacket hastily thrown over his shoulders.

For some reason, though, he found himself back the next week. The second Richie had seen him he bounded over, hands out in defense when Eddie moved to leave a second time. He apologized for his behavior and offered Eddie a discounted rate. Richie’d spent several months walking on eggshells. He was still infuriating but it was more tolerable. His one liners and crude comments were on the downlow and Eddie could swear he caught Richie smiling at him in ways he didn’t smile at the other members.

Shit didn’t really start to shift, though, until The Vase Incident. Eddie had this bright idea to make a Vase for his coworkers’ birthday. She’d caught eye of one of his pieces in their shared office and gushed over it. So, he decided hey, why not make her something nice?

Well, something nice turned into absolute hell. He couldn’t get it right no matter how hard he tried. He spent hours at the potter’s wheel, throwing his clay and spinning. He didn’t spin frequently but he wanted it to be nice for Bev. He wanted it to be perfect but he couldn’t get it right. Either the clay was off center or he spun his slope too thin or it collapsed at the base. He swears he nearly had a stroke over the damn thing.

He had been so wrapped up over it one January weekend that he hadn’t noticed the other potters left and that he was the only one in the studio, aside from Richie. Richie was on the opposite side of the studio, carving patterns into a tile that Eddie thought might turn out to be mosaic.

“Let me help you,” he offered after watching Eddie destroy the collapsed base of yet another vase. “If you keep this up we’ll be here all night.”

The clock on the wall read 11:23pm and Eddie all but kicked the chair out from under himself as he stood. His frustration was clear in the tension of his shoulders. If Richie could help him, fine. He would have taken anything he could get at that point.

Richie took his place, throwing a hunk of wet clay on the wheel and pressing the pedal down gently. He used his fingers to center it, pushing the edges until the met as an even ridge and then cupping his hands around the lump. He brought it high, pressed it low, and then dipped two fingers into the middle to create the opening. Eddie watched as Richie pinched the top and brought it outwide, eventually pressing his entire hand down to hollow the base and then guiding the clay up and redistributing the mass.

After ten minutes, Richie had constructed a simple, yet elegant, vase. It wasn’t very big, maybe big enough for one or two flowers, but it was standing and structurally sound. More than Eddie could say for his own work.

“How did you do that?” He asked, voice scratchy and hands covered in drying clay.

“Practice, Eds. I own all these wheels. It’d be a damn shame if I didn’t know how to use them,” Richie winked. He failed at covering a yawn before stepping away to grab a line of string. He gently cut the vase from the wheel and lifted it off. Eddie watched as Richie carved a crooked E.K. into the bottom before placing it in the kiln room. “I’m gonna fire a round tomorrow. I’ll throw this in then. Why don’t you go home and get some rest?”

“Sure. You, too, you know. It’s well past closing time,” Eddie said back, a small smile on his face.

“Yeah, I know. I just couldn’t bring myself to interrupt you. You’re cute when you’re concentrating.” Richie didn’t hide his flirting, this time. He let himself smile at Eddie from across the studio. It was like the defenses they’d both been wearing for so long had dropped from the exhaustion. “You know, if you took my last name you could carve E.T. into the bottom of your pieces,” he chuckled, “You know, like E.T. phone home?”

Richie eyed him, gauging his reaction with a toothy grin and a very clear wink. If he was waiting for Eddie to take the bait, he didn’t. Eddie simply smiled back and wished Richie a goodnight, effectively destroying most of the boundaries they had established after that first day.

Today, he’s not making a vase and as per their new usual Richie isn’t tiptoeing around him anymore. Eddie flips his piece over, minding the coils on the top and wetting his fingers to smooth out the bottom for structural support. When he’s done, he carves E.K. into the bottom and stands.

“Come on!” Richie chirps as he follows Eddie across the studio, “We both know you’re going to be back here tomorrow to glaze this beauty up!”

“I will,” Eddie answers, placing his piece on the cart and moving to wash his hands, “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to get breakfast with you.”

“Lunch then? We can go after you finish,” Richie says. His voice borders on something other than teasing. Its new, almost insistent. It catches Eddie off guard. “It’s supposed to be nice tomorrow.”

Eddie watches him out of the corner of his eye, slipping his jacket over his shoulders and grabbing his stuff. “We’ll see.”

He doesn’t miss the way Richie pumps his arms in the air as he leaves the studio. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either, and he thinks they both know the meaning behind his indecision.

He can feel something twist in his chest as he drives home. It lingers through dinner and into the night. A date with Richie Tozier isn’t unattainable, it never has been, but Eddie has always stayed far, far away from the idea. He found every excuse to keep him far, far, away. He was too crude, too loud, too messy. He was too kind, he was too beautiful, his hands were too perfect. Richie Tozier was too much for him.

It wasn’t sustainable. Eddie knew it. Richie was just some person filling the void in his chest. He didn’t even know him. How could he have any real feelings? It was just a childish infatuation that would destroy everything if he pursued it. He’d lose the pottery studio and he’d lose Richie, too.

Not that there was anything real to lose there. But whatever.

“Spaghetti! Right on time,” Richie shouts as Eddie walks in the next day. The clock blinks 10:20 am on wall but Eddie pretends he doesn’t notice Richie greeting or the fact that he’s right on time. Instead, he places his jacket on the hook and moves to his regular workstation. Richie disappears into the back room and returns with his piece. “It really is unique. What color are you going to choose?”

They talk glazes for a few moments and Eddie watches as Richie ties his hair back at his own work station. He’s got a small pot in front of him. Its stubby and wide and very Richie. Richie flicks on the radio and they settle into silence. It’s too early for others to be in the shop on a Sunday, so they work in peace. Eddie paints with a green, speckled sort of glaze. The brush works over the indents and ridges of the coils. In the time it takes him to work three coats over the piece Richie isn’t even halfway finished with his own greenware.

He watches Richie work, deep concentration written on his face. He’s got his glasses pushed up and a detail brush painting small designs into the underside of the lip. The sunlight comes in through the window and hits him in a way that makes him glow. That feeling from the night before returns and, fuck it, whatever. Who fucking cares. This is ridiculous. This is insane. This is absolutely fucking silly. One hundred percent bonkers. Hands down the worst fucking decision he’s ever made was finding this god damn studio.

He places his piece back on the firing cart for its final run through the kiln and slips out of the front door. Richie is so deep in his work that he doesn’t even see Eddie go.

Eddie doesn’t go back to the studio for a few weeks. He tells himself he’s busy with work, life, whatever excuse he can shove into the situation. It’s not like he has anyone to defend himself to but he can’t bring himself to admit why he’s avoiding the shop. It drives him insane but it’s an insanity of his own creation.

It isn’t until he loses his favorite pen twice in the same day that he breaks. That dumb little coiled container was supposed to be for his desk. It was supposed to help keep his life organized. It was supposed to be a gift to himself. A gift to his fucking desk and pens and home.

God dammit.

Richie doesn’t work on Tuesdays, so Eddie finds himself in the studio before work. He’s dressed head to toe in scrubs and a light jacket to combat the Spring chill. He fully intends to be in and out without incident but naturally the universe has other plans for him.

“Eddie, fuck man it’s good to see you!” the assistant manager calls out from the front. He bounds over and Eddie doesn’t even have time to reply before Bill is in front of him, smiling and talking. “Richie’s been worried about you! Says he hasn’t seen your cute face in a few weeks. Everything okay?”

Eddie coughs quietly before answering. Richie was worried about him. God dammit. “Yeah, Bill. Everything’s good. Just been super busy with work and stuff.” He gestures to his clothes before placing his piece in a bag and angling toward the door. Bill just nods empathetically and waves him goodbye.

He shouts a quick see you soon, hopefully! before the door shuts.

For no reason at all his interaction with Bill burrows into his skin. Eddie is fifty percent emotionally driven impulse and he was more than ready to withdraw his membership from the studio on principle alone. He can’t date the owner. He can’t have a silly schoolyard crush on that man. There’s no reason for something so disruptive. And then Bill just had to tell him he that Richie was worried and that he hopes to see Eddie soon. Why that mattered so fucking much, Eddie had no idea. But it lives inside of him now. Eating at him until he breaks in the other direction.

He finds himself back in the studio again next Tuesday. Bill greets him gently before he takes his seat, grabbing some clay and rolling out two slabs to create about a quarter inch thickness. He cuts the first one, rolls it, and binds the seams. It’s a technique he’s used hundreds of times before and it comes easy to him. He cuts a circle for the base from the second slab and carves in a single word before binding it to the tube he’s created. He rolls a coil, twists it along the side, and boom. Its bisque fired that night and Eddie returns on Thursday to glaze it before work. He paints a simple design around the outside of it and then places it on the cart.

He meets up with Bill over the weekend outside of the shop to pick it up. Inside, he can see Richie teaching a young girl how to make a whistle. He can see the slope of the chamber and what looks like six appendages extending out. Even from here, Eddie knows it’s going to be a Richie Tozier original. Something ridiculous, unique, yet still beautiful in its own way.

He doesn’t return for another two weeks. The anxiety of his plan weighs down on him. It was an impulse that could go horribly, horribly wrong but he also knows that no one knows what he’s planning. He could abandon it entirely and no one would know. He could call the studio, end his membership, and be on with his life. He’d never have to see Richie again. Sure, he might have to give up sculpting for a few years, maybe the rest of his life, but damn if it isn’t a possibility.

Still, though, Eddie finds himself outside of the studio on a Saturday afternoon. As always, he can see Richie inside working on something. He steels himself and pushes through the doors, immediately heading over to the Keurig to make a cup of coffee. He grabs a handful of creamers and sugars and heads right for Richie’s workbench.

“You look like you could use a cup,” he says, trying and miserably failing to come across as natural. If Richie notices he doesn’t say anything about it. Thank god for small graces.

“Kaspbrak! You’re back!” Richie shouts loud enough for several people to turn their heads. Eddie can feel his face heating up as he places the mug on the table. Richie doesn’t fall for his casual motion, hand falling on Eddie’s wrist immediately. “Whoa! What’s this?”

Eddie does some sort of half shrug as he sits down across from Richie. Richie picks up the mug and admires it. It’s got an orange glaze on it with red and yellow accents. It’s really nothing special but Richie seems enamored with it. “You make this, Eds?”

“Not my name, Richie,” he quips, then adds “but yeah.”

Richie traces the designs on the outside and admires the binding and structure of it before sending Eddie a smile that makes him melt from the inside out. Man, he really is fucked, isn’t he?

They talk for a little while as Richie works. Eddie watches those slim fingers as they construct masterpieces from the Earth. Its captivating. Richie asks him questions and Eddie dances around complete truths. He doesn’t want Richie to know where he’s been or why he’s been avoiding the studio.

As Richie drinks his coffee Eddie can feel anxiety bubbling up into his throat. He gets closer and closer to the bottom and eventually he picks the mug up for a final time, gulping down the rest after making a comment about cold coffee being a sin against mankind.

Eddie’s worried Richie doesn’t see it at first. He watches as Richie lowers the mug, eyes trained on Eddie over the rim. Time slows for a moment as the mug starts moving down toward the table and Eddie watches Richie’s eyes shift from his own to the inside of the piece.

There’s literally no going back now.

A small smile creeps over Richie’s face as he sits across from Eddie. Silence passes between the two and Eddie can feel his heart hammering out of his chest. This isn’t the reaction he’d expected. He’d thought Richie would make some snide comment, say something funny, jump up and down in the air. Fuck. Maybe he’d been reading the signals wrong. Maybe Richie flirts with everyone. Maybe he’s destroyed his entire hobby by being a huge fucking idiot. He’s going to have to end his membership and give up pottery forever. No local studio will take him once they hear how intrusive and disruptive he is. He’s going to have to move across the country, change his name, reimagine his entire life. There’s no way he’s going to live down the embarrassment.

“Yes,” Richie whispers. It’s so quiet that Eddie almost can’t hear him over his internal beratement.

“What?” Eddie says back automatically. He’d heard Richie, but just barely. Maybe he’d missed something. Maybe Richie had said something he didn’t hear. Maybe Richie was fucking with him.

“I said yes, Eddie. How about tonight? I can close up a few hours early or maybe Bill can come in to close. Does seven work for you?”

Oh. Fuck. It actually worked.

“Yeah!” Eddie replies, too loud and too excited but somehow it Richie doesn’t startle. He looks at Eddie with an equal amount of excitement, just barely contained behind his own eyes.

“Okay, yeah, cool. Perfect. Meet me back here at 6:45, yeah?” Richie says fast. His hands fly around the table before he grabs a hunk of clay and starts pressing his fingers into it. It’s a nervous tick, Eddie thinks, but somehow it’s cute as hell.

“Yes. Perfect. Okay. Yeah. I’ll see you then,” Eddie says and then pushes up. He shrugs his jacket on and makes for the door. When he glances over his shoulder he sees Richie holding the mug he made, smile so wide it looks like it could tear his face into two. He’s staring into the mug where Eddie had carved out one simple word.

Dinner?

Tag List: 

@tinyarmedtrex @richardtoz @aizeninlefox @thestralskies @chocolatemangoose @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @studpuffin @oldguybones @its-stranger-than-you-think @honeybeehanlon @recycle-byn

[penny-nichols]

Uhh maybe 1 random headcanon you have on each Gavinners members and each Global characters

(Also sorry to hear that you’re not feeling well rn, hope everything become better soon for you :c)

- Feychols swap anon

Thank you Feychols swap anon you are so sweet :) Anyway hmmmmm... Gavinners: -Klavier has some burn scars on his hands from the. uh. fire guitar incident. (I don't know how burn scars work) -Daryan went to Themis to become a defense attorney (in a very "competitive with my bff in a fun way" way) but dropped out and just became a detective after finishing Normal School. He's not NOT smart he just didn't want to put in the effort for all of it and honestly. Same. -Luke can be "surprisingly" morbid sometimes. It's not that surprising to people who know him because like. He works with dead bodies all day but to some fans who forget that he's not just an uwu soft boy? seeing him say something like "Yeah if I was trying to kill me I'd slit my throat and then whack me over the head with my own drumsticks but that's just me." is jarring. -Brandon can sew but only a little bit. He knows enough to make. a tube. He needs his long flowy dramatic headbands but it CAN'T fray if it frays he will actually snap so he just makes really long tubes. He is a stronger man than I. -Ham didn't even go to Themis or anything and Klavier and Daryan didn't know him in Middle school because he was in 8th grade while they were in 6th, he was mainly introduced into the friend group via Brandon. (especially since Brandon actually got Into Law Enforcement before the Gavinners were really a thing) uhhhhh Global time: -Penny and Cody are basically siblings to each other now. I know they haven't met in canon but stfu Penny helped him sneak into the studio and they're besties -for a few of his embarrassing preteen years Cody had a minecraft stop motion youtube channel where he just played with his plastic figures. It never got THAT much attention, but if anyone had bothered to watch, they would've noticed the oddly high camera quality and the guy playing Minecraft Steve who kinda sounds like the steel samurai -Will isn't ugly he's just scary to kids looks wise because he has resting kinda mean face. He didn't reveal his face for a while BECAUSE of the kids but you absolutely KNOW that both members of the LGBT community and midwestern suburban moms go fucking wild for him -I think it would be funny if John was lactose intolerant. I was gonna say "probably not lmao" but Zheng Fa is a fictionalized representation of China so he's at least half Chinese and rates of lactose intolerance in Chinese kids his age are about 40% and up to 92% at Adulthood. Basically if John's stomach hasn't betrayed him now it'll DEFINITELY betray him later. -uhhhhh Jack Hammer really resented Will. Part of the reason why he intended to frame Will for Dee's murder is that if he had to be stuck on some crappy kids show he should at least be the star but this guy's first foray into Hollywood nets him a leading role? Unfair -Oldbag doesn't really have any family left so she keeps busy by taking too many jobs and telling people to call her Grandma (please call her Grandma she's so lonely) (yes this is my way of trying to reconcile whatever the fuck was up with her employment situation in AAI and the T&T credits) -Adrian really likes cats. Maybe she adopts Shoe or something IDK - Dee did care about like. Actual Movie Production Quality to SOME extent. She cared about it more pre-Manuel's death but she's still going to be overly critical of Sal's scripts -Sal has not read homestuck. he doesn't know what a Homestuck is. He gets multiple comments a day on his social media things from fans who want to know if he is meanwhile Penny is laughing nervously in the corner (only one person at Global has read Homestuck and I want you to guess who it was) -Matt also likes pet rats along with cats. IDK why I just think he'd vibe with them. They're just little guys. friends you can put on your shoulder. He can't HAVE any because of Shoe but he admires them from afar. Penny shows him Neil Bangin Out The Tunes and he fucking loves it. His phone lock screen is him and shoe. His home screen is Neil.