#but I have to pretend I’m there in front of an old TV

[jewishdragon]

My friends are indeed throwing a moon landing party

But not like. A normal one.

14 years ago they started to pretend is was 1955 and have been roleplaying living in the past to follow the politics and pop culture as if they were there. (Mostly we watch Star Trek on Thursdays. But Star Trek aired its final season so we’ve been watching new shows. But period accurate broadcasts! With period accurate commercials!)

They’ve been holding events to watch news broadcasts about the lead up to the moon landing. Different launch tests and such.

And today is the moon landing. So they are gathered to watch it as if it’s really happening.

[1427]

something to prove

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Every time your mom goes down to the city with Merle she lets Daryl stay behind and watch TV. The night your boyfriend breaks up with you, you decide you have something to prove. 

Warnings: Very vaguely implied drug use, age-gap (reader is 20, Daryl is mid30’s), smut, voyeurism/exhibitionism, masturbation (both m & f), idk there’s something else that happens but idk how to tag it (premature ejaculation???), preTWD!Daryl.

Word Count: 3k

A/n: this is a two part story, possibly three? This started out as a step-dad!daryl idea but I reworked it because not everyone’s as big of a pervert as I am. If anyone wants step-dad imagines (au or otherwise for Daryl, or Negan) lmk. 🥵😈

17+ mdni

\\part 2\\

masterlist

“Who are you?” You ask, to the man standing in your house. Well, your moms house, certainly wasn’t his house. He looked like one of your moms friends from the bar. 

“Shit, who are you?” He looks at you, more confused than you are. Scared almost. 

“Mona’s kid?” You explain, who else would you be? 

“Oh, shit. Didn’t know Mona had a kid. She just left you here?” You look at him like he’s still a stranger standing in your living room. 

“I’m 20.” You watch as he sighs a little in relief. 

“Right…. I’m Daryl. Uh. Her and my brother took a ride down to the city. Didn’t wanna go, she said I could hang here.” 

“Of course she did,” you say to yourself with a sigh. 

Daryl watches you as you run to the kitchen and grab a snack and run back toward the stairs, “Well. I’ll be in my room.” 

“Wait! Uh.. where’s the remote?” 

You sigh, with a smile this time, and step backward down the first step. You walk past him and dig your hand into the recliner that’s facing directly in front of the TV, pulling the remote from its hiding spot. As you walk back toward the stairs you put it to his stomach, and he takes it with both hands. “Thanks” you hear him say, and then you’re gone. Running up the stairs to lock yourself in your room. 

✨🚬

Daryl and Merle came over a lot after that. You didn’t see too much of them, when you’re mom had company you knew it was best to stay locked in your room. Not like you’d want to be around her company anyway. 

Daryl seemed different than Merle. Everytime you did venture out of your room for a snack, or to leave the house to go see your boyfriend, and you had to interact with things outside of your room, Daryl never spoke. Honestly, it seemed to you like he didn’t even want to be there. 

And every time your mom and Merle go down to the city, Daryl stays back and watches TV and smokes cigarettes in the living room. Never does anything else. 

You start developing a crush. And you know it’s insane because he’s so much older than you, but you can’t help it. You never thought you’d see someone older like that, but to be fair he didn’t look it. He definitely wasn’t as old as your mom. Probably mid 30’s? Probably. You couldn’t ask. And there was something about him. Brooding, quiet, but… safe. He never bothered you, never looked at you too long like most of your moms friends did. He seemed.. sweet. 

You start praying they’ll come over, and then you pray that your mom and Merle will leave. Sometimes they’re only gone for half an hour, sometimes they’re gone all night. No matter how long they’re gone, though, you always go down and see Daryl. 

You never really talk to him more than a few passing words, even when it becomes a more common occurrence. 

Obviously you try to look as good as you can when you do go down there to walk in front of him. You stand awkwardly by the kitchen island, pretending to watch tv, trying to say something. Usually you can’t come up with anything. 

You find yourself wearing more and more revealing clothing, trying to get him to look, but you never catch him looking. And, honestly? It frustrates you to no end. 

Why won’t he look? 

It’s starting to make you a little crazy, multiple times you’d had to stop yourself from coming down in just a towel.

And then your boyfriend breaks up with you. Probably better off, but the night that it happens you lose it. You’re not heartbroken necessarily, but you are pissed. And you feel like you have something to prove. And all of it bubbles up into something you normally would never see yourself doing. 

You come downstairs this time in only an oversized teeshirt. No underwear. Its dark, all the lights off, it is 2am, but for some reason you weren’t expecting it. It should make what you have planned even easier. Less awkward. 

Instead of going to the kitchen you walk right up to Daryl and put your hand out for the remote. “I wanna watch TV.” 

He looks up at you. Finally. And he hands you the remote. “Alrigh’.” 

You change the channel to something else, doesn’t matter what as long as it’s not what he was watching. You settle on an old movie, looked just boring enough. You lay down on your stomach in front of where Daryl sat in the armchair, your teeshirt riding just barely up your ass, just enough for Daryl to be distracted by it. To notice it. To ask himself if you weren’t wearing any underwear. 

You hear him take a deep breath from behind you and it makes you smile. Finally. 

And you stay like that for a while, absentmindedly looking at the TV, not really watching it. Daryl’s watching you through half lidded eyes. Before you’d come downstairs Daryl was a good five minutes from falling asleep in that arm-chair. But now? His heart hammering in his chest, he has to control his breathing in the quiet living room, to not tip you off that you were affecting him so much. He wasn’t sure what you were doing, or if you were even doing it on purpose. But you’re 20, right? Surely… he figures you have to know. 

But if you know what you’re doing, than you’re expecting some kind of reaction, and Daryl… can’t. He can’t move. He can hardly think straight. Looking at your bare legs, the little peak of your ass just barely revealing itself from under the fabric. And then you shift your hips and the tee-shirt falls away even more. 

It takes everything in him to keep his breathing steady. 

“Are you looking?” Your voice cuts through the silent room, making no attempt to turn back and look at him. 

“No.” Daryl says, quickly. His brain scrambling over the new information that you definitely, absolutely, undeniably knew what you were doing. 

You smile to yourself, the choked sound of his voice told you everything you needed to know. You can practically feel the heat in his cheeks. The tightness in his chest.  

You never thought you’d be as into it as you were getting. Him seeing you like this was burning up your core. Slowly at first and then seemingly all at once. You put your head to the floor in a small moment of defeat over your own body, feeling yourself start to drip down your leg. You wonder if he can see it too. If the light of the TV is reflecting off the little strings of your arousal, coating the inside of your thighs, starting to drip down onto the carpet. A small groan escapes your lips as you raise your hips up off the carpet, keeping your shoulders and the rest of your body down to the ground. 

You want to show him what he’s doing to you. You want him to see the mess he’d made. So there you are, your ass now completely in the air, only a few feet from where he’s sitting behind you, “Are you looking now?” 

This time Daryl doesn’t respond. Because he can’t. His fingers are whiteknuckled on the arm-rests. And he was losing the ability to control his breathing. He was losing control of the ability to even think about breathing. To think at all. 

You don’t mind that he didn’t answer, you knew. His ragged breathing spurred you further. You reach down underneath your body, through your legs, and try to spread yourself open for him with two delicate fingers. Your middle finger slipping through your folds, too slick to hold up to friction. Your hand wipes some of it down your thigh, so you can continue what you’re trying to do. 

And you can hear his breath hitch in his throat, making a smile bloom on your face. A sick, cocky smile. 

You spread yourself for him, before taking two fingers to your clit and drawing small circles around it. You hiss, your hips spasming at the too sensitive feeling of pressure directly on your nerve bundle, but you keep going. 

Plunging two fingers deep inside of you, selfishly. This one wasn’t for Daryl, although he liked it. You needed the delicious feeling of something inside of you. Your fingers hook in you, desperately curling over and over again as you mercilessly assault your own g-spot. 

The noises coming out of you could send Daryl into a coma. Not just the half-coherent babbles and deep definitely-came-from-your-chest groans. No, the sound of your slick hand squelching against your cunt so perfectly. 

You go back and forth like this, between your clit and your walls, until you feel your orgasm start to bubble over. The dull throb of ecstasy climbing into every limb. You almost forget Daryl’s watching as you put your fingers back inside you, three this time, and ride your own hand until your body is shaking, expletives falling out of your mouth before you can catch them. 

You lay there, on the floor in a heap, teaching yourself to breathe again. Until you glance back at Daryl. With one hand covering his mouth his expression is unreadable, but his other hand gripping the arm rest tells you everything. And the hard cock pressing up against the zipper of his pants tells even more. 

You’re almost embarrassed, but not quite. Standing up from the spot you’d laid down to ‘watch TV’ you silently walk over to him and wipe your hand off on his shirt. Pressing your fingers hard against his chest through the fabric, eliciting a barely audible moan from him.

He watches you walk away, listening as your bare feet pad up the steps and into your room. It takes him all of three seconds to free his cock from his jeans. Pumping himself furiously, unceremoniously, with his face buried in the spot of his shirt where you’d wiped your juices on him. 

The smell of you, the taste of you, so fresh and right there. He laps at the spot until it’s soaked with his saliva. He comes in a strangled mess, trying to be quiet, hot white ropes painting his jeans. 

After it’s over he curses himself. He leaves before Merle and your mom get back, to go home and change. Wondering to himself what the hell just happened. 

✨🚬

For a week you avoid him. He and Merle come over twice, but you stay in your room the whole time. A little too embarrassed to face him so soon after what you’d done. You didn’t regret it, or feel bad, but your normal personality had returned. With nothing more to prove to yourself, or your stupid ex boyfriend. Not bold enough to masturbate in front of older men. Apparently not even bold enough to show your face in front of him. 

You wake up one night in a sweat, having another dream about Daryl. In this one he’d had you bent over the kitchen table. Fuck it’s hot in here, you go to open the window but what you really need is water. 

You start to make your way downstairs, only to see Daryl. In the faint glow of the television, eyes wide as he meets yours. “Oh. Hi.” You manage to say, awkwardly standing on the last step before nodding at his lack of response, looking down trying to hide your blush.

 You walk to the kitchen silently, getting some water for yourself. Feeling unbelievably uncomfortable, you wanted to be clever. To be coy and cute and everything you were the other night, but the whole thing is making you so nervous you can’t think straight. You just want to get back upstairs before you say something stupid. Before you embarrass yourself by not being that person. 

You down a cup of water quickly and toss it into the sink before heading back for your room. 

You’re passing in front of the TV when Daryl asks you, “Do you want the remote?” 

One simple question, your head spins. You knew what he meant. What he was really saying. ‘Do it again’. 

You look over at him, remote on his knee, and you nod. Walking over to him, you pick up the remote from where it sat, but you let your fingers graze all the way up his leg, over the tight bulge in his pants. “Christ.” He says, through gritted teeth. 

You smile, that same cocky smile, and take your position down on the ground in front of him. You take your time, at first you really are watching TV. Letting Daryl ache for it. Letting him question if you understood what he’d meant. 

He’d been wondering when he was going to see you next, if you’d do it again. If you’d do more. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was definitely the hottest thing a girl had ever done for him. Not like he had all that much experience with women, but he had some. None of it quite like that. Nothing that was so burned into his memory that if he closed his eyes he could still taste you. Still hear those explicit noises coming off your body. 

He needed more. He needed to watch you again. 

He waits, with baited breath, for you to touch yourself. It feels like it’s taking forever. There’s something about you just down there in front of him, though. It feels like he’s almost able to get off on just that. 

Eventually you spread your legs a little bit at a time. Raising your hips again, you play with yourself in front of him like you did before, taking more time. Teasing him. 

You slide the top half of your body, flush with the ground, over to the side a little so you can look back at him. Fuck. He’s just staring. Mouth open, eyes half closed, fingers holding a cigarette that he occasionally drags. Just watching. Never taking his eyes off of you. Occasionally he looks back up to your face, all contorted in pleasure, but for the most part he can’t take his eyes off of what your fingers are doing. The light shimmering over every wet part of you. 

You sit up for just a second to bring the teeshirt off your body and throwing it to the side. Resuming your position, now completely naked. Vulnerable. You look at him with another smile, his expression is pained. 

Daryl’s trying so hard to keep himself in control. To not touch himself until you’re out of the room, that would be too much, right? He’s convinced himself that there’s no way he can pull his cock out in front of you. He’s so much older, even if you’re 20. Even if you’re in front of him, doing this. Pretty, delicate, messy pussy spread out for him. Begging for him. He can’t. He’s got to control himself. Plus, it’s too embarrassing. You’re so confident and languid with your movements, he’s sure if you saw him like the strangled mess he was the other night that you’d run out of the room immediatly. 

He’s wrong, but it doesn’t matter to you. Of course you want him, and of course you’d let him slither right in behind you and claim any hole he wanted. You would love to see him lose control and touch himself, even if it was something you’d never seen a man do before. Of course you would. But the feeling of his eyes burned into you is so exquisite on its own. 

Daryl’s losing his fucking mind, though. You’re doing it all different than last time. Slower, hotter. Grabbing at your tits with your other hand. Fuck. His head is dizzy, he feels like he’s going to pass the fuck out. And then you start riding your hand again. But not like last time, last time your fingers were hooked into you so tight that Daryl silently begged for you to just fuck yoursef with your fingers instead. He wanted to watch your lips spread out and over them. Wanted to watch you fill and empty your cunt with your two fingers over and over, and now that’s exactly what you’re doing. 

Daryl’s chewing on his thumb, anything to keep his hands away from himself. Every time you pump your fingers inside he feels his hardened length spasm. So tight into his pants, the friction actually starts to feel good. 

You add another finger, and then another. It’s too much for Daryl, who was again silently begging you to do that too. To stretch that little pussy even more for him. Before he can even comprehend what’s happening, his vision goes white. Daryl’s cock spasms violently, cum coating the inside of his pants. His thumb is bleeding from where he’d bit down on it, and he’s never been more fucking embarrassed in his life. Never been more surprised, confused, turned on. 

He watches as you ride out your high, following with your own earth shattering orgasm only a few moments later. He looks down to you to see if you had any idea of what had happened, but you don’t. 

You have no idea he just came in his pants without even touching himself. Just from watching you. 

pt 2

a/n : thanks to @norman-fucking-reedus for helping me with some ideassss for this 💕🤘🏻

[asta-writes-stufff]

Spencer Reid x reader

Reader is on their period :( but at least they have Spencer to help make them feel better

Wc: ~700

Cw: no gendered pronouns but reader does have a period, nothing else i think :)

On my period rn and i wish i had a spencer reid to take care of me 😔

You’re sitting on your couch in the same position you’d been in all day, having taken a sick day when you’d woken up with horrible cramps. Spencer had settled you down on the couch with everything you might need before he left for work, and he’d done a great job of it considering you haven't moved since then.

You reached over to the coffee table to grab another square of chocolate and the TV remote to press play on the next episode of Star Trek, settling back into your previous position as you popped the chocolate into your mouth. The theme song had just started playing when, unbeknownst to you, the front door opened and Spencer entered, closing it quietly behind himself. He smiled at the sight of you as he kicked his shoes off, dropping his things by the door and making his way over to the couch to join you.

You jumped when he placed his hands on your shoulders from behind you but quickly relaxed when you realised it was just him.

”Hi, angel.” He whispered, kissing the top of your head as he massaged your shoulders.

You craned your neck up so that his lips were on your forehead. “Hi, Spencer. How was work?” You did your best to add a casual lilt to your voice, hoping Spencer wouldn’t pick up on how much pain you were in. He did anyway, of course.

”It was good, love. How about you, how are you? Is there anything I can get you?”

“No thanks Spence, I’m okay.”

He pressed his lips to your forehead again. “I know that it hurts, darling. You don't have to pretend it doesn’t.”

Your lips twitched into a smile, having known he’d see right through you. “Will you just sit with me?”

”Of course, my love.”

He walked around to the other side of the couch and fell into place beside you. You moved to crawl into his lap as his hands wrapped around your waist and helped pull you into him. While you buried your head in his chest, he reached for your heating pad and chocolate.

“What are you watching, angel?” He knew perfectly well that you were watching Star Trek but he wanted to hear your voice.

”TNG.” You muttered into his chest. “Last season. Not sure what episode.”

He muttered the episode number and title under his breath. “Mhm. That one.” You replied.

Spencer ran his fingers through your hair, gently asking you to tilt your head up to face him. “Can I please have a kiss?” You had no hesitation in wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to kiss you. His lips were so soft against your own and you could slightly taste his lip balm, the warm vanilla flavour you were so familiar with. You had given him your tube of lip balm one day when he’d forgotten his own. He’d never gone back to using his old lip balm, explaining that it made him feel closer to you when he could always smell and taste the flavour he’d grown so used to on your lips.

Your hands shifted up into his hair as he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth. His chest rumbled quietly when you tangled your fingers in the strands and tugged gently. You broke the kiss for air, pressing your forehead against his and smushing your noses together as you panted.

”That’s good chocolate.” He breathed out, smirking at the way your cheeks instantly grew warm at his comment. “Do you want some?” You offered, not knowing how else to respond. “No, that’s ok. Maybe you should have another piece though.”

Your face grew warmer still and you smiled as you reached for another piece of chocolate. You popped it into your mouth and his lips were back on yours in a second.

~~

You settled onto the couch beside Spencer, a freshly re-heated heating pad on your stomach and an empty chocolate wrapper on the couch beside you, both courtesy of Spencer.

“How are you feeling now, angel?” He muttered as he nosed at the tip of your ear, his way of asking you to be honest with him.

“Better,” you smiled up at him. “A lot better. Thank you, Spencer.”

“Anytime, love.”

[space-cowgirllll]

I did boy mom Abby during the fall so you know I had to write some domestic fluff for Ellie too 🫶🏻🎃🍂

let’s ignore that I’m posting this less than an hour before Halloween is over 🥸

"Mama no! That's Rex's chair!"

"Well I don't see his name on it." The soft thud of the stuffed animal hitting the carpet is followed by the stomp of a tiny foot.

"Mama!"

You lower the volume on the halloween music playing on the tv, watching your wife get locked in stare down with a mini version of herself. Margo's legs wobble on unsteady plastic heels and the pink material of her dress wrinkles as she places her hands on her hips. Ellie had managed to squeeze herself into one of the bigger dresses in your daughter's closet, the thing looking like it was about to bust at the seams whenever she moved. Her tiara lopsided as it slowly slips off her head.

From the color of their hair to the slope of their noses, it was actually scary how alike they looked at the moment. Their profiles damn near identical.

The two stare at each other from opposite sides of the coffee table where a "spooky" tea party was being held with hot chocolate and Halloween cookies. Action figures and stuffed animals line the sides, with the newest addition to your little family sitting at the head of the table. Your seven month old son, Theo, sits in his infant chair watching the drama unfold as he chewed on a yogurt puff. His little body swallowed up by the tulle of his dress, with a sparkly clip in his short hair. Neither you nor Ellie able to save him from the older sister effect.

"He's a stuffie, he can't even eat the cookie." Ellie says matter of factly, reaching over to fix the girl's tiara.

The four year old's eyes shift from Rex's spot to her own empty plate, nodding in understanding. "Get more from mommy." she whispers loudly, pointing to where you stand at the counter with a fresh batch. Their eyes widen at the sight of the tray in front of you.

Ellie has a full blown one sided conversation with the infant in her arms, stopping at the large window facing your backyard. She points out the swing set under the large tree in the far right corner.

"Pretty soon you'll be out there with mama and margo having competitions on who can swing the highest." She bounces the infant on her hip.

"Mama cheats." Margo pipes up from the living room.

"I do not!"

Ellie jumps to defend herself, launching into story after story about the times she's lost to the four year old. Theo watches her in fascination, his eyes glued to Ellie's face. Your wife never stopped talking, and you swear it's the reason Margo's vocabulary is as good as it is.

You pretend to ignore Ellie as she saunters over to where you stand at the kitchen island. Her front presses up against your back, lips pressing against your bare shoulder as she reaches for the cookies. "Don't mind if I do."

"I do mind, actually." You push her away. "Dinner's almost ready."

"Oh c'mon just one more."

"You said that like five cookies ago Els." Taking the baby from her arms, you move the tray further away from her grabby hands.

She pouts. "So you hate me."

"Oh, shut up." You roll your eyes, pulling her in for a kiss. "How about you two go wash up and you can have one more AFTER dinner." The little hand reaching for the tray pauses, slowly retreating when you pull it further away. Ellie snorts as the culprit click clacks back towards the couch.

The doorbell rings, pulling your attention away from the kitchen. Ellie moves to stir the soup currently simmering in the pot, ignoring your warning look.

"Babe, did you order something?" You question, staring at the large plastic bag on your front porch. The logo didn't look familiar, her name is on the label when you squint.

"Oh, yeah! This wasn't supposed to come until next week." The package is snatched from your hands, a flash of pink and purple fly past you and down the hallway. Your two dogs manage to slip in the room just before the door slams shut.

"We're the only sane ones here bub." You turn back towards the kitchen, undressing the infant and placing him in his high chair. He babbles happily while you clean up the mess on the counter.

It's then that you notice the two cookies missing from the tray. Your wife and daughter's muffled giggles reach your ears.

"Ellie!"

———

"Okay oneeee more for Grandpa Joel."

"No more." Margo pouts "Papa has lots of pictures already."

The three of you wait impatiently as Ellie props her phone up against one of the steps on your front porch. She rushes back to where you stand as the timer counts down. Her hand reaches down to adjust the dog's dinosaur costume, the hood covering his eyes.

Theo sits happily in the wagon your wife had spent the last week turning into a little cage. His little green dinosaur costume just thick enough to keep him warm from the chilly weather.

You quickly make sure your pink button up is tucked properly into your shorts. Ellie gives you a grateful look when you push the hair out of her face. The two of you smiling just as the timer goes off, praying that the kids were looking.

Your wife had insisted on picking out the theme for Halloween this year. Knowing she had at least one year left before your already opinionated daughter decided she wanted to pick out her own halloween costume. With how busy you'd been at work you happily let her take charge.

And that's how you ended up wrangling a family of dinosaurs out the door.

"Let's go!"

You bite your lip when your daughter wobbles in her inflatable dinosaur costume, the head throwing her off balance. Her little hand reaches for Ellie's, dragging her down the driveway and out into the throng of people already out trick or treating. Pink plastic pumpkin swinging at her side.

The four of you make your way through the neighborhood, you and Ellie taking turns walking the kids up to knock on doors.

Like most four year olds, Margo gets tired after a couple of streets. Her plastic pumpkin now full of candy. Theo snoozes away in his wagon, checks rosy from the cold.

"Last house?" You point at the tiny craftsman at the end of the street.

Ellie gives you a thumbs up and follows after Margo as she hobbles up the path towards the front porch.

“Well aren’t you two the cutest.” The elderly woman sitting on one of the steps gushes. “Matching costumes!”

She reaches into the big yellow bowl, pulling out a full size candy that has the little girl’s tired eyes widening.

"A big candy! Thank you!" She clutches it in her tiny fist, rushing back to where you stood on the sidewalk.

The elderly woman laughs at the way her costume wobbles as she runs down. "Is that your family?" She asks pointing to where you stand.

"It is." Ellie smiles.

"They're so cute." She gushes, patting her arm. "You're very lucky."

Ellie watches you gently pry the melting chocolate from your daughter’s grasp, putting it in her overflowing bucket. Theo now perched on your hip, a big gummy smile on his face at the sound of his big sister’s voice as she bounces around dancing to the loud music coming from down the street. The two dogs swore she didn’t want sat at your sides.

Ellie’s heart warmed at the sight. Her smile widens.

"Yeah, I am."

—

"Margo's finally down." You sink down into the spot next to Ellie on the couch with a sigh. A hand reaches into the plastic bag on her lap where you'd dumped all the candy, digging around for the full size candy bar from earlier. Your wife searches for a movie to watch, clicking through multiple streaming apps.

"Told you we shouldn't have let her have that second lollipop before bed." She mumbles through a mouthful of chocolate. Her eyes glued to the tv. You stretch out on the couch, legs thrown over her lap.

"Nothing scary." You remind her. "Don't need you waking me up to walk you to the bathroom at 3 AM again."

"That was ONE time!" Ellie scoffs, but quickly exits the horror section. She sprawls out on top of you, her head resting on your chest.

“No cartoons either.” You press a quick kiss to her hair. “Get enough of that with the kids.”

You settle on Hocus Pocus after ten minutes of bickering only for the two of you to end up asleep only fifteen minutes into the movie.

[charliemwrites]

It’s been a minute - the last two weeks have been mind bogglingly stupid. But hopefully things are settling now? Idk anyway - consider this something to tide yall over until I can put out the Price/Reader/Simon fic

I am thinking about that threshold of dating when you get past all the prettiness. Like, when being human just becomes part of the relationship. It stops being carefully picked outfits, styled hair, nice perfume/cologne, careful bites of food.

I’m talking about the intimacy of stupid, stupid shit. I’m talking about the first time Krueger calls your name and you reply in a little gremlin voice “wHaT”.

I’m talking about Simon bringing home a treat for you and you do a weird little run, arms swinging and knees coming up too high, to get it from him.

Kyle staring in a mix of horror and fond exasperation as you quote, word for word and perfect intonation, your favorite bit from a YouTube video or tv show or comedy special.

Baffling Nikto by having a stupid ongoing bit that he doesn’t understand and you refuse to explain. Something like, “and I’m gonna eat your captain, of course”. What does that mean? You’re going to eat him?? “Yeah, with salt and butter. Nom nom.”

You pull that bit where you do shitty cosplays of characters. Johnny nearly pissed himself when you wandered into the kitchen covered in green paint with construction paper ears, mumbling in a little old man voice “consume cheez-its, I must, or rip Kenobi a new one, I will.”

Dancing badly, like not even cute badly, just BADLY in the kitchen or while you’re cleaning. It looks almost like you’re having a seizure really. Price is about two seconds from banning that “shake it” song by neon trees

Konig fears “Squirrel Girl” - his pretty little girlfriend disappears to be replaced with this creature that mutters about nesting and acorns and hibernating for winter.

Keegan just about died of embarrassment the first time you pretended his dick was microphone and leaned in close, saying “is this thing on? What’s the deal with airplane food?”

On that note - Gromsko didn’t realize having a pretty little stay at home wife like a traditional marriage meant his dick becomes fair game. She’s grabbin’ him like a handful of candies. When he asks why she points and says “that’s mine by law” and puts a bottle cap on it. “He’s got a hat now”. You make fantastic pies but you also keep asking to hold it while he pees.

You fuss at Velikan to hold still so you can preen in the visor of his helmet. You also put stickers on it and purposefully guilt trip him if he tries to remove it.

Oh and stealing clothes? Oh sure a t-shirt is hot. But their workout shorts? Their underwear or ugly military socks? Sooooo much better than the cute silk set you bought when you first started dating - for you, anyway.

I’m just so here for the weird intimacy of people moving past the aesthetic honeymoon phase of their relationship. Especially when it’s one of the guys who def hasn’t been in a comfortable long term relationship before (like konig or simon).

Same vibes as that time Robert Pattinson invited his stalker out to dinner and she lost interest because he simultaneously so weird but so boring. Not cute weird shit, just weird shit that you would never do in front of anyone else. Stupid, ugly faces and funky voices/impressions and cursed walking/running around.

[fiddleleafedfig]

@wolfstarmicrofic | April 23:rd Teacher AU | Also inspired by this incredible post | 971 words

“It’s because I’m gay.”

Dora’s words had echoed in his head for the better duration of two years.

Two years.

Jesus Christ.

It sounds more clear now that there isn’t an ever pressing haze of alcohol clouding his brain. But alas, he frankly can’t afford to be an alcoholic anymore. He wasn’t even that good at it. A bottle of wine every evening and Remus just turned into a weepier version of his otherwise quite bleak self and watched old rom-coms on tv until he fell asleep on the couch.

But an English teacher’s salary isn’t hefty enough to really support a proper addiction and Remus hadn’t ever been the type of person to steal a car or break into someone’s house just to fuel his habit. With his luck he’d get caught right away anyway.

“This can’t come as a surprise, Rem, we never even had an active sexlife.”

Sure, fine, maybe they hadn’t. But they had been married for years; university best friends turned adult lovers and confidants turned married at twenty five and divorced at thirty three.

The divorce had at least been simple, easy, just like anything else about their relationship. One second she was there, dying her hair in the tub and staining it all bubblegum pink — the next she was moving out and downloading lesbian dating apps.

Remus munches salad from his little packed lunch. He should be planning his classes whilst having lunch — he refuses to, he’d rather sit here all bent-backed and pretend that the salad actually tastes better, that he isn’t regretting moving across the country to get away from it all. That his new life isn’t sinking his mood just like the old one did.

There’s a knock on his classroom door.

Remus looks up from his sad salad. “Come in?”

The door, covered in prints of Shakespeare plays and old illustrations of Of Mice and Men and other English class classics, opens to reveal the knocker.

Sirius has his hair in a bun today, black strands tied back and into a scrunchy that could rival the cheekiest of cheerleaders’. Other than that he is in his usual all black attire, all except his rainbow colored lanyard which holds his keys and the miniature periodic table keyring.

Sirius smiles. It’s all gray eyes that look like they’re sparkling under the hideous fluorescents and can make even the toughest lunch lady blush.

“Hi Remus, is this a bad time?”

Remus tries to swallow the tightness in his throat.

He can’t really deal with Sirius popping by like this, he’s done it quite frequently since Remus’ first week.

“No, not really,” he says, trying to keep his hands from fiddling and his eyes from darting around the room. “What can I help you with?”

Sirius shrugs, careless and relaxed. “I was just wondering if I could borrow your stapler. Seems like mine’s wandered off.”

Sirius drives a motorbike to school.

Remus saw him get off it in the parking lot not too long ago. It felt like the world stood still or maybe moved in slow motion when Sirius removed his helmet and shook his hair out, kitted out in leather. Then his neck got all hot, for some god forsaken reason, and he had to go splash cold water on his face before facing his students in the first period.

So many of Sirius’ supplies have gone missing in the short time where they have worked together.

“Erhm… Yeah, sure— absolutely,” Remus stumbles through sentences as he stands to go fetch the stapler in the supply closet. He turns the little key and quickly looks over the closet, a bit too aware that Sirius is coming closer; if he isn’t misinterpreting the scuff of boots on the floor.

He grabs the stapler, turns around. “Here.”

Sirius is right behind him, right in front of him now. Looking up at Remus with his easy smile and rows of lovely black lashes and… and… and pink lips.

“Thanks, I’ll give it back as soon as I’m done, okay?”

“Yeah…”

Sirius leaves. Remus has to go sit down, he’s feeling dizzy.

“Are you even attracted to me, Rem? I mean— it’s fine if you aren’t. Maybe I’m not your type or something.”

There was always something hidden in Dora’s words, at least in those words. Remus hadn’t come any closer to figuring them out, not even two years later.

He just sits in his darkening apartment, playing those words over and over whilst watching-but-not-really-watching tv. He should really go over to Sirius’ classroom tomorrow. You know, just to make sure he remembers to give the stapler back. And it has absolutely nothing to do with what Dora said those years ago, nothing at all.

In the following morning, Remus dresses in his good shirt and wrestles with his hair for a touch longer than usual. Why? Don’t worry about it.

He goes into work with a determination and anxiety churning in his belly.

He walks up to Sirius’ classroom, a print of Neil deGrasse Tyson on the door, and knocks.

Deep breath.

Sirius opens the door. Light eyes and smiling lips and an overall undeniably beautiful face.

Stapler, that’s what he’s there for.

“Will you go out with me?”

What?! No!

Remus was supposed to ask about the stapler!

Fuck!

Sirius just looks back up at him, glittering eyes and widening smile. He doesn’t say anything.

Remus tries to backpedal. “The stapler — I really need my stapler, that’s what I meant.”

Sirius just smiles. “So I just missed the point two second window of going out with you?”

There’s cotton in Remus’ ears, ringing in his brain. “No— I mean… Wait— Did you want to go out with me?”

Sirius’ smile looks like it’s almost too big for his face. “I thought you’d never ask.”

[bloodorangesoup]

Kinktober '23 Day 2 - First Time (SVT Mingyu)

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Warnings: a lot of build up, first time (tbh i didn’t address this much 😭), a lil breast sucking, desperate reader, oral (f. receiving), riding, unprotected sex (lets pretend ur on the pill), slight praise, creampie, slight perv gyu but with respect and some tlc 😌

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: I can never just write a short story can I? Dammit. Anyways, pls send requests!

-

The rain pattering against the window muffled the busy streets. It was a Saturday in Seoul, meaning the traffic wouldn’t die down until late at night. The air outside was frigid and wet, but you found comfort inside, the heater turned up just enough to feel cozy without a blanket. 

“Yah, its kinda hot in here, isn’t it Gyu?” You pulled on the collar of your sweatshirt and turned your head to face him. He sat on the other end of the small couch, legs stretched and on your lap. 

“A bit I guess, do you want me to turn down the heater?” He questioned, head tilting against the top of the cushion. 

“No, no. That’s okay, it’ll just get cold if you do. I’m gonna go change really quick.” You gently pushed his legs off your lap, making his body turn straight. Mingyu sat up on the couch, sitting normally as he continued watching the show streaming on the TV. 

A few minutes passed, Mingyu felt stupid for feeling this way but he had already begun to miss your company. His fingers itched to have you back in his hold. Nights in were rare for you two, his schedule constantly requiring him to be everywhere at once. Most nights he had off he had somewhere new to be early in the morning, preventing any real quality time together. 

“Y/n-ahhhh,” Mingyu whined. "Where are youuuu?" His head fell back against the couch, feeling more impatient with each second. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” He heard your voice grow louder as you walked back towards the living room, your footsteps echoed down the hall as you approached. “Feeling impatient tonight huh?” Your voice was back in the room with him. He opened his eyes and lifted his head off the couch.

“Finally-” his comment was exaggerated but died in his throat once his gaze landed on you. He knew you were changing but he wasn’t expecting you to be wearing such, well, little amount of clothes. Your sweatshirt still hung off your body, but your sweatpants had been replaced by what Mingyu assumed to be the tiniest shorts to ever exist. The shorts covered your ass just enough, but the trim was loose and frilly, exposing the bottom of your cheeks when you walked. You were technically still pretty covered up, which is why you couldn’t understand why Mingyu was looking at you with such a stunned expression. He couldn’t help it. He didn’t understand either. Mingyu was a 26 year old man, he was no stranger to seeing a woman’s body. Yet the sight of seeing so much leg right in front of him ignited something in his brain. 

You sat back down to his right. Deciding to be a tease, you swung your legs over his lap, scooting closer to his side. Your arms rose to rest on his shoulders, your head falling against his chest as you looked back toward the TV. Mingyu’s right arm wrapped around your back to secure you. His left hand landed on your calf, rubbing up and down to your knee. You sighed, enjoying the contact, and Mingyu found it increasingly hard to concentrate on the plot of the show. His eyes looked down to your leg. He stared at your thighs and his hand slowly ran higher. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he felt you shift. 

“I still feel hot,” you huffed. 

“Why don’t you take off your sweatshirt, baby?” Mingyu rubbed your side. His curiosity piqued when you looked away embarrassed. It clicked in his brain, “Oh. Are you, like, not wearing anything under?” 

“No, I am. I just, I’m not wearing a bra,” your voice quiet at that last part. You continued to look everywhere but at him as you felt his thumb rub the skin on your thigh. “You know, I just- we just never...” You could feel the heat creep up your neck and to your face.

Mingyu wanted to make you feel comfortable, but there wasn’t any choice. He could already imagine what you looked like underneath the sweatshirt and it was sending heat down his body. He should have offered you his shirt, or gone to turn down the heater, but it was too late and he was already thinking with his other head. 

“I know,” he cooed. A slight pout formed on his lips, his eyes opening to feign innocence. “It’s okay, baby.” His right hand was now rubbing the bottom of your thigh, fingertips gracing the hem of your shorts. His other hand toyed with the bottom of your sweatshirt. “Take it off,” he whispered. Your eyes were glued to his as you nodded. Reaching down, you slowly lifted the sweatshirt off your torso. For a moment, it covered your head and your arms were raised to lift it off your shoulders. Mingyu sneaked a glance down and let out a groan at the sight. Your boobs sat beautifully in your top, the low hemline exposing your cleavage. You softly grunted as you tried to untangle your arms from the sleeves, breaking Mingyu from his trance. He helped you get it off and you let out a sigh from the exertion. 

The air was thick. Even though it was just you and Mingyu you felt a million eyes on your body. Mingyu cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away from your chest and looking up to meet your eyes. This was foreign territory for the two of you, but you had to admit that the way he was looking at you was turning you on. There was a hunger in his eyes and it was clear he was trying hard to fight it for your sake. He pulled you close, retaining the previous position you both held. His hand continued stroking your thigh and the urge to cup your ass was tearing him up inside. He had no idea what was going on in the show anymore despite his hard stare at the TV. His right hand slid up and down your waist, coming up higher every time until it was resting over your ribs, right under your boobs.

You let out a shaky breath. You didn’t know if you wanted him to stop the torture or to manhandle you like you knew he wanted to. You felt pressure under your thigh and it took a moment for it to register to you that he was growing hard under your legs. Mingyu’s fingers itched to take hold of your breast. To squeeze them and bury his face in between them. His grip on your thigh tightened and he bit his lip hard. 

He shook his head. 

“You should get off me, y/n.” He exhaled, his body attempting to slip from under yours. “We haven’t- I can’t control myself right now. Just sit next to me and gimme a minute.”

You grabbed hold of his bicep. 

“No.”

“No?” He looked at you incredulously. 

“No, yes, wait- just,” you shook your head. Before you could understand what you were doing you shuffled forward and straddled his lap. You held eye contact, testing the waters. He just looked back confused. The two of you had made out before, this wasn’t the first time you’ve ever sat on his lap like this. But never with your boobs pressed up against his chest like this, never with such little fabric separating your body from his. Slowly, you sat down, gasping when you felt his erection press up against your clothed cunt. 

Mingyu’s hands held your waist to steady you, or to press you harder against him. He didn’t know which course of action to take yet. You cupped his cheek with your hand and kissed him. As you leaned into the kiss your clit rubbed over his hard on and you moaned into his mouth. It was like something broke in you. All the waiting, all the desire, all the heat. You started moving back and forth grinding on him. He groaned into the kiss, his grip tightened on your waist in an attempt to stop your movements. Taking hold of the back of his hand, you intertwined your fingers and slid it up your body to cup your right breast. You squeezed over his hand, allowing him to feel you. Mingyu broke the kiss and rested his forehead against yours.

“What has gotten into you?” he panted. His mind was foggy. He didn’t want to stop but he wasn’t sure this was the right time for it to be the first time. 

“Please, Gyu,” you whined. A trail of kisses started at his cheek, moving its way down to his adam’s apple. You continued to press his hand against your chest and he could feel you take grasp of his other hand. He knew what was coming so he took hold of your wrist.

“Y/n-”

“Please, Gyu, please,” you continued grinding over his aching cock. He could feel the precum leaking in his boxers. 

“Y/n,” he said sternly this time. It caught your attention. You looked back up at him, eyes desperate. 

“I’m ready, Mingyu. Please, I don’t know what it is. I need you so bad. Just touch me. Please.” 

He stared at you for a moment waiting for you to take it back. To realize this was a mistake. But your breathing just got harder as you tried to move against him. 

“Okay, okay baby,” he whispered. He found his voice, “Come here.”

He pulled you in for a kiss, wasting no time to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues danced together sending a sensation down both your bodies. Now that you were both on the same page, you took hold of his other hand and moved it to your chest. This time he squeezed on his own accord, relishing in the feeling of your soft skin. His body took over, his hips jerking up to continue grinding against you. He could feel the heat radiating off your core, it made him dizzy.

Kissing down your jaw, he bit at your collar bones, leaving marks down the way. You leaned back, giving him access to your chest. He continued squeezing you, watching as he pushed your tits together and let them drop. Lowering his face to the valey of your breasts, he pushed them together again, losing himself in the feeling of your soft tits suffocating him. 

“Can I?” His fingers came to the neckline of your tank top.

“Please.”

He didn’t hesitate, pulling down your top and letting your breasts spill out over it. 

“Fuck, fuck baby” he muttered grabbing at your bare tits. His index fingers passed over your nipples and you gasped. He watched as they hardened under his touch. Mingyu squeezed your left breast, pushing your nipple up so he could take it into his mouth. He sucked on it feverishly, as if all this time this was exactly where he needed to be. He continued playing with your other breast, pinching your nipple and rolling it between his thumb and finger. He moaned as your hand raked through the hair at the nape of his neck. He released your nipple, moving to the other and giving it kitten licks. Reaching around you, his large hands gripped your ass, pushing you forward and pulling you back over his dick. 

“Ah, Gyu, I need you, please.” You gripped his hair, pulling him away from your tits. 

“Need what, baby?”

“Not now, Gyu. Please,” you whined.

“No, really. I need you to tell me what you need right now.” 

“I need you in me,” you pleaded.

“How do you want me?” He looked at you expectantly. You grew impatient. 

“Fuck, Gyu. Just, take your clothes off. Please.” You got off him quickly, discarding your tank top and pulling down your shorts.Then you stopped. Mingyu threw off his shirt. Before he could take off his shorts he noticed your change in demeanor. You looked nervous, a stark contrast from the you that was just humping him like you were in heat. 

“Baby, you okay?” His eyes grew concerned. You fidgeted. 

“Yeah, yeah. I just-”

“We can stop if you want.” He reassured.

“No, Gyu. I just-”

“Don’t think that we have to keep going just cause we-”

“Mingyu, stop.” He fell silent. “I just, you’ve never seen me naked before. We’ve never done this before. I’ve never done this before. I’m just kinda nervous.”

“And you’re sure you want to keep going?” 

You scoff, “Mingyu, did you see how I was like a minute ago?” He laughed. 

“Fine, fine. Come here.” He reached for your hands, pulling you towards him. 

You stood directly in front of him now. He was at the edge of the couch, his chin rested against your stomach as he looked up at you. His hands snaked up your thighs, sliding over your ass and resting on your hips. 

“Can I take these off, pretty?”

You let out a shaky breath and nodded. Hooking his fingers over the waistband, he slowly dragged down your panties. It felt like time was still as he kissed down your legs. His hand carefully lifted your feet to step out of the garment, tossing it to the side. His lips rose to your stomach, kissing around your belly button and pulling a giggle from you. His hands squeezed your ass and he continued leaving kisses further down until he was right above your pussy. His hand ran down your left thigh, lifting it until it rested on his shoulder. His hand moved toward your inner thigh, closer to your core until he could slide his thumb through your folds. He groaned at the feeling. You were so wet. Your breath caught in your throat, staying there until he leaned forward and licked a stripe from your pussy to your clit. You let out a deep moan, reeling from this new feeling. Mingyu felt like he was drunk, he couldn’t get enough of the taste. His hand spread you open as he went in, licking up and down, only interrupted when he would stop to suck on your clit, loving the way you moaned when he would stay there. A finger prodded at your entrance. He slowly pushed it into you, kissing your clit. He kept his finger buried inside you, curling it towards himself and rubbing the ribbed flesh. You gripped his shoulders for stability, jumping as his long fingers hit a spot you had never been able to. 

You backed away from him. His head lifted up, worried he may have gone too far. 

“Are you okay?” his eyes searched for any signs of discomfort. 

You held his face. 

“I’m fucking amazing but right now I need you in me. I can’t wait anymore.” Your hands reached for the waistband of his shorts, pulling his boxers down with them as he lifted his hips. Your eyebrows lifted for a moment, taking in his naked form. Fuck, he is gorgeous. You finally looked down and your mouth fell open. Fuck, he’s big. 

“Like what you see?” His cockiness took you by surprise, a switch from his previous sweetness. 

“Shut up, Kim,” you retorted, pushing his chest. He fell back against the couch, his arms coming up to rest upon the top of the cushions. You held onto his shoulders, positioning your legs on either side of him. You moaned together as his cock came in contact with your pussy, your wetness spreading over him. You slid yourself back and forth over him, preparing yourself for what was to come. He had had enough. 

Mingyu lifted you up, positioning himself at your entrance and pulled you down, slowly filling you up. You hissed at the stretch, face scrunching as you tried to take him. He had a strong grip on your hips, not wanting you to move too quickly and hurt yourself. He felt your pussy squeeze him the whole way down. Even as he was worried for you, he couldn’t deny how fucking good you felt. With a sigh, he bottomed out in you. 

“Feel alright, baby?” Mingyu stroked your cheek. The sweetness back in his face as he studied yours. 

“It’s tight,” you hissed. Mingyu’s eyebrows furrowed. You kissed in between them. “It feels good, I just need a sec to adjust.” 

“Yeah, of course, baby, anything you need.” He continued to study you, wanting to make your first time as comfortable as he possibly could. His hands rubbed up and down your back, soothing you through the pain. After a moment you lifted yourself up, feeling empty as his cock pulled out of you. Slowly, you let your body slide back down somewhere halfway before lifting yourself up once again. The repetition of emptiness to fullness turned from pain to pleasure as you began to focus on the feeling of him sliding through you. You bounced directly over him and felt strangely mechanical. You huffed out a breath of frustration, needing more but not knowing exactly what. 

“Baby,” Mingyu lifted you out of your thoughts. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you muttered bashfully. With anyone else you would feel embarrassed, but Mingyu looked at you with such care and adoration you couldn't possibly feel that way with him. 

He let out a small chuckle, “Try this.” His hands guided your hips up and towards him as he pulled your back down. He continued to move you in this rotation, noting the way you moaned every time your clit rubbed against his pelvis. 

“Fuck, Gyu, that feels so good.” You were a mess on top of him. Your body taking control as your mind processed these new sensations. Your back arched when he hit a particularly deep spot and Mingyu took it as an opportunity to keep playing with your tits. He sucked a nipple into his mouth as you used him, your tits bouncing in his face. Mingyu’s mind was running a million miles a minute, he rested his forehead against your chest, your boobs bouncing on either side of his head. He had been wrong earlier, this is exactly where he needed to be. 

“God, y/n,” he huffed out, “you’re so tight. Fuck you’re doing so good for me. Driving me crazy.” he shook his head against your chest, trying to hold out. 

“Ungh, Mingyu” you barely got out in between moans, addicted to the feeling of him filling you up. 

He looked up at you and held your face, bringing you down into a kiss. It was sweet, giving you both a moment of reprieve from the intensity of the night. Mingyu pressed his cheek against yours, whispering in your ear.

“Doing so good, baby. Making me feel so good. Keep going, princess. Make yourself come all over me.” His hands were roaming all over your body, taking in how nice it felt to have you on top of him. 

“Min- agh, fuck. Mingyu I’m so close. I can’t,” you struggled. You were close but you couldn’t quite push yourself there. Sensing you were overworked, he lifted your hands from his chest and wrapped your arms around his neck in an embrace. 

“I got you, baby, don’t worry. Just hold on, I’ll take care of you. I’ll make sure you come.” His breaths were ragged. His arms reached around your waist to hold you as he began thrusting up into you. You moaned as he moved even faster than you had been previously. You could only hold onto him as he hammered into you, your body convulsing as it reached its peak. 

“I’m gonna come Mingyu, mmmhm, I can’t hold it in,” you were panting in his ear. 

“Let it go baby, fuck, come all over my cock.” He was struggling to keep himself together. Your pleasure being the only motivation for him to hold his own orgasm back.

With a snap of his hips your body jerked as the pleasure took over. Your mind went blank, only being able to feel pleasure rolling through your body. Moans escaped your mouth as your head fell forward on Mingyu’s shoulder. Your pussy was buzzing, pulsating from your orgasm and tensing from Mingyu’s continued thrusts. Your walls fluttered and squeezed him, the final straw that made the burning heat building in Mingyu’s abdomen release. He stilled as his orgasm took over, his balls clenching when you started bouncing on top of him again, riding out his high. He moaned out your name, cursing under his breath. 

Lifting your head from his shoulder, you looked into his eyes, glossed over and fucked. His hand rubbed your back. 

“You did so good, baby. ‘M so proud of you,” he pouted. You giggled at his dramatics.

Pressing a soft kiss to his lips you sighed, “Thank you, Gyu.” You smiled at him. “We should get cleaned up now huh?” You looked down at your bodies, a sheen of sweat covering the both of you. His gaze followed yours, looking at your connected bodies. 

“Yeah, we should. But let's stay here for a bit.” His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a hug against him, “I don’t wanna leave you yet.” 

You nuzzled your head against his, listening to his steadying breath and the rain against the window.

A/N: Thank you for reading this far! I am taking requests so much sure to check my kinktober masterlist for some inspo!

[celli-ohs]

hubba hubba!

part two of accidentally in love! series frat boy!yeonjun x stubborn!reader; college!au, one-sided love to lovers! comedy/crack, fluff, angst, smut

ATTENTION: reply/comment for taglist!

6. sex candle (written chapter 2k)

It’s almost routine, Yeonjun thinks as he lights the vanilla-scented candle in the kitchen. The laundry is in the basket, the bathroom is wiped down and smells of roses, the couch is clean pillows fluffed, and an old episode of Community is playing on the TV. Everything was perfect. “Oh god, are you inviting a girl over?” Beomgyu’s crass tone ruins the moment. Yeonjun cocks a brow at him, looking annoyed. “I mean you’ve got your stupid sex candle out and the bathroom smells like a garden.” The younger one points. “Y/n is coming over,” Yeonjun explains. “You’ve got her into your trap already? The poor girl has only known you for three days!” Yeonjun shakes his head. “No, she’s coming over for our assignment. And I’m trying to make our place comfortable for her.” 

Beomgyu sighed and flopped onto the couch. “Hey! I just cleaned that, aren’t you going out?” Yeonjun asks, fixing the pillows again. “I was, but Jeongin had to cancel. So I’m gonna hang here.” Beomgyu says as he switches from Netflix to Hulu. Yeonjun grimaces. Of course, with his luck, Beomgyu would be here. “Hey, is she here yet? I’m kinda hungry.” Kai asks as he emerges from his room. As Yeonjun shakes his head, the youngest of the three roommates dives into the fridge, emerging with string cheese. “Why’re you lighting your sex candle?” Kai nods to the counter, and Beomgyu laughs. “Told you!” Yeonjun bites back an insult when there’s a knock at the front door. He races to the door, knocking Beomgyu who’d gotten up, back into his seat.

Yeonjun swiftly swings open the door and flashes his trademark smile. “Hey, welcome,” He greets you. You look up at him, eyes wide and lips so kissable. Yeonjun felt his heartbeat begin to speed up. “Hey. I brought fabric and food.” You lift up both arms, each one a grocery bag hangs from. “Food?!” Beomgyu sticks his head through the door frame and for the first time since you two have met, Yeonjun sees you smile. “Beomgyu! Hey!” You walk in as Yeonjun steps to the side. “I didn’t know you’d be home, are you our model?” You talk to Beomgyu as if you two were old friends. “Nah, that’s Kai, but what’d you bring?” He refers to the bag of food you’d picked up on your way here. “Fried chicken,” You walk over to the kitchen counter and place the bag down. 

“Woah,” You grimace. “That candle is strong.” Yeonjun closes the front door and skips over to you. “It’s vanilla,” He smiles. “Yeah, I can tell, I’m not a big fan of vanilla, sorry.” You look more disgusted than interested. (Yeonjun immediately blows the candle out). “Hi Y/n!” Kai waves at you from the little dining table. “Hey Kai, thanks for agreeing to model,” You give the youngest a side hug, which he happily accepts. “No problem! Thanks for the chicken,” he chimes. “You okay if we eat first Yeonjun?” You finally address him, your partner. “Yeah, no worries, I’m kinda hungry anyway.” He mutters. He had no idea you were so close with his friends. He watches from the counter as you make a plate for Kai, and then Beomgyu, chatting with them like you’ve known them your whole life. 

Then suddenly you hand him a plate. “Huh?” He blinks, so lost in thought he hadn’t heard a word you’d said. “Your food? I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I kinda gave you a bit of everything.” You respond, and suddenly Yeonjun’s heart bursts. If there’s one way to get Yeonjun to fall madly in love, it's food. (As if he wasn’t already in love with you.) “Thank you so much,” He smiles shyly, taking the plate giddily back to the table. “God you’re so weird.” Beomgyu pretends to vomit, earning a glare from Yeonjun. You finally make your own plate and sit between Yeonjun and Kai, and everyone digs in. “So,” Yeonjun finally asks after a few bites. “You guys all know each other?” He tries not to act suspiciously. You nod, swallowing your food. “Heeseung taught Y/n how to play League, so sometimes she joins us,” Beomgyu answers. 

“Sometimes as in once every three months,” You scoff. “Kai and I sometimes hang out during parties.” You nod to the youngest one, who is busy eating to his heart’s content. He can't believe that there were so many opportunities the two of you could have met sooner. (He has an inkling of a feeling Beomgyu has been gatekeeping you from him.) “Oh, cool,” He tries his best to not sound agitated. After everyone finishes their food, Beomgyu offers to wash the dishes so you and Yeonjun can begin working. “I’ll take Kai’s measurements if you want to go over the fabrics I chose.” You say, taking out your measuring tape from your bag. Yeonjun does as he’s told, overlooking the various cuts of fabric you’d stuff into the grocery bag. He’s so busy trying to figure out which would work best he doesn’t realize you and Kai are giggling in the living room. 

“Okay seriously, stop laughing, I have to do this correctly.” You warn Kai, though the smile on your face says otherwise. “Sorry, you just make this weird face when you concentrate.” He hums. You roll your eyes and jot down Kai’s waist before going behind him and measuring his shoulders. “Woah,” You suddenly stop. “What’s up?” Both of the men in the room look at you curiously. “Kai, you’ve got a really nice physique.” You suddenly compliment and Kai’s ears begin to burn red. “O-Oh thank you-” “Your shoulders are so broad, and your biceps.” You suddenly lift his arm up, forcing him to flex as you admire his body. “Have you ever considered modeling? Like legit?” Kai’s whole face is red now, and he can’t seem to keep eye contact with you. 

“No,” He whispers, shaking his head. “Well, you should.” You tell him, finally stepping back and scribbling the last of Kai’s measurements. Yeonjun steals your attention by clearing his throat. “Can I get your opinion on this Y/n?” He asks. “Just do whatever you think is best.” You tell him, walking over. “Well, I still want your opinion, this is your project too.” He teases. “I’m stuck between these two, which do you think leaves more of an impression?” He refers to the two fabrics, one Oxford cloth, and the other pinpoint. As you’re busy silently contemplating, Yeonjun realizes how much he enjoys your expressions. The pout on your lips as you're deep in thought, the way your brows furrow together. He can tell your brain is moving at 100 miles per hour.

“What if we used both? The colors compliment each other, and there’s something I’ve been wanting to try,” You sound unsure as you dig around your bag, pulling out a sketchbook. “I’m not that good at drawing like you, but hopefully you get the idea.” You flip to a certain page, pointing out a sketch. It’s a rough one, Yeonjun will admit, but he can clearly see what you mean. “I think the contrast in material and color will work nicely, plus it’d work well with your faux corset design.” You add. “This is great! I love it!” Yeonjun grins widely at you, not able to hide his happiness. He notices the tinge of pink on your cheeks as you smile shyly. “Thanks,” You mutter, turning away to hide your face. “We should start with the template,” You clear your throat. Yeonjun only chuckles, finding your shyness adorable.

“What do you think?” You ask as you and Yeonjun stand side by side across the living room as Kai stiffly models for the both of you. “Well for starters, Kai you’ll never book a gig if you don’t have some fluidity.” He pokes fun. You giggle as Kai slumps. “But I really like it, I think maybe we drop the line here deeper though, to create that illusion of a cinched waist.” Yeonjun walks up and points out the problem area to you. “Right, I think I also want to make the placket one whole color and not blend into the design, so it breaks up the shape.” You also walk over, picking at the shirt. “Other than that I don’t have any complaints.” You and Yeonjun agree. “What do you think Kai?” Yeonjun asks. The boy looks at the mirror (Yeonjun had brought it out from his room) and inspects himself. “I like it.” He says simply. 

“Good.” You hum, collapsing on the couch. Beomgyu re-emerges from his room, after having disappeared for the past five hours after washing the dishes. “Finished? Good. I wanna watch TV.” He lightly shoves you to the side. You roll your eyes, before getting up again to begin cleaning up. “I can revise the design and send it to you later, did you want to borrow my sewing machine?” Yeonjun offers you. You glance at the machine on the dining table. It’s a bit older but it got the job done just fine. “I just thought since I can’t sew, you’d want to keep it for now.” He says as Kai gently folds the shirt up. “Yeah, if you’re okay with that.” You nod. “I don’t mind at all.” Yeonjun sends you a soft smile that has your stomach twisting, but you blame your hunger instead.

There’s a knock at the door and Kai goes to open it as you and Yeonjun finish cleaning up. “Oh hi Heeseung,” The mention of your friend’s name has you sitting up. “Hi, is Y/n here?” He asks, and you can see his head peeking in. “Here!” You stand up, just as Kai lets him in. “Hey, man,” Beomgyu smirks. The two were probably just playing a round of League before this. “Heeseung, hey. What’re you doing here?” Yeonjun gives a wave. You don’t notice the uneasiness in his eyes. “Just picking up Y/n again,” He laughs awkwardly. “Seung dropped me off,” You explain, picking up the heavy sewing machine. As if automatic, Yeonjun grabs the other handle with his free hand. “I got it, finish packing your stuff.” He assures you. 

You give him a grateful smile before letting go to add the rest of your stuff into your bag. “Did you see Jeongin’s message?” Beomgyu and Heeseung are already in deep conversation as you double-check all your items. “All packed up?” Heeseung finally asks. “Yeah, I’m ready.” You tell him, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “Here Yeonjun, I can-” “I got it.” Yeonjun swings the sewing machine away from Heeseung’s hand. The air feels stiff. “Uh, let me know if you need me to try on the shirt again later,” Kai awkwardly clears his throat. “Yeah, yeah I will.” You give him a pained smile, stepping out first. “See you Heeseung Y/n,” Beomgyu waves goodbye. “I’ll walk you two out,” Yeonjun decides, following you both down the stairs with the sewing machine. 

The walk to the car is silent, and not the good kind. When you three reach Heeseung’s beat-up Honda Civic, he pops the trunk for Yeonjun to load the machine. “Thanks,” Yeonjun only shakes his head. You three stand there uncomfortably, waiting for someone to say something, anything. “How are the plans for rush?” Heeseung tries to start a conversation. “Oh, they’re going good. There’s gonna be a huge rager Saturday night,” Yeonjun suddenly turns to you. “You’ll be there, right?” You blink, not expecting the conversation to be turned to you. His eyes are intense as he stares as if he is trying hard to read your mind. “Uh- Yeah, I will.” You nod, not knowing how to respond to the attention. “Good. I’ll see you there then,” Yeonjun looks pleased with himself, walking slowly backward back to his apartment.

As you and Heeseung get into the car, you finally let out a breath of relief, one you had no idea you were hiding. Heeseung immediately giggles, hiding his grin behind his hands like a schoolgirl. Your response is to glare, but that doesn’t scare your roommate. “You like him! And he likes you!” He squeals, and you have to physically stop yourself from slapping that smile off his face. “Can we just go home, I’m starving,” You sigh, turning away. “Okay, okay,” Heeseung’s giggles finally subside. “But let me tell the others real quick-” Heeseung never got to send that message, because the next thing he knew you’d lunged at him.

Bonus:

Y/n doesn't drive, so Heeseung is her personal chauffeur (she forces him)

Jollibee chicken is the best change my mind you can't

Every time Yeonjun has a girl over he lights the vanilla bean candle from bath and body works

All the workers know him as the vanilla bean guy

Beomgyu was supposed to hang out with Jeongin, who was going to introduce him to his famous friends (more on that in Beomgyu's series hehe)

Yeonjun was definitely not jealous that Y/n said Kai had a nice body, and he definitely did not go to the gym and disobey the doctor's orders

previous | next

hubba hubba! masterlist

taglist (open): @justandloyal2961 @hoonatic

[xspeter]

TIME AFTER TIME

chapter two ❣︎ cause i’ve got a blank space, baby (and i’ll write your name)

so, hey, let’s be friends

i’m dyin’ to see how this one ends

❧ warnings: none!

❧ wc: 4.9k

❧ Note: yayyy chapter two is here! don’t have much to say about this one… just that i’m happy she’s here! this one covers chapter two and half of three of the og book as well! and let me know if anyone wants a tag list! i’d also really really love to see your guys feedback on the chapters !

❧ masterlist

♥︎

The rain was a light drizzle by the time you reached Steve’s house. You pulled your hood over your head and prayed Steve wouldn’t be an asshole for once in his life and would open the door on time.

You didn’t know how, but everytime you knocked on his door he always made sure to leave you hanging for longer than necessary. How he knew it was you, you weren’t sure.

You knock hastily, and then instantly shove your hands back in your pockets. It was nearing the end of february, but there was still an obvious chill in the air.

You're expecting to have to knock again, and groan and go to do so, but the door opens swiftly and a smiling Mrs. Harrington is standing in front of you.

You didn’t know Steve’s parents too well, but every time you saw them (which was rare) they seemed to be good people.

“Oh, Hi, Mrs. Harrington!”

Her smile grows, “Y/N! I haven’t seen you in years! You’ve grown so much..” She glances at your reddening cheeks, a direct result of the cold. “Oh, come on, come inside!”

You let her pull you in, a shiver running up your spine as she slams the front door shut. “Steve’s in the living room. I’m assuming he’s what you’re here for right?”

You nod, your eyes darting across the house to soak in as much of it as possible.

You'd only been inside once before, when you’d gotten a bad scrape on your knee and Steve’s nanny had to bandage you up. Back then, you’d been too concerned with the pain to even glance around. But now, you can’t help but notice the odd.. coldness to it. There aren’t many family pictures, honestly you didn’t know if there were any at all.

“You’ve got a lovely home.” You murmured.

Mrs. Harrington smiles gratefully, her hands coming up to clench at her heart. “Oh you’re too kind.” She leans in closer to you, “honestly, i’ve told Steve a hundred times he needs to get with a nice girl like you. He just never listens.” She huffs.

You nearly snort but hold back. Steve’s mom wanted him to get with a girl like you? That’s gold. You’d be teasing him about this for the rest of his life.

“Hey, mom, who was at the door-” You spin on your heel to look at him, and you watch as his forehead wrinkles in confusion. “What’re you doing here?”

The tone he says it with makes you roll your eyes. You cross your arms over your chest, “I have a proposition for you.”

He scoffs, “A proposition?”

“Yep.”

Mrs. Harrington glances between the two of you before softly excusing herself. You watch her go, and then shift your attention right back to Steve.

“Let’s talk in the living room.”

Kate & Leopold was playing on one of those retro tv channels that only old people watched, and you couldn’t help but grin as Meg Ryan’s character attempted to evade the charm of a very British and very handsome Hugh Jackman. “Oh, I love this movie!”

“Of course you do.” He gave you a grin that made your stomach churn, a grin that made it seem like he knew things about you that even you didn’t. “What's your.. proposition, or whatever?”

Your cheeks flushed as you realized just what you wanted to ask him. Why would Steve help you? Who’s to say he won’t instantly go running to Jonathon and exposing you? You took a breath, sat on the couch, and said, “Okay. I need your help.”

He started smiling immediately, but you quickly shut it down by shoving a hand in his face, “I know you wouldn’t do something like that out of the goodness of your heart. So I have an offer for you.”

He pretended to grab his heart, shirt scrunching as he did, “Wow, like i’m some mercenary or something. That hurts.”

“No it doesn’t.”

He smirked, “No, it really doesn’t.”

“Look,” You forced yourself to not pretend like this had all been a prank and run with your tail between your legs, “Before I tell you what I need help with, I want to go over the terms of the deal.”

He crossed his arms - when had his chest gotten so wide? - and tilted his head, “Go on.”

“Okay.” You took a deep breath and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, “First and foremost, you have to swear to secrecy. If you tell a single soul about this it is void and you do not get payment. Second, if you agree, you actually have to fulfill your part. You can’t just do little and then blow me off.”

You paused, and he looked at you through narrowed eyes, “Well? What’s the payment?”

“The payment will be full twenty-four/seven access to the parking spot for the duration of our deal.”

“Whoa.” He walked over and plopped into the chair in front of you. “You will give me the parking spot?”

You didn’t want to. At all. But you knew how badly he wanted it, and if he was anything like you, he’d do anything to get it. “That’s correct.”

His smile went big, “I’m in. I’m doing it. I’m your guy.”

“You don’t even know what the deal is.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“What if… I want you to run completely butt naked through the halls during lunch?”

“Done.”

You grabbed the throw blanket at the end of the couch and threw it over your body, “What if I ask you to cartwheel naked through the halls during lunch while singing Madonna?”

“Easy. I love like a virgin.”

“Actually?” That made you smile, even though you weren’t used to smiling at Steve of all people. “But can you even do a cartwheel?”

“Uh, duh.”

“Prove it.”

He groaned, “You’re so high maintenance.” He stood, shoved the coffee table out of the way, and did the worst cartwheel you'd ever seen in your life. His legs were all bent and his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth, but still, he landed it like a gymnast. He gave you a confident smile before plopping right back down, “Now tell me.”

You coughed out a laugh you were trying to hold in and searched his face. You were looking for honesty, or really anything. But you were sidetracked by how dark his eyes were. They weren’t dark like Jonathon’s, they were almost lighter. More honey-like than anything. You thought of the time in seventh grade when he’d given you six dollars to stop crying.

Your dad and his new wife, Monica, had just gotten married a couple weeks before, and they’d decided to remodel the main level of the house. To prepare, Monica had cleaned out the closets and drawers and donated all of the old stuff. Including your moms VHS tapes.

When you had an emotional breakdown over it and your dad explained it to Monica, she’d felt so bad. She kept apologizing the whole time you sobbed. But all you could focus on was what Monica had said to your dad. “I just didn’t think anybody watched those cheesy movies.”

You were resourceful as a kid - still were in all honesty (exhibit A, your current situation at Steve’s house) - and all it took was a phone book and a phone call for you to find out where they’d ended up. You’d snuck out under the premise of seeing Robin, and ridden your bike all the way to the thrift store.

You had every penny of your babysitting money saved up, but when you got there it still wasn’t enough. “We’re selling this as a collection kid, you can’t buy them individually.”

You stared at the price tag, and still, you were six dollars short. The jerk at the store was unyielding and you’d cried all the way home. It felt like you were losing your mom all over again.

When you were almost home, you saw Steve outside bouncing a basketball in his driveway.

“Hey,” he tossed the ball into the grass as soon as he saw you, “What’s wrong?”

You remember not wanting to tell him because you knew he’d think it was ridiculous, but there was something in the way he looked at you that made you break down all over again. Through sobs you explained your situation to him, and instead of laughing like you’d expected him too, he listened. And once your sobs had been replaced with tiny hiccups, he reached forward and wiped your tears with his thumbs. “Don’t cry, Y/N.” He looked sad when he said it, like he wanted to cry too. Then he said, “Wait here.”

He turned and ran into his house, and you stood there - exhausted from crying and shocked by his niceness - and waited for him to come back.

When he did, he’d happily handed you a ten dollar bill. You remember looking up at him and thinking he had the kindest brown eyes, but your thoughts must’ve shown because he immediately scowled and said, “This is just to shut you up ‘cause I can’t stand listening to you bawl for another minute. And I want my change.”

Your mind jerked back to Steve’s living room. Jonathon. The spot. Needing his help.

“I swear on everything holy that I will hire a hitman if you blab about this.”

He sighed, “I very much believe you.”

You had to look at something other than his face, and your eyes shifted to his lap. Which you immediately regretted once you saw the gray sweats he was wearing. So instead, they just made purchase on the spot above his head.

“So, you know Jonathon’s back in town. And I was kinda hoping you’d.. touch base with him. We were close before he moved away, and I want that back again.”

“And I can help you with that how?”

You kept your eyes glued to the wall, “Well, I don’t have any classes with him, so there’s no way for me to talk to him naturally. But you and Jon are already friends. You hang out. You invited him to that party.” You gestured with your hands, “You’ve got the connection I want.”

He pursed his lips and shifted in his seat, “So you’ve still got the hots for Byers, and you want me to take you to the party so you can get him to like you. Am I picking up what you’re putting down?”

You considered lying for a moment, before you conceded and said, “Yeah, basically.”

His jaw clenched, “I heard he’s interested in Nancy.”

God, did everyone now about that? Personal vendetta aside, Nancy Wheeler was totally wrong for a guy like Jonathon. In fact, nudging him to fall in love with you would be doing him a favor by saving him from that.

“Don’t you worry about that.”

An eyebrow went up, “How scandalous of you.”

“Shut up.”

He smiled, “You can’t think going to a party is gonna make him notice you. There’s already gonna be a ton of people there - and i’m willing to bet Nancy shows too.”

An obvious shiver went down your spine at the mention of her being there and you shifted in your seat. “I only need a few minutes.”

“Pretty confident aren’t you?”

“I am.” You had a script ready. “I have a plan.”

He scoffed, “Your plan sucks.”

You tucked your legs underneath yourself, “And how would you know that?”

“Because i’ve known you practically your whole life. Your plan involves some “coincidental” meeting,” He put air quotes above the worse coincidental, “an entire books worth of silly ideas, and someone riding off into the sunset.”

He was nearly right on the money. “You’re way off base.”

He rolled his eyes at you, clearly not believing a word you said.

You sighed, “So…?”

Steve looked way too pleased with himself, “So…?”

“Oh my god, you’re torturing me on purpose. Are you going to help me or not?”

He sucked his teeth and pretended to think, “You know, I’m just not sure if The Spot is worth it.”

You scoffed, “Worth what? Allowing me to be in your presence for a few hours? You’ll barely notice I'm there!”

“What if i’m trying to hit it off with someone?” He retorted, “You being there might throw me off my game.”

You resisted an eye roll, “Trust me, King Steve won’t be thrown off his game by little ol’ me.” You batted your eyelashes innocently, and a scowled formed on his face at the mention of his nickname. “Don’t talk about my game, you perv.”

You groaned, “Are you going to say yes or what? Cause if not i’d like to be going.”

He smirked and kicked his feet up onto the table, “I do love watching you make the walk of shame from around the block, so I guess I'll drag you along.”

🝮

“Y/N.”

You glanced up from your math homework to see Robin climbing through your window, with Barb and her freshman buddy, Max. Robin had discovered years ago if you climbed the roof of the playhouse in your backyard you’d just be able to reach the roof and slide your bedroom window open.

“Hey guys,” You cracked your back and turned around in your desk chair, surprised to see them. “What’s up?”

“Me and Barb just got done with a planning meeting for the senior prank, and we ran into Max on our way out. Her curfews not for..” She glanced down at her watch, “another twenty minutes. So we’re just killing time.”

You hummed, turning back to continue your homework as the three of them plopped onto your bed, “It was basically, like, thirty people jammed into a Burger King saying things they thought were funny. Which they usually weren’t.” Barb snorted and Robin giggled with her.

Max shrugged, “I liked that one kids idea you guys were telling me about. The one that said screw it and just do something terrible.”

Robin groaned and covered her face with her hands, “He said it was ironically funny because it was so not funny and that it'll never be forgotten.”

Barb nodded, “He’s kinda right.”

Robin sighed, “You should’ve been there, Y/N.” She said. You prepared yourself for what came next, a lecture about how you were only seniors once. She was good at those.

But when you finally look up at her, she’s already moved on and started a totally different conversation. You can’t help but feel a tad bit grateful.

Robin walked over to your closet and sifted through it, “Where’s the red plaid dress?”

“It’s buffalo plaid, and it’s on the other side.” You pointed and said, “With the causal shirts.”

“I knew the layout, but I would’ve pictured it with the other dresses.”

“Too causal.”

“Of course.” She snorted and draped the dress over her arm, “So what’d you do tonight? Just homework?”

You blinked like a deer in headlights. But Barb and Max weren’t even paying attention, so you cleared your throat and muttered a quick, “Pretty much.”

Robin hummed and came over to you and began playing with your hair, “Why is only like.. the bottom half curled? Is this a new fashion statement or something?”

You’re reminded of your journey to Steve’s house and how the bottoms of your hair had been nearly drenched by the rain. “No, I just got caught in the rain after school.” A half-lie.

She smiled, “Maybe it should rain everyday.”

“Yeah.” You pictured Steve’s cartwheel and resisted the urge to roll your eyes, “Right.”

🝮

It was nearing seven thirty with still no sign of Steve. You tapped your fingers against the finding table anxiously, legs crossed over each other.

“Why don’t you just walk over to his house?” Monica suggests, craning her neck to see you from her spot in the kitchen. She’s washing the dishes while your dad stands besides her to dry them.

Your dad hums in agreement, “It’s just Steve. I doubt he’d care.”

“In all honesty,” Monica smirked, bumping your dads hip with her own, “Your tapping is driving your dad absolutely crazy and he thinks your date might’ve forgotten you.”

“It’s not a date.”

Your dad ignored your comment, “Actually, I just think Steve Harrington is capable of anything.”

Your dad and Monica began doing their bantering thing back and forth, and you had to fight back an eye roll.

They’d met in a stuck elevator, totally cliche, exactly one year after your mother had died. They’d been in there for two hours. One of your favorite tropes was forced proximity, but you liked to exclude them from that.

It was strange that they had the perfect meet-cute and seemed made for each other, because her and your mother could not be any less similar.

Your mom was sweet, a modern version of Doris Day. She was all baking and fresh cut daisies from her garden. She was the sweetest woman you’d ever known.

Monica was different. She was, I’m-too-good-for-rom-coms, and let’s-go-out-for-dinner and just nothing like the woman you cried for every night.

You glanced outside, no sign of Steve. He was nearing twenty minutes late and hadn’t even bothered to call.

Honestly he was probably already at the party dancing it out with Jonathon as he and Nancy Wheeler gazed longingly at each other from across the room. She probably waltzed over to him all sexy-like and grabbed his arm to drag him upstairs. The thought made you feel sick.

Your dad asked, “You’ll be home at midnight?”

“Yep.”

“Not a second later, got it?” He looked more serious then you usually ever saw him and said, “Nothing good happens after midnight.”

“I know, I know.” You sighed, “I’ll call if-“

“No, you won’t.” He gave a shake of his head and pointed at you, “You will just not be late. Understand?”

Monica groaned half-heartedly and squeezed his bicep, her hand leaving a slight wet mark, “Relax, she gets it!” You both shared a look of understanding, and she easily shifts his attention to something you don’t pay any mind to.

Your dad was always tense when it came to curfew, and you’d always known it’d been because of what happened to your mom. And the only time you’d ever dared to push back he’d just said: If your mom hadn’t been out at midnight, that drunk driver wouldn’t have hit her.

And, well, he was right. So you never said anything about it again.

You practically jump up at the sight of headlights pulling into your driveway, and you’re quick to attempt to give a hasty goodbye and scurry away, but your dad stops you with a look. “I want him to come inside first. He doesn’t get to take my daughter on a date without talking to me.”

You wanted to scream. “It’s not a date!”

Your dad ignored your comment, “Bring him inside.”

So, very hesitantly, you walked outside to a waiting Steve. He was quietly bopping his head to whatever song was playing on the radio, and he instantly stopped once he spotted you. He reached forward and simultaneously turned the radio down while also rolling down the window.

“Hey,” He said, giving you a tight lipped smile. You smiled back, elbows resting on the window cill. He looked confused, “Aren’t you getting in the car?”

You bit your lip, unable to make eye contact. Would he find it weird your dad wanted to talk to him? What if he thought this was some elaborate scheme to date him? Because in all honesty, that was the farthest thing from the truth.

“Um,” You took a breath, “My dad wants you to come inside.”

An eyebrow went up, and his lips parted for a second. Shock flashed across his face, but he was quick to replace it with indifference. “Uh, yeah.” He slapped his knees, “That’s fine.”

You watched with a grateful smile as he stepped out of his car, it shifting a little with the loss of his weight. You both approached the door, you honestly thought you might be more nervous then he is.

“Sorry if this is weird,” you breathed out, placing a hand on the knob. “I tried to explain it wasn’t a date and he just would not listen-”

Steve tsked, hands shoved into his pockets. “Don’t worry about it, your dad loves me anyway.”

You side-eyed him, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “I’m not too sure about that one..”

His eyes went wide, “What are you talking about?”

You just shrugged and opened the door, watching with an amused smile as Steve nervously made eye contact with your father.

“Hello, Mr. L/N.” He said. He sounded way too serious, and it almost made you chuckle. Key word being almost.

Your dad narrowed his eyes at him, “Steve.”

Steve swallowed, adam's apple bobbing as he did. You made eye contact with a smirking Monica, both of you trying (but nearly failing) at holding back your eye rolls.

Your dad gestured to the dining room table, “Have a seat, son.”

Steve glanced at you, palms becoming sweaty. He wouldn’t say your dad was intimidating, no, he was more so just scary. And if there was anything Steve was sure of, it was that your dad would go to the ends of the earth before he let anything happen to you.

He remembers this one time back in the fourth grade, just a couple months before your mom died, and Carol Perkins had been picking on you.

Steve noticed it, but he just thought they were teasing, not full on bullying. No, he didn’t know that until he saw your dad storm into the elementary school lobby with a crying you in his arms. He’d yelled at the principal so loud people could hear it from across the hall. Talk about protective.

He sat at the table hesitantly across from your dad, leg bouncing as he stared anywhere but your dads face.

“What’re your…” Your dad glanced at you, “plans with my daughter?”

You scoffed, “You’re acting like we’re gonna go do drugs or something.”

Your dad glared at you, effectively shutting you up, but not without a few irritated grumbles from you. He nodded at Steve, silently telling him to answer.

Steve took a breath and straightened his shoulders, “I’m taking her to the party, which will be alcohol free by the way, and we’ll be back by midnight.” He swallowed and then threw in a sir.

Your dad leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, “And who will be at this party?”

“Kids from school. It’s mostly just people in our grade. Uh, Jonathon will be there as well, Sir.”

They stared at each other for what you were sure was months, and you were starting to get antsy. Every second spent here was a second Nancy could be using to get closer to Jonathon.

“Um, this was really great and all,” you took a cautious step closer to Steve, slowly pulling him up from the seat, “But we really need to get going!” You practically dragged Steve across the dining room to the front door, hastily saying your goodbyes.

You opened the door, you were nearly outside, but of course, your dad stopped you. “Steve!” He yelled.

Steve paused, and craned his head to look at him. “Sir?”

There was a pause, and then, “If anything happens to her tonight, me and you will be having a long talk.” Could tonight get any more embarrassing for you?

Steve didn’t say anything, instead he just nodded solemnly.

“Okay, whatever, bye!” You huffed.

You slammed the door shut, finally able to take a breath. “God, he’s annoying.” You groaned.

Steve was silent, arms crossed as he stared at the ground. “No, he’s not.” He mumbled so quietly you could barely hear it.

“Uh, yeah, he is. Like it’s just a party, he’s so dramatic.”

Steve didn’t say anything, he just sniffed and walked to his car, not even sparing you a glance. You furrowed your brows. Why was he suddenly acting like this?

“What’s your problem?” You asked as you followed him.

“Just get in the car.”

You did as he said, silently sitting and shutting the door. You knew he’d be pissed if you slammed it, and seeing as he was suddenly in no joking mood, you didn’t.

The car ride was silent apart from the quiet stereo, and it made you uncomfortable. You and Steve didn’t like each other, sure, but you were never silent with each other. You always had some snotty thing to say to start some petty argument.

“Are you.. are you okay?” You asked hesitantly.

Steve didn’t say anything for a moment, knuckles nearly white as he gripped the wheel, “I’m peachy.”

He didn’t sound peachy.

“Look, if it was something I said, or-”

“You didn’t say anything, okay? Let’s just get to the party so you and Jonathon can.. I don’t know, make out or whatever.”

You scoffed, “There will be no making out. Not yet, anyway.” You mumbled the last part, silently smirking to yourself.

Steve scrunched his nose, “Ew, gross, please keep that to yourself.”

You just snorted, spending the rest of the car ride annoying Steve to the best of your ability. Whatever had bothered him before seemed to be forgotten about, and you were happy about it.

“Okay, we’re here.”

You looked around at the drunken teenagers outside, all of them making anything but good decisions. There was a keg stand with a bunch of boys from the football team high fiving each other, one of them you recognized as Billy Hargrove. What a total douche.

Next to them were multiple couples showing way too much PDA, and by PDA you mean practically grinding on each other.

You gave Steve a look, but he just smirked and pushed you out of his car.

You barely made it to two steps out before there was a wolf whistle sounding from beside you, and it didn’t take a genius to know who it was.

“Well, don’t you look nice.” Billy said, voice as smooth as honey. (If the honey had been grounded in a meat grinder and then dipped in glass.)

You glanced down at your dress. You’d gone with a red one to accentuate your features, hoping Jonathon would be impressed.

“Uh, thanks?”

Billy grinned, hand on his hip as he waltzed over to you. “That dress s’real nice, but…” he leaned closer into your ear, breath minty with a strong odor of alcohol, “it’d look better on the floor, don’t you think?”

You gasped, jaw hanging open at his crude comment. “You’re such a pervert!” You glanced to Steve, “Besides i’m… seeing someone.” You winced, and you hoped it sounded more convincing then you thought.

Billy laughed, actually laughed, and looked over at Steve.

He’d already gone up the porch and was talking to his friend, so he didn’t see the situation with Billy. But once he heard Billy’s sultry laugh, he turned and his eyebrows furrowed when he saw you.

He bid his friend goodbye and came over to you. “Is he bothering you?” He asked, chest puffed out as he tried to intimidate Billy.

Billy smirked, “Sorry, man. I wasn’t aware you two were.. a thing.”

Steve looked stunned for a moment, but quickly played it off. “Well, we are. So i’d really appreciate it if you’d back up.”

Billy put two hands up and did as he was told, “No need to get hostile,” He licked his bottom lip, “Jus’ let me know if you ever feel like sharin’.”

You scoffed and Steve just rolled his eyes, effectively pulling you away and to somewhere more secluded. “You okay?” He asked.

You nodded, but couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. “He’s gonna tell everyone we’re dating, Steve.”

Steve just shrugged, “So? We deny it.”

It was then that a thought came to you. Jonathon didn’t know anything about you anymore. Even if it hurt to admit, it was true. Which meant he wouldn’t know how good of a girlfriend you could be.

So, wouldn’t it be a good idea to show him? If you could show him that you were better then Nancy, then he’d obviously be drawn to you and want to date you. The only problem? Steve.

“What if…” You swallowed, “what if we didn’t?”

“I’m not following.”

“What if we let everyone think we’re dating? Then Jonathon would see how great of a girlfriend I could be. And Nancy, who I know you still have a thing for, will see that you’re a great boyfriend.”

Steve’s eyes widened a bit at the mention of Nancy. He didn’t know you knew about his crush on the girl. “I don’t like Nancy.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Okay, maybe I do.”

You swallowed, “If you do this for me, I'll let you have The Spot all the way up until prom.”

Steve’s eyebrows went up. This offer was too good to be true. Get The Spot, get Nancy, all just by pretending to date you?

How hard could it be?

“I’ll do it.”

♥︎

[sunlightmurdock]

My Future In You | 2.2 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Bradley’s twenty-two years old and not where he’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to be out of the academy by now. Instead, he’s retaking his senior year of college and praying to god that he gets into flight school. Mav’s gone, his mom’s gone. He’s mad at the world. Then, a hook up at a Halloween party changes his future even more than he could have imagined.

Warnings: accidental pregnancy, references to abortion in a few chapters, angst, will be fluff eventually, enemies to lovers kinda thing, requited love but they’re idiots your honour, smut, pinv, unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy / birth complications

…

A little past 1am, legs stretched out ahead of you, draped across Bradley’s legs. Some old straight to TV movie playing, giggling like a couple of teenagers. Bradley loudly voices his complaint as he picks up a m&m that had been thrown at his forehead.

He’s in just a pair of shorts, his hair dry now and his curls a little shorter than normal. Navy regulations. You kind of miss the length that he used to have on the back and sides, but this look suits him too.

“I’m just saying, you’re the one who fucked my roommate.” You shrug, mock-nonchalantly, and pretend to focus back on the movie in front of you. It’s some dumb story of a small town cowboy.

In the mood for dramatics tonight, Bradley throws his head back and groans.

“Before I even met you!” He chides, sitting forwards and snatching the candy from you before you have opportunity to turn any more of them into projectiles.

“Then you texted her after you’d already knocked me up.” You remind him, playfully calm.

“Ah, ah — She texted me, it’s not like I would’ve fucked her again — and let’s not forget that you had a whole boyfriend until you were in your second trimester.” Bradley points out.

“And stop saying knocked up. Makes me feel weird.” Grumbling like a discontented teenager, Bradley nudges your leg with his so that you have to look at his face and see his little frown.

All of that seems so far away now. Ryan. Your roommates, who you’ll probably never see again. Christmas with your family. You’ve barely even thought about it all since you got here.

“I’m sorry, Bradley — how should I be phrasing it?” You tease.

His lips tug at the corners, threatening to disrupt his dramatic frown and disarm his little act. A small shrug of those broad, tanned shoulders.

“All those couples at the parenting class keep saying ‘when we found out we were expecting’. That works.”

“Mm, but when I found out I was expecting I cried for three days and when you found out you implied that I was a whore and offered me money. Our story doesn’t really sound like theirs’.” You remind him. He presses his lips together in a line. That feels so far away now too.

He remembers the anger he felt towards you back then, which is a complicated thing in itself. He remembers why, and how — and everything about that first week, actually. He remembers being so furious at you for making that choice without him. A complete stranger, complicating his future when he had just stepped out of his complicated past.

The anger still makes sense to him. He doesn’t feel it anymore, he isn’t proud of the way he acted, but he can look back now and know that it was all just fear.

Going from being a scared little boy and looking after a sick mother, to being an adult and having nothing to care for but himself, to then meeting you. It hadn’t felt fair to have that all stripped away before he had started it.

But now, when he thinks of this living room being empty, or that small room being an office instead of a nursery, it makes this all seem so much more bleak.

The movie credits roll, leaving you even more confused about what the plot was supposed to be. Bradley sits up and pushes himself onto his knees, then parts your legs for him to dip between. You’re sighing softly now, contented as he presses his lips to yours.

“I don’t think you’re a whore,” He mumbles against your mouth, making you chuckle softly against him. “And I’m glad that I knocked you up, for the record.”

Another soft chuckle. He presses his lips warmly to your skin. Cheeks, jaw. A gentle tour of your face.

“You are?”

“Yeah, you’re hot pregnant,” Bradley beams at you, earning himself another little laugh. “And — y’know, I’m excited for the kid too.”

Looking up at him, your fingers circle over his smooth, freckled shoulders. A few moments of silence pass between the two of you before a commercial comes on and disturbs the bliss.

“Time to put the baby to bed, don’t you think?” He asks. You glance down at your swollen stomach and back up at your new boyfriend. Smiling at him, you give a defiant shake of your head.

“We aren’t tired.” You decide.

A soft groan and he cups your belly in his hands, feeling soft fluttering kicks to unfortunately support your claims. Smile growing into an embarrassingly amused beam, you watch Bradley as he pushes your shirt up and peppers kisses across your stomach.

“Tell him to give his old man a break, some of us have to be up in a couple hours,” Bradley murmurs into your skin, earning himself an applause of his new favourite sound. He looks up grinning at your laughter. “What?”

“You, being somebody’s old man,” A quick scrunch of your nose and a shake of your head, laughter still bubbling through you. “Weird to think about.”

His cheeks redden like the tops of his ears, then he grins. Sitting back on his heels, his hands slide along your stomach to rest at the very bottom. Again, he feels a soft little kick against his palm.

“Y’know, I think he’s nocturnal. I barely felt him this morning and now he’s wide awake.” You explain.

Another shrug, smiling as he leans down and kisses your stomach once more. “Wanted to stay up and watch a movie with his folks.” Bradley muses, making you smile. Absentmindedly, you card your fingers through his fluffy, air-dried curls. His lips press warmly to the underside of your belly, “No harm in that.”

Fingers trailing from his auburn curls, down over the tanned muscles in his shoulders as he peppers kisses across your stomach.

“He’s got you wrapped around his finger already. Old man.” You tease, nudging at his leg with your foot. He chuckles softly, cool breath tickling your skin. Another kiss, then he looks up at you.

“Me? — Mama’s the one letting him stay up late.” Bradley prods, sitting up and bringing his mouth to yours once more. The kiss is slow, lazy, his hand cupping your hip. When he leans over you now, your stomach always bumps into his middle. He’s going to miss it when it isn’t there anymore.

Turning his head, he presses his face into your neck and nips softly at your skin. You hum, keening towards the feeling. It becomes growingly tender, lips replacing teeth, tongue soothing over the warm spots left behind.

Finally, he sits back up and kisses your lips chastely. “Will you come to bed with me?”

“You can go ahead, I won’t wake you up.” You promise.

“I know, but I like falling asleep with you.” He squeezes softly at your hips, remembering to be gentle with your sore joints these days. He sits forwards and kisses your mouth again, then again after that. It doesn’t take a genius to realize that he isn’t going to stop until you agree.

Pushing against his bare chest, he sits back on his heels and raises his eyebrows at you.

“Fine…” You huff, extending your arms for him. Slipping his hands into yours, he’s on his feat with an annoying level of ease that you can no longer manage. He tugs you up with him.

“I’ll lock up.” Ducking around you and kissing your neck, he leaves you with a gentle pat on the ass and then moves to make sure all of the doors and windows are locked and that the lights are off. You pad along the hallway to your shared bedroom and peel your shirt over your head.

Over the past month, you seem to have really popped. The kid is really making himself known in there. Enough so, that you’re well into the stage now of wearing exclusively maternity clothes or stretching out Bradley’s old gym clothes. Tonight, given the lingering heat, you opt for an old basketball shirt that Bradley hasn’t fit into since high school. Before he grew a foot and lost eighty pounds in his junior year.

It’s not huge on you at this stage of your pregnancy, but gives you the reprieve of a waistband pressing into your stomach.

Bradley’s chest hits your back before you even feel him approaching, turning his face into the crook of your neck, almost knocking you over with his weight.

His hands skim under the shirt and up over your stomach, making an all-too-familiar beeline for your breasts. He groans softly into your skin, growing half-hard against your back.

“Mm-mm,” You’re smiling and shaking your head at him all at once. “You need to go to bed, remember?”

“Fuck,” He breathes out, eyes closed, soft skin under his palms. If he pressed any harder into your back, he would knock you onto your front. “I do.”

Your palm slips between the two of you, reaching back to cup him over his shorts, stroking just loosely over the length of his hardening cock.

“Would be pretty difficult to sleep with that, though.”

“You’re such a tease.” He mumbles into your neck, kneading softly at your breasts. He rolls his hips forwards slightly, using your hand for friction on his increasingly hard cock.

“Are you flying tomorrow?” Your head falls back to rest against his shoulder, his lips sucking softly at the curve of your neck. His realization courses through him like relief, you can practically feel it.

His head shakes quickly. “In a classroom all day.”

Your palm squeezes softly around the tent in his shorts, a quiet hum, mock consideration, leaving your lips. His hands push at the shirt, slowly dragging it up your middle and tugging it over your head.

His eyes feel heavy on you, hands trailing featherlight along your sides. Bradley reached out slowly, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder as he takes hold of the band in your hair. He’s especially gentle as he takes it down and turns his face towards your hair.

Illuminated by the soft light of the bedside table, Bradley’s becoming increasingly gentle with you — each time that you’ve slept with him recently, you can feel that he’s being more careful than he would normally be. He knows that you’re sore and more tired than you would normally be, but he never once declines the opportunity to have you.

Today is no exception as he turns you towards him, palms skimming along your back, squeezing at your ass as he holds you against him. Laying you down slowly on your shared bed, he notices your lips quirk softly as he covers your body with his.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You give a small shake of your head and lift to kiss him, still smiling when you pull back. He squints at you, studying the amusement on your features. It just makes you want to smile, is all. Him being so wordlessly soft; knowingly gentle. It doesn’t take a conversation or a warning. He knows your limits.

He knows you so well these days. The kind of shampoo or deodorant to pick up. Exactly which spots to press his fingers harder into when he’s giving you a foot rub. Exactly how to make you scowl at him and melt into his arms moments later when he’s being annoying. Your chest heaves with a particularly deep breath.

Bradley’s lips are on your chest, his hands skimming along your thighs, kneading at the flesh.

“Tell me you want me.” It’s a pant, really, just breathless. He rocks himself against your core, sitting back on his knees and squeezing at your hips. He takes that plush, pink bottom lip between his teeth and just stares down at you with the prettiest mahogany coloured eyes you’ve ever seen.

Teasing at an almost smile, you bite the inside of your cheek to contain it. A soft shake of your head and he smiles back at you. You glance down, watching him palm over the tent in his shorts. Finally, you meet his gaze once more. “I don’t think your ego can handle being any bigger than it already is.”

“It can take a little more,” Bradley hums. He exhales, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he watches his ring and index fingers dip through your folds, gathering your excitement on the digits. “Tell me you want me.”

You do. So badly that it makes you hot. Makes your muscles go tense. Makes your chest tighten.

“I want you,” It’s an admission that you never would’ve given him months ago, weeks ago even. There’s a lot about you now isn’t the same as it was a few months ago. It’s right on the tip of your tongue. I love you. It’s insane — terrifying, actually. You swallow and stick to what you know, “I want you.”

It would slip so effortlessly off of your tongue. When he’s buried into you, breathing hard into your ear, your face buried into the curve of his neck and god — he still smells exactly like him, now mixed with your body wash that he’s adamant he doesn’t steal. So natural, just another breathless, meaningless exhale in the middle of sex.

“You feel so good,” Bradley groans out, his thick fingers sliding along the nape of your neck and up into your hair. He curls them into your roots and flexes his fist just softly. Just the right amount of tug, a gentle pull that has you moaning against his jugular. “Fuck, baby… you…”

He turns his head, lips grazing your jaw and working lazily along to your lips. When he gets there, finally, it feels like your heart is going to explode out of your chest. He kisses you slowly, his tongue in your mouth and his hand in your hair. In your shared bed.

The mattress is softer here and he never wakes up with a sore neck because of the shitty pillows. Sometimes he wakes up with a sore neck because of how his body is wound around yours, but he doesn’t mind that as much. Moaning into his mouth as he fucks into you slowly.

“You’re so fucking hot.”

A breath catches in your throat and you aren’t sure whether it’ll turn into a laugh or a cry. Ultimately, it settles into a soft moan, your breath tickling his earlobe and making him shiver. Then, it becomes a laugh. He sits back on his knees to get a good look at that grin on your face.

Stretching out his shoulders, he guides your thighs over the tops of his. He gives them a soft squeeze and slows down a little, giving a breathless nod. “I mean it. You’re so fucking perfect, just like this.”

He wets his lips with his tongue, eyes trailing ever so slowly along your body, rocking his hips forwards tenderly. Briefly, you think that he’s going to say it. It doesn’t happen. Just more expletives, shallow breaths, eager grunts. More kisses, his hands on your skin.

After, when you’re settled into his old basketball shirt, under your sheets, and he is wrapped around your body from behind, his big palm sprawled out over your stomach — you’re okay with it. The silent knowledge that he must be on the same page.

The next morning, he has to be up before the sun is even halfway risen. He’s growing proficient at doing it without waking you. Showering silently and dressing in the bathroom, laying his clothes out the night before. It always makes you stir when he slips back into the room and leaves you with a chaste kiss on the lips, and a soft peck at the top of your rounded stomach. Still, you’re okay with that too.

You squirm a little, laying back against that perpetually uncomfortable plastic-leather mix exam chair. The gel is a lot more uncomfortable when you’re still hot from the mid-day Florida heat than it had been on those snowy mornings back in Virginia. Still, it’s all routine by this point. The cold jelly on your stomach, comfy pants that can easily be pushed down a little, warm sweater to combat the always high air conditioning.

You’re missing the part of your routine that has always made you comfiest: Jake sitting outside in the waiting room. He’s states away, Bradley’s stuck in work, you’re all on your own. It’s just a routine check up — just to check if he’s breach. You’ve been telling yourself that all morning. It hasn’t stopped you from sitting on the carpeted floor of his nursery and staring at his crib, still in the box.

Your heart swells at the idea of meeting him. You’ve been picturing him a lot recently. Your nose, Bradley’s lips. Soft morning cuddles, sleepless nights, constant diaper changes — it’s easy enough to tell yourself that you’re ready, it’s just more of a complicated thing to be certain that you are. Even if you’re not ready, he’ll be here in a few short weeks. You need to remind Bradley to pick up screws for his crib.

The doctor’s brows knit together, she adjusts her glasses and wiggles the wand a little bit, then looks back to you. “Hm, have you been experiencing reduced movement at all, Miss Seresin?”

The question throws you. Blinking at her, chilled from the whir of the air conditioning, you shake your head. Your throat squeezes. “No, not at all. He was kicking a lot last night.”

Both of you look back to the screen. He’s moving now. Little legs just kicking softly in that familiar black and white hue. A quick glance across, you stare at your sweater on the chair where Bradley should be sitting. It’s too cold in here. You’re not sure if you’re allowed to move to get the sweater.

“Hm,” She nods her head slowly. Her face is calm enough, her tone doesn’t give you any clues. The thought that crosses your mind hits you like a speeding semi. Blunt force, speeding — out of left field. Six and a half months of no contact and all of a sudden, sitting alone in this exam room, too cold, you want your Mom.

It’s clear that you’re panicking, and the doctor continues with as much caution as she can. She speaks to you like she’s trying to soothe a crying child, but it isn’t patronising. Her neatly groomed brows raise at you, “Any fatigue, bleeding, stomach pains?”

“I’ve been tired, I guess.” You squeak. She softens, reaching out and placing her hand into yours. Your throat tightens. “Is he okay?”

“Yes, he’s just looking a little bit smaller than we would have expected for this stage in the pregnancy,” Your heart sinks, and the side of the exam table suddenly feels especially empty without Bradley there. The doctor continues on as comfortingly as she can. “I’d just like to run a few tests while you’re here — just to make sure that we’re prepared to make the end of your pregnancy as safe and comfortable as possible.”

As she turns and leaves you trapped in that little grey room with the closed blinds, shutting out any semblance of sunlight, all that you can think about is the first appointment that Bradley ever came to with you. Everything going on back then and how badly you had wanted him to not even show up. How confusingly nice it had felt to have him holding your hand through it. Your head falls back against the exam chair and your eyes burn with tears.

You leave the office with a pamphlet on fetal growth restriction, potential causes and side-effects. It might not be that, she tells you, some babies are just smaller and that’s just fine. They just want to keep a close eye on you these last few weeks. Early delivery is a possibility.

You’re dialing the number out of pure instinct. Flowing tears, running to Mommy — there’s a natural link there. Some kind of hardwired impulse, probably. Chest heaving, blinking back searingly hot tears, you listen to it ring and ring. It’s just a Wednesday morning, maybe she’s at the office. It just keeps on ringing.

Bradley frowns as he listens to the busy dial tone, pulling back and checking his phone. You’d promised to call him when you got out of the appointment. He checks down at his watch. Maybe Jake got a couple of minutes to call you. He has to be back in class. He texts you that he’ll catch you at home and turns.

If his mind were clearer, he might have noticed the stare on him as he turned. The familiar blue eyes, blown wide open. Maverick pales at the sight of the boy at the end of the hallway. Familiar sandy brown curls, a brief look at Bradley’s face. The mustache he had been trying to grow when Mav saw him last has grown in now. Maverick swallows.

He hasn’t seen this kid in almost two years. Not a single phone call or text. He hadn’t even known where Bradley was living after he moved out of the house in Norfolk. And now he’s here, standing at the end of a hallway in a random Navy base that Mav wasn’t even supposed to be at this week. Dressed in his khakis, he’s a kind of familiar that makes Pete Mitchell’s stomach churn.

“Bradley?”

…

@chaoticweirdogeek @alanadetigy @itsmytimetoodream @oldnatgwenaccount @khaylin27 @bioodforbiood @luckyladycreator2 @mizzzpink @cherrycola27 @unordinare @shanimallina87 @marvel-f1-and-more @heli991113 @pauv-0414 @ghxst-heart @momc95 @asteria33 @lilyevanswhore @diamond-3 @galaxy-moon @jostyriggslover96 @forgiveliv @shawnsblue @little-wiseone @lovemesomevesey @alm334 @averyhotchner @diorrfairy @thedroneranger @batdanceq @wkndwlff @littlemissobsessedwitholdermen @sunflowerziva @cassiemitchell @himbos-on-ice @bradshawseresinbabe @damrlovq @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @slutfordw

[nevernonline]

✧.* he's all that; lsm mini series

✧.*synopsis: every year the kappa sorority hosted a 'hot or not' greek life pageant show. you've luckily escaped having to bring your own "nottie" to give a makeover to and train in hopes of winning a big prize for the rest of your crew. but, just when you thought your lucky streak was going strong your name get's chosen as a representative and your sisters had just the guy for you to make over.

part of my seventeen movie series. 

paring: seokmin x reader (y/n uses she/her pronouns.) 

genre/s: fluff, strangers2lvrs, neighbors2lvrs or whatever.  

warning/s: alcohol mentions, swearing, cigarette mentions, swearing, some pg-13 jokes. no funny business iykyk. lots of mean girls (rip)

word count: 4.2k

note: im notorious atp for not editing, pls. this edition of nmm is inspired by a true classic she's all that (w/ a bit of greek the tv show/sydney white energy if any of u have ever seen ALSO classics, this was supposed to be one part, BUT! I feel myself getting so carried away so … three parts.) i was going to post my gwag update today but im gonna wait till either tomorrow or Tuesday <3.

beginning ▸ middle ▸ end.

Y/n was dreading the meeting she walked through the front doors of the sorority for this afternoon, the pageant. Kappa and all the other sororities on Greek row participated in what they call ‘Hot or Not’ every year since supposedly the 1980’s something her now head sister Heather claims was started by the legacy that was her mother. Which maybe was true, but y/n could never figure out why it mattered? And while it was fun it was a little bit old school.

“Hey, girls. Everyone settled in? We have a very exciting tradition here at Kappa as you may know.”

The cheers rang through the sitting room, with its white walls, pale pink carpets, and sherpa couches, the cheers and claps of girls hoping Heather draws their name from the glass bowl with her perfectly manicured finger tips.

“Yes. It’s so exciting, we have a few new faces so since you haven’t been a part of this week in past years we left you out of the bowl, but we will have many things for you to participate in this week. Like dine and dash, our famous Good as Gold party, and of course judging the competition at the end of the week. Before we get to the drawing, I wanted to congratulate our last year's winner, Suni. Give it up for her.”

Smiling, y/n clapped along with the other girls, giving Suni her flowers. About to step out behind the two french doors to grab a water or something to drink, when you hear Heather call your name loudly. All of your other sisters and friends spinning around watching her looking like she was attempting to escape the reality of her name being the one chosen after three years of getting out of it.

“y/n! Finally, Come back here, girly.”

Walking through the clapping crown y/n took her place next to the blonde and pretended to smile with excitement as her gut was telling her it was absolutely the worst day of her life.

The only reason y/n was in this sorority was to get extra college credits, that and Heather and her mother met here and have been friends since that very day. Heather was obsessed with being a legacy and clawing her way to the top of the food chain at the university. Y/n was just there for the ride.

“Everyone, you all obviously know my very good friend and our smartest sister, y/n. I personally have been waiting for the day she got chosen out of this bowl. It’s something our moms, co-vp’s of their 1980’s class of Kappas have been talking about for years. So I’m just as excited as I’m sure y/n is to be our guiding light to another victory this year. Anything to say, y/n?”

“Uh, not really, you said it all.”

Another big fake smile appeared on her face. Laughing and giggling at all the congratulations coming her way.

“Girls, before we enjoy our lunch. Don’t forget tonight is dine and dash, please find your dates and bring them to Carol’s Diner at 8pm. See you there.”

Checking the time on your phone you had roughly 45 minutes before your lecture and enough time to take off the gaudy Kappa logo’d sweater you had to put on for what Heather calls “official business.”

“Y/n what are you checking the time for? We have a lot to do today.”

“I have a class in 40 minutes, I have to go back and change.”

“I don’t get why you won't just move back in here with us?”

“I told you, Heather. I can't. I have to focus on getting into Med School and no offense to you or the other girls, but this isn’t exactly the best place for me to focus when I have to study.”

“Med School can wait just one day right? We have to set up the table at Carol’s and set up for the party later. Would you mind going with the new girl Sam to grab the alcohol? And then you can meet me back here and we will go to the diner together. I’m going to have the girls go out and look for some Nottie’s for you today before that whale from Delta picks them all up. “

“No, but-”

“Thank you! Love you!”

“Also her name is not Sam, It’s Soyeon.”

“Okay got it, toodleoo.”

Searching the house for the person and so called new girl, Sam you stumbled upon her sitting out on the back patio writing in her journal.

“Soyeon?”

“Oh, hey y/n.

“Hey, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, you didn’t. I’m just so used to everyone calling me Sam I forget people know that it’s actually not.”

“Yeah, it took Heather a whole year to not call Suni, Sunny and everyone just kind of follows her suit.”

“I thought you had class? I didn’t know you were still here.”

“I do. It’s just a lecture on the importance of mammograms and breast cancer research so, I guess it’s okay. I can just find it somewhere online.”

“Ready to head out?”

“Would you hate me if we stopped at my dorm? I cannot wear this fucking sweater for more than an hour or I may spontaneously combust.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to be seen with you in public while you’re wearing that.”

“I appreciate your honesty.”

“You should.”

Y/n and Soyeon escaped the general excitement of the rest of the girls by escaping out the outdoor gate and walked viciously together to change the heinous sweater on y/n’s back.

Turning the corner to finally reach the hall her single dorm room lived at the end of, she ran into a tall boy who’s books scattered all across the floor, a boy she had never once run into literally and physically.

“I'm so sorry.”

“No, no I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“You’re y/n right?”

“Yes? Why?”

“Oh, no. Nothing like that. I live across the hall from you. I see your name tag on your door all the time and all the photos of you from all your friends. Which now that I’m talking makes me sound like even more of a weirdo? I’m sorry. I’m Seokmin, my friends call me DK or Dokyeom , whatever. And now I’m rambling, please stop me.”

“No, you’re okay. Can we at least just get off the floor now?”

“Yes.”

Seokmin or Dokyeom whatever his real name actually is, crawled off the floor and stuck his hand out to you for assistance pulling your pink colored body off the floor.

“This is my friend, Soyeon.”

“Sorority sisters?”

“Wait. How’d you know? Oh, fuck the sweater. Don’t tell anyone you saw me wearing this, I know where you live.”

“Don’t worry, I never will. But, sorry to uh, cut this meeting short I have to get to class. I’ll see you again, I’m sure. Bye, nice meeting you y/n. And you too, Soyeon.”

“Bye.”

In unison you and Soyeon watched the tall boy walk towards the elevators. Both of you have differing expressions of looks on your face, one of pure enjoyment watching the awkward interaction and one of pure dumbfoundedness.

“He’s cute.”

Soyeon brought you out of staring at the boy walking away and stepping into the elevator, throwing his fingers up waving goodbye while clutching his mounds of books in his hands.

“What?”

“I said he’s cute and he’s your neighbor. Lucky girl.”

“Oh. Yeah, I can’t believe I’ve never met him before.”

“Why don’t you ask him out?”

“We just met. Plus, I’m busy with school and now this stupid pageant. I don’t have time for cute boys.”

“I’m sure you can make it work.”

Unlocking your door and letting Soyeon in before you so you can sneak a peek at his front door in front of yours. Plain, just a few funny messages and cute stickers of tangerines and tigers pasted on his whiteboard. Maybe he already has a girlfriend? But a boy like that with that many books is probably much like you and had no time for dating.

“Wait. Y/N your room is so nice? Maybe I should move out of the house. It’s loud as fuck anyway.”

“Why are you in the sorority? I’m not judging because I was basically dragged into it too. I’m just curious?”

“My mom always wanted me to join. She said it’s a good way to find friends, I always had a hard time making them. So I figured why not?”

“Got it. Makes sense.”

“What about you? You also don’t serve sorority girl to me.”

“Because my mom also got me to join, that’s actually how I know Heather. Our moms were co-captains of the sorority at some point in the 80’s.”

“Oh, so you’ve known her your whole life?”

“Mhm.”

“No offense or anything, but she’s… kind of a bitch.”

“Kind of? It’s only gotten worse since she’s been in charge. She was okay when we were younger, but you know.”

Slipping out of your jeans and sweater, you threw on a black pair of pleated pants and a loose white button down.

“Also you have tattoos and a sick body, stop dressing like an old woman.”

“I could never pull off what you wear? You’re so cool and confident.”

“Promise me. One party this year you’ll let me pick out something to wear?”

“Okay.”

“You’re very trusting.”

“What? You’re going to make me wear a hot pink dress and try to dye my hair blonde too?”

“Hell no.”

“Exactly.”

Hours passed on as you were getting to know Soyeon more, a part of you realized what you had been missing meeting girls outside of your own circle at school.

People who share your interests and enjoy talking about things other than clothes, shoes, and boys.

It was actually the least stressed you’ve been around someone at the sorority in a long time. Almost like a breath of fresh air.

Getting out of the Uber you took filled to the brim with alcohol and snacks, you were back at the big White House at the end of the street. Not a flaw in sight. Almost like it wasn’t a real reality.

“Should we ditch the diner? We could always go see my friend play at the bar across campus instead?”

“I would love nothing more, but Heather will have my head shaved or something.”

“Okay, well when we ditch later we can head there.”

“It’s a date.”

“Ew, you’re so corny. Save it for your new lover boy across the hall.”

“Shut up.”

Soyeon and you laughed, dragging the last box up the stairs into the foyer of the house. Met with the blonde at the bottom of the stairs.

“There you guys are! I was going to send a search and rescue team to come for you if you didn’t show up soon.”

“We got a little distracted. Sorry.”

“No problem. You’re here now, Sam go up and get ready, I’ll help y/n from here.”

“Okay.”

Soyeon or Sam, picked her poison and shoved down Heather still calling her by the wrong name and walked up to her room to change and get ready for the rest of her night. While you were stuck unpacking the boxes.

“Y/n. Don’t forget to look out for the boys everyone brings tonight. We can pick one from the litter for your Nottie.”

“Look, Heather-“

“I know what you’re going to say and don’t even think about asking me if you can drop out of the pageant, okay?”

“I just don’t think it’s worth it or fair anymore, why don’t we just get the other frat guys to do it? Like Mingyu or Wonwoo, Johnny? I don’t know. I don’t want to make anyone feel uncomfortable.”

“You raise a good point. And it gives me an idea.”

“Which is?”

“We have the other frats competing too, we’ll get more payout and the three uglies will be more profitable than ever for us. You’re so smart.”

“That’s not wha-“

“Ah! I’m so lucky to have you. I’ll let everyone know.”

Heather bounced off into the other room, texting rapidly with her manicured hands on her cell phone, making the fire bigger.

With your head spinning around and around you don’t even remember walking your way to the diner waiting for the freshman girls to bring their guys along to the large table set for someone’s embarrassment.

Taking a seat near the end of the table next to Soyeon and Heather on your other side, you sat and sipped at the Diet Coke in front of you, feeling your mix of anxiety and angel swirling in your stomach and begging for something a little stronger.

“Are you feeling okay?”

Soyeon leaned over and whispered into your ear, seeing the look on your face and noticing your obvious quietness.

“I’ll tell you after.”

“Okay, if you want to go early, let me know.”

“I will”

Heather had her vulture eyes on, waiting to see which she would inevitably have embarrassed by the groups around you with no remorse.

She looked into your eyes and signaled to a cute shy boy across the table, sitting and picking at his nails, making it clear she had made her mark.

“Let me use the bathroom first okay?”

“Yeah, of course. You wouldn’t want to miss it.”

“Right.”

Walking briskly into the old blue stalls in the bathroom, which you didn't even really have to use, but just needed an excuse to go somewhere and release your anxiety.

“Y/n? Hey. Y/n?”

Seeing Soyeon’s platform heels under the bottom of the stall door you jumped up and swung your head out of the blue metal.

“What?”

“Remember that guy you met today?”

“Yes, of course why?”

“He’s here.”

“Someone brought him?”

“No. He’s here with his two friends and Heather invited them to the table. One of them is that dude that’s friends with Mingyu with the that acts like a tiger, the hot nerdy one, and the other one is just some hot short buff guy, never seen him before. Anyway, We either have to get out of here right now or stay and hide in here until they're gone.” L

“Why don’t we just go-“

“No. I don’t want him to think you’re a bitch? Are you crazy? You can’t go dunking on nerds in front of three hot dudes?”

“Okay let’s go.”

As the two of you tried to make your exit from the ladies room you heard commotion outside in the dining room, so you both slipped back quickly into the bathroom, locking the door for some reason as you head the chairs scooting and the bell ringing meaning people were slipping out on one of the boys at the table.

“You think they're gone?”

“Yeah. I hear the sink running in the men’s room, come on.”

As you walked out of the bathroom in front of you Seokmin was sitting at the table covered in a turkey club sandwich looking at the long tab Heather left for him.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Your ‘sisters’ dumped a sandwich on me and left the tab? Do you guys do this a lot?”

“It’s just some stupid shit Heather came up with when she became president. Me and y/n were hiding in the bathroom so we could come and pay the tab. But, you got to it first.”

“Right.”

Not saying anything and standing in your tracks cold, you watched as Soyeon took the check from his hands and waved you on to help him as she went up to pay.

“She dumped her food on you?”

“Yeah, my friends and I were just coming for takeout. I saw Soyeon so I went to say hi and she wanted to come get you. But the blonde girl,”

“Heather.”

“Yeah, Heather. She told me to sit down for a second and my friends went back to their dorm so they could keep studying and deliver food to some other guys. She was okay at first, but once Soyeon left she dumped her soda and sandwich on me and when I came back they were all gone.”

“I’m so sorry? Let me get you dry cleaning money or something.”

“No, don’t worry about it. I can handle it. I’m glad you two were here though, I don’t have my wallet on me. Are you okay though? Have you been crying?”

“I’m fine, just had a moment.”

The small black haired girl popped back over, tucking her card back into her wallet and smiling at the two of you sitting and talking with Seokmin covered in an orange beverage, a little bit of lettuce stuck in his hair.

“Want to come to a party?”

“If it’s at the sorority then sorry, no thanks.”

“No. It’s just some of my friends from the music department. They’re playing a show at O’Malley’s.”

“I don’t think orange soda is really a good look for a party.”

“That’s okay, y/n has to go change too. You guys just meet me there? I’m going to head out and get us a table.”

“Well I do owe you guys both a drink. So, sure.”

“Oh, and Seokmin?”

“Yeah?”

“Make sure y/n actually comes back out, she’s hard to get her hands on.”

“Of course.”

Walking back to your somewhat shared dorm, you and Seokmin walked in silence past greek row, watching all the girls running around to get ready for a greeting ceremony to the frat houses as escorts to their party.

The boy looked at you up and down, imagining you inside one of those grand houses gossiping and dishing on sister life just trying to figure out why you joined in the first place, your friend included.

Reaching your destination with only smiles and small giggles shared between the two of you on the walk over, you both slid into your dorm rooms and found clothes that were far more suitable for a night out.

You noticed the black tank top Soyeon had pointed out before and slid it on, matching it with a pair of dark ripped jeans and your go-to loafers, sliding back into the hallway, finding Seokmin on the other side of the door waiting for you.

He was somehow on your wavelength wearing an oversized black t-shirt and jeans.

“I figured I should try to match Soyeon's aesthetic somehow.”

“Me too. You look nice, I like your shoes.”

“Thank you.”

“Shall we?”

“Yes. I definitely need a drink.”

“So, y/n what is your drink of choice.”

“Anything strong and not sweet.”

“Oh, so not me then.”

“Shut up.”

Seokmin made you laugh, there was no way a boy like him was not taken or at least could be interested in you.

“Have you and Soyeon been friends for long? You guys seem close.”

“Actually, not really. We hung out for the first time today. I mean, I’ve seen her at parties and stuff, but she’s sort of been like a breath of fresh air for me.”

“Really? I’m surprised by that. Why are you in the sorority anyway? You don’t exactly have the same.. Vibe? Or whatever as the other girls. Especially the ones I met today.”

“My mom. The girl. Heather. Soda spiller, her mom and mine were friends when we were kids, they're legacy members. So I just thought it would be fun, but now.. I don’t feel that way.”

“Can’t you just quit?”

“I guess.”

“Why don’t you want to?”

“I guess I just want to be someone who sees things through. I also can’t offer Heather the satisfaction of knowing I left.”

“She really is that bad huh?”

“Worse. It’s a long story. Can we table it?”

“Of course.”

Reaching the door of the bar, you caught a glimpse of Soyeon’s shoulder tattoo near the stage, through the large crowd of people mingling.

“Go. I’ll order us drinks and meet you there?”

“You sure?”

“You said you needed it right?”

“What about your wallet?”

“Apple pay, y/n. Duh.”

“Your ID?”

“My friend is the bartender, just go.”

“So sassy.”

Walking your way through the crowd by pushing yourself through other bodies you finally reach the girl on the other side and wrap your arm around her waist as a hello.

“What the- Oh my god, you actually came? You look so hot. I’m proud.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine. Where’s the puppy?”

“At the bar grabbing drinks.”

“On the leash already? You’re good.”

“No. He’s just nice.”

“True. But, he also likes you.”

“I don’t think it’s like that, but maybe someday you’ll tell me I told you so.”

“I look forward to it. I saved you guys a table.”

“My girl.”

Soyeon gestured her long manicured fingers behind you, noticing the boy making his way with two glasses in his hands and another tall figure following behind him holding a tray with various things on top.

“Hi, Soyeon.”

“Hi, Keom. Thank you for joining us. Who’s the glasses?”

“My friend Wonwoo, he works here, well he just got off. Is it cool if he joins us?”

“Of course.”

“Nice to meet you, Wonwoo. I’m y/n.”

“Hey.”

“So. Since I didn’t get to ask Soyeon what she wanted and I wasn’t entirely sure what you liked. We brought over options. But, we have to finish them all because Wonwoo was nice enough to gift them to us and it’s unfair to not accept gifts.”

“Very charming.”

You made your second flirty comment of the night to Seokmin, even though your sober self normally isn’t entirely as bold as you find yourself being with him now. But, in all fairness you were just trying to catch his vibe. He didn’t respond verbally, but just scrunched his nose in your direction almost as if he was letting you know that he’s interested.

“First, a simple vodka soda, little lemon, then just a couple of beer options, this is a sour, this is just a simple light beer, and an ipa, which ew, but I think Wonwoo likes, some tequila shots and some lemon drop shots, also a whiskey soda and a jack and coke, and then a uh, gin and tonic i think? Right, Woo?”

“Yeah, maybe you should be the bartender, Seokmin.”

“I have other talents.”

All eight of your hands reach every which way around the table and end up with different drinks sat in front of them, you beelined for the vodka and the sour beer, Soyeon went for the whiskey soda and the tequila, Seokmin for the gin and tonic and light beer, and Wonwoo for the jack and coke and the ipa.

“Who wants what shot?”

Soyeon dipped her arm back to the middle of the table covering her eyes with her opposite hand, grabbing a hold of the small glasses very carefully and placing them around the small group.

“There. Decided for you, me and Wonwoo get tequila and you and Seokmin get lemon.”

Smiling widely at your friend next to you, you grabbed a hold of the shot glass and held it up signaling everyone to cheers. Which they all happily obliged.

Soon after the alcohol was going through your bloodstream the band started playing their music that hit you right in the chest, songs about living your life to the fullest and choosing your own path, much to your surprise Soyeon was the one who wrote the music that spoke to your soul.

After the set ended, Wonwoo and Soyeon wanted to stay back and have a few more drinks to congratulate their friends, and enjoy their night, but you were beat thinking about all the work you still had to do over the weekend and dreading the choice of man Heather would embarrass. So you decided to leave with Seokmin walking you back safely to your dorm.

“What are you studying again?”

“Me? Oh, I’m studying to be a veterinarian.”

“Wow really? That’s cool, I didn’t know. You must be busy as hell.”

“I’m sure you’re just as busy, being a doctor for actual humans is way more complicated considering a lot of them are assholes.”

“That’s unfortunately true. But, I love it to be honest. I can understand why people are afraid of the hospital and surgery I guess.”

“That’s good, maybe we should study together sometime? I know it’s not the same exact thing or whatever, but it’s nice to have company?”

“I would love that, tomorrow? I mean if you’re free. We can go to the coffee shop or library or anything really?”

“Yeah, just knock around 10?”

“Okay. Cool. I’ll see you tomorrow??”

“Yes, absolutely. Have a good night, y/n”

“You too, Seok.”

Trying to get comfortable in your bed, some pesky person kept lighting up your phone screen, reaching over to turn on do not disturb you and realized it was Heather. She was asking a bunch of interrogating questions about your new friend Seokmin, begging you to bring him over tomorrow.

Unfortunately for you, you knew her interest in him was about to make your new relationship a very complicated one.

[star-crifice]

Donatello 2012 x Reader

Words: ~1500

A/N: This was inspired by Lovers Rock - TV Girl btw :P

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The successful invasion of New York City has been a while ago now. As you were stumbling across the streets past debris and mutated humans, you desperately sought for help. At that point, you’ve known the turtles for a few months. They send you a text to come outside so they could pick you up in their van. Not a moment has passed before they came drifting around the corner, stopping abruptly so you could jump inside.

That day, you fled your hometown and had to leave your whole life behind.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“I love that song!” you exclaim with a small smile, not looking up from the old, chunky laptop in front of you. Donnie smiles back at you, lifting his head over his computer's screen to snatch a quick glance at you nodding your head to the beat. 

He thinks about what he should answer, analysing every option and its possible outcome. After overthinking it, he settles on a simple ‘Me too!’, however, doesn’t get it out in time, before it would be too late and awkward to answer.

Mentally facepalming himself for staying quiet, he tries to go back to work, but is quickly distracted by your humming. 

Donnie and you are alone together in the barn, just like he hoped. Though there isn’t much time for chatting or bonding or, well… making you fall for him or something…

Both of you are busy trying to translate and decode some Kraang data you stole from one of their headquarters back in NYC, before the invasion. It’s tiresome work with lots of dead ends, straining your patience. 

After a few days of sitting on the unreadable files, the Mutant decided to put on some music to lift the mood. It wasn’t as much of an impulsive idea as he pretended it was. In fact, it took him a whole day to get over his anxiety and bring up that idea.

And, who would’ve thought, he just so happened to have the perfect playlist!

Well, he actually spent a whole night calculating and putting together a playlist for the two of you. Just to make sure that the time you spent together is perfect!

A huge sigh escapes your lips as you push back your chair and spin a few times, hoping for your tired brain to reset.

“God, I’m so done with this. Nothing! NOTHING! I can’t find a single thing!” you say unintentionally loud. Donnie thinks about a way to console you, but feels the same. He’s tired and exhausted, barely got any sleep or went outside. His brothers, April and Casey have taken over patrol, giving him and you time to work on the stolen files. 

“How’s your progress?” you ask, stopping your chair from spinning and looking past the computers blocking your view from your friend.

“Extremely slow, but at least something…” He sighs, “Oh who am I kidding! I've run into a dead end two hours ago!”

He lays his head on the table in frustration. 

You take a deep breath, smelling the comforting autumn night air. The thought of taking a break outside, underneath the stars, pulls your glance towards the huge barn doors. The dim light of the old oil lamp beside you is spilling out the small gap between the doors, just like you wish you could.

Donnie notices your dreamy stare towards the wooden exit, thinking of something to say. For a moment, he dares to let his fantasies drift away from work. His little daydream trails off to laying in the grass with you, watching the stars, sharing earphones… listening to you humming to your favourite songs… your hands getting closer…

“I think I’ll go outside for a moment,” he says without thinking and stands up, turning away from you as his face heats up. He’s not sure if he needs a moment alone or hopes for you to follow him into the night, but when he hears you asking “Mind if I join?” and his heart skips a beat, all his questions seem answered.

“I’d never mind,” he says unusually confidently, all the hard work might just have turned off his anxiety for a moment.

You stand up and walk to him, he waits patiently for you to catch up. The warm but refreshing early autumn night air hugs you loosely as Donnie pushes open the doors, gesturing for you to go out first. A slight breeze dances past your bright face, making you forget about your worries for a bit. You catch Donnie’s glance and without words, both of you lead each other away from the house. As you glance inside, you see shadows walk past the curtains in the lit up windows, signalling you that your friends are done with work and exercise, calling it a day as well. 

The small hill beside the farm is basically calling your names as you wander through the dark, nothing but the moon and the house lightning up your path. But with Donnie by your side, not even walking through the dark forest scares you.

With a content sigh, you let yourself plop down into the lush grass at the top of the hill. It’s slightly damp, but not enough to bother you. Nor Donnie apparently, as he sits down right beside you. For a second, your knees touch but he pulls his leg away, making the spot feel colder than before.

Donnie's heart races as the current situation gets way too close to his little daydream from before. But something in him wants to see how far he can go, he wants to test if his dream can become reality.

You lay down in the grass, your neck hurting from looking up into the sky for the past few minutes. The turtle beside you pulls out his phone and earbuds, plugging them in and handing one to you. Smiling up at him, you carefully take it from his hand and put it into your ear, Donnie mirroring your actions before laying down beside you.

Your shoulders almost touch. Almost.

The song from before continues playing, but fairly quiet this time. You can still hear a few grasshoppers chirping, the wind rustling through the tree’s crowns and dare you say, even Donnie’s calm breathing.

You start humming again, tracing star constellations with your fingers in the sky. 

“Cassiopeia,” you mumble fondly, happy to find constellation after constellation in the clear sky, “and Hercules.” Your finger swiftly glides over to the ancient hero.

The next song starts, another one of your favourites. Either Don happens to have the same music taste as you or knows you too well, you think to yourself.

“Did you know, Hercules’ brightest star is Kornephoros,” he says quickly. You turn your head over to him, grinning.

“Smart as always, how do you just know that kinda stuff?”

He only shrugs, grinning back at you.

Unknowingly, both of you happen to glance down at your hands at the same time, and as you see how close they are, the same thought comes to your minds.

Neither of you act on it though.

To be honest, you didn’t even think you felt something for the boy. But now you lay here in the grass with him and suddenly you yearn nothing more than his touch. You want the spot on your knee to be warm and tingly again, his hand on your cold fingers, laying shoulder to shoulder.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen such a beautiful night sky,” you break the silence.

“The city’s light pollution is awful,” he mentions, averting his gaze from you to the cloudless sky, “back here, you can see more stars that you could count.”

Ever so slightly, you move your hands closer to one another.

While you’re questioning your feelings, Donnie’s got it all figured out. He fell first, long ago. 

“The Pegasus,” you say as you accidentally point up with the hand that was right beside Donnie’s. You drop it again, cursing yourself for pulling it away. But your hand happens to fall right on top of his. Embarrassed, you pull away. God, you feel like some little kid right now, blushing over accidentally touching someone's hand.

Donnie’s heart seemed to explode for a second when you let your hand fall onto his. Was it an accident? Did you plan this? Why did you pull away? Was it weird that he didn’t pull away? 

All these questions, but there's one thing that he’s sure about: that has to happen again. And for once, this desire pushes his anxiety away and he reaches over and grabs your hand. 

From the corner of his eye he sees you turning to him, but you didn’t pull away. He’s too scared to look you in the eyes, terrified of being met with a face of disgust. 

His worries disappear though, as you turn around your hand in his grasp and intertwine your fingers. He glances at you, both your faces looking equally surprised.

Another song you love comes on, but by now you don’t even pay attention to it.

[lttl3babybug]

Regressor!Dean Winchester Headcanons

A/N: i apologise for any inaccuracies to character :( I’m only on season 4 and it’s my first time watching the show I’m just really really fixated and it’s the only content my brain is letting me make rn

🍔 Dean is definitely more of a kid regressor, 5-8 age range most likely

🍔He takes care of Sammy so often, sometimes Dean just needs someone to take care of him

🍔He’s a little embarrassed about regressing and will often times refuse to admit that he’s small even if it’s incredibly obvious

🍔He’s both a voluntary and involuntary regressor

🍔He’s a very verbal regressor. This little man talks and talks and talks

🍔Usually it’s like 6 different conversations at once

🍔He loves dogs, big dogs especially. If they’re visiting a friend and they have a dog Dean is on the floor stroking the dog, any form of conversation with him is useless unless it’s about the dog

🍔He’s such a curious little guy

🍔Little Dean has soooo many questions about literally everything

🍔As much as he wants to he’s not allowed to drive the impala while regressed

🍔He can sit at the front while the car is off and pretend but that’s it- that’s a rule set by big Dean

🍔This little man THRIVES off of sticker charts

🍔He loves putting the stickers on and getting a little reward when he has enough stickers

🍔Dean loves cars. He can name every car they pass while out and about

🍔He’s not too big on like actual toys but one thing that Dean loves is hot wheels

🍔Big Dean will keep a little hot wheels car in his jacket pocket just in case he regresses and needs something to play with

🍔He likes running the car up Sam’s arms and face to annoy him

🍔If he’s playing with it while they’re doing research Dean will drive the car over the books Sam is reading or the keyboard of the computer he’s using

🍔The car has been taken away on multiple occasions

🍔He’s not a stuffed animal person per say but he has a little Scooby doo he loves

🍔It’s old and well loved but Dean refuses to get rid of it, he lives in the glove compartment of his car

🍔He doesn’t really use paci’s but occasionally will, he prefers plain ones to the deco ones cause they’re ’too busy’ in his opinion

🍔He has two, a plain black one and a deco Scooby doo one Sam bought for him after finding out Dean was a regressor

🍔This little guy loves cartoons, he’s in front of the tv for hours watching cartoons of all kinds

🍔Sam would prefer it if he watched educational ones but we all know that’s not happening

🍔There has been the odd moment where he’s been half way through watching something like Sid the science kid before realising he was actually being tricked into learning science

🍔He pouts for hours and refuses to talk to whoever turned it on

🍔He keeps watching though

🍔He’s a big fan of the muppets and will watch Sesame Street even if he says it’s too ‘babyish’ for a ‘big boy like him’

🍔Dean loves snacking, he’s always down for a snack

🍔He’ll begrudgingly eat the apple slices that Sam gives him but if he’s presented with apple and peanut butter he would happily go through 10 apples a day

[topguncortez]

Let Your Senses Guide You || Whumptober Day 3 - N. Trace

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Synopsis: Natasha thinks she has everything under control after the bird strike, but you think she's heading towards a break down.

word count: 2.9k

@ailesswhumptober prompt: Overstimulation

warnings: bird strike, panic attack, mentions of character death, anger, grief, mentions of injury

You knew what you were getting into when you started dating the lovely and strong Natasha “Phoenix” Trace. She was a fierce woman, with a passion for flying, something the two of you both shared. You loved that look in her eye that she got when she would walk out onto the flight deck and see her most prized possession. You loved the sound of her voice when she was calling commands or giving shit right back to Hangman. Natasha was born to fly, and you loved that you got a front-row ticket to watch her day after day. 

But, you also knew all of the risks that come with being one of the best the Navy has to offer. Hell, you knew it probably better than anyone. You were a mere months old when your father, Nick Bradshaw, had met his untimely end doing the one thing that he loved more than being a father to you and Bradley. 

You liked to pretend that the death of Nick Bradshaw didn’t bother you. You didn’t even know the man who your brother looked so much alike. You only had the stories that Bradley, your mother, and Maverick had told you. You told yourself that you couldn’t be sad over his death, or even fear that the same fate could happen to Bradley or anyone else you loved. 

 But you were scared that the same tragic accident could happen to Bradley or anyone else you loved. 

This was why when you heard Natasha’s panicked voice come over the radio, your heart stopped in your chest. Your vision started to blacken as you stared at the clunky radio sitting on the bar top in the rec room. Your hands began to sweat and feel clammy as Bob called out that they were losing altitude. You felt your knees go weak and your stomach started to turn. 

“Eject Phoenix! You can’t save it!” 

“Fuck! Okay! Eject! Eject! Eject!”

Then, the radio went silent. 

Bradley looked over his shoulder at you, the look of fear quickly placed with concern as he saw your internal panic. He swiftly paced over to you, putting a hand on your shoulder, that seemed to pull you from the darkest thoughts swirling in your mind. You hadn’t spared him a glance when you shoved past him and ran out to the flight deck, watching as emergency crews were starting to arrive. Maverick’s jet was quick to land and the older pilot was barking orders to the emergency crews about where to go, how far out they were, and that he had only seen one parachute. 

You had waited for agonizing hours in the rec room with Rooster. Since neither of you was related to Bob and Phoenix, you were both told you could wait for news in the rec room. Rooster was a ball of anxiety as his knee bounced relentlessly, while you were silent staring out at the setting sun. The moment Maverick had walked in and said they were going to be alright, you didn’t wait a second longer in the room, getting to Phoenix at the hospital as quickly as you could. You were lucky that Maverick had already pulled some strings and made some calls, so the nurses could let you in. 

“Natasha,” You breathed out, the moment your feet came to the threshold of her room. She looked up at you, a small smile gracing her face. 

“It’s Bachelor night, and they won’t let me watch TV,” A small sob left your lips as you ran to her, nearly collapsing in her lap, “Hey, shh, it’s alright, I’m alright,” Natasha cooed, running her hand over your back. Your hair was still pulled back in a tight bun and you were still in your flight suit. 

You shook your head, sitting back on her bed, “I have never been so scared in my life,” You wiped your tears away with the back of your hand, “Please, don’t leave me. Not like that. Not like how my. . . Just not like that.” 

Natasha sat up in her hospital bed, a small wince leaving her lips as she grabbed your hand, “I will never ever leave you. I may not always agree with you, or remember when your cat’s birthday is, but I will never leave you. You got that? You’re stuck with me, Bradshaw.” 

You nodded your head. Phoenix smiled, sitting back in her bed and holding her arms out. You didn’t hesitate and collapsed right in her warm embrace, your head resting on her chest, listening to the steady sound of her heartbeat. 

“Shouldn’t I be the one holding-” 

“Shh,” Natasha giggled, running her hand up and down your back. 

That night, as you slept soundly in your lover’s arms, Natasha was plagued with the images of making you a widow. The sound of your sobs, the image of Bradley having to hold you up while Bob presented you with a flag that was draped over a dark mahogany coffin, and a large picture of Natasha standing in the corner. It was the worst feeling in the world, even if it was only a nightmare. Sometimes, dreams come true. 

— — — 

It only took three days for Natasha to be cleared and get back up in the air. Natasha had some bruises and small burns from the ejection. Bob, on the other hand, couldn’t come back until next week, dealing with a minor concussion and sprained wrist. Natasha didn’t want to get in the air without Bob, but she also knew how important it was that training for the mission still be carried out. She already felt days behind everyone else on training, and they hadn’t learned anything new. 

“You ready for today?” You asked, looking over to the other side of the sink. Natasha wasn’t normally a morning person, so her silence didn’t normally offend you, but today, it sent a small shiver down your spine. 

“As I’ll ever be,” Natasha said as she slicked back her brown hair. 

Natasha’s body might’ve healed in the past three days, but you could tell her mind had not. The dream she had the first night in the hospital had plagued her for the past three nights. Every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was your tear-stained face as you were handed a folded flag and a copy of her dog tags. 

You had opened up to Natasha about how hard it was for your mom after your dad died. How depressed Carole had become to the point where every year on Goose’s anniversary, she would crawl into bed and spend the whole day clutching one of his Hawaiian shirts. Natasha hated that her mind kept showing her images of your dull, lifeless eyes clutching onto one of her shirts and laying motionless in bed. 

“Nat,” You sighed, putting your hairbrush down, “You don’t need to” 

“If I don’t go then that could take me out of the running to go on this mission. And over my dead body will I let you go fly with Hangman,” Natasha spat, angrily throwing her hair items into her toiletry bag. The other dream Natasha was having was if it had been you who didn’t eject in time from the jet. If it had been your coffin and your funeral and Natasha having to be held up by your brother. It was torture either way. 

You nodded your head, knowing the history that was between Phoenix and Hangman, and why she didn’t want to be up in the sky with him. Instead, you followed her lead, packing up your hair items and getting dressed in your flight suit. Natasha was already waiting by the door with her duffle bag, lunch box, and travel mug in her hand. You avoided looking at her as you grabbed your things and walked out behind her. 

The first thing you had on the docket was a hop with your brother. You were happy to be in the sky, Maverick had you grounded for the past three days, keeping a close eye on you. Bradley had expressed some concern for you, worried that you might be scared to go back up in the sky after Phoenix’s accident. But you’re a Bradshaw, flying is in your blood. The only way you were going to feel better was by being in the air. 

You had stopped briefly in the classroom, setting down your coffee mug and notebook, before going and getting suited up for your flight. You had barely said anything to Natasha, watching as she sat in her usual spot in the front row, the seat next to her vacant. You knew that she would be watching on the screen as you and Rooster attempted to complete the course. So far, the two of you have been the only ones to complete the course and keep your wingman alive. Now, Maverick had put the two of you together to see if you could complete it. 

“You ready for this?” Rooster asked as you walked towards your planes. 

You nodded your head, “Yep. You know me, I’m no good in a classroom. Got the need for speed.” 

Rooster shook his head, “How’s Nat?” 

Your smile faltered as you stood in front of your F/A-18, “Getting there. I think the birdstrike shook her up more than she let on. She hasn’t really talked about it.” 

You had tried to get Natasha to talk to you about it. You knew that she was having nightmares at night, you could feel her moving and trashing beside you and waking up with a jolt. But anytime you ask her, she denies it. She tells you that she’s fine, and she’s just restless to get back up in the sky. However, her brown eyes, the ones that you loved so much told a different story. They told a story of fear, of anxiety. 

But you couldn’t worry about Natasha. Not when you had the weight of this mission on your shoulders as you waited for the signal for you to take off. You hadn’t ever flown a mission with your brother before. Sure, the two of you had been stationed on the same carrier, but never did you two take the air at the same time. When you learned the risks of this mission and knew that either one of you would be chosen to fly it, a certain weight settled in the pits of your stomachs. Neither one of you could fathom losing the other, after losing both of your parents. Rooster had become the one constant in your life. Every time you took to the air, you flew as if it was the real thing. As if one of you might not come home. 

— — — 

“Why is she dead?” Maverick’s voice cut through the silence. You sat next to your brother, head hung in defeat. The hop had almost gone perfect, almost. . . but Rooster had decreased his speed, making so you had to pull up to avoid hitting him at the last moment, and you had set off the SAMs. 

“He made it to the target,” You justified. 

“Not good enough,” Maverick shook his head, “Yes, he made it to the target, but he caused you to get hit by a SAM. That’s not the goal of this.” 

You licked your lips, “Rooster is one of the only people to make it to the target. Yes, I had to pull up and go above the Hard Deck and set off the SAMs, but he still made it to the-” 

“That’s not the point of the mission!” Phoenix cut you off. You couldn’t see her face as she was sitting in front of you, but you furrowed your brows confused by her outburst. She never spoke out like that, not even when Maverick had grilled her about why she had “killed” Bob. Phoenix was always the pilot one, nodding and taking notes on how she could do better. 

You looked up at Maverick, concern in your eyes. He sighed, “I agree with Phoenix. That’s not the point of the mission. Rooster made it to the target but it cost your life. . . that’s not how this mission gets completed.” 

You clenched your jaw and looked out the window of the classroom. You listened as Maverick called up Phoenix, Fanboy, and Coyote to go for their hop. Phoenix walked by you, not saying a single word or even bothering to look at you. You shook your head, standing up and following after her. 

“Nix!” You shouted, making the female pilot stop in her tracks. She slowly turned to you, her face stoic, “What was that in there? Are you okay?” 

Phoenix looked you in the eye, blinking a couple of times. She clenched her jaw and looked down at her boots, “I’m fine. The goal of the mission is to get to the target, destroy it and everyone comes home,” She looked back up at you, her eyes hard, “If you have some sort of death wish, maybe you shouldn’t go.”

You scoffed as Phoenix brushed past you, making sure to bump your shoulder with hers. You watched her frame retreat down the hallway and out towards the flight deck. With a sigh, you turned on your heels and headed back to the classroom. Rooster shot you a look of concern as you sat back down, but you just shook your head. 

It wasn’t long before the trio’s location beacons were turned on, and two digital fighter jets showed up on the map in the front of the classroom. They were sitting on the flight deck, waiting for the all-clear to go take to the sky. Rueben’s voice filled the classroom as he called to the tower for clearance. You waited with bated breath to hear Natasha’s commanding voice, but you were met with silence. 

“Lieutenant Trace?” The tower called, “Lieutenant Trace, the sky is clear.” 

Phoenix couldn’t feel anything. The only thing she knew was that she was breathing. She could feel her lungs compressing and inflating with every inhale and exhale. Her vision was blurry as she looked down at the dash of the new multi-million dollar jet that the Navy had given her. It made her head spin on how quickly they had just given her another jet after she crashed the last one. Her helmet and flight gear felt exponentially heavy as she sat frozen. 

“Phoenix, the sky is yours. You’re good for take off,” The tower said to her over comms. 

“No, I’m not,” Phoenix whispered. She wasn’t sure what set her off, what put her into this panic. Maybe it was watching as an animated SAM hit her girlfriend’s animated cockpit on the map. Maybe it was the way you had justified being hit because Rooster made it to the target on time. Maybe it was the fact she was just not ready yet but felt like she had to be. 

“Phoenix! We need to go!” Coyote called over comms, but the girl shook her head. 

“Get me out,” Phoenix mumbled, her hands fiddling with the belt holding her in place, “Get me out! Get me out!” She pounded on the top of her canopy. Her breaths became frantic as she pressed the button for the canopy to open. It felt like the oxygen had been ripped from her lungs. Her helmet felt heavy as if it could snap her neck. 

Phoenix wasn’t sure what happened next, but she felt the canopy of her jet open, and fresh air come rushing into her lungs. She felt someone’s hands touching her, helping her out of her safety belt, and gently out of the jet. Her vision was still blurry, as her feet hit solid ground and her knees gave way. Phoenix shut her eyes tightly, expecting her knees to hit the hard concrete, but instead, she was gently led to the ground. 

“Look at me, Nat,” A calm, familiar voice called out to her. She could feel dainty, yet calloused hands on her face, thumbs brushing away the tears she didn’t know were falling, “Breathe with me, okay?” Natasha nodded her head, “Ready, inhale,” Natasha took a deep breath, feeling her lungs fill with air, “Exhale, slow,” Natasha did as she was told, her heart rate starting to slow.

Slowly, Natasha became aware of where she was. She looked down at the black tar of the tarmac. Her flight suit suddenly felt tighter than normal as she looked around, noticing the other officers and aviators staring at her. Her brown eyes then trailed to the owner of the hands on her face. Your eyes were glassy with tears as Natasha grabbed your wrists, running her thumbs on the inside. Natasha’s bottom lip wobbled, as a sob threatened to escape her lips. You quickly pulled her into a hug, resting her head on your chest. 

“It’s alright,” You looked up at the sky, blinking back tears, “It’s okay.” 

“I’m not ready to fly,” Natasha sobbed, “I-I just can’t do it. Every time I just think o-of what happened. I-I almost killed some-” 

“No,” You pulled back from her, holding her face in your hands again, “It was an accident. You didn’t almost kill Bob. You did what you were trained to do, and that was to try and recover. If anything, you saved Bob’s life with your quick thinking.” 

Natasha nodded, “I don’t like feeling like this.” 

“No one does, baby,” You smiled sadly, pushing a stray hair behind her ear, “It’s what makes us human.”

taglist form: @els-marvelvsp @sarahsmi13s @topgun-imagines @xoxabs88xox @cassiemitchell @seitmai @a-reader-and-a-writer @bradleybeachbabe @kmc1989 @senawashere @beautifulandvoid

[arainbowofchaos]

Love Vs Expectations

pair: Jungkook x reader

genre : angsty as fuck

warnings:  toxic relationship

word count: 1,2k

summary: You're in an unhealthy relationship with the man you've longed for, but you see it as better than having no relationship at all.

[A/N]: I’m sorry this is so angsty forgive my toxic ass

You're 28 years old; you don't have any time to waste. You need to create a life that reflects who you are, but you're not sure who that person is anymore.

You practice self-care and beauty routines to avoid regrets when you're older, but you used to go days without eating just to see if it could ease the pain in your heart. You're a hypocrite because you're addicted to a pain far more terrible than ever before. Now you've fallen deeply in love.

You managed to find someone even more damaged than you. However, the first time you met him, he made you believe that he had control over his emotions, that he was stable, confident in himself and in life in general. And you, who were afraid of everything, threw yourself into his arms to find comfort from all your woes.

He didn’t like it when you acted childish, but you met him at 19, so you were a child. Thus, you became more reasonable and mature in an effort to please him, and you lost your zest for life.

He doesn't make it clear that he'll never offer marriage or a baby, but after 8 years, you've come to the realization that he'll never make a move. You convince yourself that you don't care because he's the one you want forever. But deep down, you're full of doubts because why were you so eager to offer him exclusivity when he can’t commit fully to you?

You thought you were smarter than that; you didn’t think you would fall for someone who wouldn't treat you as you deserve. However, you fell head over heels in love with him without any control, and now, no matter how much you suffer, you're stuck.

While desperately trying to rediscover who you are, you reconnected with the passions from your teenage years that you had set aside to seem more grown-up. You enrolled in classes to learn and nurture your soul, all in an attempt to find yourself once again. You yearn to travel, meet people, and truly live, as you're exhausted from merely surviving.

He's not pleased. He understands toxicity, so he pretends to support you, not stopping you but gradually losing his spark. He doesn't smile anymore, and he doesn't make an effort with your friends. He silently makes you pay for showing interest in anything other than him.

So, you feel guilty, and you propose the idea of both of you embarking on a journey, leaving everything behind—your job, friends, family, and obligations. He's inclined to say yes to keep you by his side, but even this suggestion terrifies him. He desires your exclusive company, yet the prospect of commitment and potential pain holds him back. As a result, you stood at the edge, urging him to join the leap, hoping you could be together. Yet, he sadly holds back, and you're left with a heavy heart, uncertain of your next step.

Should you jump alone?

Jungkook's voice interrupts the flow of your thoughts, "Want to watch a movie?" he asks, nonchalantly, as if you hadn't been arguing just a few minutes ago.

You shake your head to decline. You don't want to watch TV because you know that you'll eventually end up cuddling on the comfort of your couch. You'll naturally rest your head against his chest, listening to the beats of his heart that will sync with yours. You're aware that feeling him so close could make you crumble and erase all your threats. Everything you just told him, that ultimatum you gave, all of it would mean nothing if you give in now.

"Come on, baby, come into my arms. I can't stand to see you like this," Jungkook pouts, moving dangerously close to you, and you retreat until your back hits the wall. You feel trapped, like an animal blinded by the headlights of a car, blinded by the beauty of the man in front of you. His large doe-like eyes look at you with tenderness, his pink and tempting lips beg for your forgiveness. And you could, you could give in; it wouldn't be the first time. But every time you do, you lose a bit more of your self-esteem.

"I'm sorry, baby. You know I love you, I'll never love anyone like you," lies, you think to yourself. Your jaw clenches, preventing you from screaming. You only hear those three words for your birthday or when you make a scene. He's so stingy with his words and feelings. You only get his "I love you" at the cost of your tears and pain.

You've had enough; you don't want to give in. Even though all you long for is to embrace him, to feel his warmth envelop and comfort you, you understand that you'll lose all credibility. He'll never put in the effort to truly invest and build with you.

"You're a diamond, so precious to me. Let me make it up to you. I'll do better in the future, I promise," he smiles widely and continues moving towards you. He's saying everything you want to hear, proving that he could be more generous with his words all the time. He could be perfect, but he chooses to be mediocre, and it's your fault, you've let him be that way from the start. But you were so young and in love, so naive and vulnerable. You just wanted someone to make you feel whole, and he kept his promise. Now without him, it feels like you’re nothing.

"I want you so much," he whispers into your ear now; you let him come too close. Tears escape your eyes, trailing slowly down your warm cheeks. Jungkook wipes them away with his thumbs and places a gentle kiss on your forehead. "You're so beautiful," he says softly. He never finds you as beautiful as when you're broken like this.

Jungkook starts kissing your neck, and you don't do anything to push him away. What's the point? You'd lose in this game. Because your body is made only for him, forever. He was the first to learn how to make you feel good. You're convinced that no one will ever be able to touch you like he does. His scent makes your head spin, and you moan as he leaves a trail of hickeys on your neck. He wants to remind you that you belong to him and only him, forever. Even if he never commits fully. Even if he sleeps with others. You are his.

As he lifts you up and carries you in his arms to your bedroom, calling you with sweet words and caressing your hair, you allow the weight of guilt to evaporate. You're doing your best; you’ll be stronger next time you promise yourself, and maybe he will decide that he only needs you just as you need him. You cling to his neck tightly; you don't want to let him go. Ever.

[watchmegetobsessed]

THE BRITS

A/N: we all witnessed his madness last night, he got me hot and bothered

WORD COUNT: 2k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: You and Harry are getting drunk at the BRITs and you can't control your desires for each other.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

You’re drunk.

But not as drunk as your boyfriend who is having the time of his life on national TV.

Somehow it seems like the BRITs Awards is always the most unhinged show Harry attends, maybe it’s the feeling of being home or maybe it’s the amount of tequila he tends to drink on these occasions.

Probably the second one, but who knows.

You’ve had shots with him as well, the familiar dizziness has taken away your anxiety of appearing on TV next to your boyfriend and now it’s more like just one big party. You’re sitting between Harry and Gemma, your legs crossed underneath the table, Harry’s hand wedged between your thighs this time. He’s been super touchy all evening, most likely the alcohol has gotten the neediness out of him, but it’s not like you mind it, he looks devastatingly good tonight and always feeling his touch is more than fine by you. Though it’s making it hard for you to hold back your dirty thoughts you’ve been harboring ever since you laid eyes on him in the silky shirt, the top buttons strictly undone.

You have to switch position because your legs are going numb, so Harry’s hand slips off your thigh until you settle comfortably and it returns immediately, hiking a little higher this time, giving you a few gentle squeezes. A shaky breath slips through your lips that almost turns into a moan. Luckily, Gemma didn’t notice it, but when you turn to your right you catch Harry’s smirk.

“You alright, babe?” he asks as he leans closer.

“Don’t be a brat,” you warn him, to which he just starts laughing, smacking your thigh before his hand rests on top of it.

“I know that look better than anyone, Y/N,” he murmurs, pretending to be looking at the stage.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. We could sneak away for a quickie,” he simply suggests and you smack a hand against his chest, but you kind of regret it when you feel the warms of his naked skin against your palm, you kind of want to just keep it there, run it deeper into his shirt.

“Stop! Someone might hear you!” you chuckle, heat crawling up your neck.

“So we’re not having a quickie?” he pouts his lips at you.

“No!” you laugh, but leaning closer you steal a quick kiss. “Stop making it hard, I’m already struggling over here,” you mumble against his lips.

“That’s why I suggested to have a q—“

“If you say it again, I’m walking away, Harry,” you warn him, but it’s only for your sake. You have no idea how long you can sit still while your boyfriend is talking about having sex while you’re already drenched between your legs.

Harry chuckles and reaches for the champagne bottle before filling up your glass.

“Come on, drink one with me then.”

“I think we’ve had enough.”

“Nope, gotta make sure we’re still drunk when we get home,” he ignores your comment, pouring one for himself as well.

“Why?”

“Because I wanna have sloppy drunk sex with you.”

You’re fucked. You definitely will be, but you’re fucked already.

The madness carries on, Harry has won every single award he was nominated for, he has taken a shot on the stage and kissed Lewis Capaldi. Right in front of your nose. You tried to act hurt when he returned to the table after the kiss, but you couldn’t, especially when he started begging you to kiss him.

You’re a giggling mess by the time he accepts Mastercard Album Of The Year and you brain barely can process that your boyfriend is standing next to Stanley Tucci on the stage, joking around and laughing like old pals.

“Babe! Babe, did you see me and Stanley?!” he whisper-yells when he returns to the table.

“If this is the point where you leave me for Stanley Tucci, I have to say I won’t even blame you,” you laugh into your drink.

“Aw, you’re jealous?” he grins, pressing a kiss to your forehead before taking his seat.

“Of you! Yes!” you laugh. “And Stanley too,” you add.

“Oh babe, don’t be,” he smirks and leans so close, his lips are brushing against your ear. “You’re the only one I want to fuck.”

“Harry!” you gape at him, reaching for your drink, hoping it would cool you down a bit, but you’re way over that point.

“I really want to fuck you right now, babe. You sure we can’t have a quickie?”

“We’re at an award show,” you whisper, but can’t help biting into your bottom lip.

“I’m sure we wouldn’t be the first ones to have sex at an award show,” he giggles, his hand returning to your thigh, this time slipping way under your dress. “Come on, I’ll find a place for us. If I find a place, will you have sex with me?” he asks, eagerly squeezing your thigh which makes it impossible to resist.

“Harry…”

“Give me five minutes, okay? I’ll find us a place.”

And before you could even say a word, he is up on his feet, off to his little quest.

“Where is he going?” Gemma asks when she sees her brother lurk away.

“Um… I uh… I have a headache, he is gonna ask if I can lay down somewhere for a bit,” you lie, but a giggle bubbles from your throat, giving you away completely.

“Oh my God, you guys are… something else,” Gemma laughs, not wanting to know any more details about your dirty business. You kinda feel bad for her, but at the moment it’s funny.

You almost lose your shit when you see Harry jogging pack towards the table, the cheesiest grin on his face as he navigates between guests.

“I found a place!” he mouths at you and then grabs your hand instantly, pulling you up from the table. “Come on—Um, Gemma we’re just gonna, uh…”

“Shut up, just… go!” Gemma waves at him, making you both laugh before you escape from the table.

He pulls you out to the hallways and you’re just trying not to stumble over your feet, keeping up with his pace. You reach a dressing room that has his name on it, you arrive just when two women walk out with headset on, they are definitely working backstage.

“Thank you so much, she’ll just lie down for a bit, thank you!” Harry nods at them, pushing you into the room and you have a feeling they know what it’s all about, but as soon as the door is shut closed and he throws his suit jacket off, nothing else matters.

You kick your heels off as you run to the vanity, Harry catching up with you instantly, his arms locking you in his embrace from behind as his lips attack your neck.

“Fuck, I don’t think I would have lasted until we got home,” he rumbles, his hands pulling your dress up already, palm moving between your legs to feel just how wet you are.

“You sure you wouldn’t prefer Lewis or Stanley now?” you tease him, head rolling back to his shoulder, a moan slipping through your lips when his fingers dip into your underwear.

“Don’t talk about other men when I’m trying to fuck you,” he groans before turning you around with one swift movement, his hands grabbing onto the back of your knees to help you sit up on the vanity.

You eagerly undo his buttons, the silky shirt sliding right off his broad shoulders and you finally let your fingers dig into his pecks, something you’ve been fantasizing about for hours.

“It’s gonna be quick, we don’t have much time, but we’ll have a round two when we get home,” he smirks down at you, urging your legs to wrap around his waist as he unbuttons his pants and lets them pool at his ankle.

“Did you lock the door?” you gasp as he pulls your panties off, running two fingers through your lips to check you’re truly ready for him without any more foreplay. Usually you’d need more attention before taking him, but this whole evening has been one long foreplay.

“There’s no lock.”

“What? Harry—“

“That’s why we have to be quick,” he grins and the next thing you know is that he thrusts so deep into you, you’re seeing stars.

Harry loves to make gentle love, but he is also very good at fucking you senseless so fast you feel like you’re about to pass out. This is an occasion like that this time.

The vanity is violently shaking under you as he fucks into you, one hand planted on top of the wood, the other one on your back to keep you against him, though you have your feet locked just above his ass, helping you stay in place. It’s so harsh and raw, if someone asked you your name you wouldn’t be able to answer. You grip his hair, tugging on it, keeping his face buried in your neck where he keeps kissing and biting your soft skin as he keeps up his ruthless pace.

“Harry! Oh my God!” you practically scream when he hooks an arm under your right leg, lifting up higher so he can push into you even deeper.

“Don’t hold back, baby,” he shakes his head, definitely out of breath, but he has no intention of stopping.

When you let go of his hair you fall back, your dress slipping down on your chest, making Harry go feral. Now you’re lying on top of the vanity in a kind of diagonal position since it’s too narrow to fit you, but it doesn’t bother either of you, Harry tightens his death grip around your thigh he has lifted up and he practically climbs up to the vanity, leaving just one foot on the floor. Your ass is sore, your legs are going numb, but you’d start crying if he stopped now, you’re so close to a mind-blowing orgasm you’ve been yearning after all evening.

“I’m gonna come, baby, I’m gonna come inside you,” he warns you between pants.

“Yes, yes, come inside me!” you gasp for air and mustering up the last bits of your energy you push up, hooking your arm around his neck to press against him, right on time.

Harry comes hard, grunting against your lips, his thrusts becoming rigid, long and out of rhythm and seeing him fall apart throws you over the edge too.

The two of you are one big mess as you try to recover, chest heaving, vision slightly blurry. When Harry gently pulls back you moan in protest, lying back on top of the vanity, one foot planted on top, the other one dangling off the edge.

“Let’s clean you up,” Harry hums to himself and you faintly notice him get dressed before he grabs a clean towel from the bathroom joined to the dressing room, he wets it and gently cleans you up while you just lie there, limbs feeling like jelly.

He pulls your underwear back halfway up your thighs before he needs you to stand up. You don’t want to, but you know you have to, so he helps you off the vanity and then dresses you like you’re a toddler.

“You’re good? Can we go back out?” he asks after doing his best to make you look like you did before. He has his arms around your waist as you turn around and have a look at the two of you in the mirror at the vanity.

“God, it’s so obvious we just fucked,” you chuckle seeing the state you both are in.

“It’s not that obvious,” he tries to protest, but he doesn’t believe it either. “Okay, well… we can’t do anything about it now. It was worth it though,” he grins, giving you a sloppy kiss on the lips. “Can’t wait for round two when we get home.”

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